#tow truck box

[towingnaperville]

Toolbox Towing Near Me: A Comprehensive Guide to Finding Tow Truck Toolboxes

Finding reliable tow truck toolbox services involve procuring equipment suitable to the task at hand and should never be underestimated. Toolboxes for tow trucks provide essential storage solutions for everything needed for effective towing operations, whether that means professional operations or just for fun.

Tools that are left exposed to weather elements or left disorganized in their toolbox are more likely to deteriorate quickly, significantly shortening their useful life.

Essential Tow Truck Tool Box Equipment

1. Tow Truck Tool Box

At the heart of any tow truck operation lies its toolbox - housing essential equipment like chains, hooks, and straps as well as safety gear that ensures efficient functioning on the job. A well-organized tool chest ensures both efficiency and safety for maximum job efficiency and productivity.

2. Rollback Tool Boxes

Rollback tow trucks have their distinct style, and their toolboxes must match. In addition, it is a highly reliable and versatile solution perfect for flatbed towing.

3. Wrecker Tool Boxes

Wrecker trucks require specially tailored toolboxes designed to meet their special requirements, like winches and boom chains to aid recovery tasks of every nature. Moreover, these tool cases will store everything needed for successful recovery jobs in one handy package.

Locating a Toolbox Near Me

Having a toolbox close by cannot be understated when needing specific equipment quickly; having it can save precious time while guaranteeing smooth towing operations.

Benefits of an Organized Tow Truck Tool Box

An organized toolbox offers many advantages:

1. Efficiency

A well-organized toolbox will allow you to locate tools or equipment quickly, cutting downtime and increasing overall efficiency - this is especially crucial during emergency towing situations.

2. Safety

Towing operations must always place safety as their top priority. A well-organized toolbox ensures that safety equipment such as reflective vests and warning triangles can easily be located when needed.

3. Professionalism

A neatly organized toolbox not only makes your job simpler but also fosters trust with clients who see that care has been put into maintaining equipment and the appearance of a towing service.

4. Extending Tool Life

Proper storage can extend the longevity of tools and equipment. Tools that are left exposed to weather elements or left disorganized in their toolbox are more likely to deteriorate quickly, significantly shortening their useful life.

Once you recognize the benefits of having an organized tow truck toolbox, it may be tempting to wonder where one might be located near you.

Here are a few possibilities:

1. Local Automotive Stores

To start your search for tow truck toolboxes suitable for various towing operations, consider visiting local automotive supply or hardware shops. Additionally, they often carry an assortment of tow truck toolboxes.

2. Shopping Online

Online retailers like Amazon, eBay, and towing equipment retailers offer access to an expansive variety of options while making price/feature comparison easier in your own home. In addition, they carry everything from tow truck toolboxes down to safety equipment like parking lot covers!

3. Towing Equipment Suppliers

Search for suppliers specializing exclusively in towing equipment and accessories. Often these providers carry toolboxes tailored specifically towards tow truck operators' requirements.

4. Consider Used Equipment Dealers or Auctions

If your budget is tight, try checking out used equipment dealers or auctions; there may be well-maintained toolboxes at more affordable prices available there.

Once you've acquired your tow truck toolbox, it must remain well-maintained to continue providing optimal performance for you and the environment. Here are a few maintenance tips:

1. Regular Inspection:

For optimal toolbox care and protection, conduct regular checks on it to identify signs of wear and tear such as loose hinges, latches, or handles as soon as they appear; this way you'll know about any problems quickly to reduce further damage to the contents of your box.

2. Clean Your Tool Box Regularly:

Keep your toolbox free from dirt, debris, and grease by regularly wiping down its surfaces with soapy water to avoid contamination or corrosion of tools before returning them to storage. A tidy toolbox makes working more pleasant as well as helping extend their lifetime and lifespan.

3. Lubrication:

Lubricate moving parts such as hinges and latches regularly in your toolbox to reduce corrosion and ensure smooth operations. Invest in high-grade lubricants designed specifically to match its materials for best results.

4. Regular Organization:

Assess your toolbox's organization regularly as your towing equipment changes; you may be required to rearrange or add storage solutions to accommodate new tools or accessories that come into the fold.

5 . Weatherproofing:

To safeguard against moisture and rust damage to tools and equipment stored inside your toolbox, weatherproof it to keep water out. Seal any gaps or cracks to keep the elements at bay.

6. Secure Your Toolbox:

For added safety and to avoid theft or accidents, ensure your toolbox is attached firmly to your tow truck to keep theft at bay or accidents occurring due to loose toolboxes becoming projectiles during collisions.

FAQ’s

1. What types of tow truck toolboxes are available?

There are various styles and varieties of tool boxes designed specifically to meet the various towing requirements, including tow truck tool boxes, rollback tool boxes, and wrecker tool boxes - these may each accommodate any necessary tools needed for different towing operations.

2. How can I select an appropriate toolbox size for my tow truck?

Choosing an appropriate toolbox size for your tow truck is of utmost importance - make sure it can store all of the essential equipment while not overloading it! Think carefully about your requirements when making this selection based on towing equipment inventory or needs.

3. Where can I purchase tow truck toolboxes near me?

Towing Truck Tool Boxes can be found near you at various automotive stores, hardware shops, towing equipment suppliers, and online retailers - but for reliable options check out Towing Recovery Rebuilding Assistance Services' selection!

4. How should I maintain my tow truck toolbox?

Regular toolbox maintenance will extend its lifespan dramatically. Inspect for wear and tear, clean out, lubricate moving parts as necessary, and organize efficiently for maximum functionality. Also, consider weatherproofing options if exposed to extreme elements.

5. What are the benefits of maintaining an organized toolbox?

A well-organized toolbox offers efficiency, safety, professionalism, and extended tool lifespan; quickly gaining access to necessary equipment while streamlining overall towing operations.

6. Can any toolbox be used for towing, or do I require something specific?

Although general-use toolboxes might work fine for general purposes, when it comes to towing operations it's wiser to invest in professional-grade tow truck toolboxes specifically tailored to meet their unique requirements and provide storage solutions that stand up under pressure.

Conclusion

Having the appropriate tow truck toolbox close by is vitally important for any towing operation, improving efficiency, safety, and professionalism. No matter your toolbox needs may include tow truck toolboxes, rollback toolboxes, or wrecker toolboxes there will likely be something suitable. Therefore, be fully prepared to make the correct selection to maintain smooth towing operations when searching "toolbox towing near me".

Visit Us: https://www.towrecoverassist.com/toolbox-towing/

[onlyhappyvibes]

[rktruckandtrailersales]

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[syoddeye]

big game

ghost x f! reader | ~5k words cw: simon lies, mean simon, red flags? what red flags, hunting, animal death (discussed), predator/prey, knives, bad restraints, bad suspension, rough (arguably bad) sex, clothed man & naked woman, blood, murder, italic abuse. please tell me if you need something tagged. a/n: a cross between this post and this post. banner by @/cafekitsune. 🔪

Simon lets slip that he owns a cabin nearly a year into the relationship. It’s the kind of thing where you could and maybe should be upset, but you play it off as no big deal. You have to. This is Simon. The man didn’t show his entire face until the sixth or seventh date.

(He joked about it, too, that first time—Breathe a word about this mug, and I’ll have to kill ya. You laughed, delirious as he split you in two. He didn’t.)

It’s a few hours away from the city, on the far edge of the boonies. It’s long beyond the truck stops and hog refineries that dot this part of the country. Far from delivery and traffic lights. Deep in an unincorporated village, in an unincorporated area. Its remoteness would make one wonder how a foreign ex-soldier found such a location, but again. This is Simon. Ages ago, you learned questions earn neither his favor nor answer.

The property is impressive for its locale. Two bedrooms. A decent kitchen. Heating and cooling. A garage and a shed. Renovated within the last decade and upgraded piecemeal when Simon has time. It sits on a lake shared by only two other cabins, both residing around a reedy bend and well out of sight.

Upon arrival, Simon doesn’t offer a tour, telling you to poke around as he unpacks the car. Well, a jerk of his head and a gruff, “Go on in.” Since you started seeing each other officially, he doesn’t often let you burden yourself with chores. No lifting a finger if he’s available.

The place is sparse. Occupied but not lived in. While stocking a cupboard, Simon explains the previous owner, an older gentleman with cheap taste, left behind what decoration remains. A few tacky fishing signs hang on the walls, intermixed with sun-bleached squares on the wood paneling. A curio box collection of novelty keychains in the hall to the bedrooms, full of states and a couple of names. The lumpy pillows on the sofa pouf tobacco-scented dust when you test its cushions.

Tiptoeing into the main bedroom, you imagine how you might spruce up the austere space. Considering he moved into your apartment after three months, you assume it’s a matter of time until this becomes your cabin, too. 

(It was incredibly romantic—the move. Near sunset, Simon appeared like a specter in the pouring rain, with his few worldly belongings in tow. Kissed you hard and fast, told you he couldn’t stay at his place anymore. That he needed you. You. All your effort paid off.)

The memory brings a smile to your face.

You’ll turn the cabin into a cozy love nest like your apartment. Blankets, candles, a rug or two. Though he’ll never admit it, Simon must desire comfort like anyone else. The first night he burrowed into your duvet, luxuriating in the cotton and silk, he fell asleep like an old hound freshly sprung from a shelter. He tossed most of his stuff the next day—said you had everything he needed.

Looking around, you realize you have your work cut out for you. The austere room more a cave than a refuge. The man's bed doesn't even have a frame. Just a neatly made mattress with tucked sheets and two flat pillows. A secondhand dresser and a stack of plastic drawers for extra storage. On the bright side, the adjacent bathroom is spotlessly clean, with a caddy holding melamine sponges, bleach, and other supplies on a shelf. He's always been tidy, likely a military thing.

From the living room, you're greeted with a scenic view of the lake and the adjoining deck through the glass door. A pair of wooden chairs sit side-by-side in front of a fire pit, one of Simon's old welding projects. Down the gentle slope to the shore, a small dinghy rests in the water, tied off at the aluminum dock. A smattering of yellow and white water lily pads hug the bank.

Peaceful. Picturesque. Private. 

But your eyes hitch on a strange beam.

Bolted between two mature trees, a hefty piece of timber sits within plain sight of the deck. A series of evenly spaced, fixed eyelet hooks and two pulleys catch the light when the breeze shifts the canopy of the bur oak overhead.

Simon joins you on the deck, the planks creaking beneath his bulk. A cracked beer dwarfed in his hand.

“Did the former owner have kids?” You ask as he sips.

“Kids?”

You point at the curious installation. “Isn’t that for a tire swing? Seems like the perfect spot.”

Simon stares, narrowing his eyes slightly with a chuckle. The tone of it prickles—the same snide laugh he makes at his own awful jokes. When he’s in on the punchline, and you’re not. One of the few things that sour his image.

“Kids? Fuck no,” He shakes his head. “That’s where I ‘ang deer and the like out to bleed.”

You bristle and duck the arm he means to drape around your shoulders, ignoring how he huffs baby and c’mon, don’t be like that between snickers. 

He finds you in the bedroom, sorting the clothes you packed with punchy aggression, fuming and embarrassed by his teasing. Stupid and naive, that’s how you feel, for all your care and commitment. You’re just so silly, such a townie, for not recognizing a piece of lumber as a barbaric vehicle for slaughter.

Two wide mitts glide over your sides as you try your best to ignore the behemoth behind you. You are by no means small, but Simon. Fuck, Simon, you whisper, half-exasperated when he nuzzles into the crook of your neck—he’s—fuck, he is big.

It’s an hour before your clothes are finally put away, and you’re already down a pair of underwear for the weekend. Simon leaves you sated and dozing, a tactile apology accepted, and retrieves you to fix supper when he’s hungry. Later, parked in the chairs in the yard, watching the end of the sun’s march to the horizon, you broach the topic again.

“Will you take it down?”

“Sweetheart, what do ya think I do on the weekends you work?”

You shiver. Ten seconds ago, you’d’ve said read or weld or fish. It’s ridiculous how your mind cannot wrap around the idea of Simon out in the woods, stalking through the trees and underbrush, hunting. Decked out in blaze orange and realtree, rifle cradled in his hands. You know his history and what he’s capable of. What he’s done.

But this is different from his military career. Simon said he didn’t want to do any of that. Enlisting was how he escaped a lousy home life; he didn’t plan to get stuck in it for as long as he did. He confessed once, after a silly tiff over your job, that the day he was discharged was the best day of his life, second only to the day you met. That’s where the disconnect lies. Hunting and killing for sport, that’s not the Simon you know.

You tell him as much.

“That so?” His smirk matches the rising moon. A waxing crescent.

You insist.

Simon cracks his neck. “Tell you what, I’ll make you a deal,” he starts, fingers flexing around the neck of the beer bottle. “I’ll quit, if I can bag one last trophy.”

The thought of burning the beam distracts you from the flicker in his eyes. The ugly thing is the only hiccup keeping the cabin from textbook perfection. You don’t want to think of Bambi’s poor mother dangling like some macabre ornament whenever you look outside.

“Fine. What’s the trophy?”

Simon grins.

~~

“I better win a fucking award for this. It’s freezing.” You’d said, tugging on your sneakers.

He laughed wickedly. The sound burned right up your spine.

“You’ll get a fucking award, alright.”

Simon sent you off a half hour ago if the time on his watch’s dull, glowing face is correct. He buckled it around your wrist before you darted into the woods, tightening it as far as it would go. It spins loose around the bone anyway. He warned you to watch your footing, pressed bear mace into your palm, and then gave you five minutes to make yourself scarce. Inwardly, you preen. To go undiscovered for this long—you’ve surpassed your own expectations.

However, squatting with your back to a distressingly damp tree trunk, regret eclipses pride and buzzes under your skin. Hopefully, it's not a parasite from one of the puddles you stomped through. It's out of devotion, you tell yourself, itching under a wet sock, that you agreed to this game. Out of love. There isn't much you wouldn't do for Simon. From the moment you met him, it's been magnetic. Poetic.

And that first date? Cinematic. You went out with one man and returned home with another. Your date caught Simon staring from across the joint, a mean set of eyes in a ski mask eating you alive. What kind of man lets another steal his ‘bird’? That’s what he called you—birdie. Need some company, birdie? Complete disregard for the flop-haired man across the table. Cupped a hand to your date’s ear, said a few words, and Mike or Matt or whatever his name was vacated his seat, leaving the big Brit to take his place.

Bringing him home was a foregone conclusion, the decision finalized as you watched him, absolutely rapt, stab the meat of your entree and claim it as his own. Rolled up his balaclava just enough to take a bite with a row of crooked teeth. Breath hitching at the scars, the pale white lines stretching over his chin. You didn’t even know his name when you blurted out the question. And it’s with fondness you recall the flash of surprise in his eyes at your resolute zeal. Didn't make him work for it, offered yourself up on a silver platter.

('Course, afterward, you had to convince him not to fuck you in the parking lot, promising breakfast in the morning if he slept over. He did. For two days. He kept turning up after that.)

You may be hiding in the woods, but he's the animal. Yes. A neglected stray you dedicated the better part of a year into domesticating. Lured him with food, a warm bed, and sex. Assiduously filing down his sharp teeth and rough edges with your body. Introducing him to creature comforts, to living versus mere survival.

Which, again, prompts the question—why hunting? Didn’t you take care of him? If he needed more, all he had to do was ask. Take. Prying a burr off of a sleeve, you wonder if it's like the old saying goes: you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Maybe he needs to chase or track, and you’re another soft-handed city slicker keeping a working dog cooped up in an apartment.

If you still saw your therapist, she’d probably suggest you dissect that. But you don’t, and you’re not inclined to schedule a session. Besides, Simon said all shrinks are—

A twig snaps. It shocks you how quickly you push to your feet.

Twenty feet or so dead ahead, a hulking mass moves through a thin shaft of moonlight.

You run.

Huffing and puffing, you charge clumsily through the trees, miraculously avoiding clusters of roots and shielding your face with your hands. Feels unnatural to run from him. The blood rush in your ears drowns out the heavy thuds on the ground behind you, Simon pursuing, shirking stealth for speed.

Inevitably, he overtakes you. An iron grip latches onto your shirt, and a kick sweeps your legs. The bear mace flies from your hand into the brush, clanging off a tree. You dangle for a spine-tingling second, suspended, heart lurching into your throat. He leverages your tumbling momentum to swing you to the ground at his feet through strength alone. Landing on the cold floor of the woods expels a gasp, a second following as a boot presses between your shoulders. No force behind it; its presence alone enough to keep you down. Despite the dirt and twigs surely sticking to your front and the borderline painful thunder of your heart, you smile in relief. It’s over. His last hunt. The boot lifts.

“Nice work, big guy,” You cough, breathing hard. “Can we—Simon?”

Before you can move, Simon nudges the toe of a boot into your ribs, compelling you to roll over. You startle at the sight looming above, a strangled, incoherent string of mouth noises trickling out of shock. A pair of brown eyes peer through the orbits of a skull attached to a mask. They trail from your face to your stomach, where he takes advantage of your stupefied babbling, binding your hands with cord. You meet his gaze, heat creeping up your neck, and his eyes crinkle.

About a dozen questions surface on the return march to the cabin. None survive the swirling vortex of your head, unwilling to risk appearing perfidious. 

Simon flexes his grip over your bound hands. “Gonna have some fun.”

Your faith does not lapse, though fear simmers low in your belly when he doesn’t lead you to the cabin but toward the beam. A fluorescent nylon rope now feeds through the hooks and pulleys, and an oxidized steel, wide-based triangle sways freely. Beckoning. A humiliating whimper escapes as he positions you on a circle of dead grass, hands of a hangman on your hips.

“Said you wanted a fucking award.”

A fucking award. A fucking award.

Simon reclaims his watch and then methodically changes your bindings. A hand to each vertice, he fastens you to the gambrel and kisses away a rogue tear. He tugs and tests the rope. It shouldn’t induce a flood, and yet.

“Is it—Can it hold me?”

“Birdie, this is built for stags and boars. It can hold me.” He strokes your cheek, tapping the bone with a knuckle, then breaks away. “Stay put.”

As if you have a choice.

Leaving you with the frogs and crickets, you watch Simon retreat indoors. A breeze carries a cool rush of air from the lake, your thin top a poor barrier to the slight chill. You take deep, rattling breaths to slow your heartbeat, still racing from the pursuit.

A distant click breaks the quiet, followed by a low, electrical buzz and the sudden, blinding intensity of light. It sears your vision before you can screw your eyes shut, blinking away the phosphenes with a noise of displeasure. The sensation’s almost enough to knock you off your feet. You squint, sight adjusting, and track the source to a previously unseen flood lamp affixed to the oak tree some distance away.

Simon returns shortly after you regain your bearings, his imposing silhouette accentuating his mass. Closer, he’s stripped down to a fraying and stained white t-shirt, but your eyes hone in on the rig fastened around a thick thigh. The cut of the strap guides your eye to the straining denim, and the image of his dick flashes in your mind, scorching like the flood lamp.

He extracts a knife from the sheath, steel reflecting light like a mirror. You squirm, a cross between impatient and uncomfortable. Is he cutting you down already? What was the point—

He pulls the front of your shirt, setting the knife edge to the hem.

“Simon,” your voice jumps high in your throat. “Don’t you dare.”

A steady upward glide answers the warning, cleaving the material in two open drapes. The breeze hits your sweat, the band of your bra suddenly chilled and sticking, though that doesn’t last long as he slices through it, too.

“Someone could see!” you stammer, nipples tightening in the night air.

“You’re frettin’ over nothin’, sweetheart. Nobody’s out here. Open.” Simon demands, pressing the hilt to your lips. “Good girl.” he praises when you relent to bite the compressed leather between your teeth, catching a whiff of polish. He rips off the remnants of your top and bra, dropping them to the ground in scraps. A big hand fondles and weighs a tit in its palm as if he hasn’t played with it before. There’s a deep inhale from behind the mask as he swipes a thumb beneath its mass, then a chuckle. “Work up a sweat?”

The hand with the knife carefully discards the mask, revealing smears of eyeblack, and he pops his thumb into his mouth to suck it clean. A gasp slips out when he steps closer, hand engulfing the tissue again, pushing it up to glide his nose along the underside, tongue trailing. He nips, soothing after you yelp.

You mourn your expensive leggings when he shreds them next, reducing them to ribbons—another deep breath and a throaty laugh, selfish and all too pleased.

“Knew I smelled ya in the woods.”

“You ruined–you tore them–”

“Thought you’d get lucky tonight?” Scarred knuckles drag from your ribs to your thigh, squeezing, his thumb rubbing sweet circles over old stretch marks. Your wires cross, his blatant rewrite of the afternoon makes your lips purse, but his hand, Christ, your toes curl in your sneakers. “A quick screw in the woods?” He sheathes his knife to trace a finger along the crease of your thigh.

Air whistles through your teeth in a sharp inhale. He skims, dipping to gather some of your wetness, licking his fingers clean again. He hums appreciatively. “Get off on being chased? Fuckin’ dripping, birdie.”

Your hole twitches at his teasing, and you know he must see it with the sneer he gives you alongside the abrupt plunge of two fingers. The hand on your thigh migrates to your ass, pulling you snug to the webbing. 

“Simon!” A curse hisses out as he burrows his fingers in as deep as they’ll go, curling—not for your pleasure, no, but to keep you there, a crude hook. The rope strains as you squirm, impaled, and stretched too tight on his hand, clenching uncontrollably as if your cunt can’t make up its mind. A flurry of sensations meets head-on with reason, and logic’s never been your strong suit. Reduced to need and want in equal measure, a single twist of his fingers confirms you’re as desperate as the night you met him.

You don’t notice his other hand abandoning your backside for the rope. What squeaks first, you or the pulleys? It’s sudden, the way you slide off his fingers with a lewd pop, feet leaving the ground. He hoists you up and up, the movement practiced, tying you off like the boat secured around a cleat hook. 

Some feet off the ground, naked and shivering in the dark, exposed—you should feel fear, but the other shoe, instinct or intuition, doesn’t drop. All the vulnerability does instead is send a white-hot pulse to your clit. A plea leaves your mouth before your brain considers anything else. Pelvis tilting. He awards your eagerness with a grind of a zipper and a gratified grunt. Simon tugs his jeans and boxers down, then bends slightly to hitch your legs.

Your legs settle around him, and though he huffs when you squeeze, trying to ease the pressure off your wrists, you think he likes it. The ropes above slack little, raised higher than he’s tied you. With a massive hand back on your hip, he uses the other to feed his cock into you, bringing the line taut once more as he pulls you down.

The steady shove and fullness push a low whine from your mouth, which Simon smothers with a toothy kiss. It stings some—you’re not nearly wet enough, only quieting with the faith he’ll make it better. However, the fact that he doesn’t give you time to adjust isn’t promising.

He ruts. Barges in. Takes what he needs in full strokes. Builds a pace that rattles the hardware and your insides. The pain steadily stressing your wrists and lower back is secondary. Third, probably, to pleasure and heat, though the former isn’t building as fast as the latter. Sweat beads in your hairline and neck, collecting under your breasts and in the creases of your belly. Makes your calves slick where they press into his sides, the cotton of his shirt sticking to his and your muscles.

“Simon, I can’t–” The words eke out, abdomen and thighs burning, friction in the wrong places.

His arms flex, boots shuffling over dirt and grass to further beneath you, cock dragging along your walls at a drastic angle, head jabbing into your cervix. More support, less comfort. A bitter trade-off, exchanging one hurt for another. The pinch of his brow makes the bursting stars at the edges of your vision worth it.

Each thrust shakes you in the rope, pulleys whining in solidarity. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes across the cabin’s yard, coupling with your gasps and Simon’s ragged breaths. After a particularly harsh snap of his hips, laughter, deep and gular, trickles out of his mouth. "You feelin’ alright, sweetheart?" he drawls, voice oozing sangfroid. “Y’like your award?”

That has you shuddering. His hands settle on your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh in a way that’s sure to leave marks. “Look at you, strung up so prettily. Pretty fucking ornament.”

Bambi’s poor mother.

Simon's voice and the image of a dangling deer carcass collide, punctuated with a thrust like a battering ram. It forces another string of needy sounds. Discomfort and desire coil in your stomach, twisting into a warm mass with a life of its own. You feel every inch as he withdraws and shoves in. The heat of him, the hardness. Nylon chafes your skin, each buck a reminder of your helplessness. Restraints are nothing new, but this is—

The air leaves your lungs in one big whoosh as Simon hits a sweet spot.

You slump a bit, legs close to jelly from bracing. 

Finally, an adjustment. Simon slows to meld himself further into you, and it’s then, sucking in deep breaths, you marvel at how perfectly level you are to be fucked like this. He bands a single thick arm beneath your ass in a casual display of strength, the other snaking between you. Chin to chest, he spits, the glob hitting your clit like a bullseye. You’d cringe if his thumb didn’t chase after it, spreading his saliva. The sudden break, coupled with his attention, makes you quiver. Anticipation gaining on torment. His thumb’s rhythm quickens, alleviating the aches. You’ll be sore as hell come morning, but as you have before, you’ll forgive again.

With a new, albeit haphazard, focus on your clit, he rolls his hips at a more languid pace. The shift is a knife’s edge between torture and bliss. 

“Still want me to take it down? Don’t know if I will, birdie, like the idea of keepin’ you up ‘ere, ‘anging for the takin’ whenever I want ya.” A chuckle vaporizes into a hiss. “Shit, you like the sound of that?

If you could manage speech, you’d say yes. Simon’s rewired your synapses in a matter of seconds with the rough pad of a finger. He’s backlit from this angle. Haloed. Suits him, you think. What you’re feeling is rapturous, however ruthless it may be. Animalistic, really. If you let him leave the beam—this is what you’ll remember. Not some fresh-killed doe staring into nothing. But you, Simon, and the orgasm he harvests. 

It creeps up on you. You howl, jerking in the ropes, muscles spasming and weeping. Revived with a burst of adrenaline, your legs try to close automatically, only to press uselessly into his sides. There’s no stopping him and nowhere to go until he’s done. Your body sags in its ties like a puppet.

Simon snarls something, and his palms return to your ass, abandoning all pretense. A haze rolls, thick as molasses, over you as he uses you to his end. He goes silent the few seconds before he comes, breathing harshly through his nose. One last snap of his hips, a deep grunt, and his cock floods your pussy. His chest heaves. Breaths heavy and stunted. Burrowing into your chest, he digs his nose into your sternum and rasps his teeth over your frantic heartbeat.

Your eyes droop along with the rest of your person. Everything disappears under a tenebrous wave.

Movement. The grind of the pulleys. The sawing of a knife. A sliver of lucidity buoys you, a headrush from popping to the surface after drowning. Your head throbs, the world spins, and by the time you make sense of it, you hear the familiar creak of the cabin steps. 

Simon lays you out on the lumpy mattress, brushing his fingers over your hair and skin. He disappears, and you float in and out of consciousness. Thoroughly fucked.

You briefly wake when he tucks you in. The crux of your legs is damp, and a faint medicinal smell emanates under the blanket. Layers of gauze over aloe wrap your wrists where they lay beside your head on a flat pillow, and you wiggle your fingers experimentally.

“Sleep.” He says, poking your forehead.

Your throat hurts. “Stay.”

The bed dips when he obliges. He molds to your back, smushing your chest with an arm and cupping a tit. His breath fans over the shell over your ear, and when you’re on the edge of sleep, he murmurs something, but the words run together.

Somehow, he falls asleep before you. Sated. Ran out. You take care of him, and he takes.

~~

An emaciated tick floats with its legs curled in on itself in a glass on the floor next to the bed. You stare at it for too long, then roll over.

Simon’s awake, though his eyes remain closed and body still. You wince, thighs rubbing together and interlacing your limbs over his. His lip twitches, but he doesn’t shove you off.

You trace a scar jutting across the meat of a shoulder and stare at his chest, pock-marked like besieged castle walls. Months ago, you asked about the stories behind the wounds. The question went unanswered, and it earned you a week of getting fucked face-down. So you simply drop a kiss to a crater on his pec and then his chin.

“You broken?” He mutters.

“No.”

“Then fix us some breakfast.” 

It’s Herculean with how your flanks and thighs protest, but you hum through the kitchen and diligently rustle up the meal. Visions of a life dance through your head. An ivory lace curtain will suit the window over the sink. The smoke-damaged, yellowing cabinets need scrubbing. There’s hair stuck in the hoarfrost of the freezer, which makes you gag. Leftovers from one of Simon’s hunts.

No sooner than you plate the bacon does Simon emerge. No need to call. He’s trained. 

~~

The cell reception is terrible, one of the features that sold him on the property. Calls drop sporadically, and texts scrape by at the shed. His phone vibrates when he sets foot over the threshold—messages from his pet, all sent within a few hours. Poor thing’s bored at work. He wouldn’t know the feeling. His morning’s been productive. Enjoyable.

Simon’s lip curls, and he leans the fishing rod against the shed door. Sliding his phone into a pocket, he turns back to fetch the tackle box. He lumbers past the wriggling cunt strung up on the newly installed gambrel, the plastic crinkling underfoot. The steady drip of blood is barely audible over their whiny throes. Probably hurts. Hooks through the Achilles tendons will do that, but they’ll go quiet soon enough. If he times it right, they’ll be done when he returns for supper.

He nearly pricks his thumb, spearing the worm onto the hook. Watches it writhe. He huffs a laugh and spares a glance back at the cabin. The two trees that once held the beam. It’s a loss to no longer watch game struggle from the comfort of the deck. He surprised himself with how he complied with his girl’s request. She earned it, he supposed. Cried and begged and bled for it. Usually, that sort of response draws his knife, not his interest. But she’s an odd one. Different. A rare beast.

He casts the line.

“Do you want to fuck me?” She’d asked all those months ago, less than a minute after he threatened to hang her date by the balls. Blunt and to the point. Refreshing. He was unaccustomed to finding them so willing, but she fucking imprinted on him like a wobbly-kneed fawn. Nosed his open, reaching hand like a stray, hungry pup. She saw him for what he was—the bigger, meaner predator. Top of the food chain. Thinks some part of her knew she was better off bowing her head and licking his cock than running. She stuck her neck out, took him home, and gave him her pussy without a fuss.

It’s cute, the way she thinks she’s made him agreeable. How she works on him and his hygiene and manners. Doesn’t get that if it were up to him, he’d sleep on the floor, in the dirt, used to a lifetime of bunking down in shitholes. The cabin’s simply suitable for his hobbies. The fact it’s a decent vivarium for the sweet girl is a bonus, a place to keep her nice and soft so long as she’s good. ‘Course, the sight of her hanging by her hands made the idea of introducing her insides to the outside cross his mind, but he won’t cut her down just yet. Not when he’s got her leashed.

Hours later, the cooler packed with largemouth bass and walleye, he unpacks the dinghy and trudges toward the shed. It’s silent, save for the insects and the birds.

The nosy prick from the bait shop sways, unmoving. Coated with his own fluids and dripping. He chuckles. He should call her.

[kittykattropicanna]

Going absolutely feral over Mechanic!Simon and how you met him :(( I just want him so badddd

TW: pervy!Simon, smut, creampie, possessive!Simon, dirty talk (praise), he just wants you so bad girl, swearing, kinda naive!reader, brief mention of spanking

Mechanic!Simon masterlist

Regular masterlist

Just imagine you’re driving through a shitty little town somewhere in England, you don’t even know where you are at this point.

Your ex just kicked you out of your shared apartment in the middle of the night and you have nowhere else to go, your only option is to drive in your little shit box of a car as far away from him as possible. 

Of course its poring rain and of course your car breaks down in the middle of the road surrounded by scary looking government houses and a very obviously high homeless guy screaming and yelling all sorts of profanities :(

With shaky hands you quickly look up every mechanic in town on your phone, its almost dead and none of them answer :( of course they wouldn’t! Its the middle of the night! 

You don’t have insurance either! Everything is going wrong, you’re so lost and scared :( 

You start to panic when there’s only one number left, with a shaky breath you call it and just as you think you're out of luck, a deep cranky voice answers begrudgingly obviously pissed that someone dared to call him at this hour.

Tomorrow is his only day off for the week  >:(

Simons personal number was attached to the shop after Price promoted him to manager, now he has all sorts of dumb fucks calling him all times of the day and he hates it!!

But how could he say no? A poor girl called him in tears gasping for air between sobs and absolutely hysterical :((((  His not an ethical guy and a young girl like you that knows absolutely nothing about cars :( imagine all the extra money he could charge you? You wouldn’t question it either! Oh how could he say no to such a silly girl…

After what feels like hours a very tall, bulky, thick man with a scary balaclava knocks on your driver seat window and you scream so loud!!! His so scary and big! And his eyes! They’re are so angry :(((( he must be so angry at you for calling him :( you feel so bad :(

After he loads your car onto the tow truck he insists on driving you home

“Ohh come on sweetheart, would hate to see a pretty baby like you stuck in the rain, let me take you home darlin’” 

His so pervy too! Subtly touching your arse and looking at your hard nipples that poke through you soaked shirt :(

He can’t help it! You can’t blame him! You’re not wearing a bra! 

And with a beautiful face like yours and a body like that, what did you expect him to do? Not eye fuck you? Don’t be ridiculous. 

You tell him that you have nowhere to go because your shitty ex threw you out and Si insisted you stay with him!!

“Oh pet, you poor poor girl, you want to get a room at a motel? No. Nooo. That’s no place for a doll like you, come stay with me darlin’, come on sweets, I’ll sleep on the couch, promise yeah?”

“I’m just tryna’ keep ya safe honey, its not nice around these parts, okay? hate for somthin’ to happen to ya”

And you know his right :( he came all this way in the middle of the night, left his comfy bed in the  pouring rain just to help you, his from around these parts and he knows best!

His voice is so deep and husky, you just know a man like him could keep you safe!

You jump in the shops tow truck and he insist you take off your soaking shirt and put on his company jacket. 

Its covered in oil and dirt, smells like cigarettes and is wayyyy to big for you. “Riley” is printed onto the left breast pocket with a large logo with the words “Price’s Motor Repairs” on the back. 

Its so disgusting and smells musky but something about it makes your pussy clench!!! His so manly, so dominant, how could you not get turned on by him!!! You could feel his eyes roam your breasts as you sit in his jacket, chest completely bare underneath, hard nipples rubbing against the fabric :(((

Once you reach the shop, he drops your car off then shows you around.

He wants to impress you sooooo bad, showing you all sorts of tools and telling you what he uses them for, how he uses them to fix things. The whole time his talking all you could look at is his big muscly arms as he purposely flexes them for you. 

Never in his life has he seen such a gorgeous, gorgeous girl and all he wants to do is bend you over his modified truck and fuck you so hard you’re creaming on his cock :(

And that’s exactly what he does! Before driving you back to his, he has you bent over, back arched and his callused hand wrapped around your hair as he ruts into you while you're still in his company jacket :((((

Your poor pussy hasn’t taken such a big girthy cock before, his wide hips connecting with your arse and slamming your much smaller body into the hood of his car :3 

Thrusts so deep his car shakes from the force :)

As you moan and babble completely cock drunk you can hear him snickering and grunting behind you, whispering dirty words in your ear 

Praising you between grunts….

“Look at you love, fuck, look at that perfect fuckin’ pussy, taking my cock so well, such a good girl, aren’t ya?” As he pounds into you so deep the tip of his leaking cock touches your cervix. A small squeal exiting your lips as he holds you there for a second, letting you feel for the first time what a real deep pounding feels like :)

“Never been fucked this good have ya baby? Never cum his hard before” he’d snicker has you cum for the third time, legs shaking and mascara running not from the rain this time, but from the tears of pure pleasure his so kindly giving you :(

And of course his coming inside of you! His loads are so big as well, when he finally lets himself cum he absolutely floods your pussy :)))

Your moans bounce around the tin walls of the shop, the sound of him slapping your arse echoing  at the same time

You can feel the hot ropes shoot up inside of you as he continues to slowly thrust making sure none of it goes to waste. 

He tries to suppress his moan, disguising them as grunts but a few slip past his lips :( 

He doesn't pull out but that doesn’t stop his cum from leaking out of your cunt and down you beautiful thighs, 

“Look at tha’ baby, fuckin’ hell, you did so good for me my gorgeous girl, so fuckin’ good”

He just met you but his already so, so possessive. :)

He carries you to his truck because your legs feel like jelly :( his so gentle with you too, whispering in your ear how good you did for him and how you're such an obedient girl, his obedient girl. 

You fall sleep in his truck, curled up in the passenger seat, his company jacket still wrapped around your bare chest. 

You’ve had such a big night and the sound of the soft radio and drizzle of rain lulls you to sleep. 

You wake up in Si’s arms as his gently placing you into his bed. 

“You’re alrigh’ darlin’, jus’ close ya eyes for me, ill be here”

Its safe to say he didn’t take the couch that night :3

Request are open for Mechanic!Simon, I would love to hear your thoughts so feel free send them through and add to the AU. im just obsessed w/ himmmm

!Disclaimer! - Above is NSFW content - MDNI - If you follow my blog without your age in your bio, you will be blocked - If you are under the age of 18, you are not welcome here, otherwise, enjoy :)

Cat divider sourced by @positively-mine from Pinterest - Pink line divider by @eloquentreverie - MDNI divider by @cafekitsune

Basic blog housekeeping -  fic requests guidelines, boundaries and my rules for minors

[nervoussagittarius]

strike out

matt sturniolo x reader

summary: three times you try to get the attention of your boyfriend and one time he finally notices, but it’s to late. part two

warnings: swearing, major angst, kinda shitty boyfriend matt, break up

THE STREAMING INCIDENT

your day seemingly couldn’t have gotten worse. you started your morning with a flat tire. having to call a tow truck and an uber costing you a whopping three hundred dollars. you got to work and everything was going fine until you you cut your hand on a box opener causing you to have to get six stitches to your palm. all you wanted to do now was see your boyfriend and his brothers because you knew that could cheer you up.

walking up the stairs into the common area of the triplets house, you were already greeted with chris and nick. you could tell this is what you needed. you just needed to be around your favorite boys. “whoa kid what did you do to your hand?” chris exclaimed when he saw the blood covered gauze on your palm. “honestly chris i don’t really want to begin to talk about how shitty my day was,” you said with a chuckle, “but i cut it in a box opener at work and had to go get some stitches. no biggie.”

“no, that is a biggie,” nick said. “yeah just wait until matt finds out.” chris responds giving you a side hug. “we’re glad you’re okay now though. go get your man.”

with your spirits brightened you made your way to matt’s room. his lights were on and he was at his desk playing fortnite. you walked over to him with a smile etched on your face. once you got to him you put your arms around his shoulders from behind and rested your head on top of them. “hey i’m streaming,” he said gently removing you from him. he muted his mic for a minute telling the stream he’d be right back. your relationship was definitely no secret so him reacting this way was a bit confusing. he got up from his chair and pulled you out of frame from the stream. “i’m gonna be a little bit can you go wait in the living room?” before you got the chance to respond he was ushering you out of his room and closing the door in your face.

“hey what was that about?” chris asks from the couch. “no clue” you responded with a shrug.

a few hours went by with still no acknowledgement from matt. you decided you would say goodbye quick before heading home. you knocked on his door hearing a quick ‘come in’. opening the door to find him laying in bed. you were confused as to why he didn’t come out to see you or ask you to come sit with him, but you brushed it off.

“hey, i just wanted to let you know that i’m leaving.” you said with a smile that was quickly removed when matt barely noticed your presence. “matt?” he finally looked up. “i didn’t appreciate how you just barged into my room earlier. i was streaming and they didn’t have to see you all over me.” matt said raising his voice.

you were so incredibly shocked at his words that you were speechless. tears began to well up in your eyes. “i’m so sorry. it won’t happen again.” you quickly made your way out of his room and past nick and chris not wanting to raise suspicions due to your state. you went home that night feeling utterly alone and confused. strike one.

THE PARTY

Tara’s parties had become the biggest events of the year. when the boys introduced you to tara you guys immediately hit it off, becoming basically inseparable. when tara asked you to host a party with her you knew it was an opportunity you couldn’t turn down.

since matt missed her one million party he promised to join you guys at this one. you guys had tara’s house completely decked out in black and pink decorations. the dj was beginning to play music and drinks were being poured. people filled in quickly, and you and tara began to make your rounds. saying hi to everyone, taking shots, and dancing.

you weren’t a big drinker. it was safe to say that you and the triplets were the four most sober people in tara’s house, but that didn’t stop you from questioning yourself when you thought your eyes were fooling you. there matt was against a back wall of the living room talking to some random girl. you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but you couldn’t help how your stomach turned in jealousy as you watched them.

matt was supposed to be by your side tonight. you knew he wasn’t the biggest partier but you figured he’d at least take comfort by you as you guys enjoyed yourselves. you quickly made your way to nick and chris. “hey who’s that girl matt’s with?” you questioned. the music was so loud it was hard to hear their response, they both made comments about how they didn’t know who she was either. “i’m going to go talk to him.”

you pushed through the crowd, being stopped multiple times to take pictures. you adjusted your dress and finally made it to matt. he stopped his conversation as you slid you hand down his arm into his. he hastily yanked his hand away throwing you for a loop. you quickly collected yourself. “hey, i don’t want to interrupt, but i was wondering is you wanted to dance with me.” before matt could comment the girl across from his spoke up. “if you didn’t want to interrupt then why did you?” she asked with an attitude.

not wanting to get into a fight you simply scoffed and walked away. your heart broke a little bit when matt didn’t come after you. instead he went back to his conversation and you went to a bottle of vodka. strike two.

THE TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY

after your past two humiliating bad encounters, matt had become more and more distant with you. months had gone by where you felt like you were walking on eggshells everytime you were around him. some days he was your normal happy matt, but most days he was miserable and tired and mean. he made everything bad in his life your fault. you tried not to overthink it. everyone has bad days, but matt’s been having bad months and it’s starting to take a toll on you.

today was yours and matt’s two year anniversary. you were so excited but you couldn’t help but feel hesitant. you didn’t know what kind of mood matt was going to be in today. he had been in meetings with nick and chris that morning, but nick let you know that they were done at 2 so matt had agreed to meet you at 7.

these plans had been set in stone for weeks if not a month. you even reminded matt about it the night before to make sure he was still okay with the itinerary. you somehow had managed to get reservations to matt’s favorite restaurant and the place you had your first date. places like this booked out months in advance so you had stocked the waiting list for this exact day to open up. after that you guys were going to go to the theater. matt wasn’t a huge theater fan but he agreed because he knew how much you loved it, and because you made the dinner reservation based around him. it seemed only fair.

you left your house at 6:30 sending matt a quick text that you were heading to the restaurant, making it there just in time for your reservation. matt not being on time was unusual. so when you arrived before him it was a little shocking. you sent him another text asking him if he was on his way as the waiter brought you over to your table.

after an hour, 10 texts, 2 phone calls, and still no response from matt, the waiter came back over to your table politely asking you to leave as others were waiting to be seated. you couldn’t tell him no. even though you really wanted to keep waiting for matt you had a feeling he wasn’t going to show. you knew how hard it was to get a seat in this restaurant so you weren’t going to take that away from a happy couple who would enjoy it.

the tears didn’t come until you were safely in the car and out of the view of the public. you felt embarrassed. you had just been stood up by your boyfriend of two fucking years. you didn’t understand what had happened.

you tried calling him again from your car. it didn’t even ring this time. you were sent straight to voicemail. the tears came faster and the sobs became louder as you watched the sunset from your window. you decided calling chris might give you the best chance of reassurance. unlike your call to your boyfriend, chris picked up instantly. “hey kid! what’s up?aren’t you with matt for your anniversary?” chris’s energy seemed slightly draining to you in this moment. you tried to think of ways to respond without completely bashing his triplet brother out of the pain you were feeling. “actually that’s why i’m calling you… matt didn’t show up. i was wondering if you’ve seen or heard from him at all.” there was a brief moment of silence from chris as he tried to process the information he was just given. last he knew matt was with you, but as he made his way upstairs he realized matt was still in his room. “hey y/n/n, matt’s still in his room let me see what he’s doing. mute yourself for a sec, okay?”

you listened carefully to their conversation as you realized matt had no intentions meeting you tonight. “hey matt! what are you doing tonight?” “i’m going to that party with paige.” the mention of another girls name made your stomach turn. you didn’t want to believe matt was cheating on you. “what about y/n? wasn’t your anniversary thing tonight?” chris was trying to get the most information out of matt and you were internally grateful.

“i don’t know chris. i tuned her out months ago. she’s so needy. it’s not like i’m cheating on her i just need some space.” that’s when you decided you’d heard enough. you can’t believe the things matt’s said, but his words did match his actions so you weren’t totally surprised. one thing about matt was that he was always honest. even if it was at the expense of another.

you drove home that night in silence. hurt by matt, mad at yourself, and in shock at the world. strike three.

THE HALF-ASSED APOLOGY

since your anniversary date with matt that he blew off, you’ve decided to give him the space he apparently wants. even after a month, you still hadn’t heard anything from him. not a text, not a call, not even a lousy snapchat.

you had heard from nick and chris though. they were disappointed in matt, to say the least. as much as you wanted to be petty and still hangout with those two you knew it wasn’t right. they shouldn’t have to pick sides between their friend and their brother. family comes first, and that’s what you told them when they came over to your house begging you to come talk to matt. you stopped responding to them after that night.

since it had been a quite few weeks, you established a new routine that was the rotation of work and home. you know you shouldn’t have, but you watched every video the triplets had put out. your focus was always drawn to matt. you tried to pinpoint if there was a shift in his attitude or if he seemed different. it hurt when you realized he seemed happier.

you had just gotten home from work when you were making dinner and there was an interruption in your routine. a knock came to your front door. when you looked out and saw matt you were shocked. you could’ve never expected this. you spent the first two weeks of your separation wishing and hoping matt would show up at your front door, but now you don’t know if you want to hear what he has to say.

you quickly fixed your posture as you opened the front door. you wanted to look like you had your shit together even though you were slowly falling apart. matt spoke first, “can i come in?” you didn’t know if any words would come out if you even attempted to open your mouth so you opted to just open the door wider allowing him entrance.

“i wanted to come talk to you. i hadn’t heard from you in a while so i thought i’d come check up on you.” matt seemed so oblivious and this made you angry. you could feel the pain and frustration bring tears to your eyes. you were no longer crying out of sadness.

“matt…i’m going to be so for real with you right now.” you paused to take a deep breath. you were trying so hard to keep your composure. “i genuinely don’t know what’s going through your head. how can you sit here and say you want to check up on me when i haven’t heard a peep out of you for a month matt. a fucking month.” “i know i’m sorry-” “i’m not done. you abandoned me on our anniversary to go to some random assholes party with a girl you barely know. you told chris that you didn’t care about us and that i was needy.” he looked at you in surprise and you could tell there was a slight hint of shame in his eyes. “yeah i new about that.” you added.

you kept going, you had so much pent up frustration with matt that you couldn’t hold in your feelings anymore. “for months i let go of the yelling and the bad moods just for you to turn around and go off with other girls. how is that fair? how did you sit at home for a month and not wonder what your girlfriend was doing? you haven’t heard from me because you wanted space, but i also don’t remember hearing from you either.” you were so upset that you were basically hyperventilating. matt grabbed your hand and used his other to wipe your face. “you have to breath, sweetheart. can you please breath for me?” matt asks. you push him off of you him a frenzy. you ran your hands through your hair giving him a teary laugh. “can i do it for you?” you asked. matt felt that in this moment if looks could kill he’d be dead. “i’m done doing anything for you. if the past month wasn’t any indication, we’re done.” “no y/n you don’t mean that.” he tried walking over to you but you put your hand up signaling for him to stay back. “y/n i am so sorry for everything. please you just have to give me another chance. i promise i can be better.” you chose not to acknowledge him anymore. the back and forth wasn’t going to get you anywhere. you silently walked over to your door and opened it. matt looked at you with a pleeding look before inevitably giving in, leaving your house. you slammed the door behind him falling into it as tears streamed down your face. you’re out.

an: my own feelings have been hurt by this one.

[powerfultenderness]

lord powerfultenderness, I don't know how to fully picture it but can we have neighbor könig doing grocery shopping with y/n? Please!~

I swear I saw a post somewhere that said König probably makes bank. And Sugar Daddy König hc born/accepted. This man will spoil you if you give him the chance (and then idk wreck you later?)

Either you were oblivious to the looks strangers gave you, to the way women quickly turned around and went down different aisles, or you didn’t care. It was, in fact, the latter. This big menacing looking guy beside you practically cleared a path wherever you wanted. Busy aisles you’d normally have to do trick maneuvers with your cart? Cleared out when he looked at other shoppers. It was amazing, really.

You stopped and looked up at the shelf, the item you wanted on the very top and if you stretched out…you still couldn’t reach it. Even before you could pout and try again, König reached over and plucked the box of snacks off the shelf and dropped in the basket. 

Maybe it was the way his eyes crinkled a bit, but you could tell he was smiling at you. “Those are car snacks.” 

“Car snacks?”

You nodded and continued to push the cart down the aisle. You’d deviated from your shopping list so much that you were now just going up and down aisles to see if there was anything you needed.

“You know, snacks you keep in the car for emergencies. Like, getting stuck in traffic, or on the side of the road while waiting for a tow truck…or lost…” 

“How often do you get lost?” He laughed, shoulders shaking as he tried to keep his laugh at a reasonable indoor level.

“It was just the one time! My GPS wasn’t working!” It wasn’t your fault downtown was an impossible maze!

“What did you do?” 

“I had a snack and figured it out.” You gave up and went home, but he didn’t need to know that. 

Though he could probably guess with the way he was side eyeing you. You knocked your hip into his side (and he didn’t budge at all!) “What do you say to pasta for dinner?” 

He titled his head, “you’re making dinner for me?”

“Yea, I want to do something nice for you for helping me out.” 

König beamed at you, though you couldn’t see behind his mask and you were currently looking at one of the shelves. “I will eat whatever you cook.”

You laughed, it sounded so weird when he said it like that. “Alright, pasta it is.” 

On the way to the checkout, you happened upon a display of clothing, mostly blouses and tee shirts, but some printed leggings as well. “Ooh, that’s cute.” You stopped and picked up a strappy sundress printed with your favorite flowers. “And my size!” You cheered to yourself as you looked at the tag. You flipped it over to check the price tag then set the dress back on the rack. “Pssh, not that cute.” 

You looked at him just as he turned away from the dress you liked. “Hey, can you wait in line while I run and get my prescription?” 

He nodded and took over pushing the cart as you handed him your debit card, “just in case it takes too long.” 

It was a good thing you handed him your card too! There was a bit of wait while your prescription was transferred to the new in store pharmacy. You half debated whether or not you should just leave to pick it up another day, but you already missed a day and didn’t want to throw off the effects. 

By the time you had your medication, König was waiting for you out front. “Sorry about that!” 

He shook his head, “no problem.” And handed you the receipt and your card back. 

You giggled as he loaded the bags in almost one scoop into the back of his truck. Your car was currently in the shop and he very quickly offered to help you out in the meantime. 

“Thank you so much!” You smiled at him once all of the groceries were sitting on your counter. 

“Anytime.” He answered simply.

 “Still up for dinner tonight?” 

He nodded, “of course.” 

The little short answers, no hearty laugh included, were weird. But maybe he just had enough company for a few hours. “Alright, I’ll pop over later then?” 

“Goodbye.” He nodded again and quickly left you alone.

Weird…

Whatever. Maybe he’ll feel better once he…oh! 

You pulled out one of the very dresses you thought was cute, but too expensive, from one of the bags. König’s doing? You checked the receipt and it wasn’t listed. He…bought it himself? And hid it from you? Suddenly the way he was acting nervous before he left made sense. 

-

König’s stomach flipped and his face burned when he opened the door later that night. You were standing in front of him wearing the dress he bought. “You look like an angel.” 

You smiled and spun around, the dress flaring cutely as you did so. “I can’t believe you bought this! Thank you so much! But, let me repay you?” 

“No. Have dinner with me?” 

You giggled, you were already having dinner with him! “You sneaky man! Come on, let’s go!” You then grabbed one of his hands and started to pull him out and towards your flat.

“Wait. Let me lock up.” He fished his keys out of his pocket and locked the door with one hand, refusing to pull out of your touch. 

“Oh. right!” 

“You didn’t lock up, did you?” 

“What! It’s just right there!”   

König was laughing again as he followed you to your home, a dopey smile you couldn’t see lighting his eyes 

[More neighbor König]

[disneyprincemuke]

get this right * aa23

the thought of proposing to you is one that always comes easy to alex, but what he hadn’t expected is how difficult it is to execute it

pairings: alex albon x fem!reader

warnings: literally nOthing just a buNCH OF CUTE SHIT

notes: YALL i’ve been simping for this man for like weeks but in my head, he’s just such a sweetheart that i can’t imagine him in bad situations and nOW I FINALLY GOT IT

also… i’m really liking these multiple scenario fics… if you guys have any suggestions with stuff you want to see, please feel free to send them in here and this has been in my drafts since october oh my gooooood

(f1 masterlist)

“you’re telling me you already bought the ring?” max raises an eyebrow at alex, completely baffled at the story his friend has chosen to bestow upon them.

to the question, alex nods. his head snaps to george, who then asks, “and you’ve had it for almost a month?”

again, the thai nods. “and you have yet to propose?” lando says his piece, just as shocked as the rest of the table is.

alex can only nod, dropping his head in disappointment. in the middle of their circular table sat a red velvet box. inside it is the ring that alex had very carefully picked out with his sisters and mother.

yet the diamond ring sits comfortably in the box instead of your finger. and so does he amongst his friends while he faces the million dollar questions as to why he’s had the ring and has yet to propose to you.

“are you having second thoughts?” charles speaks up, tilting his head and biting his lips in curiosity.

if the answer were to be a ‘yes’, that would be worrisome. considering alex is one of the more romantic people they all know.

“no,” alex finally speak, putting a firm hand down on the table. he meets all of their eyes and feels the judgement. he sighs. “i’m not having second thoughts. i want to marry (y/n) just as much as i said before.”

george lifts his hands up and throws alex a questioning shrug. “so what’s holding you back then?”

“well…” alex chews on the inside of his cheek. he glances down at the box and scrunches up his nose, recounting the numerous times he has tried to get on one knee for you.

“i’m afraid it’s really not that simple.”

-> 20 days ago

alex glances at the door of your shared apartment then his eyes jump to the clock hanging just above your decorative plant. you should be home any minute.

the living room has been decorated beautifully with the help of his sisters. there is a singular heart helium balloon tied down to the bouquet of roses that sits on the kitchen island.

he’s even dressed up in his best suit to greet you a warm welcome home.

he sinks further into his couch, shaking his leg in anticipation. he runs his thumb over the velvet material of the box.

alex hadn’t been planning on proposing to you so soon, if he were to be honest. but he woke up that morning to empty half of the bed, with a note in your handwriting reminding him how much you love him and that breakfast is on the table.

his heart felt so full and he just knew today is the day.

so he got up and called his sisters up. they decorated the house together. with their help, he at least has the slightest idea of what to say to you.

it would be embarrassing if he was stuttering every 5 seconds thinking of what to say to you next.

it was 15 minutes later that he started to get worried about you. you usually get home from work around the same time whenever he’s in town — give or take about 5 minutes.

as if you’d read his mind, his phone lights up with a text notification from you.

my car died. can you pick me up please?

without another question, he is already typing a response to let you know that he will be on the way. he adds on the fact that he will call a tow truck for you after you send him your location.

when he gets there, he sighs in relief that you’re safe. he’d already known you were stuck in the parking lot of a mcdonald’s, but how can he really know when he’s rarely home?

you’re sitting on the trunk of your car, eating some ice cream with your phone propped up a box of nuggets. you’re fully occupied by a video you’ve put on to accompany yourself during the wait.

“my love, why didn’t you sit in the car where the seat’s more comfortable?” alex asks as he opens the car door.

you turn your head and open your mouth with an answer, but immediately close it when he comes into view. your eyes scan him up and down, slowly gulping the remaining ice cream in your mouth.

you point at him with the spoon of your mcflurry. “why are you dressed all fancy? you were gonna go out, love?”

alex freezes. he hadn’t even thought of changing out of his outfit before coming to get you. now he has to scrape his brain for an excuse to throw you off, without sabotaging the relationship whole.

it’s like a lightbulb goes off in his head. you’ll totally buy the excuse. “i was giving my clothes a test run,” he giggles sheepishly, but hesitantly from the daggers you were shooting at him. “wanted to see what fit and what didn’t.”

he can almost envision the gears turning in your head as you process his lie. he sighs again when you turn away to lock your phone.

he’s a very bad liar. for two people who have been together for as long as you’ve been, it’s very easy to spot all his telltales.

he tries his best not to lie to you. today is when he’s exerting every single ounce of his ability to do so.

“my car battery died. i saw a screw lose when i’d checked,” you explain, gently climbing off the back of your car. you waddle over to him, lips puckered up as he bends down to meet your lips. “i’m sorry to trouble you, love. i’m sure you were enjoying your fashion show.”

he chuckles, pulling you in for a quick hug. “anything for you, my love.” he walks over to where you are and opens the mcdonald’s paper bag. “oh, you bought us dinner?”

“you dinner,” you correct him. you lean slightly into him with a loud and frustrated huff with your arms hanging around him loosely. “i’ve had such a long day at work today. it could really be deemed as the worst day; i just want to go home and relax.”

alex scrambles in his mind, thinking of several ways he can deviate you from the house a little longer. he makes a mental note to text his sister to do a quick cleanup before you make your way home.

he simply refuses to propose to you when you’re in a bad mood. he doesn’t think your answer would change depending on how you currently feel, but it just doesn’t feel right.

alex hums, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you. “what do you say we go to our spot up in the hills and chill for a little bit?”

he watches you in anticipation. if you didn’t agree, he really wouldn’t know what to do at all. there are only so many excuses he can make. and there's only so much time before his sisters can get to the apartment and get cleaning.

“hm, okay." you lean into him and squeeze him in your hug. “anywhere with you is relaxing.”

-> 18 days ago

so alex shall try again in the planned department. he is once again in your shared apartment. there is a singular rose this time with dinner on the table. this time, decorated by himself.

he’s practised in the mirror. what he should say. everything he had planned out a few days ago is forgotten as the nerves are slightly different this time.

he doesn't get nervous often, but whenever it comes to you, it's inevitable that it bothers him. when it first happened, it was a confusing feeling that he spent days pondering what exactly it is.

when george smacked his head and told him, he looked down shyly at the ground and nodded.

he got the same feeling when he asked you to be his girlfriend and met your parents.

his chosen seat is a bar stool this time, and he plays some games on his phone to remain calm and collected. though still a little bit distracted.

his attention is split between the phone in his hands and the door. occasionally, the footsteps in the hallway make his heart stop as he looks up and waits for a lock to click. it's never the door he wants to open.

his game is briefly interrupted, his mother's picture flashing on the screen while his phone buzzes. it's not unusual that she's calling, but it is a bit of a shock since she knows he's planning to propose tonight.

he picks up the call, an explanation as to why he hasn't texted at the tip of his tongue.

“i’m sorry, sweetie,” his mother’s panicked voice comes through the phone. “can you please come over? it’s an emergency.”

that’s all he needed to hear before he was darting all over the apartment. he’s popped the balloon, as there was clearly no need for it tonight, the rose is hiding behind a bunch of folded shirts in his drawer and the velvet red box goes back into the deepest pit of his underwear drawer.

this time, he remembers to change out of his clothes. it’s slightly less put together than before, but it was still an effort.

“alex, love?” the sound of the door opening makes him perk up. your voice bounces through the apartment, followed by the pitter-patter of the cats’ nails against the hardwood floor. “are you home?”

he stumbles out of your bedroom, pulling up his sweatpants. “i need to go over to mum’s.”

you stop dead in your tracks, the door still held open and the key in your hands. clearly, you notice his panic in the way he’s barely even greeted you. you raise your eyebrows and step aside, leaving a gap for him to go through the door.

“i can drive you if you want,” you offer him, watching him jog towards the car keys.

he’s shaking, and it’s noticeable from the way he’s struggling to find his wallet. his wallet that is very clearly sitting above the shoerack in the entryway.

you grab it swiftly and say his name. it makes him stop briefly, turning to you as he held up the couch’s cushion, still in search of his wallet.

you lift up the leather item and then show him your car keys. you nudge your head towards the hallway. “come on, i’ll drive.”

-> 10 days ago

third time's the charm, right? right?

alex sits in his chair, hands fixing his collar, then his hair, picking at the menu, and then the lace table cover.

"hey, love," you say from behind him, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead. "i'm sorry i'm late. there was traffic in the parking lot at the office."

"don't worry about it. i just arrived not too long ago." alex gets up to his feet, pulling you in for a tight hug. he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before running over to pull your seat back for you.

you thank him with the squeeze of his arm while you take your seat. you grab the menu and get comfortable in your seat. "have you looked at the menu yet?"

"not yet, i was waiting for you."

he feels like a stalker watching you from across the table. his hand is in his jacket's pocket, rubbing circles over the velvety material once more. when exactly is the right time to ask you?

"how was work?" alex starts, taking the menu into his hands, looking at you shyly as he awaits your response.

"it's alright. nothing out of the ordinary from me," you mutter with a shrug, flashing him a small grin before returning your attention to the menu. "the pasta looks good, don't you think?"

"i saw their salmon dish online - that looked good," alex answers. but he's been on the same page of the menu for a hot minute, his eyes have read the same item so many times that he has its description memorised.

all he can think of is how to transition to popping the question.

"it does look delicious... do you want to share a dessert after too?" you inquire, looking up at him with a huge smile. "i really want the lava cake."

"with vanilla ice cream?"

"of course!"

and you make small talk with him. which almost makes him forget the ring that's in the pocket of his jacket. you talk and he thinks and thinks and tries to find the perfect time to pop the question to you.

until your smile drops and your head angles to the side slightly. your lips part as your eyes move from his, over to the door in pure shock.

"love, what's wrong?" alex follows your moving gaze.

and he also freezes in his seat. it's his ex-girlfriend. the same exact person that you'd mentioned you thought you could never live up to.

all because his mother had slipped up and asked about her over casual conversation over dinner, and because you had noticed that his sisters still kept in constant contact with her.

he watches you, from the corner of his eyes, sink into your seat and drop your head. you press your lips together and give him a small smile. "maybe let's cancel dessert? i'm not very hungry."

-> now

"do you get why it's a little complicated now?" alex groans, throwing his head back. "it's not like i haven't tried."

charles presses his lips together, nodding slightly as he tries to assess the situation for himself. he hasn't proposed to anybody in his life, so what advice does he have to give his friend? "maybe you're overthinking it?"

"yeah," george nods. "maybe you just have to... ask her. just ask her."

"you're aware i'm proposing to her. i'm not just asking some random girl to be my prom date to the dance," alex lays out his situation slowly, scanning his friends' faces carefully.

they're not serious about just asking you without a whole get-up, are they? he never would have asked them if he'd known how minuscule this issue was to them. it's never as simple as just asking you to marry him.

it's an important question.

"actually, i think twiddle dee and twiddle dum have got a point," max smiles, pointing at their two other friends now rolling their eyes. "if it all keeps blowing up in your face when you plan your proposal, maybe you just need to do it when you... get the feeling. you know?"

"no."

"just do it when you're so overwhelmed at the thought of spending the rest of your life with her," george shrugs, taking a sip from his drink. "would help the nerves, and it makes it more genuine."

alex shakes his head. "i don't know. that doesn't make the moment very special, now, does it?"

"just try it, and then let me know."

-> 5 days later

"love!" your excited voice fills the house, prompting alex to lift his head from the armrest of the couch.

he'd been home all day, claiming a rest day from the gym and other press commitments before he had to do it all over again this weekend for another race.

"yes, love?" alex smiles, opening his arms, watching you walk out of the kitchen and excitedly walk over to him. "what's got you so preppy?"

"love, i was outside coming home from work, and i saw the cutest little snail right outside the apartment building," you giggle, dropping your bag by the foot of the couch. you drop yourself into his arms, adjusting yourself to fit the small space that the couch provides you. "i took a picture, look!"

"you took a picture of a snail?"

"yes!" you nod. "its shell looked so beautiful. and i even moved it to the side so that nobody could step on it unknowingly. just so sad when that happens to them."

and then he knows. it hits him, then and there, while you were rambling on about how beautiful this snail's shell is, that this is the moment. this is the moment that max was talking about.

he props his head up with his hand, nodding as you zoom into the picture you'd taken.

"we should get married," alex blurts, unable to hold himself back. the ring is not even with him - it's somewhere in the back of his closet. but it doesn't even seem like a necessary accessory for him at the moment.

"what?" you tilt your head, slowly dropping your hand into your lap. you sit up and look down at him. "alex, what did you say?"

"i have the ring and everything. hold on." alex scrambles to get off his seat, but you shake your head and put a hand over his chest. you pull him back into the couch, maintaining his position next to you with a puzzled stare.

"did you just say what i thought you just said?"

"yes. and i've been trying to propose to you all month," alex sighs, "something always goes wrong: your car broke down, my mum called, then we saw my ex in the restaurant. i tried setting it up, and of course, i ask you when i don't have the ring with me."

he's flailing his arms in the air as he explains his troubles to you, ultimately throwing his hands towards the direction of your bedroom before he slumps his shoulders and looks at you. "i wanted it to be a picture-perfect moment. i wanted it to be everything you dreamt about growing up. remember?"

"so i heard you right? you're asking me to marry you?" you can barely hide the smile growing on your face, eyes tearing up as you grab his hands. "i don't care about the ring. you're asking me to marry you?"

"do you still want to? i couldn't even propose to you right."

"of course, i want to marry you," you giggle, throwing your arms around him. you pepper his cheek with kisses, alex hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist as he leans back onto the couch. "i love you, alex. you just had to ask me the question. i don't care how, where or when you'd say it."

"obviously, i didn't know that until now," alex laughs. he buries his face into your hair, making a mental note to thank max next weekend for the helpful tip.

[pinkthrone445]

-Abbott's house- Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:Fluff, funny, soft, hurt, smut

Warnings:Mention of weed, SMUT detailed

Summary:The district gives the school the idea of spending a month living together to strengthen bonds, you never thought that would change your relationship with some so much.

Enjoy you sinful souls 😈

Last weekend before the end of the month shared with your colleagues, last weekend of having to ignore the redhead, last weekend of avoiding situations and having to make arrangements so you don't feel uncomfortable being with her, last weekend of feeling like your heart was in a thousand pieces every time you remembered the humiliation in that game night.

Since it was the weekend, you had the opportunity to go out and go home for a few days before spending the last days of the week with the last activities with your classmates. You already had your car packed up and had started to leave and avoid being with Melissa, you felt like staying at home eating junk food, watching romantic movies and crying. But you didn't even make it two blocks from the house, that your car decided to stop working. After a lot of insults and trying to fix it by yourself, you decided to call the tow truck and go back to Abbott's house walking.

When you arrived there was no one there, many went to their homes for the weekend and the others went to a bar together. You tough it was a good idea sleeping somewhere else than in the same room as Melissa, so you sent a quick message to Janine letting her know that you would stay in her room so you wouldn't have to be alone with Mel, and you went to grab some clothes so you could change while you stayed there.

Honestly you were in a very bad mood, between your broken car and your broken heart, you were very upset, but help came to your hands when you opened your drawer to take out clothes and a box of chocolates was waiting for you. It was a box of marijuana chocolates that you usually ate when you were on your period so the cramps didn't hurt that much, but you had quite a few left over this time because Melissa had been helping in other ways.

Smiling, you took the box and ate two quietly while you looked at your cell phone waiting for them to take effect, after a few minutes, your body began to relax and your mind fell finally silent, your back felt lighter and your broken heart didn't feel so bad anymore. From one of your bags, you pulled out a bag of chips and started eating while choosing something to watch on your computer, feeling so much happier than before. The house and your mind were completely silent and that brought you much needed peace. You carefully took off some of your clothes while letting the movie play on the background and looking for clothes to take a relaxing bath, but you were distracted by feeling the texture of the different fabrics and garments, especially the ones that were softer.

After spending a lot of time in it, in your jacket pocket you found a cigarette, you usually didn't smoke, in fact that cigar had ended there after you had gone out with Jacob for a few drinks and put his cigars in your pocket, but for some reason, now you really wanted to do it.

After playing for a few minutes with the cigarette in your hands, you closed the closet and went out onto the balcony with a lighter in hand. The movie was still playing in the background, but you had already stopped paying attention to it a long time ago. Carefully, you lit the cigarette and raised it to your lips, taking a long puff and closing your eyes, holding the smoke for a few seconds before releasing it into the cold night air. The effects of earlier marijuana were still having an strong effect on you, so the bitter taste of the cigarette was stronger, but that didn't stop you from finishing it.

Hunger attacked your body again so you decided to go back to the room for more snacks, but when you walked in, the redhead was there, sitting on your bed, hugging your pillow and staring into nothingness. You never heard when she came to the house. In silence you approached the bed to take your clothes and go to bathe, but your eyes wandered to the box of chocolates, and suddenly you understood the silence and how lost the redhead was.

About half an hour ago, Mel had come home from the bar very sad because she missed you more than you knew. She was so sad thinking about you that she didn't thought that maybe you had come back to the house since your computer was on the bed, the only thing she noticed was the box of chocolates on your nightstand, chocolate that would help with her sadness or maybe if she ate them they would make you angrier with her and at least you would speak to her again at least to yell at her.

Melissa thought that you had managed to go home since the car wasn't at the door, it never occurred to her that maybe it had been tow truck and that you had stayed in the Abbott's house.

After eating 3 chocolates, she sat on your bed hugging your pillow and smelling your scent, until the marijuana took effect without her suspecting it. And that's how you found her when you came back to the room. Lost, staring into nothingness and hugging your pillow.

-"Melissa...Did you ate my chocolates?" - You sighed looking at her seriously. Melissa looked at you and nodded in embarrassment, but a small smile escaped her lips as you were at least talking to her-"How many did you eat?" - You asked again

-"Three... They were delicious, I don't regret anything..."- She wanted to comment defiantly but the effect of the chocolate made her very relaxed, which made her voice soft and cute

-"They had marijuana and I usually eat 2 at most because they're big, you ate 3...so maybe you'll start regretting it soon... From the way your pupils dilated, I'd say it's already taking effect" - You muttered and sat on her bed looking at her, as she was still sitting in front of you on your bed. The redhead turned slightly paler as she had been a little scared by what you told her, she had never used marijuana that way before-"Don't worry, even if you ate a lot, it's not enough to start feeling bad, you're only going to have a few hours of feeling very relaxed, very happy and with very little common sense, so just go with the flow and enjoy the trip" - You muttered and lay back on the bed on your side, looking at her

-"Why do you have those chocolates here? I didn't know you consume them" - she whispered, playing with the paper of the chocolates and looking at the box and its details

-"I don't eat them all the time, only when my cramps are very bad... That's why I bought them..."-You watched what she did, even though she had rejected you, it didn't mean that you stopped loving her or that you didn't care about her anymore. The light in the room gently hit her hair making it shine delicately, from consuming the chocolates, her eyes were a darker shade of green, but at the same time more crystalline and bright. Her body looked more relaxed, but her eyes hid sadness and you didn't know why

-"I'm hot" - she whispered and you nodded

-"You sure are" - You joked with a soft laugh-"It's normal... You can feel hot or cold, it's different for each person..."-You answered

-"What do you feel when you eat them?" - She asked curiously and got up from your bed to lie down in front of you in her own bed, also lying on her side, looking you in the face

-"Right now I feel relaxed, my head doesn't go as fast and I don't clench my jaw so much... Some senses are awakened while others are calmed... Earlier I was very hungry, do you feel hungry?" - You consulted looking into her eyes gawking, it felt nice to have her so close even though you weren't even touching each other. You missed her so much

-"No... Just hot, can we go together at the terrace? I don't want to go alone, but if you don't want to go, we can stay here"-Mel was whispering to you, as if it were a secret between you two. You nodded and walked with her to the terrace, breathing in the cool night air. Carefully you leaned against the rail, looking up at the sky, Mel took off her blouse in silence and you tried to stare at the floor so you wouldn't look at her breasts and bra on display

-"This is what I need it, fresh air... This is nice... It reminds me of the night we spent admiring the stars after skating on ice..."-she whispered and you nodded still trying to look at everything except her

-"It seems like so long ago...Everything changed"-You murmured

-"Yeah... I miss you" - The redhead murmured, and you looked up to look at her, straight in her eyes

-"You miss me as your friend?" - You asked, and she smiled sadly

-"I miss you as my everything... You were always there and suddenly you weren't, you leave a big emptiness..."-The redhead brushed your hand on the rail, then intertwined her pinky with yours and you let her

-"I miss you too..."-You whispered and looked back to the sky.

After a few minutes of silence, you felt Mel's body shiver with cold, squeezing your hand more firmly

-"We should go inside Mel, you might get sick" - Carefully you bent down to pick up her blouse and when you got up, you had Melissa face to face, so close that the air she breathed touched your lips

-"I really miss you" - she whispered over your lips. Even though your mind was screaming for you to get away, your body couldn't move an inch, you weren't even sure if you were blinking or breathing

-"Mel..."-You didn't even know what to say, but her name came from your lips like a prayer

-"I miss you every passing second" - she murmured again, brushing her lips against yours-"I don't want to lose you, I want you close... Don't run away from me... Please" - She whispered before kissing you, no matter how much something told you that this wasn't right, you didn't do anything to walk away, you just relaxed and decided to continue the kiss, dropping the blouse to the floor, you ran your hands down her neck until you reached the nape of her neck and grabbed her silky hair between your fingers. Melissa carefully took your waist, sticking your body to hers while kissing you.

Though your heart was racing a thousand miles an hour, your lips were soft and slow, remembering every movement and sound and etching it into your memory. Her lipstick stuck to you, giving the kiss a soft cherry flavor, her perfume entered through your nose reaching the depths of your being, her hands were soft but firm, sure about what they were doing. Her feet began to move, pushing you into the room and pressing you against the door. You lightly separated yourself from her by taking a deep breath, giving your lungs a break, they felt set on fire. The redhead had you trapped between her arms and the door, so you delicately turned to try and open the damn sliding door that got stuck every time you close it. Mel took this as an opportunity to press her chest into your back and kiss the soft junction of your neck and shoulder, causing a deep chill to run through your body and a soft moan to escape your lips. With the door finally open, the redhead grabbed your waist and guided you to her bed while still kissing and biting your neck, walking very slowly ans trying not to fall.

When you reached the bed, Mel took your waist and carefully turned you around so she could kiss your lips, she carefully pushed you making you sit on the bed without breaking the kiss and she sat on your lap, her breasts practically bounced in front of your face making you salivate

-"Kiss them" - The redhead ordered by tangling her hands in your hair, scratching the nape of your neck with her nails giving a pleasant burning. With trembling hands you peeled off her bra and let it fall to the floor, her breasts fell free in front of your view, you licked your lips before starting to give soft kisses on her neck, earning you a moan as a reward when your hands began to play softly with her breasts. Your full hand massaged her entire breast while you let her nipple be free between your thumb and index finger, little by little you were bringing those fingers together pinching and pressing her nipples on each hand, they were already hard and awake but as you squeezed them tighter, the redhead let out a moan of pain and pleasure and puffed out her chest silently asking for more.

Your lips left the kisses on her neck when her skin turned red, so you began to lower your kisses to her breasts, with one hand you squeezed it and guided it to your mouth while with your tongue you licked her nipple as if it were a lollipop. Then you started sucking it with your whole mouth, alternating with a few bites and licks. You repeated your same actions with her other breast until they were both hard and sensitive.

Melissa pushed your shoulders to make you lie flat and pulled your pants off in one hard swoop, let them pool on the floor

-"Take everything off princess" - She ordered and you nodded, seeing how she also began to peel off and take off the rest of her clothes, you tried to take off your clothes as quickly as possible so as not to miss a second the sight of that goddess undressing in front of you.

Her white skin contrasted sharply with her reddish hair, her green eyes were darker, almost black and didn't leave you for a second, her breathing was agitated like yours, her chest rose and fell in a heave and her curls jumped gently from the movement. Her body certainly wasn't that of a teenage girl, but she was still making you salivate like the last bottle of water in the desert or the forbidden apple in the Garden of Eden.

Mel climbed onto the bed and sat on your hips kissing you gently as her hands caressed your face, it felt so sinful and so loving at the same time. You didn't know if it was the effects of chocolate, but every millimeter of your body felt awake and ready to feel her.

Your heart was beating so hard that it was the only thing you could hear besides Mel's heavy breathing, you were afraid it would escape from your chest.

The redhead, after kissing your lips until they were swollen and red, lowered her face to your crotch and stuck out her tongue, she traveled a wet path from your crotch through your stomach, your breasts, your neck and ending at your ear, then she went over that path with kisses, going down from your ear to your crotch.

You didn't know if this was all big hallucinations from eating the chocolate or if it was true, if it was true, you knew it was because she had also consumed chocolates and her boundaries had been loosened because of it. Should you stop her? Was this right if they were both on drugs? Why were you thinking about that instead of fully enjoying it? This was your dream come true, you had to concentrate on what you... Ohhhh

A scream came from your lips as Melissa began to pull your outer lips apart and then lick all over your entrance and clit, Your hands immediately went to her hair, grabbing it and pressing a little closer her face to your crotch. Melissa was making all the right movements, her tongue was spinning on your button, her saliva mixing with your juices, her nails scratching your legs, sucking your entrance every now and then while her nose pressed on your clit, but everything was so slow that it seemed like torture and wouldn't let you reach the place that you need it.

-"Melissa Please!!" - A frustrated scream left your mouth and the redhead laughed, lifting her head to see you, her chin full of your juices. She looked like a vision from heaven

-"I wanted to see how much you could take before you started crying" - She answered, and before you could think of a witty answer, the redhead inserted two of her fingers into you, immediately making you moan and squeeze your walls on her. She settled in so she could kiss you as her fingers moved in and out of you at a steady force, increasing the speed more and more. It was all too much, her kisses on your lips and neck, her fingers inside you, your dream coming true, the sounds of your juices every time she pumped into you. When her thumb started stroking your button, it was the straw that broke the camel's back, an animalistic scream, like something out of a porn movie, left your lips and your body began to tremble, trapping the redhead's fingers inside you for a few seconds while your walls contracted and you felt as if you touched the sky.

You didn't know how many seconds you were enjoying the afterglow, but the soft and tender kisses that the redhead gave over every inch of your face while with her fingers she peeled off some hairs from your sweaty forehead, made you return to reality

-"You okay hon?"-she whispered over your lips and you nodded smiling like a fool, caressing her waist-"Do you need anything?" - she asked again, noticing how gone you were

-"Sit on my face please" - You muttered in a raspy voice from shouting so much.

-"Honey, you can barely move... I'll crush you" - she commented and you shook your head. Your body wasn't fully responsive, but you didn't plan to end that night without trying her at least once

-"Sit, now"-You ordered by squeezing her waist making her feel chills and following your orders. For a long part of the night, Mel sat on your face, managing to come at least twice and then collapsing next to you and falling asleep cuddling with you.

The next morning the effects of the chocolate were completely gone and you had returned to your senses, maybe your memory was a little blurry but your body undoubtedly remembered each and every one of the details of last night.

The redhead was still asleep next to you and before you could think about how this would change your relationship with her and how you fucked up everything, someone knocked on the door of the room scaring you and waking the redhead up

-"We have stuff to do! Don't be late!" - Barbara's voice from the other side of the door made you blush excessively when you saw the state of nakedness her friend was in in front of you.

[kentosovertime]

(n.) the delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are

toji x afab!reader, fiance!megumi - 2.7k words

A/N: here's a comeback fic for my blog resurrection, had this idea before I stopped writing and FINALLY got to it, enjoy~

CW: explicit content, explicit language, age gap, revenge cheating, manipulation, humiliation, dubcon language, your dad will do, virgin!reader, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, breeding, non consensual videotaping at the end, anger issues (rip the reader)

✨Masterlist | Tag List | Ask Box | Open Request Event | AO3 | Ko-Fi✨

“For fucks sake!” You screech, the sound of your rage swallowed by a bus that screams by the side of the road as you slam the hood of your smoking car shut. 

“At least it’s not in flames-” Starts a random passerby walking their dog, but is sent running when you send them a withering glare. After the weekend you’ve had and it’s only Friday night?

You open your phone, your glare turning to the long list of outgoing calls to every hotel within an hour of your apartment, all booked to no vacancy for a local festival. Your landlord really picked the perfect weekend to kick all their tenants out for “emergency” maintenance for an issue that was reported months ago. 

Someone must have threatened to report the living conditions, as his attitude quickly changed when he offered to reimburse the hotel costs if his tenants were forced to stay at one. 

Your gaze softens as you scroll through those calls to where Megumi contacted you, letting you know he had made it to the martial arts competition he was coaching this weekend. His soft spot and skill for taking care of children was what initially drew you to him, but right now you wished more than anything you could press on his name and he could come to your rescue like always. 

Calling a tow truck to bring your car to the mechanics wasn’t necessarily the issue… but being on the streets for the next couple nights was. With your car in this condition, it wasn’t like you could sleep in it, given your inability to find even a shity motel room in the worst part of town. 

You take a moment to mourn the fact that you didn’t move closer to where your family lives before realizing you really only have one option in front of you; Toji. 

The contact information for your boyfriend's father mocks you on the screen, daring you to call him, a perfect stranger, to come and save your ass. The lack of familiarity wasn’t based on a lack of effort on your part, having tried repeatedly to get Megumi to open up about his family. The most that you were able to glean was that his mother had passed away and his father wasn’t often present. 

“Hello?” A gruff voice answers on the first ring. You didn’t even realize you had pressed his number before he was on the line. “Sorry, Mr. Fushiguro? This is Megumi’s fiance…” An awkward, lasting silence stretches out between the two of you before you clear your throat and try again. “I’m very sorry to bother you, but Megumi is out of town and m-my car is billowing smoke a-and all the hotels are booked-” 

Toji smirks as you ramble, rather cutely he may add, grabbing his wallet and keys before he’s even told you yes to both of your requests. He chuckles under his breath as you struggle to not fill the silence, letting your words hang in the air again. 

“I’m on my way,” He hums as he twists the keys in the ignition of his car. “Get your stuff out of the car in case it explodes.” 

He barks out a laugh as he hangs up and hears a distressed noise of dismay leave your throat. You’re so easily worked up, he wonders if this is why Megumi has done everything in his power to prevent the two of you from meeting… a valid concern. Considering how that ex of his used to try to hang off of Toji. He shudders in disgust at the memory of the girl, still in high school and thinking she was worth a second glance. 

Something tells him you’d be a prettier sight. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

This is why Megumi has been telling you no… It takes everything in you to keep your jaw snapped shut as you watch his father prowl up to where you're standing over your suitcase on the sidewalk, nervously glancing at the vehicle he made seem may blow up at any second. 

You approach the car hesitantly when he waves you over, shocked that your legs work from how tightly your wound. He opens up the hood to take a look at what’s causing the smoke while you wait for your tow. 

“Here, sweetheart.” It only takes him a second to point out what's wrong with your engine, gently redirecting your finger when you point to an area in question. “I wouldn’t hold out too much hope that this is worth fixing… you may be looking at a new set of wheels.” 

Anger and frustration well up in you again, even as a flush of heat cascades down your spine at the small touch of his skin on yours. You’re thankful for the distraction the anger provides, given the other option is avoiding looking at how his tight black t-shirt stretches across his torso or drooling like a pitiful little girl. Your fiance is attractive, but there’s still a softness to his face. He lacks the hard planes and sharp angles his father possesses. 

“One thing at a time.” Toji squeezes your shoulder with a smirk, leading closer than he should. How is he supposed to help himself when you seem ready to snap with how tightly you’ve wound yourself? The tension in your back only winds further with how he kneads your skin. “If you need it, I’ll pitch in to help Megumi get you around for a bit.” 

Your mouth opens to stutter out a reply… or maybe a denial for such an open ended offer, but the horn of the tow truck stops you. 

“Let me handle that.” He hums. “I wouldn’t want the tow truck driver to try to take advantage of you.” 

Watching him leave, you pull the phone from your pocket, sending Megumi a quick update about where you’re going before your phone dies. You shove it back into its spot after you’ve powered it off, saving what’s left of the battery for when you’re able to dig out your phone charger. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Toji holds the door to his house open for you, bracing his hand on the small of your back as you cross the threshold to a surprisingly tasteful living room. 

“What?” You can hear the smirk in his voice, the shock must be written all over your face. “Expect a futon couch and a mattress on the floor?” 

“M-Maybe..” You rub your neck with a sheepish look, managing a small chuckle as he leads you down the hall to what you assume is the room you’ll be using. “Something about unmarried men and the lack of dining room tables and living out of laundry baskets.” 

The drive over had taken longer than you expected, he lives on the edge of the city, the houses given more space than what you’re used to from your apartment in the city. But it had given you the opportunity to partially acclimate to his overwhelming presence. All you had to do was not look at his face… easy. 

“I did have a wife.” He hums in thought. “The art of furnishing a house isn’t lost on me… Anyway.. This one is you.” He flicks on the light as he enters the spacious room, moving until he gets to another door, turning that light on too, the cocky humor back on his face by the time he turns back to you with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“You have your own bathroom… shower head’s detachable.”  He tacks on, watching you empty your overnight bag, setting your night clothes out before you turn your phone back on and get it attached to a charger.

“That’s not- I wouldn’t-” A shocked squeak flies from your throat as your eyes widen in embarrassment. 

“Your face is…” He howls in laughter. “Absolutely priceless. My room is down the hallway, last door on the right. In case you need me.”

“I-” His tone drips with innuendo, making the blush on your face deepen to a shade of crimson. So much for not thinking about him inappropriately. 

“So innocent, sweetheart. You’d think you’re still a virgin.” You watch in mortification as your future father-in-law leans cockily against the door jam to your bathroom, your mouth opening and closing, urging something to come out, an explanation, a lie, anything. Just something to make him not make fun of you. “Oh my god… you are. Even when you’re engaged to my son?” 

“He…” You wring your hands together, your voice barely above a mumble, looking down at your engagement ring in confusion, as if it could tell you the Toji’s lying to you. “He said he wanted to wait until w-we were married. That he’d wait…” 

He never said that it would be his first time, you realize. As quickly as your embarrassment comes, it's replaced with a low, burning fit of rage that’s ready to lash out. 

“Wait! You thought Megumi was a virgin?” He snickers meanly. “That’s fucking rich, hun. That ship sailed in fucking high school.” 

You listen, shaking with the anger that’s boiling inside of you, as he describes Megumi’s relationship with a girl named Himari, how he walked in on them more than once. 

Your mind starts to spin in circles, fueled by this rage that has nowhere to go. As insufferable as Toji is about this, you find your anger can’t be directed at him. It's Megumi that lied to you for the entire duration of your relationship, not his father. 

As your mind circles, every insecurity that you’ve had about your relationship that you so easily dismissed before bubbles to the surface one by one. He’s always working or volunteering somewhere. The apartment has just become a place that he sometimes sleeps, if he ever makes it home because he travels around so often. He even said he didn’t like his father. Admittedly, you can see how they would clash, but was that it? Or did he just not want you to meet Toji so his cover wouldn’t be blown?

Toji approaches you, leaning into that delicious anger to purr in your ear. “I could show you what you’re missing, sweetheart…” 

Your body doesn’t flinch as your eyes slide to meet his gaze directly for the first time. You nod ever so slightly in consent, your breath uneven from the anticipation that’s built in your core from when you first saw him. 

“I’m going to need a little more than a nod, swe-” It’s the spite that pushes you to kiss him first. Spite that doing this will hurt Megumi has much as he hurt you, and spite that if you have to hear Toji call you sweetheart one more fucking time you’d explode. 

The groan you swallow from Toji as he presses against you wipes any doubt from your mind as you press against his broad chest to push him to the guest bed and crawl up his body to grind yourself into the bulge in his pants, hungrily seeking out his lips again. 

“Eager little virgin, aren’t we?” He growls as he yanks your head back by your hair, baring your neck to him so he can nip at it. The lack of marks there by his son is a further invitation to take you for himself. 

“Ah-! Mr. Fushi-” A whimper escapes your mouth as he carelessly shoves a hand beneath the band of your leggings and panties and you squirm to pull away as his fingers immediately shove past your entrance to scissor you open. 

“Uh uh. That’s enough of that shit.” He bites a harsh mark into the juncture of your neck, grinning when you cry out with a mixture of pain and pleasure, fat tears welling in your eyes and spilling over, your core spasming around his digits he continues to bully into you. “I’m not fucking stopping until your dripping, sweetheart. I’m going to have you crying that its too much and I’m not going to fucking stop. Even if you beg.”

It stings, the foreign feeling inside of you, but that feeling is quickly replaced by a rapidly approaching orgasm. You can take him, you think as you reach down between you to palm him through his sweatpants. You’re ready for anything he could give you. 

Your efforts leave you breathless and end with you managing to work his pant’s down his legs as he rips your leggings from your body along with your panties. 

“Fuck-” He growl as you take ahold of his length and line him up with your entrance as you hover above him. “You better slow down or you’ll hurt yourself.”

“You’re too cocky for your own- oh fuck-” You hiss as you allow the head of his cock to breach your entrance. The sting returns and flares into white hot heat at your core, making you double over into his chest as each inch rips its way into you. Your hips rock needily into him, trying with desperate circles to work yourself open. 

By the third circle of your hips, Toji loses his patience. His hands reach out to grapple your hips, using his momentum to flip the two of you before he thrusts violently into you, fully seating himself before pulling from your heat to slam home again. 

“Broken in now, aren’t you?” He growls, slamming into you a few more times before the sting completely abates, making sure you really feel what he’s taking from you. “Took what you wanted like a greedy fucking whore. Now shut the fuck up and be thankful I’m giving you my cock.” 

He pulls out of you to manhandle you until your chest is laying against the covers, wasting no time before he’s hauling your hips back into where he kneels behind you, entering you roughly again and setting a punishing pace. 

“You take me like a trained bitch.” He pants, grunting as his hips slap against yours, sending the vibrations straight to your clit as you sob into the duvet. “You lying about this being your first time?” 

You don’t answer, your face planted into the covers from the angle he has you bent into. Toji growls in annoyance, gathering your arms behind you to pull you up against his chest before his free hand snakes around your front to deliver a harsh slap to your center, ripping a scream from you.

“Go on slut. Answer, daddy.” He slaps your clit again and you feel yourself gush around his length, pushed to the edge. 

“M’not lying, Mr. Fushigur-” Another slap has you trembling, fresh tears pouring down your cheeks as you build impossibly higher. “D-Daddy- M’not you just f-feel s’good. I’ve b-been wet since you showed up.”

“Greedy little thing’s so ignored by Megumi you have to result to fucking his dad?” He coos down at you condescendingly, degrading you further. His voice takes on a cruel tone as he starts circling your clit. “How are you going to explain to your precious fiance that you’re carrying his brother?” 

“W-What- n-no T-Toji you c- shit!” You cum suddenly around him, the image of you leaking his cum banging around your head until you're clamping so hard around him you’re pulling his orgasm from him. Shivers wrack your body as you feel the ropes of his cum pump into you and leak from where you’re connected.  

The two of you breathe heavily, your panting filling the room as you come down from your highs. In your haze you don’t notice Toji video taping his cock pulling out of your cunt or the cum that gushed out in its wake before playfully slapping your ass and walking into the guest bathroom to get you a towel. 

You slump against the covers, wincing as you reach for your phone when you see the screen go off with worried messages from Megumi about being near his father. Followed by numerous missed calls with the same message, pleading with you not to stay with him. That he’d rush home tonight to help you so you didn’t have to stay there. 

You scowl at the message, sending off something that gets right to the point. 

<Who’s Himari?>

You decline the immediate litany of frantic calls, fully shutting off your phone and shuffling out of bed to join Toji in the bathroom. Maybe the shower could be round two… and if not, you’d happily sneak into the master bedroom to make that a reality.

tag list: @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @roughwithfluff @severelytalentless @yelzoldyck @silversslut @aazaard @dreamyyholland @wobblewobble822 @vantastic210@rafzaha @tirzamisu @chososhoney @littlemochi @bebechinas99 @firdaoz @saoney @meromelo @pelicanpizza @sukunassoulmate @damncakie @katgalle @honeyyjems [[if your blog name is crossed out i couldn't tag you]]

[towingnaperville]

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[onlyhappyvibes]

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[writingquestionsanswered]

do u have any sort of website that can tell me jobs in a small town? trying to write a story set in a small town but i cant come up with any ideas for jobs apart from the essential ones like police or hospital

Jobs in a Small Town

Government: mayor, city manager, city council member, city attorney, city clerk, code enforcement officer, customer service representative, finance director, fire chief/firefighter, paramedic, human resources manager, information technology department, librarian, municipal court clerk/administrator/judicial specialist/court security officer, parks and recreation director, planning and zoning director, police chief/officer or sheriff/deputy, public works director, utilities clerk, wastewater plant operator

Business: business owner/operator or employee (such as a clerk, receptionist, manager, or administrator) at a shop, restaurant, cafe, gas station, mechanic, tow truck, locksmith, landscaper/lawn care, handyman, florist, funeral home, pool cleaner, daycare center, grocery store, feed and pet store, car dealership, clothing boutique, ice cream parlor, liquor store, bar, nightclub, community theater, "big box store" (like Walmart), warehouse store (like Costco), movie theater, mini-golf course

Medical Services: hospital (administration, doctor, surgeon, nurse practitioner, nurse, nurse's aide, respiratory therapist, anesthesiologist, orderly, receptionist, lab worker, security, etc.) Doctor's office or urgent care (administration, doctor, nurse, nurse practitioner, receptionist, etc.) Dentist or orthodontist (administration, dentist/orthodontist, dental assistant, orthodontic assistant, receptionist, etc.) Nursing home/assisted living facility (administration, doctor, nurse, orderly, etc.)

Random: country club employee, dog walker, babysitter/nanny, home nurse, museum director/curator/specialist/employee, town archaeologist (if area is rich in history), industrial jobs (mining, factories/manufacturing, farming/crop production, fishing/fisheries), wedding coordinator, convention center director, attorney, judge, taxi driver, utility repair technician, railway worker, bus driver, school jobs (principal, teacher, teacher's aide, librarian, cafeteria worker, counselor, security officer, custodian), airport jobs (administrative, security, service provider/employee, airline worker, pilot, flight attendant, plane mechanic)

That's all I've got at the moment, but keep an eye on the comments in case others come up with ideas! :)

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[goodbuckcharlie]

Dirt and oil - Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn would like to consider himself a gentleman, raised by THE Ellen and all, but when he finds himself in need one the side of the road, he can’t help but be surprised when his Knight in shining armor is a 5’2 girl named Daisy

Note: just a short one today, this was also written fast as I spent my morning at the hospital waiting on my grandma to be okay. She fine now but this helped me not lose my mind. So please give this short fix some love and maybe when everything is better I’ll make a cute part two.

“Shit this is not happening right now.” All Quinn wanted was to go to the grocery store in peace, but of course his front left tire was flat. Now his father has taught him many lessons in life, but changing a tire was not one of them.

As the blinking lights of his hazards went off, Quinn sat on his phone hoping to find a YouTube tutorial on how to change a tire. He was way too embarrassed to call one of his teammates for help. About 15 minutes later, Quinn had learned absolutely nothing off the internet and was currently debating on calling a tow truck.

That was until a school bus yellow jeep pulled up right behind him on the side of the road. Quinn expected another man to exit the vehicle, but to his surprise a short woman with black curly hair and more tattoos than he can count exits the front seat.

“Hey there big guy looks like you can use some help?” The girl walks over to Quinn with her tool box in hand, “my name’s Daisy and I think I can be of assistance, so tell me what’s your problem?”

“Oh I just got a flat tire,” Quickly Quinn turns off his phone and faces the girl next to him, “I don’t want to inconvenience you so I’ll just call the tow truck company.”

“It’s seriously no biggie,” Her button nose cringes from the cold breeze, but her perfect customer service smile doesn’t falter, “I was just heading in to work.”

“Oh then I would hate you to get in trouble with your boss,” Daisy giggles at Quinn comment. The boy nearly lost his mind at the juxtaposition of her soft giggle and her tough outward appearance.

“Oh I doubt my boss would mind, but let me make sure,” Daisy looks into Quinn’s driver side mirror, “Hey Daisy is it okay if I’m late to work cause I’m helping this poor boy is distress? She said it’s fine as long as the poor boy in distress tells me his name, you know for insurance reasons.”

“I totally forgot, I’m Quinn,” Daisy holds out her hand as Quinn introduces himself.

“Well Quinn, let’s change that tire for yah,” Daisy directs Quinn out of his car, and he opts to stand to the side of her as she worked on his tire.

“So if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get into working on cars?” Quinn attempts to make small talk.

“My paps owned the shop up the street and since he was a single parent, I had to spend a lot of time at the shop,” Daisy works on the tire with ease, “I learned how to change a car tire before I could even drive.”

“Woah I’m impressed,” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how bad that sounded, “I mean I’m not impressed that you can do it, I mean I’m impressed that you learned from a young age.”

“It was just another life skill you know,” Not moving her attention from the tire, Daisy continues the conversation with Quinn, “just like learning how to ride a bike. When you grow up around cars, it’s second nature.”

“You know I understand that,” For some reason, Quinn feels comfortable around Daisy, and he can feel himself opening up to her, “I love what I do and all so I have no complaints, but Hockey has become second nature to me since I grew up around it.”

“Hockey huh?” For a moment, Daisy looks towards Quinn, and he can’t put his finger on it, but something about the tiny spot of grease on her face causes him to admire her more, “You look to delicate to play such a violent sport.”

“Looks can be very deceiving,” The two share a laugh before Daisy goes back to working on the car. They make some more small talk until the car is done.

“That spare should hold you for a little, but I recommend stopping by the shop so we can get you a fresh set.” Daisy pats the side of the car like a dad would.

“Thank you so much,” Daisy just shakes her head insisting it was no problem, “Well tell your boss I’m thankful that she let you come to work late to help little ol’ me and if there’s anything I can do to show my appreciation just let me know.”

“Well you didn’t hear this from me, but the boss loves the coffee shop next to the shop,” She walks over to her own car while walking away from Quinn, but before entering she shouts over to him, “maybe when you get your new tires you can ask her to a coffee date?”

Before Quinn could respond, Daisy is already back in her car setting off back onto the road. When Quinn got back into his car he notices a business car on the front seat.

Reynolds’ Autobody shop

7am-5pm Monday through Friday

He flips the card over and a smile is brought to his face.

Daisy Mae Reynolds

(xxx)xxx-xxxx Call me hockey boy

[seat-safety-switch]

Why don't people ride public transit more often? There are many excuses provided, but I think the big one is ownership. When someone else owns the bus, it is hard to feel pride about it. Someone else takes it to the mechanic. Someone else washes it. Someone else waits for a tow truck when they climb on the throttle a little too hard on the interstate and blow up the injection pump.

Wait, I hear you say, surely everyone owns the bus? Every single taxpayer owns a fractional share of the public transit infrastructure, so everyone can be proud of what we made as a group. You're certainly right, but nobody is proud of the power lines, or all the pee we clean up before it hits the river. Shareholding isn't thing-holding: just ask all the folks who own a teeny tiny bit of Microsoft, but can't point to the specific chunk of the building they're responsible for. We're weird that way, us apes.

Don't worry. Like I told my first boss, I don't like to bring problems to you, only solutions. Have you ever been by one of those charity things where you can get your name on a brick, or a bench, if you donate? I think they should do the same thing about buses. Nobody stirs the imagination about ol' #7345, even if it does have a page all to itself on the transit-aficionados wiki. If it has a name – a real citizen, just like you! – things are different. What is their life like? Maybe they're riding on this bus, in secret? They could be any of these people. An instant celebrity, immortalized by some letters painted on the side of a white box with wheels.

Sure, there are some gaps in this plan. Some people won't want to have their names associated with a bus, because their lives are terrible and sad and very small. We don't really have enough buses to give each contributor one. And some will get downright weird about it, demanding to ride only on "their" bus.

I, too, have a solution for this: make all the buses much smaller, roughly Power Wheels-sized, and have them seat only one person at a time. Then we'll just put them on a big track, like at bumper cars, and let everyone go hog wild on each other on their way to work. I just so happen to have recently taken delivery of a large quantity of bumper cars from a reputable former amusement park...