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blueberryarchive · 10 months ago

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𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆.

୨ৎpairing: cowboy!jm x reader x preacher!jk

୨ৎword count: 5k

୨ৎgenre: smut, horror, angst

୨ৎtw: dead dove do not eat, mentions of death and gruesome details (human and animal), blood, mentions of arms and physical violence, cursing, smut (blood drinking and playing, period sex, rope play, degrading, dub-con, groping, penetration)

An Ewe and the Captive Bolt (a serie)

Today was his birthday, and for the first time in 28 years, the sky looked like a sheet full of spots. He felt ever since he saw Sirius and Canopus in the sky as two little white suns the night before, that this year was going to be different.

What Park didn't know was that what would be different was the pain he felt on the left side of his arm and his chest. The hot, thick blood soaked his shoulder and eye until it covered his eyelashes. The battered hat clutched in both dusty hands as he entered Carmen's diner, a child's shame on his tight lips.

The poor girl behind the counter dropped the key lime pie from her hands, creating even more noise in the place (which Jimin didn't appreciate being in such a state).

"Christ." She murmured, still static.

"Be a doll and bring me a glass of water, would ya'?" Jimin crawled to one of the seats, grunting as he felt his muscles burn.

The girl approached with a small towel and a terrified look.

"Never seen blood before?"

"No, sir." Her brown eyes were like two walnuts bouncing between Jimin's face and arms. She was adorable, her face round and her hair so curly that she reminded him of his sheep. If she hadn't been the sheriff's daughter, he said to himself every time he saw her.

"Are you hurt, sir? I can call my daddy and-"

"No need for that, sweetheart." He raised his hand. The last thing he needed was to have Montrell in his affairs. "It ain't my blood, it's my horse's"

Apparently, that seemed to affect the young woman more. Jimin was a little offended by her reaction.

"Why don't you bring me a piece of that delicious key lime pie you had in hand and two coffees."

There were more questions in her curved eyebrows, but she just nodded and walked away. Park took off his shirt, leaving a tank top underneath it, with the handkerchief that he kept in his jeans, he began to wet his hands and his face.

His fingers were still shaking from the adrenaline. The shrill sound of the car's tires driving away, the heated laughter cloistered behind the smoked windows, the last sharp sigh of his horse before Jimin ended his suffering. He had to find the bastards who ran over his horse. FH-6077, he read the plate in the distance before crossing the curve, and his brain couldn't stop humming the six digits like a prayer.

The sudden hand on his shoulder calmed the waters, the undoubtable smell of myrrh and tobacco from his companion.

"Happy birthday, buddy." His voice was gentle. If Jungkook ever went above a couple of those decibels, Jimin assumed he was going to die. Even seeing Park's bloody hat on the table and Park's bloodstained boots, he didn't flinch to ask.

Perhaps it was his ecclesiastical nature that gave him the confidence that at one time or another, others would fill the silence with their confessions. But Jimin could see in the father's noble eyes the desperation for an explanation.

"Sure." That was all he said. The girl approached the table with the pie and the coffee.

"Goodnight, Father John." She smiled widely.

"Night, Billie. How's your dad?"

"He really liked your mass today. I did too, I really liked the reading." Jimin noticed how the corners of Billie's lips twitched, contorting herself to try to look prettier for Father John. So obvious and adorable, but of course, Jeon would give nothing more than a shrug and the most predictable questions.

The difference is that Jungkook could fuck the sheriff's daughter. What father didn't want his daughter to be in the sacred hands of Father John?

Father Jeon (or John due to the Americanization of Jungkook's family) was tall, wide like a log, and robust like an unhorned bull. Attractive in every sense, but bland, shy until it hurts.

"'M glad, tell him I will visit Missus Davis next week."

"Do you have a smoke? I'm dying in here."

They both looked at Jimin who was just smiling with his mouth smeared with whipped cream.

"You can't smoke here, sir."

Jimin winked at her, grabbing the white stick that Jungkook handed him as he also sat down to end the unbearable flirting.

"I know, pumpkin. It'll be a quick one, I promise."

The girl didn't say anything else, and she walked away. Disappointment in her walnut eyes.

"I'll marry her in two months." Said Jungkook.

Jimin frowned. Jungkook curled his fingers, pointing for his friend to come closer and light the tip of the tobacco.

"Marry her? You can barely tolerate the poor girl."

"I love her." The father stated as he nodded slowly while he drank his coffee. "She's a good girl, I think she likes me, too."

"Are ya sure?" Jimin joked.

"Where's that bad hoss you've been riding since last month?"

Jimin's blood warmed again, the drags on his cigarette even longer.

"Fuckin' punks ran over 'im and broke his ribs. Had to do it." He pointed to the gun under his hat. The bloody clothes reminded him how clumsy he sure looked trying to pamper a horse that was already three steps away.

FH-6077.

"I'll find them tomorrow."

"I'll help you."

"What are you gonna do?"

They both looked at each other, the watery, electric current between them. Ideas undulated and braided between their cruel smiles.

"Haven't changed a bit, church boy." Smoke weaved into Jimin's blonde hair, his devilish smile vaporizing memories of his teenage pranks.

Jungkook drank the last of his coffee, his face falling back into the same bitter sadness that every father held as if he carried the weight of all the souls and sins of Rivermouth on his back. The silence was long afterward, the black night extended to the mountains, to the sky, to Park's own reflection in the glass. The round face with pronounced lips and rude, detailed eyes, sweet when they feel like it. The spitting image of his mother.

"I have some hippies coming to the ranch tomorrow."

Jungkook nodded, the pressure in the handle increasing, the clack of the cup being clenched by his teeth in a sip. Jimin knew he shouldn't have mentioned the hippies, but it was that ecclesiastical power. He knew that Jungkook hated the smell of pot, the long hair, and the colorful t-shirts, which reminded him of his father, previous father John.

God knows what Jungkook had to witness, the carbonic stench that emanated from that charred skeleton. The tongue pressed between two pieces of blackish board that used to be teeth. The fetid fat that ripped and curdled in the organs. There was not a day in which the poor man did not think about that before going to sleep and found himself face to face with the featureless face of his father, with the incinerated bowls pointed at the eyes of his son. Sitting in the chair under the cross that has sat on that wall since Jungkook's birth.

And Jungkook cried. He would close his eyes and every night, he would grab the skull and make it crunch under his thick hands. The body did not defend itself, it let its boy vent as if he were a sacred entity and knew that at the same time, the next day and every other day, he would appear again in that chair, and Jungkook would never be able to exhaust his anger against him.

"I have to go." It was the only thing he said leaving a ten dollar bill in the table. Park understood. "Go fetch a new hat from my house tomorrow, it's about time you threw that shit in the river."

"Hey."

Jungkook turned around. Jimin stopped smiling.

"Take it home in the morning, I'll make you breakfast before the rodeo."

Jeon looked at the floor with uneasy eyes.

"We'll see."

As he left the diner, the fresh wind conquered the father's soul. Nostalgia washed away his stony face and for the first time in years, he wanted to be a child again. Disappear with Jimin and sleep in the old hayfields of the abandoned Hillside.

He put on his black hat and started walking down the dark street, both hands in his pockets.

Today the smell of boiling fat was stronger than ever, the ghost of his father floated in the swirls of Rivermouth dust and, with it, the remains of the children who were later taken from that same cabin.

The white lace curtains let in the yellowish light of the first rays. The unmade bed, the smell of pine in the sheets.

In one corner of the bed, Park was dressing for the day, the muscles in his shoulder had swollen with the hours and makeshift cloths covered the open, bloody sores. Every so often, he hissed and swore under his breath.

The coffee began to gurgle in the kitchen as he finished putting on his boots, it was barely 6:30, but he already had the eggs frying and the beans hot in the pot. It seemed strange to him that his companion was not already sitting next to the window, Bible open and the first cigarette of the morning in his hand.

He turned off the stove just in time and poured himself a cup. Today he felt more domestic than ever, he had spent the night fixing every detail in the ranch, from the dust on his late mother's china to the rifles displayed in the hallway. To be frank, he spent the entire night cleaning every corner, maybe detailing every object in every room so that at the end of the weekend nothing would be missing, or the crash made him remember how little he's done in 28 damn years.

A porcelain jewelry box his mother had placed in one of the rooms was covered in a thin layer of gray dust; it was his mother's favorite piece. He hadn't opened it since the last time he stole a couple of pearls to buy his first rifle, the red stained his face with shame, and the only thing he could do as an apology was turn the house over with his own handkerchief and clean even the windows. He was surprised that the smell of lye and soap hadn't killed him.

Hearing one of his sheep bleating, he opened the window and decided to lower his chivalry a bit and smoke his first cigarette before Jungkook arrived. In the distance, he could see one of his ewes, fat and terribly woolly, walking slowly towards the barn. She was pregnant and Jimin knew that there were maybe 24 hours left, her skin was bulging, and her bleating was painful and whiny, she couldn't take it anymore.

The curtain caressed Jimin's face with the wind that was beginning to warm up, he took a drag of the cigarette and turned his body towards the kitchen. He felt a strange itch in his chest, the kind that bothers him when he senses a spirit floating near him. The greenish branches and the smell of sausages were mixed up with the subtle gallop of a skinny horse and the unexpected smell of myrrh.

He walked to the front door and opened it to find Jeon's promised hat. He sighed as he saw that not only was it one of his black deathly-looking hats, but he had also planted him at breakfast, sure to go see the grandmother of his very unexpected but predictable fiancée.

Long story short, Jimin had to eat four cowboys' breakfast and the whole pot of coffee, and the hat he would wear to the rodeo today didn't match his outfit at all. Dozing was the only thing he could do after loosening the buckle on his belt and putting the hat on his face.

The leather furniture was sinking under his body, the soft song of the river in the distance, and the birds pecking at his roof took him back to his childhood. Sleeping wherever he wanted without any purpose. He dreamed of the gallops of his first horse: Champ, a Tennesee Walking that had belonged to his grandfather, black as coal, glistening in the sun of his student days and running like a devil in a hurry. He dreamed that he was in public showing the animal to auction it.

"How do you encourage a horse to move forward, Sage?" A woman in the audience shouted.

"I don't know, kick his ass or something." Heavenly laughter coaxed him out of his lethargy.

His body sat on the furniture before he knew it, sweat covering his back, veins marked on the left side of his face. He ran with the unconscious weight of his body to the window, pushing the curtain aside with his finger until he saw the circular corral where his star horse, Arrow, was located, with a stranger on his back.

His fingers reached for the rifle lying on the rocking chair.

The blonde girl staggered on top of the animal while her thin fingers held his hair tightly. The horse's sleepy eyes moved from side to side, snorting as he searched for direction.

"Come on, horsie!" The girl snapped her teeth and laughed as the horse curved to one side. "Are you seeing, Hunter? It's moving."

Hunter was smiling foolishly, lying on the grass, his thin, wavy hair fluttering around his ears like a delicate flower. The dark glasses covered his wounded deer's eyes.

"You're such a cowgirl, my love." His voice was sarcastic.

And with a shot into the air, silence muted nature. He silenced the current, the clucking of the chickens that fluttered in the distance. Hunter, Sage, and Blondie turned to the cowboy who walked slowly across the grass towards them. A whistle from the stranger caused Arrow to raise his front paws until Blondie fell with a screech to the hard ground.

"Kitty!"

"Woah, cowboy." Jimin's silky voice approached, placing the buttplate of his rifle on his shoulder, aiming directly between Hunter's eyebrows. "Move slowly, ya wouldn't want to scare an alarmed man any further, now would ya?"

"I'm sorry, sir."

Blondie or Kitty or whatever her name was, rolled her red eyes.

"What the hell are you doing on my ranch?"

"Let's go, Hunter. I'm not going to talk to cornman." Sage was the tallest of them all, her shorts squeezed her thighs until they were overflowing, and her hair was long like a beach princess.

"Watch your fucking language around me, missy." Gritted Jimin removing the safety on the rifle.

"Sage, for once do you want to shut the fuck up."

Hunter raised his hands, sweat beginning to gather on his wrinkled forehead. His eyes shone as he heard the heels slowly approaching behind Jimin.

"Love." He exhaled.

"Is this part of southern charm, Mr. Park?" Coquettish, the dying accent of someone who once lived in these parts, daring, too much for her own good. But still, he lowered the gun, spitting on the ground.

When he turned around it was as if a pink burst of glitter and vanilla had slapped him from the stupor of sleep. The glasses were square and large, they covered almost her entire face, that was the first thing Jimin saw.

"Ma'am, are these your friends?"

"We are your visitors, cornman." Jimin ignored the Californian's irritating nasal whine as the sweet girl in front of him approached little by little with a smile. He felt the itch again, the one that senses a spirit floating nearby, this spirit was the nebulous memory of your face.

"Could you speak again, ma'am?"

"Sorry?" You laughed, and it was like birds were chirping in your throat. "You're Ari's son, right? I really liked the jams your grandmother used to make."

And oh, it couldn't be more obvious. It couldn't be more evident, not even because God had exploded your name in the sky. It was the stunning makeup and hair wax, it was the sequined heels and Patsy Cline songs reverberating from the old speakers. It was your name in the newspaper almost every week.

It was your sailor costume, the jam falling from your humiliated face, it was Jimin's hand caressing the bulge in his jeans that same night on top of the hay, imagining how you ate the strawberry jam that his mother made.

Now you called yourself Love, the name was as obvious as you were. Of course, your hippie name is Love.

"Miss Peaches '57." His voice was soft and trembling. Your eyes opened in surprise.

"Gods, I didn't even remember that title." You put your hand on your mouth, dressed as a Hollywood girl but your loving manners were indelible.

"Excuse me, where are my manners? Jimin Park." He raised his hand for you to place in yours, light and trusting. A chaste kiss to the back of your hand without stopping to see your eyes behind the orange glasses.

"You can call me Love."

"A sight to sore eyes, Love."

"Always." You responded. Jimin swallowed hard, trying to hide that nostalgic smile, 'pure in every way. With that same smile, he invited the four to go through their rooms, the tension subsiding fluidly with each laugh that came from your blessed lips.

It was as if you said one thing and the sun came a little closer, deorbiting out to your echoes, warming the room and Jimin's cheeks.

"Can you help me look for my suitcases?" You touched the shoulder of the cowboy who agreed and guided you to the front door. Like the good boy his mother raised, he opened the door for you, and outside stood a Packard Caribbean: long, yellow, and sleek as a sunflower.

"Nice ride."

"Thank you, it's from Hunter's dad. He gave it to him for his birthday. Isn't it a beauty?"

"Beautiful." His nose scrunched watching your stomach bulge down your cute little top, hard nipples contouring the pink fabric. You still were just good enough to eat.

Examining the car little by little, a detail began to emerge in his memory. Among them, glowing in the heat of that morning were the six digits from the night before: FH-6077.

When it came to religion Jimin didn't have many opinions.

As a kid his mother went to church every Sunday and took him. He saw the statues of Jesus suffering with indifferent eyes, he made his first communion only because they promised to give him a sip of wine with the host, he listened to the stories of death and plagues as if they were cartoons.

God was a very complicated being, the more he thought about him, the heavier his body became.

To his surprise, God was nothing more than a sham, a wall between you and him. The host, that time Jungkook's father offered him, tasted like nothing and the wine went down his young throat tasteless.

"Body of Christ." You said, the music playing crisply on the record player Hunter had brought. The guitars repeated the same riff over and over, he hated it.

Jimin stuck his tongue out where you placed a small square of magazine paper no bigger than a fingernail. Jimin’s eyelashes fluttered, his knees throbbing as he knelt in front of you, your thumb brushing against his lips before sealing them.

"Amen," he sighed.

The host that you offered to his mortal body was as tasteless as the first, but only Jimin knew the euphoria that, like a hurricane's wind, announced the sweet path that awaited the cowboy.

Jimin was not a man who smoked more than five cigarettes a day, seven if it was a bad day. But your siren song in his ear convinced him to drown his morals in your dark waters, your hands took both sides of his tanned face and you threw him without warning to your sanctuary, towards the steepest rocks, to your glorious eyes. And damn, Park could drink the water from your pupils and die of poisoning.

"I missed you so much, I didn't know it until the moment I saw you." His lips said before thinking about it, narrow pupils lying on the grass next to you. You just laughed, it was the only thing you did and he just admired it.

At one point around noon, Jimin took the steering wheel of the Packard. Hunter, Sage, and Kitty were talking about a record, making strange sounds and asking the opinion of Jimin who was driving down the dusty road, making the engine roar so that you would scream next to him.

"Slow down!" You asked. He went faster, he didn't care.

The purring of the car made Jimin's body pulse, his mouth was dry, his arm no longer hurt, and his lips prayed the license plate of the car, over and over again.

I'm going to find it, he told himself. And when I find him I'm going to make them suffer, as the tips of the horse's bones pierced its dark fur, neighing over his own stupid words trying to calm the wounded animal.

Faster, find it.

Like oil, the green branches of summer became watery and greasy in his vision, and the dust was stalactites that bathed the car in yellow.

"Good luck, cowboy." Kitty approached Jimin, somehow he had made it to the rodeo. The horns announced his name on all four corners and people shouted his last name like the idol he was.

Sage and Kitty kissed his cheeks before he climbed on top of Arrow, the weight of his body creating echoes every time he moved.

There was no one in that audience who saw Jimin on his horse who was not surprised by the agility with which the rope rose above his head and created fluid circles to catch the rough calf that writhed with the knot in its thick neck.

Jungkook saw from a distance how the cowboy's smile was so bright, how he rejoiced at the applause and the roses that were thrown at him. His movements were vehement, fiery, and impulsive like a devil without fear of death.

The hat Jungkook had given him had a small, withered pink carnation on it. He stood up as quickly as he could at the end of the show, but before he could talk to him he only saw Arrow galloping thunderously in the distance, one girl was wearing the gifted hat, she grabbed Jimin's waist and with the other, she gave whiskey to the cowboy. The copper thread falls to his chest and settles on his strap.

"The sight of him today was incredible, I had never seen 'im like that." Billie smiled behind Jungkook, her cheeks red, eyes covered with a fine lust that she probably didn't even recognize.

The firmament rose high above his eyes, there was no star that Jimin didn't feel the overwhelming sound of fire burning in his ears. His body was sweating on the grass, and the smell of nicotine was strong after smoking two cigarettes to settle his reverberating body. The high had passed and his body was a used towel.

He doesn't remember much of what happened, but the remnants of the hallucinogen's burn made him understand that he had the damn time of his life. A laugh left his lips, embarrassed by how easy it was to convince him to do that stupid thing. What Jungkook told him was true: you haven't changed at all, cowboy.

"How's my favorite rodeo king?" The angel landed above his head, you were wearing his hat and a flowered dress.

"Roughened up, I guess." Just like after a good fuck.

"Don't get hooked or you'll end up like Hunter." You combed your hair as you walked around him. "He can't last a day without it or else he starts hitting Kitty."

"Why don't you report it?" Jimin stood following your steps. After looking around him for a few seconds, he realized that he was in the rodeo arena, darkness bathed the stadium. The blue moon showed your silhouette walking over the horseshoe tracks.

"Because Kitty doesn't want to, they are going to get married in a few months. He promised to stop doing drugs when they did. It wouldn't be good for a kid."

There was a lightness in the promises the Californians made to others, they nodded seriously, but you could see the consequences in their evasive gaze.

Jimin nodded.

"Are you always so quiet?"

He nodded again, and they both laughed.

"'M better when I'm not ten feet deep in an LSD hangover, I can assure that."

"Yes, but..." Your silhouette approached his body, and you carried the energy of ten bulls on you. Your immortal look, you haven't changed anything. "I asked if you're always this quiet."

Jimin inhaled as he understood your question.

"When I'm in the stadium I'm more vocal." He again evaded the answer you were looking for so much. His chest beat boldly like the time he saw you covered in strawberries and sugar.

"You were a star this afternoon, your eyes were shining."

"Always."

You raised your eyebrow and scoffed. "Sure thing, sir."

Blood surged to Park's neck, his eyelids drooping, his pride tainting his flirtation. Enough of the games.

"Run." He murmured, saliva pooling in his throat.

You frowned with your typical smile.

"What?"

"I asked you to run." His body suddenly lunged and you became alarmed, raising your hands. "As fast and as far from this stadium as you can."

His pupils didn't move, his soft smile was confident. Your skin grew cold with each step, at first slow and suspicious, the darkness of the large arena was intimidating because it felt like you were not moving forward.

You heard how an object created hollow, sharp sounds in the air. It was his lasso.

"No." You muttered, running even faster.

And swoosh, you fell to the ground. The rope squeezed your neck, leaving your body in mid-air, your tongue came out and your eyes bulged from the sudden lack of air; the hat fell away from you. Your body was no longer yours, your stupid fingers tried to loosen the knot, but it was too late.

The boots approached, collecting the rope that was left over around his arm. The silhouette became part of your blurred vision.

"Stand up."

"I. Can't." Your lips emulated as you writhed like a worm in the dust.

"Lemme' help ya'." Jimin snatched the rope for you to stand up, your knees moved up to him where his fingers loosened the knot a little. "Breathe, little girl. We don't want an accident."

Saliva came out of your mouth in streams and fell to the floor. Jimin grabbed your chin and wiped it.

"Don't make a mess now."

"I'm sorry, sir." And now you sounded as helpless and stupid as Hunter did this morning. It was adorable.

You were afraid to look up, your eyes trained on the hat a few meters away from both of you.

"Tell me, pumpkin. How can two ugly sons of bitches like your parents have such a beautiful girl?" He laughed, dragging the rope to where his hat was, you walked behind him with careless steps. With a couple of blows, he blew the dust off his hat and looked at you again, searching for an answer you didn't even know how to articulate or if you should.

His hand wrapped the rope around his fingers until he had you as close as possible, the smell of tobacco hammered your temples, and your eyelids wrinkled to try to wake up.

Great was the surprise when you felt a pair of dry lips resting on yours, his tongue daringly passed over your lips so that you would open, his moans softening your fear.

His saliva was bitter and lovely, his tongue running flat across the outside of your mouth until it reached your chin and the tip of your nose.

"Let's see, open your mouth, sugar. Don't be shy."

You obeyed as the knot tightened around your neck, moaning as his lips sucked on the tip of your tongue and bit your bottom lip.

"God have mercy." He sighed, squeezing your chin with his hand. "How can you taste so damn sweet."

You moaned as you felt his teeth nibble gently at your neck, his fingers piling the fabric of your dress around his fingers.

“Mm,” you squealed, walking away even when it didn’t suit you. "Can't."

"It's a good thing I didn't ask." Jimin brought you closer, caressing your neck again.

"I'm on my days." Shame sealing your thoughts, in your eyes the hope that just the thought of seeing the blood would disgust him.

Jimin raised his eyebrows and slowly kissed you again, this time with the softness of an apology.

"A cowboy doesn't mind a little dirt." He murmured, touching the soaked towel that covered your underwear, two fingers pushed aside and the burning of your pussy collided with his cold fingers drawing a moan from your hurt throat.

"A good cowboy loves to get dirty." He smiled, removing the two soaked fingers from the red viscosity to put it in his mouth with a frown on his eyebrows. "Mm." He grunted, swallowing slowly.

You were speechless, stupefied. Who was this demon?

"Have you ever ridden a bull before?" His blood-tainted lips said, the idea shocking your senses.

You denied it, and God knows that was the stupidest answer you could give.

The animal began to make a mechanical noise beneath both of them, the leather surface pressed your thighs against the mechanical bull that began to move slowly.

Jimin's bestial eyes did not take off from you, the last of the bottle of whiskey went down his throat in long gulps and pushed the glass into the distance causing a roar.

Your legs were above his defined thighs, the bleeding wound between your legs dirtying his jeans but the cowboy didn't seem to mind. The dress already forgotten outside the stadium playing area.

"We'll go slowly because it's your first time on top." His consideration was so minimal, considering the situation. But you were a woman whose details annihilated your logic.

To the front and sides and then a gentle turn, this is how the animal began. Jimin moved his center with the animal, the bulge in his pants rubbing against your pussy.

One of his hands approached the dripping hole and with four fingers collected the blood until it painted his hand.

“Ah,” he requested, sticking his tongue out and you followed suit. His fingers got smeared on his tongue and cheeks until they reached his neck. With his tongue he passed over his lips, like wine he drank you, like sweet he possessed you and rejoiced.

His tongue entered your space again, the strange and bitter taste of your own blood while with his fingers he removed the zipper of his jeans until he showed that he was not wearing underwear underneath him, his tall and throbbing cock moved under his fist.

"Climb on, doll. You're wet enough for me." He laughed taking your body to sit on top of him. You hugged him as tight as you could as the mechanical animal began to move faster.

"We're going to fall." You whimpered. "Hurts".

"Shh, shh. Let me medicate you, it'll stop hurtin' when I dick you properly." One spank and his fingers squeezed the skin of your ass tightly. "You just have to move with me."

To the front, to the sides, two turns. You just had to keep your legs elevated a little, Jimin's cock sliding smoothly in and out with each movement.

"Now you're getting it. Fuck." Jimin hissed, squeezing your waist with his forearm. "You're quite the cowgirl, Love."

You moaned, pressing your forehead to his. His eyes absorbed every curve, from your breasts to your red-painted thighs. You were an angel, a myth that devours men. Your songs of pleasure echoing on the aluzinc walls.

The animal began to attack, abrupt and deeper.

"Does it hurt?" You asked between moans, watching the fabrics covering Jimin's arm begin to dye again. Jimin denied, cuntdrunk.

You removed the knot of cloth from the wound on Jimin's arm, running your thin fingers over the bleeding muscle. Park hissed, and the walls of your pussy tightened.

More, you wanted more.

Your lips sucked on the sores until you felt the metallic taste in your throat, Jimin pressed your body against yours. One turn, two forwards, three up. Your poor body trembled with the desire for the game to end but your pussy still wanted your walls to expand until Jimin's cock was molded inside you forever.

"If I knew you were such a slut." Park grabbed your hair to pull you away from his arm.

"If I knew cowboys fucked so well." The bloody smile of both of you was devilishly erotic.

The bull stopped suddenly, you looked at the man standing on the other side of you, rifle in hand, hot tears burning his cheeks.

"Jungkook? Jeon!" It was the last thing you heard before you fell face first onto the inflated floor, blood flowing warm and your eyelids falling softly.

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gyllenhaalstories · 5 months ago

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WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND (PART 2) — BARBARA & RUSTY SABICH

summary: with the help of a sweet neighbour, barbara takes a leap of faith. it is time for her to stop enduring and to start indulging instead, because... when she wakes up next to him in the middle of the night, with her head in her hands, she's nothing more than his wife.

warnings: presumed innocent spoilers, food, cheating, implied age gap, fluff, angst & smut (teasing, masturbation, voyeurism & exhibitionism, mild mommy kink, nipple play, finger sucking, pussy eating, fingering, threesome, cuckholding). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 5050

gifs credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: READ PART 1 HERE. things took a turn... oops. i hope you enjoy giving rusty a taste of his own medicine, because i sure did. thank you again to @sizzlingcloudmentality for your encouragement and your prayers to the gods of smut so i could finish the story. wowie, that's around 9600 words in total. happy pride month i love women! (and rusty). thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"You look so good in that apron, sweetheart." Barbara praised you. She sat on the counter while you both enjoyed the last bites of the food you cooked for her. "It makes me want to take it off."

Your cheeks heated up at the last comment. "I thought you liked it?" Barbara answered your question by saying she liked what was underneath a lot more.

The front door opened. Heavy footsteps disturbed your idyllic dinner with the older woman. "Hello?" Rusty called out from the living room. He looked around, he recognized his wife's cardigan on the couch alongside pieces of clothing he had never seen on her... But he had seen them on his neighbour. You wore them on the morning when he caught Barbara talking to you by the mailbox. He swallowed thickly when he received the sound of giggles and hushes coming from the kitchen as an answer.

"Rusty. You're home early." Barbara spoke before an uncomfortable silence settled in. "Say hi, sweetheart."

"Hi." You smiled faintly at the man who squinted at you as if he could not believe his eyes. You turned around again. You smirked to yourself, thinking that maybe he could see his wife's happiness better if he put on his glasses.

Rusty's eyes switched between his wife's face and the back of your head. His gaze wandered down to your bare back. Only the band of your bra and the ties of the apron covered your skin. The rest was hidden from his view by the kitchen island. "What is going on?"

"She offered to make me dinner. Isn't she so sweet?" Barbara caressed your cheek with the back of her hand. She admired the smile she got in return. "I didn't know you'd be home before we were done." Oh, she knew. Rusty could feel it too. "Is there enough left for him?" You scanned the remaining ingredients and nodded. "Would you be a dear and make some for my husband?" She looked at the man. "You must be so tired from preparing this trial. There's so much at stake."

You sliced the rest of the green apple, chopped more walnuts and you turned on the stove top to heat the pan while you removed the crust of the brie cheese. You intended to make a special grilled cheese sandwich for your special neighbour... Rusty was not that special, at least, not to you. Obediently, you focused on your task and assembled the sandwich.

"No, no, no!... Hold on. What is going on?" Rusty asked again, determined to get to the bottom of the case. "A week ago she was in here and now she's... Here again. Half fucking naked? In my house?"

Barbara corrected him instantly. "Our house." She slid her body off the counter and glanced at you who flipped the sandwich carefully, minding your own business. "I don't remember you asking for my opinion when you were with Carolyn. I don't think I've heard you inquire about whether I was okay or not with you sleeping around with your colleague." The woman crossed her arms against her chest, shielding herself. "I don't owe you anything, Rusty." The words he blurted out were loud, filled with anger and misplaced resentment. Something along the lines of You don't owe me anything? I'm fighting for my life out there.

Poor little thing, you thought to yourself. You placed the toasted sandwich on a plate and used a large knife to cut it diagonally. You then turned around to face Rusty and dropped the plate before him. "Yeah and who's fault is that?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Rusty's eyes burned you with his rage, but he laughed at your audacity. "Who are you to talk to me that way?" You held his gaze. He was not much now either anyway. A demoted attorney about to be thrown in jail to rot for his crimes. That did not hold much power anymore. "Who are you to come into my... our house and bang my wife?"

"Shhh, easy, babygirl." B placed a soft, soothing hand on your exposed shoulder after fixing the bra strap that slipped. She let you know there was no point in you getting worked up that way. "We didn't bang yet." She repeated the word Rusty used with a hint of disgust in her voice. "We were having dinner first. And besides... I wanted it to be special. Now, eat before it gets cold."

You grinned when Rusty plopped down on a stool by the island and reluctantly took a bite of the sandwich. You hoped the sweetness of the honey you drizzled on top of the grilled cheese would counteract his bitterness.

Rusty did not have much of an appetite, but he slowly chewed bite after bite. His heart was racing, his thoughts were racing too. How could he have been so oblivious? He was not oblivious, he was suspicious. How could Barbara have kept this for him? She did not, she made it obvious. Especially with the lingerie and nudes. Why this, why that. Why... You? He narrowed his eyes to scrutinize you. You were beautiful. You seemed nice during your first encounter, he could not say the same about tonight. Most importantly... You brought a certain light in Barbara that he had not seen in years. Her light had been dimmed by his own actions and their severe consequences.

When you came back from the sink after you washed your hands, Barbara gave her husband a show. The food was decadent, but so was the sight before his eyes. She slowly untied the apron and pulled it over your head so that you stood half exposed in front of Rusty. Her soft and gentle hands travelled to your belly that she caressed lovingly. Her fingertips traced the cups of your bra and followed the lingerie up to your shoulders. Goosebumps made the hair perk up on your skin. B locked eyes with her husband when her lips met with the skin of your neck. He shifted on the stool. She placed kisses all over it until Rusty finished his plate. She sucked a hickey on your skin until you moaned her name. "That's my good girl."

You moaned louder when Barbara used these words on you, you heard Rusty sighing too. The big bad wolf that yelled at you was practically turning into a soft little lamb. Your hand reached for Barbara's head and you kept her pressed on your skin so she could suck harder to mark it.

Rusty was drowning in his own confusion about whether or not he should enjoy this moment too. Not that he had much control over the way blood was rushing to his cock, leaving him light headed. Barbara acted with you in ways she stopped acting with him well over a decade ago when the kids came around. It ignited a flame of hope in his mind, but it died as fast as it appeared. He was not the receptacle to all of this attention. The same attention he tried to seek in another woman. Barbara was doing the exact same thing, except in completely different ways. What went around came around.

Satisfied with the state she put the two of you in, Barbra brushed her fingers down your arm until she reached your hand. "It's time for dessert." She led you to the staircase with Rusty following you closely. She climbed the stairs slowly, allowing her thoughts to run wild for a moment. This sent her back to a conversation with Lorraine Hogan when she brought up how much she appreciated her neighbour. Lorraine showed no hesitation in her support for her friend, suggesting that Barbara engaged in an adventure of some sort. A little bit of extramarital revenge sex. Barbara realized that revenge was not the main character in this particular story, other feelings came into play as well. Yes, it felt good to get back at Rusty in ways he knew like the back of his hand, but it felt even better to do something that brought her validation. She felt validated in the ways you responded so easily to her words, her touch, her kisses. She felt validated in the ways you treated her as a priority rather than an option.

You held Barbara's hand all the way up the stairs, not without flinching when you felt Rusty touching you. You had waited for this moment since the first day you watched Barbara from your bedroom windows. You had dreamed of taking things further ever since. You did not imagine it exactly this way, Rusty still seemed like an unwanted drop of ink in the great picture you painted of this moment. Still, you were not going to be picky. Much to your surprise, it was quite easy to go from your voyeuristic fantasy all the way to making your dream come true. Barbara wanted you as much as you wanted her and that, on its own, fuelled your desire in ways you had not experienced yet. Barbara was irresistible and you started to understand she thought the same of you.

So did Rusty. Tempted with a good time, he could only surrender to his lust. How could he not? He had two beautiful women before him. If he could manage to tune out the anger and incomprehension for the night, he could enjoy himself as much as Barbara and you. His hands rested on your hips for a moment, where your clothes met your bare skin. You felt him breathe against the back of your neck when he dragged his hands down, following the curve of your ass.

Barbara now stood in the bedroom she had set up for this adventure. In front of the bed, there was one single chair. There were folded towels on the nightstand. She had planned everything through, knowing you would give in. Knowing Rusty would grant her this wish. It was the least he could do. She was not asking for much, she was not asking him to stop cheating. All Barbara wanted, in this moment, was to do the same thing he had done countless times. She held your face in her hands, stopping you from reaching closer and stealing a kiss from her lips. "How do you feel about this, sweetheart? All good?"

You turned your head slightly to the side. Rusty was right behind you, as if he was in on it. It seemed as though he participated on this plan to give you a night you would not forget, but you knew that was not true. When you nodded at Barbara, she rewarded you with the kiss you so desperately wanted. "All good." She smiled against your lips when she kissed you again. The older woman removed the straps of your bra, starting with the one she fixed earlier, and let them fall down your arms.

Rusty unclasped your bra and discarded of it on the floor. He let his wife do the honours of touching your breasts first. He watched, from behind you, the way Barbara so carefully cupped your tits in her hands as if she was scared to hurt you. As if she was scared to get hurt too. Your first moan echoed in their bedroom when Barbara took one of your nipples in her mouth. Rusty's hand moved up your sides tentatively, Barbara did not stop him. He squeezed your other breast in his hand and played with your nipple, getting it stiff and sensitive for his wife to lick and nibble on.

Barbara glanced up at you. Your head was lolling to the back and resting against her husband's chest from having your nipples played with. She looked around the room. Their bedroom. It felt sacred. So much had happened within these four walls, a lot of good but, as of recent, mostly bad things. She hoped Rusty never brought his mistress up here. What they were doing to you right now felt like a violation of this sacred space, a testament to how Rusty violated Barbara's trust and love with the affair. She had to learn to differentiate. There was no we, since the affair. She was not Rusty. She was different because she shared this moment, she let Rusty in this once in a lifetime experience (at least, that was what Barbara tried to believe it would be). She showed she was capable of honesty, she also showed she was able to stretch that same honesty to her own advantages. The spouses were different and similar all at once.

You got accustomed to Rusty's touch, enjoying the way Barbara still remained in charge. She began to remove your pants, Rusty pulled them down until they pooled around your ankles. She peeled her own clothes off too, holding your lustful gaze while she did so. You made her feel so good in this moment, you tried your best to convey all of your desire despite it not being the first time you saw her naked body. "Please?" You reached your hands towards her and she nodded, granting you permission. You pulled her body against yours for a heated kiss.

He gasped while he watched the scene. From behind, all he could admire was the way his wife's face softened when you caressed her cheek. How her brows raised when you deepened the kiss. How her jaw dropped open to allow your tongue to explore her mouth. He stalled for a moment before he picked his glasses up from his shirt, putting them on. Then he, too, stripped naked.

Barbara's arm reached around you to stop Rusty from taking his black briefs off. Her head pointed to the side, to the chair. "We've been way too kind already." You smirked when Rusty reluctantly walked to the chair. It looked like a punishment, Barbara hoped it felt like one. "That's it, sit there and look pretty for us." She kissed the corner of your mouth before she spoke again. "You've been there for me during those tough times, haven't you? Yeah, you've been the best girl for me." Barbara quickly caught on the shadow of doubt in your eyes while you looked at Rusty. "Don't worry about him, darling. He's done far worse things." She glances bitterly at Rusty. "What?" Rusty opened his mouth to talk back defensively, but she was quicker than him. "It's not like I can get her pregnant anyway. What goes around comes back around, doesn't it?"

When B put it like that, it made you feel better. So much better, in fact, that, when invited to kiss Barbara's neck, you did not lose one more second ruminating over Rusty. It did not take long for Barbara to get so worked up she could not contain her whines. You made her feel so good, so happy. Happier than she had been in a long time. She deserved this, she deserved more.

Rusty sat back against the chair with a sigh. He crossed his hands in front of his crotch, miserably failing at hiding the tent in his underwear. His cock throbbed in its confines. Meanwhile, Barbara climbed on their bed and you joined along. His lips parted open when you positioned yourself between his wife's legs.

Finally. It felt like Barbara and you had waited ages for this moment. Your breath tickled her skin, your touch was so gentle too. You stroked your hands up and down her thighs and searched her face for a sign that she wanted to take a step back. You found no such thing. Her eyes sparkled with lust and she was relieved when she noticed you tried to lay down more comfortably. You peppered kisses down her belly button and lower, lower, lower...

The moan that Barbara let out when your mouth finally touched her pussy sounded heavenly. It made Rusty gasp. It made you crave more of those sweet noises. You lapped at her glistening folds, not yet daring to go further yet. You could only assume she had been wet for you all evening long. You were correct, she had been aching for your tongue for what felt like an eternity. You lifted your head, earning a nod as consent.

Rusty slouched on the chair at the sight of your tongue diving between his wife's pussy lips, flicking it over her clit to pull the softest mewls from her. His left hand rubbed his chin while his right one squeezed on his thigh, making the metal of his ring dig into his skin. He bopped his head along to yours while you licked up and down Barbara's pussy. As if he was doing it with you. He forgot when was the last time he did this to his wife.

Barbara tried to lean on her elbows so she could, much like her husband did, admire your work. You made that increasingly more difficult when you started to suck on her clit, making it that much more sensitive. "You feel so good, baby."

You helped to hook her legs on your shoulders, reaching towards her hands to hold them while B began to grind on your face the same way she did earlier on your thigh. You stuck your tongue out, letting Barbara enjoy herself to the fullest. While you took a breather, you did the same, you enjoyed the moment as much as you could. You raised your head up from its position and smiled at her with lips and chin covered in her wetness. Barbara's hand landed on your head and brought you back down again to finish what you started while she guided you through it.

Barbara called you her pretty girl over and over again, praising you for how you took such good care of her. Rusty palmed at his covered cock, desperately searching for relief. His face contorted in a series of expressions he could not even control, though he fought to keep his eyes open and not miss a second of the action. He grunted obscenely loud, taking in all of the signs of Barbara's imminent orgasm.

Her legs started to close around your head, feet hooked together against your spine. It left you no room to pull away. Small breaths escaped her parted lips, they started quiet but quickly turned into resounding moans that were muffled by the pair of thighs around your ears. For a short moment, she looked at her husband through hazy eyes. He seemed as entranced as she was. B needed to learn how to differentiate herself from her man, but, in this very moment, they were both the same. They were both in awe of you, totally entranced.

The attention got you blushing, you felt it despite being too busy to see it. Eyes closed, mouth and tongue hard at work to take Barbara over the edge of her climax. You knew it started when she tried to tug on your hair harder, when she was telling you to 'stay right there, keep going, don't stop!' You let her ride both your face and her orgasm. Her hand fell from your head, more praise fell from her lips. Barbara was ready to move on, but you were not. You swallowed the mess of spit and juices and then you just kept going. You kept going until you made Barbara writhe under all this stimulation.

Until you made Rusty flinch on his chair, ready to pounce. He settled back when you finally gave Barbara the time to relax and to process the pleasure you gave her. This adorable moment of protectiveness went completely over Barbara's hand while she giggled from the high. He wished she had seen it, he wished she had seen he still had it in him to protect her.

Barbara sat up, taking you along with her but she stopped you halfway with a kiss. You were on your hands and knees for her, while she tasted herself on your lips. She pulled away and held your chin firmly enough to turn your heard towards him. "Do you want him to fuck you?" Rusty's face started to glow with excitement. One word and he was ready to go. "If you want to, I'll share you with my husband." Barbara spoke without an ounce of enthusiasm towards her own suggestion. You took a moment to evaluate the offer presented to you with a grin on your glistening lips. Without saying a word, you turned your head back towards Barbara for another passionate kiss. "Good girl." She spoke against your lips. "That's what I thought. We're being so generous to let him watch, but he can't have it all. Maybe we can let him help..."

Maybe that would be nice... You let Barbara decide. With a nod of approval, Rusty sprung on his feet and walked towards the bed. He had a hand on Barbara's back and one on yours, roaming the exposed skin while you kissed his wife. Satisfied, Barbara crawled on all fours to the head of the bed. She rested her back against the upholstered headboard and opened her legs for you. You crawled, too, assuming she wanted you to taste her again, but she had a different plan in mind. She instructed you to sit on the empty space between her legs with your back pressed to her front.

Rusty finally joined the two of you on the bed. He sat back on his knees and tugged on his cock, it throbbed when he pulled his hand away. His thumbs slipped under the waistband of his briefs but he was stopped by his wife again. She knew he was aching for it, for you. She was not ready to share. She did not want to share.

Barbara easily spread your legs apart with her hands, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She leaned her chin against your shoulder and toyed with the stickiness on your inner thighs. "All for me, sweetheart?" You nodded eagerly. She brought her fingers to her mouth, revelling in the taste of you. Her other hand simply brushed over your pussy, making your hips try to hump it desperately.

You truly were desperate for more. Your hips jerked forward one final time and Barbara granted you what you wanted so badly. She pressed her left hand on your wet cunt, her ring finger pushed between the lips. You placed your hand on hers and made Barbara rub circles against your clit.

Rusty pushed back on your legs as they started to close. He wanted to watch. He wanted Barbara to watch the mess she was making between your legs. The more she rubbed, the more you leaked on the bed sheets. And the more he wanted to taste you. He leaned forward, but, this time, you stopped him.

"Good girl." Barbara praised you for not rewarding Rusty with the pleasure, and the privilege, of eating you out. She reminded her husband that his purpose, in this moment, was to help while she did all the work. B picked up the pace. It made your mind all fuzzy. Her expert fingers found a rhythm and angle that made you struggle to keep your eyes open.

And your legs too. Rusty did his job and kept you in place, spread open for both of them. You slouched on the bed, giving in to the sensations of Barbara's fingers rubbing you just right. It was almost like she studied the way you did it, that one time when you could not stop yourself when you watched from the window. The new position allowed Barbara to push one finger inside of you. The moan you let out drove the spouses insane.

Rusty's hips jerked forward, his body barely resisting to your reactions. He watched his wife's finger disappear inside of you knuckle after knuckle. He wished that was his finger. No. He wished that was his cock. Better. He wished you clenched on his cock so hard he would have to fight to pull out in the same way Barbara did with her finger. "Fuck." He grunted as Barbara pumped a finger inside you faster, her palm slapping against your slick folds.

For an instant, B's eyes left your body to stare at Rusty. The vein on his temple pulsated, his chest heaved and increased in redness. He was on the edge of breaking the rule she set just so he could dive inside of you and have you all to himself. She found his struggle amusing, but her heart pinched at his resistance. He tried. For once, he tried to do the right thing.

"Oh my God! Yes!" You moaned out, your body writhed with ecstasy but remained secured in place under Rusty's hands. Barbara took it as a sign to make you feel even better, in the hope that you would enjoy it as much as she enjoyed your mouth on her. A second finger entered your pussy and you shot your eyes closed.

"Open your eyes." Barbara and Rusty ordered you simultaneously. You had no choice but to obey. Rusty gave you just enough wiggle room to fall further on the bed, sprawled open for them. Barbara met you halfway, hovering you so her hands would not leave your heat. His grip on your thighs was bruising. You could not bear to imagine what it would feel to be fucked by Rusty with the same determination he poured into keeping you exposed for his wife.

Barbara chuckled in admiration at just how tightly you clenched around her two fingers. "I can feel it, sweetheart. You're so close." She kept her impressive coordination, between the circles she rubbed and the back and forths of her fingers. "Oh, I know, baby. I know." She cooed at you, buying herself just a few more seconds inside you. "You're making a mess for me. Look at it, look at that pretty pussy." You glanced down for a second, humming in response. She was not ready to stop just yet, but your adorable pleas that begged her to let you cum won her over. "Let go, let go for me. That's it, baby... That's it. Give it to me." The emphasis on Barbara made you see stars that floated around her beautiful face. "Cum for me."

You let go, giving everything you got to Barbara. The sheer force of your climax took your breath away, keeping you stuck in a moment you did not want to get out of. Your eyes fluttered, a myriad of emotions floated in your wide pupils. This was different than what you imagined in your dreams. You were not too mad about the man's presence, he made it easier for Barbara to please you. This was different, but it felt incredible. So incredible that you would be lying if you said you did not want more. Now or later, you did not care, as long as B granted you the privilege of being in her presence. Whether your clothes were on or off did not matter too much either, all you wanted was her. You would take anything she would give you.

Barbara praised you through it until she felt you relax around her fingers. You even heard Rusty insert a few sinful words. "You looked so fucking beautiful cumming for my wife." The Sabiches shared the same smile, one of pure lust. Rusty's grip loosened around your thighs while he caressed your skin, daring to dip his thumbs in the mess that covered the area. Just this small feeling of you made his cock throb painfully, it had been denied for way too long.

When B pulled her fingers out of you, a gush of wetness dripped down on the bed. The three of you whined at the sight of your messy cunt and of your throbbing clit. "You did so good, sweetheart." Barbra, despite the uncomfortable angle, leaned forward to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You did so good." You thanked her, she thanked you back for this night of bliss. "Do you want to help again?" She asked her husband who nodded frantically, he was ready to accept whatever Barbara would tell him to do. "Clean her up."

Rusty discarded of his glasses, stretching his arm to set them down on his wife's nightstand. He laid down on the bed, much like you did earlier for Barbara. She let him hump the bed, still stuck in his pathetic search for relief. You whimpered when his mouth reached your core. Your back arched, your lips parted open to let out a series of whiny moans. Barbara reminded him to be gentle, that you were precious. She reminded him to take good care of you, or else she would not share with him again. Not a taste of your pussy, not a chaste kiss on your lips, not even a bite of the food you cooked for her. She would indulge in you selfishly... The way Rusty had indulged in his lust all by himself during the affair.

Barbara tested his commitment and, to both her and your surprise, he obliged. Rusty's tongue lapped gently at your puffy folds. Ignoring your pleas about your sensitive skin and skipping the preliminaries to get acquainted with this beautiful part of your body he had been forbidden to touch all night long. He ate you out with restraint, letting out a loud grunt when he swallowed your juices. His purpose was to clean up the mess, the mess he indirectly made through his affair, and he enjoyed the most out of the precious seconds his wife so generously granted him.

Barbara's lips curled into a smirk while leaning forward to tilt Rusty's chin up. He dragged his tongue on his bottom lip, his chin was soaked with your arousal. There was more love in his gaze during this moment than she had seen in a long, long time. It felt as though a dagger stabbed her in the heart. Metaphorically. She pulled it out, and pushed it deep in her husband's chest with her next words. She repeated something he said in therapy recently, a sentence she did not believe until just now. "Now you're helping to salvage this marriage."

#presumed innocent #rusty sabich #barbara sabich #ruth negga #jake gyllenhaal #rusty sabich smut #rusty sabich fanfic #rusty sabich imagine #barbara sabich smut #ruth negga smut #ruth negga fanfic

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live-laugh-lenney · 7 months ago

Note

Hello! Can you write a story where George or Arthur messes up and they like totally grovel over the reader? I feel like they would beg for forgiveness 😆

ohh, god lord. can you imagine the amount of grovelling?

arthur didn't mean to forget.

he was never a forgetful person; if he knew his plans were going to overrun or if he knew he'd double-booked himself, he would always make it his problem to deal with and sort out.

but with multiple video shoots happening that week that kept him busy, from a sidemen shoot to a podcast recording and then back to his own channel before he partook in a reacts video for someone else on their channel, the planned dinner with her parents had just slipped his mind.

when he walked through the front door of their flat, he was greeted with the laughter and the chatter of company. and it's in that given moment, when he sees her mum's handbag hanging on a coat hook beside her dad's coat, that he knows what he had forgotten. that he knows he messed up... big time.

rounding the corner and stepping foot in the open-plan living space of their flat, he was greeted with the biggest smile from her mum and a welcoming handshake from her dad... lessening the guilt in his belly until he was met with a fake smile and darkened eyes from yn. and the guilt only bubbled more viciously because he knew he couldn't dig himself out of this one easily.

"yn said you'd gotten stuck in a meeting with your work team, lovely. that's such a shame," her mum coos softly and she pulls arthur in for a loving hug that was tight and secure, his own arms enveloping her in a warm hug, "i know you insisted we had this dinner without you but it didn't feel the same."

he swallows back the lump in his throat and the guilt felt even worse. she lied on his behalf and made it out to be an unfortunate accident when, truly, it had simply slipped his mind. the smile on her mum's lips made him want the ground to swallow him whole. his eyes dart over to yn who occupied herself in clearing away the dirtied dessert plates from the tabletop - and he remembered her telling him that morning, before he left, how she was baking a coffee and walnut cake for them all to enjoy that night.

"we'll have to organise another one, i'm so sorry," arthur apologises before helping clean up the table, collecting the empty glasses and the cutlery that yn had left behind, "i'll cook next time since yn did this. it smells delightful."

"we had your favourite dinner, kiddo," her dad informs him and arthur looks at yn as she tries her hardest not to let her emotions get the better of her, "she's a good'un, our yn. even baked us a cake."

"she's the best," arthur smiles at her.

and he was hoping for a slight smile back in his direction to know he was off the hook and they'd talk about the whole evening later on... except he doesn't and all he sees is her jaw clench and tighten, her eyes rolling discreetly, head staying low as she piles everything up on the counter beside the sink.

they said goodbye to her parents soon after with kisses, hugs and handshakes being exchanged as well as a promise of taking an entire day off so he didn't have to miss another meal planned with them. except, deep down, he felt the guilt beginning to eat away at his insides and he knew he was minutes away from being made to feel even worse.

the door closed and before he could get his apology out, she was first to break the silence.

"don't speak to me for the night."

"yn-"

"what did i just say to you?" she sneers at him and he stares at her with sorrow in his eyes, hoping that she would come round and give him the chance to explain everything; from how he felt overworked from a week of non-stop work to how he got confused with the dates to how he wanted to make it up to her for being a forgetful muppet. "don't talk to me. i don't want to talk to you tonight."

"if you let me explain then-"

"it'll just be excuse after excuse coming out of your mouth, arthur."

he follows her around the flat like a lost puppy, scared to lose her but also wanting to plea for his forgiveness and to explain, not with the hopes of being forgiven right away but with the hopes of being understood, because he really and truly never meant to miss out on the evening with her parents. stands beside her as she washes up the dishes in the sink, watching her as if he was waiting for her orders on what she wanted him to do, mind racing as he tried to come up with the most calmest way to explain everything.

"the shoot overran. the taxi for the way home got stuck in the rush-hour traffic on its way to pick us up and we were miles from a tube station," he tries to take the plate from her hand so he could dry it and put it away but she refuses his help, placing it down on the side and swatting his hand away when he tried to pick it up, "by the time it arrived, we'd been waiting an hour for it at the site."

"doesn't help me in understanding why you never showed up. not even a text. i had to lie, arthur. to my parents!"

"i know and i'm sorry you had to do that," he places a hand on the base of her back and uses his thumb to rub gentle circles into the tee on her back, "truthfully, i did forget. okay? i forgot but-"

"i know you forgot," she huffs heavily and moves from his touch, his hand still lingering where it was once placed on her back, "please, just don't come near me. don't touch me. don't talk to me. i'm angry with you so please let me be angry with you."

"i don't want you to be," he frowns.

"then you should have thought of that before you skipped on dinner," she retorts back to him and his shoulders slump in defeat, "i'm just so upset with you."

the whole night was spent apart.

and, truth be told, they hated it.

yn hated how she still wanted to be close to him, even though he had made her feel anger. hiding in the bedroom with her laptop opposed to the television because he had taken refuge on the sofa and chosen a documentary she didn't want to intrude upon. she understood how hectic his schedule could be at times and she understood that, sometimes, he was tired and he needed reminding of things... it was a minor mistake but it had upset her and she needed her feelings to be validated and she wanted him to understand how hurt she felt.

arthur hated how he had made the mistake that lead them to being apart. sleeping on the sofa so she had all the time in the world to feel better and feel angry without him being there to add fuel to the fire. it was forgivable, what he did, but it wasn't forgettable and he knew she'd be upset for a while with the situation.

the next morning, he was awake early.

he ran to the corner shop to grab her some flowers, to grab her a card, to grab ingredients for breakfast so he could surprise her and a little goody-bag of her favourite snacks to show her just how sorry he was for what had happened. deciding on breakfast pancakes, with her favourite fruits and syrup, writing a long-winded message in the card that could explain better than he could if she was looking at him whilst he spoke it verbally.

and when she rose from her slumber, ready to forgive him, he was prepared with a table full of a surprises.

"good morning," he smiles sheepishly and she lets her eyes wander over the pile of pancakes in the middle of the table beside bowls of fruit and bottles of maple-syrup, "i made breakfast."

"you made a feast," she giggles softly, stepping towards the dining table and reaching for the card that he'd leant against a jar of nutella, "what's this?"

"it's my apology. i figured i could write it better than i could say it so," he walks towards her and sets his hands on the back of a chair, pulling it out from under the table and letting her sit down, tucking her underneath before he sat beside her, "i really am so sorry for forgetting our plans."

"it's okay," she pulls the card from the envelope and lets her eyes scan over the paragraph of his writing, her mouth soundless speaking every word he had written on the piece of paper, "i figured you were just stressed and tired. i was never going to stay angry at you."

she squeezes his knee softly and looks at him.

"i made reservations at that new london restaurant you wanted to go to, too. figured we could go with your parents," he informs her and she smiles widely, "it's on me, of course."

"arthur," she hums softly, "you need to fuck up more often."

he rolls his eyes and she giggles softly.

"i don't think so. one time, you might actually leave me and i don't know if i could cope with that," he leans over and presses a kiss to her lips, "i love you and i'm truly sorry."

"i love you too, you muppet." xx

#arthurtv #arthurtv blurbs #arthurtv imagines #arthurtv headcannons #arthurtv fics #arthur frederick #arthur frederick blurbs #arthur frederick imagines #arthur frederick fics #arthur frederick headcannons

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27potatochips · 9 months ago

Text

Life's Greatest Gift Is Growing Old With You

Johnny is the first to wake, as always, curled around Simon’s sleep warm body as the other man slumbers on. He smiled and nuzzled into Simon’s nape, pressing a soft kiss to the scar there before slipping out of bed, time for breakfast.

I love you, Johnny says, whispered into every interaction he has with Simon.

He stumbled downstairs, sleepily greeting Riley and Sorcha, who were sleeping in their usual places on the stairs, with a pat on the head that the two dogs eagerly received. He made his way to the kitchen and started up the coffee maker, giving the old thing an encouraging pat on the top when it struggled for a bit.

Breakfast was always pretty simple, yoghurt with walnuts for Simon, scrambled eggs for Johnny and Tamsin, Elise was at her partner’s so wouldn’t be joining them for breakfast, and yoghurt with blueberries for Briar.

As the smell of cooking eggs filled the kitchen, Tamsin staggered in, dropping herself onto the barstool at the counters. She was in her pajamas and her messy mop of blonde hair was so much like Simon’s it made Johnny’s heart clench with love. He slid the plate of scrambled eggs to her. “Mornin’ mo leanbh.” He murmured.

Tamsin made a grunting sound of acknowledgement and dug into her food. He left her to it, Tam truly was Simon’s daughter, and it often showed in their mutual hatred for mornings and love for knives. Johnny was a smart man despite what some think, and he learned from the first time Simon threw a knife at him when he tried to disturb him while eating his breakfast.

Briar also eventually joined them with sleepy eyes and their hair half out of their braid. Johnny gave them their bowl of yoghurt with a kiss on the forehead. Briar made a happy sound at the affection and dug in happily.

Johnny finished his own scrambled eggs, then started up Simon’s tea, just in time as the man himself slipped into the kitchen. The blond wrapped his arms around Johnny’s waist and breathed in deeply, nuzzling him. “Mornin’ mo ghrádh.” Johnny murmured, pressing a kiss to Simon’s temple.

I love you, good morning, we’ve survived another day, says the kiss.

Simon hummed and tightened his hold on his husband, hands kneading the soft fat of Johnny’s belly. Johnny chuckled and gently wriggled out of Simon’s hold, handing him his breakfast and tea. “I need tae eat, love, go cuddle yer bairns.” Simon grumbled and pouted a bit, but stumbled towards Briar, who happily let their father snuggle them as he ate.

I love you, I love our children, I know you love them too, says Johnny’s teasing remark.

After breakfast and coffee, they were all more or less awake, and the day could really begin. Tamsin fed the animals and Briar video called with their boyfriend while Simon and Johnny made a grocery list.

“Alright, so we need apples, flour, sugar, milk, yoghurt, gelatine, eggs, oil, and garlic.” Simon listed. Tamsin walked past. “Dinnae forget spinach, pine nuts, and sun dried tomatoes, I want tae try that recipe Floris gave us.” She said, getting the cat food and dodging the hungry cats yowling at her feet trying to trip her up. Johnny nodded and added them to the list. “Alright, nothin’ else tae add anyone?” With a shake of everyone’s head, he folded the list and put it in his pocket. “Alright, let’s go hen.”

I love you, I love that we get to do things like this, says the sweet endearment.

The shops were quiet, with it being on a Sunday morning, so they could calmly go about their business. Until Janice entered the store.

You see, Janice just got divorced from his husband, and she’s on the prowl for a new man to latch onto and emotionally suck dry, like a joy vampire. And lately, she has set her sights on Simon. Which was understandable, but nobody liked it. All attempts to rebuff her have been met with sheer ignorance, so mostly they just avoid her. But today, her eyes immediately found Simon and a grin graced her face. “Simon!” She crooned, making everyone in the store flinch at her screechy tones.

Simon sighed and buried his head in Johnny’s hair. “Can’t we just kill her? Just a little?” He murmured, his hands kneading Johnny’s hips. Johnny sighed. “Laswell said no.” He grumbled back. They heard heels clack on the tile flooring and gathered all their strength to face their most dangerous enemy since Makarov, an entitled PTA mom trying to find a new husband.

“What a happy coincidence, Simon! I just walked past your house, even considered knocking for a little chat if not for that… beast, in your front yard, you should really chain it up, you know, who knows what it might do if not.” She said.

Simon growled under his breath. The ‘beast’ was Lily, their animal guardian dog. She was an absolute sweetheart and frequently laid by the fence out front when the nearby school went out to wait for the students who loved to pet her. She was a Anatolian Shepherd who looked intimidating, and her bark may even startle Simon sometimes, but she was sweeter than sugar and loved children, so she was no danger to anyone except the foxes and hawks, and even those she preferred to scare away instead of killing.

Johnny smiled back, sharp and with entirely too many teeth. “Tha’ would kinda defeat the purpose of her wouldn’t it? Cannae guard when she cannae go anywhere.” He said, voice deepening and accent thickening in a way that made Simon shiver pleasantly.

I love you, I’ll protect you, you’re safe with me, the protective stance says.

Janice’s face soured and she opened her mouth to retort, but was swiftly interrupted by Mari, a lovely girl who worked at the store. “There you are miss! We don’t have the exact product you were asking for, buuut we do have this alternative. I understand you might be wary of it, so let me explain the ingredients for you!” She began, discreetly winking at Simon and Johnny and motioning for them to escape as she distracted Janice. They threw her a relieved look and fled the scene, they already had everything they needed anyways.

The cashier scanned everything as quickly and quietly as he could, and soon they were out of the store without much hassle. “We need tae get them all somethin’.” Johnny said as they walked back home, Simon agreed with a nod. “Definitely, We’ll bake them some cookies with Briar later.”

I love you, I love that you’re here with me, you’re mine and I am yours, the hand on Simon’s lower back says.

They got home to Elise and Tamsin playing something at the table, Briar up in their room. “Mornin’ mum, da.” Elise greeted, standing up to give them a hug. Simon dropped a kiss onto her hair as he carried the bags to the kitchen and Johnny briefly hugged her back before going after his husband to help. “Mornin’ Eli, how’s Penny?” He asked.

Elise leaned against the counter. “Good, we thought about going to the beach today, you guys comin’ too?” Johnny and Simon exchanged a glance and Johnny nodded with a smile. “Absolutely.”

I love you, I know you like I know myself, says the glance.

The children run around like they are 10 again as they’re let loose on the beach, the salty air and cooling sand making even Tamsin, who will be turning 23 soon, run around, dumping sand in her siblings’ hair.

Simon and Johnny sit down on the sand together, watching their kids play and the sun go down over the sea. Their scarred hands intertwined, the remaining sunrays hitting their matching rings.

Johnny breathes out deeply and lays his head on Simon’s shoulder. “Hey, I love you, Si.” He says, watching the sun. Simon lays his head on top of Johnny’s, squeezing Johnny’s scarred and calloused fingers. “I love you too, Johnny.”

I love you, say their mouths, I love you in this life and all the others.

And now, an authors rant.

This was for @bringinsexybackk69 as an early birthday present (Love ya momma Aggs!) and excuse my French but DAMN i was on such a roll i felt possessed. The writing beast got me good. Hope you enjoyed reading this (why else would you be down here?) because i certainly had fun writing this. Again, love ya momma Aggs for feeding the rabid beast within me.

Now a very small summary i have of the family.

The MacTavish family:

Simon ‘Ghost’ Thomas MacTavish: Around 48

John ‘Soap’ Junior MacTavish: Around 45

Tamsin Anastasia MacTavish: Eldest, 22, looks a lot like Tommy, hence her name (Tamsin means twin and is the female form of Thomas in from what I’ve seen)

Elise Alexandra MacTavish: Second, 20, has Johnny’s hair and Simon’s eyes, a bit taller than her sister.

Briar Cameron MacTavish: Third, 18, has Johnny’s hair colour and Simon’s curls, their eyes are green, inherited from Simon’s mother.

Riley: You all know who Riley the dog is, best girl.

Sorcha: A pit bull mix they got after Tamsin was born to help guard the house, absolute sweetheart, but very vicious if the kids are threatened.

Lily: Anatolian shepherd that Johnny's parents gave them to help guard the chickens.

Captain: an old tomcat that used to be a stray, he walked inside one day and never left.

Missy (short for missile launcher): Another former stray that just waltzed in and began demanding food.

CC (short for C4): Got given to them by a friend who had unexpected litter.

#ghostsoap #ghoap

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ohforficsakelibrary · 11 months ago

Text

You Brought Me Poison Flowers

Chapter 8: Beet - If a man and a woman eat of the same beet, they will fall in love.

prev / series masterlist / masterlist / Lennie's shop ad moodboard!

Series Summary: Joel and Ellie settle into life in Jackson, one more easily than the other, until Joel is reminded of what normal feels like. The kind of normal that he perhaps never had. A series of one-shot glimpses into a relationship (no true plot here, people.) Soft!Joel. Two touch-starved babes.

Chapter subtitles taken from Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs by Scott Cunningham. Although herbal preparations are consistent with historic uses, nothing herein is to be construed as medical advice.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Herbalist!OFC (age-appropriate age gap)

Word Count: ~6.2K (It's a hefty one, y'all)

Warnings: Discussion of past character death, descriptions of loneliness. Please read with care.

Rating: Explicit 18+ / oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, multiple orgasms (f), creampie. Minors DNI.

A/N: Lenora breaks a bit but Joel Miller was a contractor and he's good with his hands.

This took me longer than anticipated to write, but it's a bit of a longer one and it's definitely one that moves them into new territory. Thank you all so much as always for your lovely comments and reblogs. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I love these two so much and I sincerely hope that you all enjoy!

A soft knock sounds on Joel's door at 7:30pm sharp on Saturday evening.

Lennie is on his doorstep, blue linen dress and a soft smile, canvas bag slung over her shoulder.

Joel grins, checks both ways behind her, and yanks her through the door. He has her against the wall and she can feel the smile on his lips as he kisses her.

And Joel can feel the exact moment she melts into his hold.

“You stayin’ the night?” He quips, relieving her of the bag on her shoulder.

“No, Mom just said never show up empty handed.

“You wanna stay the night?”

“Feed me and we’ll see.”

“Kitchen’s through here,” he points, “leave your shoes on, you’re fine.”

“Smells, amazing. Ellie home?”

“Nah, she’s actually at a sleepover,” his eyebrows are arched as he sets her bag on the kitchen island, “for a birthday. She has friends.”

“Shame you’ve just got me.”

“Not a shame at all,” he samples the taste of her again before she reaches into her bag.

“I brought her this though, had a copy in my collection,” she pulls 2001: A Space Odyssey from her bag, “she’s probably read it already, but on the off chance she hasn’t.”

Joel fits in behind her, pressing his chest to her back. “Ohh, that’s a classic. She’s gonna love that. Thank you, Len.”

She pulls an amber dropper bottle from her bag next, “and Tommy stopped by, said you wanted bitters?”

Joel takes the bottle from her fingers, holding it up to the light. “Tommy did some meddling then. He dropped off a batch of maple whiskey this morning.”

“Well then, it only seems right to make an old fashioned,” and she reaches into her bag for a bottle of gin, “and you can keep that for whatever you’d like.”

“How the fuck did you make bitters?” One hand rubs at her hip as he places the dropper on the counter.

“Gentian root, ginger, lavender, cherry bark, black walnut, you want me to keep going?”

“No,” Joel’s hips are pressed against her ass, “I want to kiss you.”

"Kiss me then."

Joel spins her around, hoists her up onto the kitchen island and fits between her legs, fingers skating up her thighs. She fits both hands to his jaw as he presses soft lips to hers.

Slowly, tenderly at first before he slips his tongue into her mouth, drawing forth a moan from the back of her throat.

And it’s nothing short of relief, this flood of affection from a granite man.

Being left to her own devices these past few days had caused slippage. Even with the rush of him still warm through her blood.

He could still change his mind.

Lennie swallows hard when his mouth moves away, fingers still drawing light circles on her thighs with the flats of his nails.

“Anything I can do to help?” She asks, tucking a curl behind his ear.

A need to feel useful.

“You can tell me how you like your steak,” Joel grins up at her.

“Medium rare?”

“That a question or your answer?”

“Medium rare.” She says again and he steals another kiss before turning back to the stove.

Joel doesn’t allow her to lift a finger.

He fixes them drinks and ushers her to the dining table.

He dishes out a salad topped with sliced beet and goat’s cheese.

He places a perfectly-cooked medium rare steak in front of her with mashed potato and broccoli accompaniments.

He keeps her water and whiskey glasses full.

He offers her strawberries and hand-whipped sweet cream for dessert.

He doesn’t let her help with the dishes.

Instead, Joel again places her on the countertop, beside the sink this time, and Lennie swings her feet and laughs at his jokes and accepts the kisses he offers while dodging soapy hands.

And Joel thinks what a privilege it is to have a smart beautiful thing here purely to keep you company and not because your back needs watchin’.

_____

“You want the tour?” Joel finally asks, crumpling a dish towel between his hands before he hangs it on the oven handle and dries the backs of his hands on his jeans.

“Sure.”

"You sure you're sure, you didn't sound sure."

"I am."

"Alright. Thought you'd say somethin' smart," he helps her down from the countertop and places her feet back on the floor, "like 'is this a ploy to get me into your bedroom, Miller?'" He pitches his voice up a hair and mimics her northeastern accent.

"Is it?"

"Do you want it to be?"

Lennie doesn't answer.

He refills their whiskey instead and starts with the bottom floor.

Joel's home is still sparse because he hasn’t quite filled the space yet. The house had sat vacant for years before folks borrowed trinkets to adorn their own spaces and bartering for replacements had been too low on his list of priorities.

The pictures of someone else’s family have been taken down and relegated to a box somewhere.

Joel has none of his own.

Lennie hangs back as he shows her Ellie’s ‘lair’ and ‘the good bathroom’ with the bathtub, her glass of whiskey clutched in both hands, always sticking to the doorway of each room as Joel guides her through.

She never quite sets her feet over thresholds.

And Joel notices, but he can’t figure out why.

“You have a record player,” Lennie’s eyes light up when she spots it in the corner of the living room upon their return.

“Not sure if it works, haven’t tried it. But there are a few albums left,” Joel sets his glass down on the coffee table and slumps down on the couch, suddenly aware of the dull ache in his back from being on his feet far too long.

He notices that she wants to check but it’s like she needs permission.

“Go on, take a look,” he urges her and Lennie sits on her heels in front of the media cabinet as she flips through the small collection.

She hums to herself, “mm, we don’t have this one,” and he notes the use of the word but doesn’t ask, because she’s holding up a Diana Krall album with light in her eyes and asking if she can put it on.

“Only if you’ll dance with me,” he stands, ignoring the way his back muscles protest because the need to hold her again is too strong.

“Didn’t take you for a dancing man,” she takes his hand as the soft sound of jazz fills the room.

He fits both hands around the small of her back as she encircles his neck.

He can feel the faintest tremor thrumming through her muscles.

And the way she's too conscious of her breathing.

“Hey, Len,” and she feels it rumble through his chest where she’s held tight there, “can I ask you somethin’?”

She hums.

“What’s up? You’re like a— a vampire.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel.”

“It’s okay if you are. Just. Warn a man.”

Lennie doesn't laugh.

“I’m sorry.”

“And stop apologizing.” She feels him smile into her hairline. “Len, what’s going on?”

“I’ll try. You made the most beautiful dinner, and damn good old fashioneds, and you have a beautiful house. It’s been such a lovely evening.”

“You leavin’?” Joel pulls back and stares down into her eyes because those are leavin’ words.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Not even a little bit, baby,” he pulls her in close again, swaying her to the music, his tone suggesting what she’s just said is the most ridiculous thing in the world because it is.

But she sniffs hard against his collar and he leans back again to get a look at her face.

Lennie’s eyes are swimming.

The gold is lost.

“Oh, Lenora. No, no, no, none of that. I ain’t kickin’ you out.”

He takes her face in his hands with all of the tenderness he’s capable of.

Like clutching at a frantic sparrow with a broken wing.

And Joel briefly wonders if the kindest thing he can do is snap its neck.

He can’t. Its claws have already dug into his heart.

“You don’t have to leave, Len. Please don’t leave. Not yet.”

And gears gnash against each other in Joel’s brain because what he wants to say might lead to a flood.

Flood now and rebuild later.

“I think we gotta clear the air on something though.”

She tenses in his hold even against the soothing of his hand down her spine.

“Yeah?”

“You gotta tell me what’s going on, baby,” he still soothes, keeping her head tucked under his chin.

“You closed up again tonight. M' glasses are gone.”

After a moment, “why the tears when I ask you to stay? And why don’t you ever ask for what you want, Len?”

She breaks from him to stare up into big brown eyes that are soft despite the firmness in his tone.

And the last thing Lenora wants to do is finish this evening by dropping her baggage off at his doorstep. But Joel can read in her expression that she’s about to deflect and his voice sharpens.

“Your honest answer, Len. We can’t do this if we ain’t honest. I may be out of practice, but I know that much.”

“Because I’m afraid to want things, Joel.”

Lenora answers quick because Lenora knows where all of her shit is.

She just doesn’t know what to do about it.

“Why.” He presses again. Firmly, but far from devoid of compassion.

“Because I’m terrified they won’t want me back.”

“I think it’s pretty clear that I do, though.”

“That’s exactly it. You terrify me.” She’s out of his hold now and he thinks better of pulling her in again. “All of this is terrifying.”

“But why, Lenora.”

“Have you ever felt needed, but not wanted, Joel?” She snaps back.

And Lennie watches the consideration of it ping around his brain.

Sarah, his precious baby girl who needed him for food and shelter and comfort, wanted him for the same from the moment she could parse the two. She loved her daddy. Screamed her head off the entire first week of kindergarten because she wanted her daddy.

Sarah’s mom didn’t need or want him. She made that clear.

Tess didn’t need him. A guard dog has his uses but she could have found anyone. Tess wanted him. Even after they blew up that night. When he screamed “I can’t love you” so loudly that their mismatched glasses shook in their cabinets. Tess still held him at night. Because Tess wanted him.

And Ellie, now safe in the want from the need side of things, still seeks just him out for comfort. She’s fed all day by the folks down at Mess and Mr. Hayes at the farm, and Jess who makes those maple candies. She is safe, her Uncle Tommy sees to that. But she still curls up at his side in lamp light on chilly nights. She chooses him.

“I can’t say that I have.”

“Yeah. It’s all I’ve felt these last few years,” She’s taken a seat on the edge of the couch cushion like she’s afraid to settle in, gaze locked on the rug. Biting back tears. “Needed but not wanted. And not, feeling unwanted, just, not experiencing it—proactively. In the affirmative.”

“People here need me, but I’m a fixture.” Her voice is monotone as she continues. “Permanently cemented to the floor in my shop. They come and go, they take and they give you something material in exchange.”

“They look at me and see through me, Joel.” She gestures at her heart with her hands.

“They seek me out because they need me. But slot someone else with my knowledge behind that bar and really, there’s no difference. Occasionally someone shares a mug of tea or a glass of gin and I love that, I really do.”

She swipes the back of her hand quickly over her cheek.

“But the one person who ever wanted me died in my arms and he took it with him.”

“And I felt so empty, Joel.” Her fragile whisper cracks. “Everything just became so cold.”

“Tommy told me what happened,” he whispers, “to Andy.”

Lennie looks up at him through tears.

“I didn’t have anyone, Joel. For years. And I forgot what that felt like.”

And in this moment, Joel realizes that he’s never actually been alone either.

He had Sarah.

He had Tommy.

He had Tess.

He had Ellie.

You keep going for family.

She had no one.

And she kept going anyway.

He can’t say he would have been that strong.

He wasn’t. That first night without his daughter.

Without his heart.

“I forgot what it felt like to have someone spend hours talking to you because they want to. To have someone just to sit with in front of a fire. To share a sunset with. To make…fucking dinner with so you don’t have to do it all on your own.” She gestures weakly towards the kitchen.

“To be held and kissed and touched, Joel.”

Her voice is so small now, rasped through the pain that crushes her from the inside out and Joel wants desperately to hold her again but he settles for clenching his fist and shoving his fingers in his pockets.

He wants her to let it out.

"And I'm sorry that it breaks me apart like this," she swipes at her cheeks again, angrier this time. "It feels like something that shouldn't even matter, like I should be able to do this on my own."

“Andy left and touch went out of my life. Companionship. This feeling of being wanted. And I convinced myself I didn’t want it anymore. Didn’t need it.”

“And then you came out of fucking nowhere.”

Lenora holds a hand out and stares into her palm, “and to have it placed in front of you like food after famine.”

“Knowing that at any moment you could do something to have it snatched away.”

Her fist closes now.

“And I feel like I have no right to exist in someone else’s space and I think maybe if I just don’t take up room. Maybe if I’m not too loud, or too headstrong, maybe if I don’t ask, it’ll stick around for just a little while longer. I’ll make that compromise.”

“Because it’s the only thing I want. To have someone want me.”

“And I am terrified of fucking it up, Joel,” her voice is low as she finishes, finally angling her eyes back up at him.

Cheeks wet with tears that flow too fast for her to catch.

And Joel steps around the coffee table to kneel in front of her, noticing how she stiffens with the action of it, not unlike she did when Ellie hugged her in the stables.

How she flinches when someone gets too close.

Where she melted before, she freezes up again for fear of having said too much.

Of having been too much.

Felt too much.

Taken up too much space here in his home.

Her nerves are still terrified of affection, regardless of how badly he longs to give it.

How badly she needs to receive it.

And Joel pushes the boundary a fraction, brushing a curl that clings to his finger off of her cheek.

Running calloused knuckles as softly as he can down the salty streaks that mar her skin.

“Because it’s perfect?” He asks barely above a whisper, mouch catching on the syllables.

“Because it’s perfect, Joel,” she breathes, relaxing upon her skin’s recognition of his.

His heart jumps.

“Because it’s a taste of everything I’ve always wanted and the last time I had that, my entire world shattered and I’m afraid, Joel.”

“But for right now?” The pads of his fingers trace one tendon of her neck, as his eyes meet hers again, “it’s perfect?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, warm against his skin.

“Then let it be perfect, Lenora.”

And Joel closes the gap that opened between them with his lips. Feather-soft brushes at first before they feel the need to convince her more ardently.

He kisses her until she kisses back.

Until she winds her fingers in his hair and opens to let his tongue slip inside.

Until she lets herself feel his face in her hands and the taste of him in her mouth.

Joel only stops when she breaks for breath, chin reddened from the scrape of his beard.

“For as long as it is, Lenora” he whispers against her lips, “let it be perfect.”

And she clutches his massive face in her palms, searching his eyes.

Receiving nothing but sincerity in return.

She presses her forehead against his, “yeah.”

“Promise me, Lenora.”

“I promise.”

“You swear that’s the truth? The whole truth and nothing bu…”

“Stooop, Joel,” she chides weakly at his poor man's joke, touching the tip of her nose to his before kissing him again.

He smiles and hums from deep in his chest.

“Len?” He whispers against her lips.

“Yeah,” she sniffs, attempting to stuff it all back inside.

“What do you want?" Another kiss pressed to her mouth, "right in this moment, what do you want?”

“No thinking,” he adds, head spinning from having her this close. “What do you want?”

“I want you to touch me.”

“Where?” Joel breathes against her mouth.

“Everywhere.”

Joel stands, uncaring of how his knees click with the motion, and holds out a hand.

Her small palm is skittish in his hold.

Joel laces his fingers with hers.

“It’s warmer upstairs.”

"Is this a ploy to get me into your bedroom, Miller?" Lennie sniffles and Joel looks her dead in the eyes.

"Yes. Yes it is."

_____

Joel guides her to sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling before her again to slip her sandals from her feet, encircling her ankles gently with each hand before trailing his fingers up the backs of her calves.

She shivers but not from the temperature.

Joel pulls off his socks before shedding his flannel and t-shirt, tossing both onto a chair in the corner.

He makes himself more vulnerable than she feels.

Her eyes track him around the room before he settles beside her on the edge of the bed, cupping her cheek and turning her face in towards him.

“Are you cold?” He presses a kiss to her lips.

“No.” Heat from the kitchen has risen, warming the whole upper floor.

“Are you sure? I can start a fire.” He nods behind him at the fireplace in his bedroom.

“I’m okay,” she reaches to run a hand down his forearm.

“Whatever you need. You tell me, okay?”

“Yeah.”

His mouth is a quick distraction before his tongue slips against hers.

Joel's palm fits to her cheek, thumb tracing one cheekbone.

Fingers trail down the side of her neck and skate gently over the front of her throat before his hand flattens over her breastbone, tucking under the collar of her dress.

His lips break from hers to kiss her neck and suck on her ear as he palms one shoulder.

Lennie reaches down to undo the tie of her dress before Joel asks if he can instead.

Chill bumps form on her skin when he unwraps linen, broad palm soothing warm over her stomach when it’s finally bare.

He shifts with her to help slip it from her form, mouth never far from hers before he lands the dress on the chair over his own clothes. Lennie's hands fly to his hair slipping soft strands between her fingers as she finally turns her body in towards him.

The warmth that radiates from his skin sets her head spinning.

He presses kisses to her collarbone before returning to her mouth.

“Lie back, Len.” He whispers there.

Joel follows, fitting one knee between her legs. A palm on either side of her head, careful of her long hair.

“This okay?”

“Yeah,” she hums with arms around his neck when he tips his head to run his nose over the lines of ink on her left arm, licking at the sensitive ditch of her elbow before he nips at her bicep.

The press of his bare chest against her skin when he mouths at one breast through her bra makes Lennie moan and arch up against the solid weight of him.

He shifts lower to trail his nose over her ribs. Inhaling the cedar scent of her soap and pressing kisses to every inch of skin, pulling soft gasps from her throat.

He notes what makes her breath catch. What makes her fingers tighten in his hair and nails sink into his shoulders.

Joel worships down to her hipbones before Lennie grows too impatient to allow him to continue.

“Joel,” she pants and he angles big brown eyes up at her, “I need you.”

He wraps one hand around the meat of her thigh, shifting on the bed to settle properly between her legs, rubbing at her hips.

He mouths at her stomach before hooking fingers in the waistband of her underwear.

“May I?”

“God, please yes,” she pants.

Joel slips fabric down her legs and off of her toes, hanging her panties off the footboard before his lips trail up her inner thighs.

Lennie trembles.

"This okay?" Joel runs his palms over the creases of her thighs as she nods, thumbs brushing at soft fluff before spreading her open with a deep, needy groan.

One thumb gently starts rubbing circles over her clit and Lennie gasps.

“Mmm,” he growls as he lowers his face and breathes the scent of her deep, exhaling with a moan before his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip.

She’s already slick with anticipation.

Joel tentatively trails the flat of his tongue over her slit and Lennie moans and writhes in his hold. He continues, thumbs holding her open, tongue learning what makes her cant her hips towards his face.

What makes her moan his name.

His tongue dips inside of her and she keens and fists the sheets, tipping her head to the side as he curls the tip of it before one hand slings a leg over his shoulder.

Joel’s lips latch to her clit and she rolls her hips but one palm holds her firm, splayed against her stomach as two fingers tease before slipping into her heat, the slide made easy by her arousal. Joel quirks them, feeling for that spot where the silk of her gives way to texture before he beckons, coaxing a soft cry from her throat.

He presses his hips into the mattress in an effort to give his aching cock some manner of relief.

“Joel…oh fuu—” she whimpers as the tip of his tongue flicks against that sensitive bundle of nerves before he soothes with the flat of it and repeats. One of Lennie's hands tangles in soft ashen brown curls, raking, caressing, tugging when his fingers become more insistent.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs against her, rubbing the high bridge of his nose where his tongue just left, fingers still building in pace.

Lennie reaches up with her other hand to clamp it over her own mouth when his tongue starts twirling soft circles around her clit before he sucks hard.

Her hips buck against him and his eyes flick up towards her face.

Cameras are a thing Joel misses.

Lennie’s head is thrown back, resting on a halo of black curls splayed against his pillows, palm doing a poor job of stifling the moans that come from her chest now.

A chest that heaves for breath.

Breathlessness that he’s causing.

And so he stares for a moment, pressing the image into his mind like a wet flower between the pages of a book.

One that succumbs to the weight but leaves an imprint of its own against the text.

“There’s no one here, baby,” he whispers, reaching his free hand up to soothe over her sternum, “it’s just me.” He laps at her again, “you can be as loud as you want.”

The hand over her mouth slips down to run across his, holding him holding her as her ribs heave.

“Joel?” She gasps in warning.

“Go on, beautiful,” he murmurs against her heat. “Come for me.”

And she falls apart between his fingers and his tongue with his name lodged in her lungs on an inhale.

She only breathes again when her muscles give up their grip. Joel promptly stuffs his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them with an audible pop.

Stuttering breath catches in her throat before she swallows hard. Joel makes his way up her body again until she tastes the tang of her release on his lips.

“I’m a bit out of practice, but I hope…” he starts.

“Jesus, Joel.” She laughs and rakes her fingers through his hair. “You were…that was.” A breathless whisper. “Perfect. That was perfect.”

He hums and nuzzles her jaw as she basks in the heat of him.

Basks in his attention as plush lips suck at hers.

And as his tongue slips inside he feels it.

Feels her melting again.

“Joel,” her hand clutches the hair at the nape of his neck before he tips his face to look into her eyes.

“Hmm.”

“I need you inside me,” she whispers.

“Whatever the lady wants,” he mouths at the curve of one breast through the fabric of her bra. “the lady gets.”

She sits up as he leaves the bed for a moment to undress, propping herself up with hands behind her back, knees knocked together.

Watching as generous fingers deftly unlatch his belt. As he steps out of his jeans and hangs them over the arm of the chair, careful not to leave them lying on her dress where the weight of denim would cause linen to wrinkle.

She watches as he bends to slip off his boxer briefs, noting the hole in the hip just below the elastic band from where his thumbs have worn threads away.

Lennie watches the breadth of his shoulders and the curve of his bum and the strength of his form and the smile on his face when he turns to her again.

She tucks her chin against her shoulder, staring up at him through big, bright eyes before her gaze slips lower to where his cock stands thick and proud against the soft swell of his stomach.

This man.

This broad, rugged, brutal, yet tender-hearted thing.

Wants her.

“Hey,” the corner of his lips quirk as he settles back onto the bed to sit beside her.

“Hey,” she echoes, tipping her face towards him. His fingers find her jaw and his mouth finds hers again. He feels her smile and it makes his lips spread into a grin, teeth accidentally clacking against hers.

“Sorry, baby.”

She just wraps a hand around the base of his strong neck and pulls him down with her against the pillows.

Joel’s palm splays across her stomach, rubbing warm circles into her skin as his tongue slips against hers, cock pressed against her thigh.

“Skin ‘s so soft, Len.” Joel presses his lips to her collarbone, shifting to kiss down her sternum.

“Mm, you’ve said that before,” she runs a hand through his hair before soothing across the span of his shoulders, briefly fascinated by the size of him.

At how much space he takes up.

“‘Cause it’s true,” he drags his nose against where the underwire of her bra bites into her flesh, “I like it. I like you, Len.”

Joel rubs his bearded cheek down her stomach and she squirms.

“Jesus, Joel that tickles—”

He hums a laugh that turns to a low growl, big brown eyes angled up towards her for permission.

She parts her legs and he settles between them, palms dipping into the curves of her waist and smoothing low over her stomach.

Joel meets her eyes as he rocks his hips, tentatively sending his cock slipping through the slick at her core.

She gasps and reaches for his wrists as he continues coating his length to ease the slide.

Massive palms hitch at the creases of her thighs, one thumb guiding his cock to notch at her entrance.

Brown eyes lock and Joel slowly presses inside of her.

Watching as her lids flutter shut while his mouth falls open. Tongue tracing the inside of his bottom teeth.

He pauses until her grip on his wrists relaxes, starting up a slow rock of his hips as her teeth catch her lip.

He takes his time with her.

Time to adjust.

Time for her to sink into the feel of him. Into how he presses and stretches and pulls and grips.

Time to build. In pace, in pressure, in urgency until finally he lets the reins out.

The way Joel fucks is devastating.

Hard, driving strokes that move her to brace one palm up against his headboard.

The roll in surprisingly loose hips that causes his cock to catch on her g-spot with every stroke before pressing farther against the deepest parts of her.

Palms that knead the flesh of her hips. Gripping to bruising.

A pace that builds in speed before slowing again when he presses himself deeper, grinding his pubic bone against her clit

Lennie twists in his hold, hands gripping at down and cotton as she sinks her teeth into a pillow that smells of woodfire and Joel and her ponderosa soap.

"Joel," she moans, "wait, I want—"

Immediately he stills, sucking in breath through his teeth.

"Y' okay?" He murmurs, watching her chest heave.

"Yeah," she rakes curls out of her face, "'m gonna boss you around for a minute though."

Joel bites his bottom lip and gently bucks his hips against hers. "Good."

"Move for a second?"

Joel pulls out and they both whimper at the loss as he sits back on his heels.

Lennie turns to lay flat on her stomach before casting an expectant look back over her shoulder.

Joel let's out a soft "oh fuck" and she arches her back slightly, accentuating an ass that Joel just has to touch.

She hums as he palms her flesh before fitting his thumbs into the dimples at the base of her spine.

"C'mon, Joel," she moans, tucking her nose back into his pillow, "don't keep a girl waiting."

"Yes, ma'am," and he shifts to straddle her form before sheathing his cock inside of her again, moving slowly, testing the angle. His fingers dig into her hips as he alternates between hard thrusts and a slow rock that grinds the head of his cock against the mouth of her womb.

And Lennie can't keep quiet now even if she tried.

He smirks when one hand again reaches to steady herself against the headboard and takes it as license to hook a hand over her shoulder to pull her against him when his hips slam forward.

"Oh ff—" She moans from her chest.

“Still with me, Len?” he growls over the staccato of skin on skin.

"You're too far away," she pants and Joel folds to brace his palms against the mattress and press his chest against her back.

The soft swell of his stomach fits perfectly to the curve of her spine.

He envelops her in his breadth and his weight and his heat and finally the wet of his mouth where he sucks at the delicate skin just behind her ear.

"Better, baby?"

“God yes,” she moans, “don’t stop, Joel.” Lennie’s head falls back against his shoulder and he grins.

“There she is.”

And she comes white hot with his name on her lips and his nose buried in her hair.

Joel presses deep for as long as he can before he feels himself hurtle towards the inevitable brink.

The moment he moves to pull out, Lennie reaches to catch a scruffy cheek that's burning with heat.

"Joel, stay," she moans, turning her face towards his.

"'Y— fuck — y' sure—" he grits out, panting frantically against her cheek.

"Want you inside," she gasps against his lips and it sends his hips slamming against hers as he comes with a shout, cock throbbing as he spills himself deep, weight briefly collapsing against her.

"Lenora," he whispers when his senses return.

She hums, boneless underneath him, basking in the way one palm trails down her ribs as he shifts to pull out and settle to one side of her.

Fingers skipping over the damp skin of her back before engulfing the base of her skull.

"Lenora, look at me."

She does, hazy and molten, eyes glittering with low lamp light.

"Can you stay the night?"

And her face splits with laughter before he pulls her in against his chest.

"Yeah, Joel," she nuzzles his collarbone, "I'd like that."

_____

“God she’s such a fucking bitch!” Ellie screams when she bursts through the front door just after 8 o'clock the next morning.

Lennie immediately stiffens, looking to Joel for all the world like the panicked deer that’s jumped out in front of a car. He holds up a hand in her direction and Lennie has no idea what the fuck that’s supposed to mean because she’s sitting at Joel’s kitchen table in nothing but his brown flannel shirt and her come-damp panties and by all accounts she’s not supposed to be here.

“Hey, don’t slam the door,” he calls in Ellie’s direction, her heavy footsteps getting louder as she makes her way towards the kitchen.

“She tore up my fucking book, Joel!” She’s rounded the corner now, “she tore up Will Liv—heeeyyy, Lennie.”

Fucking caught now.

“Hey, Ellie,” she tugs Joel's shirt further down over her bare thighs.

Ellie’s eyebrows are in her hairline, eyes flitting between the pair of them before she speaks after what feels like an hour.

“Good job, old man. You bagged the prettiest girl in town,” Ellie slaps Joel on the back before moving to grab a plate from the dish rack.

“Ellie…”

“Oh shit,” something connects for her as she takes a seat, “that’s where you were the other night. When you came slinking in at like four in the morning.” She locks eyes with Lennie, “your house.”

And Joel’s been struck dumb because “Ellie” with varying degrees of annoyance seems to be all he can bring himself to say as she dishes out bacon and eggs.

“Honestly, though, it’s about time he got laid.” This to Lennie, who’s wide-eyed, red in the face, and certain that she wants to die.

“And there are worse people I could be forced to sit across the breakfast table from,” she shovels a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. “You know Martha has a crush on him right?" She throws a thumb in Joel's direction. "The school teacher? The ditzy one.”

“Okay, Ellie, room, now.” Joel grinds out.

“What, she does! Everyone in town knows that.”

“Ellie, wha…who is Martha? What are you talkin’ about?”

“Actually, everyone in town does know that,” Lennie murmurs.

“See?" Ellie gestures towards Lennie. "Thank you.”

“Hey, Joel?” Tommy calls as the front door slams behind him. “Jimmy wanted to see if we could help with the barn today and I told him—heeeyyy, Lennie.”

“I suppose this is the first and last time you’ll ever spend the night,” Joel looks over to where Lennie’s clutching the sleeves of his flannel in her hands and covering the bottom half of her face.

“It’s the first and last time I don’t leave before sunrise.”

“Alright, look,” Tommy reaches over Joel’s shoulder for two strips of bacon, “I’ll get outta here, you swing by whenever and we’ll discuss the barn, Ellie, you’re with me kid. Len?” He grins. “You enjoy your morning.”

“I’m not finished breakfast,” Ellie protests.

“Bring the plate. I don’t care. It’s across the way. I got a kitchen table too, c’mon, hustle.”

And to their surprise she grabs her plate and heads for the door. Tommy follows, throwing a wink over his shoulder before they hear the front door swing shut.

Keys jingle and the lock latches.

Lennie’s eyes are wide when she finds Joel’s stare again.

And to her surprise, he bursts out laughing.

The way it shakes his shoulders and rounds out his cheeks is contagious and she can’t help but follow suit.

When the mirth calms he reaches out for Lennie and encourages her onto his lap.

“‘M so sorry about that, Len.”

“It’s—" she rubs at his heart over the fabric of his t-shirt, "it’s okay.”

She means it too.

“You know," she wraps an arm around his neck, "I’m actually just fucking you to get back at Martha,” she teases, sucking languidly on Joel’s bottom lip.

And it drags another laugh from his chest.

“Is that so?” Joel nuzzles her neck before kissing a path down her skin. “Sounds like you’re puttin’ a target on your back being here.”

“Make it worth my while then, Miller.”

And he does.

He eats her out again on the kitchen table, right there between the bacon and eggs. Has her coming on his tongue with one of her hands tangled in his hair and the other clamped over her mouth lest anyone hear.

He’s tempted to rip it away.

Let this Martha know exactly who Joel Miller is fucking.

The prettiest girl in town.

At least the door's locked.

And Lennie's safe here.

She's wanted. Right here.

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