#wanted to add stick but next time maybe

[finneyneilperrykisser]

Since i have less exam ,here more dps tweets i made

[phagodyke]

i keep getting irrationally miffed at ppl 😐😐

[weaselle]

i had to make a solution for this for myself, mostly because of depression, but it makes a nice How To for folks who are low on spoons or could use some help in the kitchen.

Fortunately i was a professional cook for over a decade. UNfortunately the first post i made explaining it was suuuuper long. Let's see if i can do better

So you select any protein that you can cook in a frying pan -- chicken breasts, ground beef, pork chops, sausages, steak, chicken thighs, whatever. You also select one or two types of veggie (mushrooms or tubers also work, i just did this with potatoes and carrots for dinner tonight).

[i like cooking for vegetarians, but this is how i cook for myself when i'm low on spoons - perhaps i'll do another post for meatless meals]

You'll also need some kind of oil, and a sauce or two of your choice in a bottle. All cooking gear is a large frying pan with lid (i prefer non-stick) a spatula, a cutting board, and a knife.

You cut the veggies into bite size pieces, cut up enough for two meals. One kind of veggie is fine, or you can do mix two or three

Put frying pan on medium heat with a little oil. Tubers or mushrooms or go in the pan a few minutes before the protein. 2 portions of the protein goes in the pan, about 5 minutes with lid (don't worry you can still get a good sear on both sides)

Now flip your protein if it's flip-able and add normal veggies, put the lid back on another five-ish minutes.

Take your protein out and put it with one portion of the veggies in a microwave safe container. That's going to be your lunch tomorrow. Put the other portion of protein on a plate to rest (you have to let a cooked protein sit a couple minutes before you serve it or when you cut into it all the juices run out and it goes dry - the liquids thicken as it cools, preventing this drying out if you let it rest, the goal is to serve it very warm but not hot hot)

While it's resting, pour some sauce from your bottle in the pan with the rest of the veggies and turn up the heat. A single sauce/bottle is fine, i like to get fancy and mix a couple. Two examples of personal favorite mixes are 1: bbq sauce and a hot sauce like sriracha 2: roughly equal parts low sodium soy sauce and worcestershire (makes something similar to a teriyaki sauce) A swallow of wine is almost always a great option if you want to add that to your sauce too, just add it to the pan before the other sauces so the alcohol has time to burn off.

...

Here is the important bit. While your veggies are finishing, wash your cutting board and chef knife. Then when you dump your veggies and sauce over your protein on the plate, while it is still too hot to eat, you wash your frying pan and spatula before you eat. Now the only dishes you have left to do are your plate and fork. Maybe a steak knife.

...

The whole thing takes about 35 minutes even with washing the dishes, and that includes your lunch for the next day- just pour a different sauce on and stick it in the microwave for a couple minutes (or five minutes back in the frying pan) and you have a full healthy lunch with a different flavor

You can use this technique every single meal and it yields hundreds of combinations, from pork and potatoes bbq, to salmon and broccoli teriyaki, to chicken and zucchini in a soy glaze.

It will keep you down to less than an hour of kitchen time per day total for both lunch and dinner including all dish clean up, uses the least dishes, the least effort, requires the least technique, and is, depending on what you pick out, very affordable

here are a couple more examples from this month; i didn’t take pictures of the salmon i did recently, but you get the idea

it's not super fancy, but it is easy, affordable, quick, and any flavors you want. Hope this helps some folks

Happy Cooking!

[katszumi]

“have you seen the abs on that man?” hagakure sat across of you. “sexy on a stick, i swear!” she giggles. she was going on and on about the guy that starred in the superman movie you girls put on last night. henry cavill was his name.

mina agrees with her statement with a nod. “he’s the hottest white man i’ve ever seen before.”

“sure, he was hot, but are we forgetting the misogynist comments he’s made? sexy is one thing, but being controversial is a whole ‘nother thing.” uraraka inserted her input.

“oh, please. i’d cook and clean for him anyday he asks.” mina retorted. both uraraka and yaoyorozu shake their head in shame.

“speaking of controversial.” uraraka murmurs under her breath, you peer over your shoulder, wondering the intent of her statement.

you notice bakugou making his way over to your desk, his eyes planted on you and you only. you shift uncomfortably. why the hell would he be coming to you? did you do something?

once he makes his way to your desk, you look up at him with a half smile.

“hey, bakugou. what’s up?”

his eyes analyze the other girls before looking back down on you.

“my pencil?”

you flutter your lashes at him. “pencil..?” you repeated in a trance of confusion.

he groans. “the fuckin’ pencil i gave you last week. i need it back.”

now it all clicks. you nod, laughing nervously because of your stupidity. you reach in your backpack and grab the black mechanical pencil that you forgot to lend back to bakugou.

your arm extends to the male in front of you, waiting for him to snatch it back.

“sorry.”

he gently grasped onto the pencil, his hand brushing against your fingers for a small moment.

“it’s whatever. just rather not be the one to find you after i lent you something.” he shoved the pencil in his pants pockets, leaving his hands in there. “that’s one of the last pencils i have.”

you shoot your eyebrows up in defense, quickly lowering them after. your eyes falling down to your desk for comfort.

“well, hope you take care of that one.” it was a half-joke. a lame one, might you add. you were just unsure on what to say. especially since it seemed like bakugou was lingering around your desk. as if he didn’t want to return to his seat just yet.

“so, what’d you score on your test?”

“ah…it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t horrible.”

“well?” was he really desperate to know that bad? you knew bakugou was smart, so he probably only wanted to know so it could boost his ego.

you rubbed your arm out of shame. “a seventy-nine.” you stared at his face to recognize any humility or laughter, but there was none.

he shrugged. “should’ve asked for my help if you needed it.”

right. you almost forgot that bakugou offered to help you study and go over notes with him for the next test. it was such an out-of-bakugou thing to do that you nearly didn’t take him serious.

you nodded slowly, processing his information.

“i was planning on making it up, so maybe for that.”

“fine.” his short one-worded response was dull. but what else did you really expect? “next time, don’t steal my pencil.” was his last comment before leaving your presence.

you sat in your thoughts, reeling the conversation back in your mind. what the hell just happened? it was the most simple yet confusing conversation you’ve ever had. was bakugou joking with you or was he seriously irritated with the pencil situation?

regardless, you made a mental note that bakugou was very protective over his mechanical pencils.

once bakugou returned to his seat, he unzipped his backpack, secretly opening his pencil box. within the box were a collection of pencils. there were so many pencils that he could give one to all of class 1a and 1b and still have few left.

aside sat denki who was clearly peeking inside of bakugou’s bag.

“damn, bakubro. you saving up pencils for a potential pencil outage or something?” it’s denki. of course, he never used his inside voice.

“i will literally blow you out this fuckin’ window and across the lot.” bakugou turns his head immediately, a faint pink blush spreading across the apples of his cheek.

bakugou just didn’t want you to know that the pencil was obviously an excuse to talk to you.

pt 2 of the study sesh

[gothicfied]

(Squid game s2) Can you write a comfort fic about an insecure reader has past trauma and has endured Highschool bullying. When she joins the games and is in the group (Gi-hun, Dae-ho, Jun-hee & others) but once they meet Jun-hee she gets pushed aside and has to join another group in the second game. Feel free to change or add anything, the pairing could be Daeho x reader but it’s up to you <33

Never alone again - Kang Dae-ho / Player 388

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 x Reader

Summary: After seeing you almost die, Dae-ho swore he wouldn't leave your side ever again.

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, gunshots (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Word Count: ~ 1.2k

A/N: hii! tysm for the request and I hope I did it justice.

You believed Gi-hun from the start. You believed he was right, no sane person would just say stuff like that, right? That they kill each player who gets eliminated? He seemed too damn serious for it to be a lie. And lo and behold, he was right. People. Shot dead. Right in front of you. Red-Light-Green-Light was a traumatic experience. You wanted to quit, you wanted to go home, go home and hug your parents and just be grateful to still be alive.

It was like the universe had turned against you. How wasn't everyone scared out of their minds like you? Was money really all that mattered to them? A heated discussion broke out during the first voting, angry voices yelling at each other, accusing Gi-hun of lying. You took all the courage you had left in you to try and stand up for him, at least make it known that you sided with him. Past experiences, especially your school time, usually made it hard for you to speak up, but that shouldn't really be an issue right now — You could end up dead, that's what worried you. After the voting, that didn't go your way at all, Gi-hun showed gratitude for your courage to say something and suggested you'd stick with him from now on.

Added to your group were In-ho, the last player who actually voted 'O', Jung-bae and Dae-ho, who were both former marines. While eating the lunch provided to you by the guards, those two immediately bonded over their former occupation, which you found endearing. Even though you were currently still to shy to join in on their conversations, you were content with just having a group you could stick to — Because you were sure you absolutely wouldn't survive in here alone.

"And, what's your name?" Dae-ho asked, as hd took a seat on the stairs next to you, happily eating his food. When you told him he gasped, almost chocking in the process. "That's my sisters name!" he laughed, nudging your shoulder with his. You just replied with a little "Oh? No way." and then he began rambling about his life, about his four sisters, about how his father sent him to be a marine and so on. He closed his monologue saying "Anyway, that's a really pretty name." and then proceeded to ask you for your leftover food. He made you laugh, which was nice considering you all were stuck in this hellhole.

In Dae-ho's opinion, you two had a lot in common, even if you didn't at all. He suggested you slept in the bed right under his which was.. well, free now after the first game. At night, you couldn't help but overthink your interactions with not only him, but the other three guys, too. They were so nice and welcoming. All of them had a special attribute that will probably be useful in the coming few days.. and you? You had the feeling that you brought nothing to the table.

The next day, a vast majority of the players went into the second game with the impression that this will be Dalgona, like Gi-hun predicted. Apparently not. The female voice over the speakers ordered the players to form groups of five. "Ah, how perfect," In-ho smiled, "guess we'll be a group then." You looked between the men, nodding in agreement and just when you were about to say something-

"Excuse me, are you maybe searching for one more person-?"

"Oh, no I'm sorry, we're actually already five peo-"

"I'm pregnant."

The girl cut Jung-bae off, resting her hands on her pregnant belly. You raised your eyebrows in shock and no one really seemed to know what to do next. Oh, you felt bad for her. She must've been very desperate if she entered the games while being pregnant. You five were just looking at each other confused, until you took a deep breath: "It's okay, I'll find another group. She needs to be with people she can absolutely win with." You looked at the girl and she looked back, slowly giving you a grateful smile. "No it's okay I'll go-" Dae-ho tried to say, but you waved him off, shaking your head.

"Well.. No, you can't just.."

"Dae-ho," In-ho said in a low tone, putting a hand on his shoulder, "she's pregnant." he said, like Dae-ho needed a reminder of what was right in front of him. You weren't that important to the team anyways, and that girl needed your help. So, it was decided, and in the end you did find a team of three players who voted 'X', like you, and one who didn't. You felt fairly safe with these people and even if you didn't, you didn't have much of a choice.

The game was a six-legged pentathlon with five mini games you had to split between each team member to complete. Watching the first few teams go was an absolute adrenaline rush, given the small amount of time of five minutes, the first few players were shot on sight pretty early on. This made you nervous to the point where you could throw up. Your original group was sitting a few meters away from youd current one and you did lock eyes with Dae-ho quite a bit, him giving you reassuring glances or a thumbs up. You mustered up a smile, trying yo calm your thoughts down.

I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this-

Oh but you could. Your team, which came before Gi-hun's, barely made it over the finish line with three seconds to spare, making the crowd of waiting players roar and cheer and yell "Good job!". The most time you lost was at Gonggi, thankfully not your mini game. Being able to beat yours on the first try filled you with the confidence you needed, which was probably the only thing that kept you up on your feet. Speaking of which, the shackles, that bound your left leg together with the player next to you, were taken off of them and you were free to go. Well, back into the dorm area.

Anxiously, you sat on your bed and waited, for your team. Players streamed in, one after the other, just not the ones you were so desperate to see. You were biting your fingernails, your thoughts being flooded with the fear of them all just dying, being left alone to survive this shit.

Suddenly, you heard a voice call out for you. It was Dae-ho (who else?) who basically sprinted to you. Before you could even stand up to reciprocate his hug, he pulled you up into his arms, squeezing the air out if his lungs. "Do you know how scared I was?" he sounded really out of breath. You didn't reply, just hugged him back the best you could and watched Jung-bae laugh to himself, watching the two of you. "I'm so glad you're alive! I'll never let you do that again, okay? Next time, I'll be the one to find another group.. not you okay?" His word vomit just wouldn't stop.

"Let's hope there won't be a next time."

"Obviously there won't be, I won't ever let you leave again."

[moonstruckme]

hi maeeee!! can i request a poly! marauders where maybe reader is fighting with only one them and the others are shocked when they find out and try their very best to fix it even though things are quite tense? thanks maeeeee ilyyyy💐💐💐

Thanks for your patience with this one angel! It's not as angsty as I planned when I started writing it, but I hope you enjoy it <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

It’s James who finds you this time. You’re curled up in a corner of the couch, pretending to read whilst secretly feeling sorry for yourself. Your boyfriend sits next to you, touching your shoulder so that you turn to him for a kiss. 

“Still upset?” he asks after a peck. 

You ignore the complicated, knotty feeling that makes itself known in your chest. “Not at you.” 

“No, I know.” James smiles a little, gifting you another kiss. “I’d be coming in here with my tail between my legs if you were. I’d hate to be on the wrong side of either you or Rem’s wrath.” 

You stay quiet. You wouldn’t go so far as to call what you’re feeling wrath—that seems a tad dramatic to describe the low flame of vexation you’ve been burning for your tallest boyfriend—but you don’t feel like opening yourself up to the subject with James. You’ve already heard it from Sirius this morning. 

“Angel.” James gives your shoulder a cajoling squeeze. “Come on, when are the two of you going to get past this? It’s very awkward sleeping in the same bed with two people who are quarreling, you know.” 

“We sleep exactly the same as every other night.” 

“There’s underlying tension,” he counters lightly. You roll your eyes, and James laughs. “Oi, don’t get cross with me now, too. I’m just telling you about my lived experience.” He leans his head on your shoulder, all sweetness and treachery. “You’re really not gonna forgive him? You know he’s gonna stick you with Sirius in the divorce.” 

You huff a laugh. James grins up at you hopefully. You know there’s some sense to what he’s saying; one of you has to be the bigger person eventually. It had started small, a stupid disagreement, but you and Remus are each stubborn and petty enough to not want to admit where you were wrong. Now you’re more angry with him for being angry with you than for anything else. 

When you think of his coldness to you—never mind the fact that you’ve been cold to him in turn—that flame of vexation burns a little brighter. 

“I don’t know why you’re over here trying to convince me,” you tell James. “I won’t have any problem forgiving him if he actually apologizes.” 

James sighs. You look down at your book to avoid his disappointment. 

“Okay, then. But he does feel really bad, so you know. He’s in the bedroom with one of his headaches, and he asked if you were still upset with him.” You look up. James levels you with a weighted look. “Could probably really use a cuddle, if you two were on good terms.” 

James is at least only somewhat smug when you abandon your book to go to the bedroom. You pass Sirius in the hall, who gives you a smile and a firm peck on the lips, likely having just left Remus himself. You enter the bedroom expecting to see the curtains drawn, lights off, and your poorly boyfriend in bed, but instead Remus is standing, well lit by the daylight streaming in through the windows, book tented on the bed still made from this morning. He appears as though he was just on his way out. 

“Erm, hi,” he says, brows pulled together in the middle. He looks to be studying you. “Are you alright?” 

“Fine,” you answer, bemused. “Are…are you?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

The door clicks shut behind you. You startle at the sound, not having closed it yourself. Then, you watch as a resigned sort of irritation comes over Remus’ features at the same time as it settles into you. 

“Pricks.” He moves past you to the door, jiggling the handle. “It only locks from the inside, you twats.” 

“Love you too,” comes Sirius’ voice. “You can come out after you kiss and make up.” 

“And say you’re sorry!” adds James. 

Remus scowls. 

“Open it,” you tell him. 

“What do you think I’m trying to do? One of them is holding it shut.” 

“Let me try.” 

“Be my guest.” Remus steps back, letting you have a go at the handle. By putting everything you have into it you manage to twist it, but you can’t get it open even an inch. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, gorgeous.” Sirius sounds smug enough to make your face feel hot. “James is holding it on the other side here, a few more minutes and you’ll make him break a sweat.” 

You let go of the handle with a huff, turning and stalking towards the bedroom window. You start moving the desk out of your way. 

“Would you really rather climb out the window than be in a room with me?” asks Remus. You look over your shoulder, and he’s sitting on the bed, side-eyeing you with his back propped against the pillows. 

“It’s not about you.” You shove your hip into the desk, budging it enough for you to get at the window latch. “They lied and made me feel all guilty just so they could lock us in here.” 

“What’d they tell you?”

You try to get your fingernail behind the latch. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Sirius had me thinking you were quite upset.” 

“Yeah, and probably that I was asking after you, right? James told me you had a bad headache.” 

A chuckle. “That was enough to make you come in here looking so flustered?” 

“My mistake,” you huff, but it turns to a short whimper when your nail breaks. “Christ, you’d think they’d make these easier to open. What if there was a fire?” 

“Don’t go out the window,” Remus says calmly. “You’ll ruin your tights.” 

You work another nail behind the latch. “I can’t just let them win.” 

“Mm. That’s a bit of a problem for you, is it?” 

A bitter coolness settles over you. You turn, crossing your arms. “Something to say?” 

Remus picks up his book, cornering a page. “Just making an observation, is all.” 

“Remus,” you say sternly. “Don’t act like you’re any better. You could’ve apologized at any time.” 

Your boyfriend levels you with a look. “Would that really have made a difference?”

“Yes!” 

“Honestly?” He looks like he doesn’t believe you. “All I have to do is say I’m sorry, and you’ll forget about all of this and be completely happy with me?” 

You shake your head, bewildered. “…Yeah. I mean, I would want to know that you understood how you hurt my feelings, but yeah. Really, it’s not that complicated.” 

Remus’ expression softens. “I do understand that, dove. Do you understand how you hurt mine?” 

“I…” You find you can’t quite look at him. “I imagine it’s sort of similar. Because I’ve been cold to you.” 

“And because you wouldn’t hear me out,” he says. It doesn’t sound like I told you so, not smug so much as gentle. “But it was a small thing to begin with, wasn’t it? I’m ready to be past it.” 

You frown at him. “It’s not about the argument for me. I’m already past that, it’s just everything else.” 

Remus considers you. “Would you come here, please?” 

You swear you wouldn’t go if he didn’t sound so kind. But you find yourself with your legs curled underneath you on the bed in front of him, Remus coaxing your hands into his. 

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” he says sincerely, looking you in the eyes. “It was a silly argument, and I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” 

You chew the inside of your cheek, sizing up whether he means it. “I…also could have been less stubborn,” you admit begrudgingly. Your tone softens. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, too. I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” Remus’ touch coasts from your hands up your arms as he pulls you closer to kiss your forehead. “Are we okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say, mollified. 

He smiles at you. “Hear that?” he says towards the door. “You can let us out now.” 

There’s no response. 

Remus frowns as you get out of bed, going to try the handle. The door comes open, revealing and empty hallway. 

“Pricks,” Remus mutters. 

You find your boyfriends in the living room, James flicking through channels on the telly while Sirius reads the back cover of your book. James notices you first. 

“Oh, hello.” He grins at you as Sirius looks over. “All sorted, then?” 

You’re half tempted to pretend you didn’t make up just to spite them. When you look over at Remus, you suspect he’s thinking the same thing. 

“That was sort of mean, lying to me like that,” you say to James instead. 

He looks a bit contrite, but Sirius says insouciantly, “You were never gonna do it by yourselves, babe. We weren’t ready to start divvying up the furniture because you wanted to have a row.” 

You kiss your teeth. “I think I might be having a row with you now.” 

“What, us?” James’ eyebrows rise above the frames of his glasses. “What for?” 

“You lied to us both to make us feel bad,” Remus reminds him, “and then locked us in the bedroom.” 

Sirius isn’t impressed. “Well, it wasn’t really locked, was it. If you’d gotten desperate, you could’ve taken it off the hinges. Or just checked again after a couple minutes.” 

“She broke her nail trying to get the window open.” 

You hold up your torn fingernail as proof. Sirius coos, reaching for your finger and bringing it to his lips while you scowl at him. 

“Sorry, lovie. We had a plan to bring you food in a couple hours,” says James. “We were even going to let you out for bathroom breaks if you needed to go.” 

“Really, you wrapped it up much quicker than we were expecting,” Sirius praises. He’s still holding your finger, drawing his thumb up and down the side in easy, consoling strokes. “We thought you’d ice each other out until supper at least. I’m quite proud of you.” 

Remus scoffs. 

“Oh, come now.” Sirius grins. “Give us a kiss.” 

You roll your eyes but turn to Remus, extricating your finger from Sirius’ grasp to meet him in a chaste kiss. 

The other boys cheer. “There we are!” James tilts his face up expectantly. “Now one for me.” 

You and Remus exchange a look. 

“No,” you say coolly, “I don’t think so.” The two of you go to sit on the far side of the couch, away from both Sirius and James with you curled against Remus’ side. He looks a tad smug as he puts his arm around you. 

“Oi!” says Sirius. “Look what you’ve done, you’ve made James pull his sad puppy face. What do you have to say for yourselves?” 

“You lied to us,” you say again, slowly, with emphasis, “and locked us in the bedroom.” 

Sirius scoffs. “So dramatic.” 

“Oh, that’s rich.” 

“Will it help if we say sorry?” James asks meekly. 

Remus looks at you. You shrug. 

“Maybe,” he says. “You’re more than welcome to try and find out.”

[koshkamartell]

Kept Woman

summary: AU one shot. Your older boyfriend Joel knows what's best for you, even if you don't agree.

warnings: unspecified age gap, possessive!Joel, low key abusive!Joel, toxic behaviour, gaslighting, reader has poor self esteem, degradation, dubcon PIV, unprotected PIV, creampie, dirty talk, daddy kink, slut shaming, breeding kink, mild dissociation.

"You woke up with a fuckin' attitude today," Joel grumbles as he heaves himself into the driver's seat of his truck. He doesn't look your way as he slams the door shut and starts the ignition.

"You'd have an attitude too, if someone else kept you up half the night with their snoring," you snipe from the front passenger seat.

Joel's loud snoring has been a point of contention in your relationship for quite some time. He always snores, although it has never been as bad as it was last night. Most of the time you can subdue the snoring with a couple jabs of your elbow into his side, or a few light smacks on his shoulder, but last night nothing seemed to rouse him. The maddening snoring was unrelenting as it sawed through your eardrums, each inhale and exhale of Joel's breath bringing you closer to a fit of rage.

You ended up seeking refuge on the couch around midnight, angry at having to abandon your luxurious king bed for the far inferior comfortability of the living room sofa. As a result you are understandably irritable this morning.

You have noticed a pattern to Joel's noisy nocturnal breathing; it seems the nights of heavy, obnoxious snoring come after a long day at work, when he returns home extra tired and ready to collapse in bed. You know he's been putting in overtime at the latest project for his contracting company. You appreciate that he works hard. But if you have to deal with another round of cacophonous snorting then you will surely go crazy.

You see Joel scoff and rolls his eyes in your peripheral vision but choose to ignore it. He always thinks you're being dramatic or complaining about nothing. You flip the sun visor down to use the mirror before rifling through your handbag for your lipstick.

"For fuck sake," Joel growls suddenly, slamming the visor shut. He glares at you and jerks the gear stick into reverse. "How many goddamn times have I told you? I can't fuckin' see that side when I'm reversin' and you got that thing down."

"Maybe you need to get some glasses if you can't see," you quip nonchalantly while twisting off the lid of your lipstick from its tube. "Old man," you add half under your breath before applying your make up.

"Oh yeah, you're so funny," Joel snaps sarcastically. The engine revs and the tires squeal as he quickly reverses out of the driveway. He grips the top of the steering wheel with one of his large hands, the other resting tense on the gear stick. He usually lays that one on your thigh while he drives, for he's always eager to touch you, to reassure himself that what he owns is close by.

But today neither of you touch. There is no air of affection between you. The atmosphere in the truck is thick with tension and punctuated by sour, fractious silence. It lasts for five gruelling minutes before you decide that you can't take it any longer.

You reach over and push the button on the stereo and the radio comes crackling to life with a crooning, old fashioned country song. You make a small noise of disgust in the back of your throat and press another button to scan through the different stations. You are trying to search for something more palatable, something more upbeat to lift you out of this shitty mood.

"The fuck are you doin'?" Joel mutters, his eyes glued to the road ahead of him. "Quit messin' around with my radio. I like the station it was on."

"Come on, Joel. I don't want to listen to that crap." You huff. When you jump over to the next channel the speakers trumpet out a fast paced, beat driven track. Yes!

"Too bad. Ain't your truck, now is it, sweetheart?" Joel's thick fingers reach out and click the radio off without so much as a glance your way. You stare at him, half in surprise and half in rage. There is a self satisfied manner to his posture now, his shoulders a little more relaxed, his brow no longer pulled into a frown. There is even a hint of smug smirk on his mouth. He's cocky, the way he asserts his dominance over you, even through such small gestures. Sometimes you wonder if he does these things to antagonise you.

"Yeah, well, maybe I'll get my own car so I can play my own music," you snap, crossing your arms and glaring out the passenger window.

"Oh yeah?" Joel chuckles and shakes his head. "And just how are you gonna do that, baby? With the measly pay you get from waitressin' at that hokey little diner?"

He grins to himself, like the conversation is an amusing joke. You hate it when he is so condescending. His atittude acts as a reminder that he's so much older than you, exceedingly more financially stable, and undeniably more wise and savvy than you could ever be.

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment. It isn't the first time Joel has ridiculed your job. He's often pestering you to quit the diner to get a cushy receptionist position at his company instead. He says it's more respectable for your resume, although you suspect it is more so Joel can keep a closer eye on you than anything else.

"I like my job," you retort quietly, staring at the passing scenery outside your window. You hear Joel hum an acknowledgement before he clears his throat.

"I know, honey. I just don't get why," he says, tone considerably softer now. He glances over to you and you can feel the weight of his gaze, you but you don't meet it. "You could be earnin' atleast double what you make if you came to work with me."

The truth is that you genuinely do enjoy your job. You like keeping busy and being a part of the close knit team that operate the place. You cherish the rapport you've built with the regular costumers and you thrive on the praise they give you. Leaving your position would be giving up your safe space, somewhere where you belong and feel valued. It would be forfeiting your only remaining slice of independence.

You don't share any of this with Joel.

"They need me," you say in a small voice. "That's what Lenny always says."

Lenny is your boss, a funny and kind older gentleman who acts like a surrogate uncle to you. He often jokes that he has been managing the diner longer than you've been alive. He has always been a source of support for you, as have the other waitresses and line cooks.

Joel snorts derisively. "They don't need you, honey. They just use ya. Lenny wouldn't think twice about replacin' you if he had to."

"That's not true," you mumble weakly. You know what Joel says is not true but there is still a tiny niggling doubt in your mind that perhaps Joel is right. He usually is, after all.

He puts his large palm over your knee where your skirt has ridden up and strokes the bare skin there. The touch of his thick, calloused hand feels possessive. "Trust me darlin', some other girl would be fillin' your shoes before you even step foot outta that shithole."

His tone isn't cruel; he sounds matter of fact and concerned, paternal in his conviction. You sigh softly and don't bother to argue back. You don't speak for the rest of the few minutes drive to your work. The tension in the truck lingers, a sense of unease that makes you feel on edge, but Joel seems totally unaffected by it. He hums, carefree and seemingly oblivious, one hand on the top of the wheel and the other still on your knee. Always so in control, always so confident.

You stare out the window with a vacant expression, a myriad of thoughts passing through your mind.

How much money have I saved now? Will Joel be angry if I work the double shift on Saturday? I need the money. Should I tell him about the invite to Paul's party now or later? My sister texted again but I just ignored it - Joel would say I keep inviting drama into my life if I text back, but I feel bad.

You don't realise how quickly the drive passes until the rundown Lenny's sign comes into view and bursts your train of thought like a bubble. As Joel pulls into the parking lot you realise just how eager you are to don your little apron and turn off all the thoughts and emotions you don't want to deal with. Joel parks the truck and you have to fight the urge to jump out and scurry straight through the diner door.

"I'll see ya tonight, baby," he murmers, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth, the scruff of his moustache tickling your lips. You flash him a little smile and slip out of the truck.

The diner was busier than usual today. The steady trickles of people meandering through to get a bite to eat or something to quench their thirst make it impossible for you to even get a decent lunch break. You and Teresa bustled around the tables serving endless cups of coffee and milkshakes alongside stacks of plates laden with burgers, fries, sandwiches and all day breakfast specials. The lunch time rush was so chaotic that you thought the line cook would have a heart attack.

You didn't mind being run off your feet - it made the noise in your head turn into low level static, a kind of vibration that silenced the anxiety and allowed you to simply exist. Working as a team, being surrounded by friends, helped you to breathe more clearly, and by the end of the day you felt a pleasant ache in your cheeks from smiling so much.

The flow of patrons only began to dwindle once the end of your shift rolled around. The sun was beginning to set, pretty pink and orange hues splashed over the western horizon, signalling the end of the day. You stand outside the diner around the side of the building and share a smoke with Tony, one of the linecooks. He's an older man around Joel's age, with a charming smile and eyes that seem to twinkle. He's always affable and chatty, a perfect gentleman.

"You goin' to Paul's party?" He asks as he takes an inhale of his cigarette. He leans against the brick wall and passes the rolled cigarette to you. You accept it and take a drag.

"I dunno," you reply with a shrug of your shoulder, exhaling a winding curl of smoke from your nose. "Not sure what I'm doing that night."

Tony's mouth quirks into a half smile and he nods, something playful and knowing in his expression. You raise an eyebrow at him and cock your head to the side curiously.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Tony holds his hand out and you pass the cigarette back to him. "Nothing," he replies casually. "Just wondering if it's that or if it's because that boyfriend of yours won't let you."

You wrap an arm around your middle and scoff, but the noise comes out sounding more defensive than you would have liked. "He's got nothing to do with it," you mutter, kicking at the pavement with the toe of your shoe.

Tony nods sagely and pops the smoke inbetween his lips. "Uh-huh," he dismisses smoothly, "well anyway, me and Teresa are goin', if you wanna hitch a lift with us."

"Thanks. I'll let you know."

Less than a minute later you spy Joel's truck cruise down the road and turn into the parking lot, the engine rumbling loudly amidst the muffled sound of country music vibrating through the windows. The arrival of his vehicle acts as an unspoken cue to end your conversation with Tony. Tony seems to understand; he flicks the butt of the cigarette onto the ground and crushes it with the toe of his boot before shooting you a smile.

"G'night," he murmers. He wipes his palms on his apron and steps around you to walk back into the diner. Joel pulls up a few parking spaces from where you stand, further toward the back of the building and away from the diner entrance. You stroll over to the truck and smile when he opens the driver side door. The twangy music reverberates from the speakers inside the truck and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

"Hey baby," Joel greets you with his smooth Texan drawl. He switches off the engine before unclicking his seat belt, then hauls himself out of the truck.

"Why are you getting out?" You ask with a frown. "I've clocked off, let's go home."

He smirks and snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you close against his front. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Couldn't wait to have you in my arms, that's all," he murmurs. "Missed ya today."

You wrap your arms around his middle and lean your head against his chest. "Missed you too."

Joel tucks a stand of stray hair behind your ear and then strokes his thumb along your jawline. "Yeah?" He purrs. "You missed your daddy?"

You nod your head and nuzzle your nose into the soft, comforting material of his flannel. He chuckles softy and cups the side of your jaw in his palm. "How about we get goin' home and you can show me just how much you missed me, hmm?"

"Mmhmm," you whisper, letting your body relax into his embrace. You feel your eyes drifting closed. You are so tired and your feet ache. The thought of going home with Joel sounds perfect; he'll choose a movie and pick up some takeout and you two will snuggle up on the couch and retreat away from the world.

Joel slowly spins around so that your back presses against the side of his truck. You giggle softly and tilt your head to look up at him. He gazes down at you intently, a glint of hunger swirling in his brown eyes as he scans your face.

His large hand slides from your jaw back to the nape of your neck. "You're so pretty, baby," he cooes. His fingers thread through the strands of hair at the base of your skull, gently at first, before he closes his fist and pulls your hair taut in his grip. You wince at the sting of your scalp. "So pretty. And just for me, right?"

Joel suddenly captures your mouth in an impassioned kiss, pushing his tongue past your lips with a dominanting force that almost feels desperate, as if he wants to consume you. You feel overwhelmed by the intensity but you let it happen, allowing your mouth to be claimed by him. You can taste the coffee and mint on his breath, while the faint mix of his cologne, sweat and cigarette smoke fills your nostrils - it intoxicates your senses, making you slightly dizzy, and you sag back against the car.

Joel's other hand squeezes your hip possessively. You're pinned between him and the truck and it makes you feel small and vulnerable, more or less trapped by his solid frame. He slots his thigh inbetween your legs and you feel the buckle of his belt dig into your stomach.

You wait until you are struggling to breath before you finally press your palms against his broad chest and push, although you're far too weak to actually get him to stop. He eventually relents and breaks the kiss, though he keeps his face close to yours.

"Make it so fuckin' hard to keep my hands off you," he mutters, nuzzling his aquiline nose against yours. You let out a breathless giggle and fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

"Let's go home, it's been a long day," you offer. Joel presses a light kiss on the tip of your nose and grins, his warm breath beating over your cheeks.

"Not yet," he whispers, "can't stop myself, baby. You already got me so fuckin' hard." He grinds his erection against your crotch, his hardened cock straining the material of his jeans. "Feel that, honey? Feel how fuckin' crazy you make me?"

You feel a tug of panic within your tummy. He has that telltale tone in his voice; gravelly with lust, but with something dangerous simmering below the insistent ardor of his affection. It is how he sounds when he wants something.

And Joel always gets what he wants.

"Joel...," you murmer hesitantly, trying to keep the nervousness from cracking through your voice. "Not here, please not now. Let's go home first."

You're grateful that Joel has collected you from the back corner of the parking lot, just far enough to be partly secluded from traffic and other people walking around. But you are still less than sixty feet from the inside of the diner where your coworkers and boss are currently still working.  

"Just for a minute, baby, just need to feel you real quick." Joel reaches down and hitches up the hem of your skirt to dip his hand underneath. The caress of his calloused hand gliding up to the apex of your thighs causes a shiver to crawl up your spine. His touch always feels so good, so enticing, and when his fingers find the crotch of your panties a gasp escapes your lips.

"Joel," you whisper anxiously, clutching to the lapel of his jacket. He presses his fingers to your clit, groaning with pained lust when he feels the damp material of your panties.

"Fuck," he breathes. He fingertips begin to draw light circles over the bud, immediately eliciting a spark of pleasure to flood through your lower belly. "Just needed to feel you, sweetheart. Been thinkin' of you all day."

Joel leans down and kisses you once again, tongue slipping into your mouth and lapping at yours with fervid hunger. You feel your hips buck involuntarily, your body suddenly craving his touch, greedy for him to continue his minstrations.

He rubs your clothed clit with expert dexterity, the pressure steady but just light enough that your climax builds quite quickly. You hate how quickly he can unravel you, how effortlessly he seems to command your pleasure; but the blossoming ecstasy seems to rob you of your shame, making you forget just where you are.

All you can focus on is Joel.

Your heartbeat thrums in your chest and your breath comes in short, heavy exhalations through your nose. You feel your pussy flutter with electric pulses - you're close.

So fucking close.

Then it stops.

Joel withdraws his hand from your heat and loosens his other from your hair at the same time. He breaks away from the kiss and shuffles his boots backward a step, pulling out of your grasp.

What the fuck?

You lean forward in an embarrassing attempt to chase his lips, and whine in frustrated confusion.

"Joel what are you doing?" You pout, scowling at him.

He ignores you, glancing down as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans. You watch as he takes hold of his hard cock and pulls it out from his underwear, foreskin retracting to reveal the fat head already wet with precum.

Your eyes widen in shock and your head swivels from side to side, nervously scanning for any sign of someone walking by. "Joel!" You hiss. "Are you insane?!

"Sssh," Joel croons, not bothering to look up at you. "Can't help it, baby, you're driving me crazy." He gives a lazy pump of his cock and steps between your legs again, his heavy boots nudging your feet apart to widen your stance. "Come on honey, be good for me."

"No, Joel, not here, please," you protest hurriedly, but he isn't listening to you. His massive hand tugs your skirt upwards, exposing your legs to the cool evening air and the warm metal of the truck behind you. Joel forcefully slots his body inbetween your thighs and impatiently yanks your underwear to the side, your slick arousal smearing over your lips. Your panic increases when you feel the heat of his cock press against the opening of your pussy.

He won't actually fuck you here, will he?

"Joel!" You plead, smacking your hands against his chest helplessly. You've got to get him to stop, to wake him out of this horny stupor. Someone could pass by any second and see what's happening. You'll be humiliated if anyone finds you in such a compromising position, but you will surely die from mortification if someone from work spies you. "Please."

A low growl of annoyance rumbles from Joel's chest and his hand comes to squeeze your hip, not tight enough to hurt you but firm enough to make you stop moving. He glares at you now, his pupils blown wide with predatory desire, his jaw ticking. You whimper and let your hands fall to your sides.

"I ain't askin'," Joel warns in a husky whisper. "Open up, little girl."

There's no use fighting it.

You basically agreed to it anyway, letting him touch you like that just a moment ago.

You stay silent as you acquiesce, spreading your legs further and hitching one up to sit over his hip. "That's it," he purrs lowly, "let me in."

The stretch of the crown of his cock breaching your hole makes you grimace in discomfort. He is big - the biggest you've ever had - and it always hurts when he first ruts into you. You're wet but no where near enough to facilitate a smooth entry, especially because he hasn't worked you open on his fingers beforehand either.

He groans with satisfaction when he slides into your pussy in short stuttering bursts, hand on your hip gripping you tight in place. You scrunch your eyes shut and bite down on your bottom lip to try repress the pained moans threatening to spill out from you.

"You're tight, honey," Joel murmers. "You gotta relax." His other hand comes up to cup your cheek in his large palm tenderly. "Breathe through it, come on."

He tilts his head down to press a light kiss to your hairline and the scratch of his scruffy beard prickles your skin. He is only halfway inside of you and the sting of intrusion seems to only intensify; maybe your body is rejecting Joel, so conscious of your shame and unwillingness that your insides are refusing to adjust.

You remember the first time you and Joel had fooled around, how intimidated you were when you had discovered just how well endowed he was. *"Don't worry, baby, I'll make it fit," he had said with a chuckle.

And that's what he was going to do now - make it fit, whether or not you were ready for it.

You don't even get the chance to regulate your breathing before Joel drives his hips forward and feeds his length all the way inside you. Your mouth falls open and a choked whine claws its way up your throat, and on reflex your hands ball the flannel of his shirt into your fists.

You're so unbelievably full.

"Good girl," Joel praises you in a velvety mumble that makes your clit unexpectedly throb. "Knew you could take it."

You can't help but preen on the inside at the tiny scrap of approval. You feel your pussy clench and unclench around him. You whimper and flutter your eyelids open, your dizzying vision settling on the tanned skin of Joel's strong neck, the veins by his jugular. You fight the urge to latch onto the spot and sink your teeth into him, to do something to bite back at him.

His hips start to saw back and forth with steady momentum, slowly punching his fat girth in and out of you. The burning sensation eventually dulls but the feeling of your insides parting continues to bombard you, bordering on unbearable, and it makes you mewl pathetically.

"Never get sick of splittin' this pussy open. Love seein' you cry on my cock." Joel plants a sloppy kiss on the side of your temple, seeming to relish the taste of the salty sweat of your skin.

Joel's appetite for sex has always been pretty voracious; it isn't uncommon for him to sneak up on you in the kitchen and bend you over the counter to fuck you while you're trying to cook, or for you to wake up in the mornings with his tongue lapping at your cunt. It still surprises you that a man his age has such insatiable desire, but you really can't complain, not when he's able to coax orgasm after orgasm from your body so effortlessly.

But right now you're desperately wishing he would atleast try to control himself, that he wouldn't let his animalistic compulsion cloud his sense of rationality and make him so reckless. Joel is usually a conservative kind of man, no nonsense and a tad grumpy in temperament, who would probably sneer in disgust at the idea of a man fucking his woman outside the privacy of their home. Those who know him would never in their wildest dreams guess that Joel would do such a thing - such debauchery is far more characteristic of his younger brother, Tommy.

But with you it seems Joel loses all sense of conventionalism.

You wouldn't have ever imagined him doing this, either, considering how possessive and protective he is. But you've learnt that Joel seems to foresake his self righteous attitude whenever it suits him, and more often than not when it benefits him.

Maybe you should've tried harder to persuade him to stop, to take you home instead.

"You daddy's little cock slut?" Joel rumbles in your ear. His hand leaves its bruising hold on your hip to slide over your mound. You feel the rough pad of his thumb press on your clit and your legs twitch at the contact.

He starts to swipe deft circles over the bud and soon a buzzing wave of bliss reignites once more throughout your belly. You can't help but moan, the uncomfortable sensation of being forced open finally dissipating enough to allow you to feel a degree of pleasure.

He maintains the momentum of his hips rolling against yours as he rubs your clit; soon your body is overtaken with the barrage of Joel's movements and the ecstasy he imposes upon you, and you find yourself going slack against the truck panel. The shame and anxiety you felt begins to fade as you surrender to Joel.

Your legs tremble and he senses your strength draining, always so attuned to your body and the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm. He gives your cheek a light slap.

"Stay with me, baby," Joel commands."Hold on to me, I got you."

You obey, your hands feebly grabbing at the meat on his flanks to help keep you steady. He nods down at you, his fat cock still plunging in and out of your pussy, all while he massages your clit. He plays your body so expertly, like an instrument, like he knows you inside and out, knows that he's the only man who can take you apart so deliciously. Your mind starts to feel like it's floating the closer your orgasm creeps up.

"That's it, honey. You love this cock so fuckin' much, don't you? Joel grits, nuzzling his nose against your forehead. His accent is like honey to your ears, thick and dripping with lust as he whispers filth. "Greedy little pussy can't ever say no to gettin' fucked, can she?"

You whine brokenly in response, breaths coming out in short pants. You're so close, the residual pressure of your previously unfulfilled orgasm heightening every punch of Joel's cock, every circle of his digit on your clit. He continues to speak, praising you with a silky string of adoration, good girl and the best pussy I ever had dripping from his mouth.

Your orgasm reaches its peak and a swell of intense bliss blossoms from the depths of your loins to surge all throughout your body. Your pussy contracts and spasms, a trickle of juice squirting down Joel's shaft and over his balls. You have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from crying out, causing a drop of blood to bloom out over your tongue. Your fingernails are close to tearing Joel's shirt, surely leaving indents on his skin even through the material.

"Yeah, that's it baby, cum on this cock," Joel rumbles with satisfaction.

He fucks you through your orgasm to prolong your high, but you quickly reach the point of overstimulation; you plead for him to stop, your voice hoarse and tired, devoid of strength. He continues for a few seconds longer, just to tease you and make you squirm on his dick, but then he stops.

"Good girl, so good for me," he whispers, planting another wet open kiss against your temple, his mouth hot and slobbering.

You're exhausted now and just want to sleep, the post orgasm delirium settling over your mind and body like a thick cloud.

But Joel isn't finished with you yet.

He sets both his massive hands on your hips and begins to fuck into you with renewed vigor. It rips you from the alluring pull of drowsiness and you squeal at the unexpected brutish pace he sets, the force and tempo verging on bestial, like he's purposely punishing you. The edge of your underwear grinds uncomfortably against your labia and chafes the sensitive skin there.

Joel uses his grip to pull you up and down on his cock like a ragdoll, a toy whose sole purpose is to be used for his pleasure. The euphoria from your orgasm has completely disappeared now, replaced with sharp stabs of pain from where the head of his cock kisses your cervix. You grit your teeth and claw at his sides, desperately wishing it was over.

He's so deep inside you that you swear he's stabbing into your stomach. Each stroke squeezes an involuntary guttural moan from the bottom of your lungs.

"Yeah, that's right," Joel growls. "Let everybody hear you whinin' like a bitch on my cock."

You are suddenly flooded with the mortifying remembrance of your surroundings. You aren't in your cosy bed in the house you share with Joel - you're still in the public parking lot by your work place, being screwed by your much older boyfriend. Burning shame and humiliation pour over you like liquid flames, saturating and scorching every inch of your skin.

You feel dirty. Cheap.

Like he's reading your mind, Joel leans down to whisper in your ear with chilling comtemptuousness. "Lettin' me rail you in a fuckin' parking lot, like some kinda whore."

You're caught off guard by the venom of his words; a tiny gasp escapes your mouth and your fingers instinctively loosen their grasp on his back. He doesn't seem fazed by the change in your body language, too engrossed in chasing his own high to perceive how deflated you've abruptly become.

Or maybe he just doesn't care.

"Yeah. Gotta be a real shameless slut to get fucked like this. Surprised you ain't got a load stuffed in you already."

You stare at the tanned expanse of his neck once more, your eyes unblinking like you're in a trance. The prickling of tears sting at the back of your eyeballs. You'd never cheat on Joel, would never have sex with someone else. Why is he saying these things?

Your stomach feels sick. You hadn't wanted to do this in the first place - it was Joel who seduced you to. But still, he's right, isn't he? You are letting him fuck you against his truck and you aren't even telling him to stop.

Like it's just part of your job.

"'S what you are," Joel croons harshly, "aint nothin' but a dirty whore cummin' on her daddy's cock. A real brainless bitch only good for spreadin' her legs."

Joel has always been the more dominant partner during sex with you. It comes so naturally to him, slipping into an authoritative role in the bedroom as easily as he does in day to day life as a manager of his own construction company. He does not relinquish control in any area of his life.

But this feels different. There is something prowling right below the surface of this whole situation that makes you feel uneasy; it is in the barbed edge to his speech, the uncaring movements of his hips, the animalistic heaving of his breaths. A feeling that he wants to hurt you.

"Bet you'd let me fuck your ass right now too." Joel pants in your ear, words slurring slightly from the fervid of his own gratification, like he's drunk. "Bet you'd fuckin' love that, lettin' me bust a nut in your little asshole."

You feel your heart crack a little at the cruelty of his tongue, how easily they seem to slither from his mouth like a serpent. You don't speak back.

"I'm gonna keep all your holes filled," he mutters. "Make sure you're drippin' all the time. That what you want, baby?"

Through the haze of your pain you can detect the telltale throb of his cock, the way his hips move in a more frenzied, sloppy rhythm. You know his body just as well as he knows yours; he's about to cum, and when you feel the momentary swelling of his girth you brace yourself for his climax. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips painfully.

"Take it, bitch, take it all."

Joel slams his cock deep inside your pussy one last time before his cum erupts over your walls and cervix, filling you to the brink with his milky spend. He moans and grunts in your ear, his chest heaving against your frame, crushing you further into the panel of the truck, crumpling your far more delicate and smaller body.

He pulls out of you swiftly and you are immediately hit by the aching emptiness left inside you. You scramble to adjust your panties and to pull your skirt down, and your balance teeters dangerously. Joel is quick to catch you from falling to the ground, wrapping his hands around your upper arms to keep you upright.

"Whoa, honey, easy." He soothes, soulful coffee brown eyes darting all over your face with concern. His expression is so soft, a complete juxtaposition to the predatory scowl he wore just minutes ago, like he's transformed into a totally different man. "You okay?"

You nod your head, eyes fluttering open and shut as your brain fights against the foggy film of dissociation permeating your thought process. Are you okay? You aren't really sure.

"Mhm," you murmer anyway, almost inaudibly.

"Oh, my perfect girl," he whispers softly, so reverent and loving. "I love you so much." He tilts your chin up with his thumb and plants a tender kiss on your lips; you can't help but melt into it, like a kitten desperate for warmth and affection. The mist surrounding your senses abates quickly, leaving you staring up at Joel with mirrored adoration in your eyes. He strokes your hair and gives you a small smile, the dimple in his side visible for a second.

"I love you too." You preen and reach up to stroke at the patchy beard along his jaw, marvelling at just how handsome he looks. You want to savour this moment, wishing to memorise just how beautiful the intimacy between you and Joel feels right now.

He loves you. You love him. That's all you need. It's all you want.

"Come on honey, let's go home and get somethin' to eat," he tells you, stepping away and making quick work of buckling his belt back up.

You nod in agreement, getting ready to haul yourself up into the truck when your mind suddenly snaps alert to the lack of weight on your shoulder. You whine in annoyance as you realise the mistake you made. "Shit! I forgot my purse inside. Ugh."

"Well go on and get it," Joel drawls, laidback and unbothered. "I'll wait for ya." He gives your ass an encouraging pat. "Hurry along."

You sigh dramatically and turn around to go back inside. He folds his arms and leans back against the truck, eyeing the sway of your ass while he tries to conceal the conceited triumph radiating through his chest. Yeah, he knows what he pulled was an asshole move, but it had to be done. You've been getting a little too mouthy for his liking, a little too friendly with your coworkers. And once he knocks you up you won't have any more excuses to keep working at this shitty diner. You will be at home, barefoot and pregnant, with no where else to go and no one else to rely on. You'll be marked for life. A kept woman.

He smiles a little to himself, content with the knowledge that as you make the walk back to the diner the slow gush of his semen will be creeping into the gusset of your panties.

credit to @saradika-graphics for the divider

[coldfanbou]

Toying Around

Here we go back to this storyline with Chaeyoung! And we get some story bits. I just wanted to add a little more to Chaeyoung

Length 3.2K

Chaeyoung X Mreader

Previous Part

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Sitting around the bar, Chaeyoung happily explains her adventure with you. “This big! " she nearly shouts, moving her hands apart. She smiles and shuts her eyes as she remembers that night. “Ah, I want to see him again. I hope he calls me,” she giggles before opening her eyes to see her friends shaking their heads. 

“I’m not sure anyone would want to spend a second night with you,” Tzuyu teases, sticking her tongue out. Chaeyoung’s mouth hangs open, shocked that Tzuyu was bold enough to say that to her face. 

Hearing the other woman laugh, Chaeyoung turns her head to Mina. “Don’t laugh!” She yells, shaking the older woman’s shoulders. “I can totally sleep with him again.”

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you call him?” Tzuyu asks, amused by the tantrum she managed to get out of Chaeyoung.

“I will!” Chaeyoung roars, pulling out her phone. She scrolls through her contacts, reaching the bottom and not finding you. She looked through her contacts again before realizing she had put her number on your phone, but she didn’t have yours. Chaeyoung’s breathing quickens, and she gulps, knowing she’s about to get a tongue-lashing for not having your number. 

“She doesn’t have his number!” Tzuyu shouts, pointing and laughing at her friend. 

“I do!” Chaeyoung shouts, her tone more whining than anything else. Mina couldn’t help but laugh at the situation; Chaeyoung was flustered, blabbering whatever she could think of to explain why she didn’t have your number. 

“Maybe I’ll give you his number so you can have someone to see again,” Mina giggles, handing out your number to Chaeyoung.

“Not you, too,” Chaeyoung whimpers; the teasing she was getting from her friends was unending. Pitifully, she accepts the number, typing it into her phone.

“Go ahead and call him. I want to see this.” Chaeyoung huffs at the request, but already beaten down, she presses the call button and puts the phone to her ear. She listens to the soft beeps of the dialing tone.

“It’s ringing,” she tells the others as she waits. Chaeyoung feels a sense of shame as she calls you in front of her friends. While they were close, it was embarrassing for her to be asking for sex while they were right in front of her. 

“Hello? Chaeyoung?”

“Hi,” Chaeyoung said weakly, pursing her lips as her friends tried to keep their laughing to a minimum. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet again. I’m-I’ve been thinking about you a lot.” Chaeyoung balled her fist, wanting nothing more than to beat her friends who were moving away from her, their laughing becoming increasingly loud. 

“I’m a little busy at the moment,” You reply, thinking about what to do. “But if you wanted to come by my place tonight, that would be fine.” 

“Yeah, that’s great. I’ll call you later.” Chaeyoung blurts out, wanting to end the call as quickly as possible. “Thanks, bye.” She says before pressing the button. Chaeyoung presses her head against the bar counter. Mina and Tzuyu continue laughing, their stomachs starting to hurt as they try to catch their breath. 

“So-so what did he say,” Tzuyu manages to get out between laughs. 

“I’ll see him tonight,” Chaeyoung huffs, keeping her head against the counter.

“Cheer up; you're going to have a good time tonight,” Mina says, patting the short woman’s head. 

“I guess.” Chaeyoung was not happy about how this situation had happened, but she took a deep breath. 

You put your phone down and get back to work. Jeongyeon sits down a moment later, sitting on your right. She smiles at you, “Hey, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” She says, moving her hair behind her ear as she readies herself. 

Just then, Dahyun sat on your other side. “Hey, you two. Guess who just got put onto your team?” 

“You?” 

“Yep! Not just me, though, Nayeon too. We’re all going to be right next to each other.” 

“O-oh, that’s so nice.” Jeongyeon gulped; the last thing she wanted was to have everyone so close. Before, it wouldn’t have been a problem, but now that it was known they all wanted to be with you, it would be. Jeongyeon curses her luck; it would happen just when she was going to ask you out.

“Why don’t we all go out to karaoke to celebrate?” Dahyun pushes the idea, purposely wanting to keep solo dates from happening. “We can do it at the end of the week.”

“Oh, I don’t know about-”

“Did someone say karaoke?” Nayeon interrupts. She places a hand on Jeongyeon and Dahyun’s shoulder as she pokes her head forward. “Karaoke would be so much fun. Let’s go!” Nayeon stomps her feet, clearly excited to go out with friends. 

“A-alright then, this Friday.” Jeongyeon stammers. She tries to hide her disappointment with a small smile. Nayeon shakes her friend's shoulder before taking a seat next to her. 

“It’s been a long time since I heard you sing. You guys are in for a real treat.” Nayeon says, leaning forward to look at you and Dahyun. “She’s a great singer.” 

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear her sing then.” You reply. “Let’s get back to work, though.” You say, trying to refocus you all. The three of you work through the day with each of the women, blocking each other from having a moment alone with you. The mountain of work you had was slowly whittled away; by the end of the day, you had gotten through a little over half of it. The four of you were tired, frustrated, and annoyed by your bosses piling on more just before you left. It would mean more work for you tomorrow. 

You drive the girls home in silence, without the radio on. Each of you just wanted some peace and quiet. You drop them off at their homes. They wave to you as you leave, and you get home quickly. You walk to the door slowly when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out, you see Chaeyoung’s name. “Hey, Chaeyoung, what’s up?” You answer.

“Are we still meeting…Master?”

You chuckle at the mention of being her master. “Come on over.” You reply, “I’ll be waiting. I have a lot of stress to get out, so be ready.”

“Yes, sir,” Chaeyoung says before hanging up. You head into your home and lay down on the couch after changing into your regular clothes. You hang your head back and try to relax as you wait for Chaeyoung. Your mind thinks back to the busy day; having Jeongyeon, Dahyun, and Nayeon working with you made the work you were doing a little more bearable, but you were still frustrated about getting more work dumped on you at the last second. Your phone buzzes with a message from Chaeyoung telling you she’s here. You tell her to come in, and a moment later, the door to your home opens. You watch the young woman walk into your home wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt. “Hi, Master,” She says quietly, gripping the hem of her shirt as she stands in front of you. You flick a switch inside yourself, ready to release all your stress.

“Come here, sit, " you tell her, patting your lap. Chaeyoung nods and quickly shuffles over, sitting on your lap and wrapping her arms around you. You place one hand on her soft thighs and gently squeeze them. “So, what did my little toy want?” You ask, moving your hand under her shirt. You find that she wasn’t wearing a bra and pinch her soft nipple, making Chaeyoung moan. 

“I-I wanted my Master to fuck me. I’ve been thinking about your cock all day.” She answers, leaning her body against yours. “My pussy misses you,” Chaeyoung whispers into your ear. Chaeyoung couldn’t believe what she was saying; she blamed Mina and Tzuyu for telling her to say those things, even if they were the truth. Chaeyoung grabbed the hand under her shirt and dragged it down to her panties. She was already wet. Chaeyoung gives you a slight smile as you look back at her. 

“We’ll get there,” you tell her as you slip your hand under her panties and run your fingers along her slit. Chaeyoung’s breath hitches as she feels your hand touching her directly. Your other hand moves to the front, grabbing Chaeyoung's small breasts. You massage her body, making Chaeyoung moan. “You know I had a really tough day at work. I could really use those pretty lips of yours on my cock.” You push two fingers into Chaeyoung’s cunt, making her raise her voice.

“Y-yes, Master. Whatever you want.”

“That’s a good girl.” You whisper as you pull your hands away from Chaeyoung’s body. The petite woman quickly places herself between your legs, kneeling before you. Chaeyoung tugs at your sweatpants; with your help, she’s able to get them off quickly. As soon as she sees your cock Chaeyoung smiles. She opens her mouth and drags her tongue along the shaft, flicking the head as she reaches the top. Her hand grabs the base of the shaft, and she gives you slow and short strokes while she wraps her lips around the head. Chaeyoung’s tongue moves around the tip as she sucks on it like it is a lollipop. You tilt your head back and groan, enjoying the feeling of her soft lips wrapped around your cock. Chaeyoung bobs her head slowly, keeping her tongue moving at all times. It moves from side to side along the underside as she slowly takes in more of you. Soon, you’re hitting the back of her throat. 

Chaeyoung keeps you inside as if trying to memorize where every vein on your shaft is. She pulls back slowly, keeping her lips tightly wrapped around the shaft. The petite woman keeps her hands around your shaft, stroking the base as she spits on your cock. “I missed it so much, Master.” She tells you, her eyes watery from her earlier actions. Chaeyoung drags her tongue along the shaft, “It’s so good. You can cum whenever you want, Master.”

“I know,” You reply, touching her head. Chaeyoung understands your wants and leans back down, taking your cock into her throat. You fill her tiny mouth as you push her down, making her take every inch she can. Chaeyoung missed this feeling. As you push her down, Chaeyoung can feel her body crying out for more. She reaches between her legs, about to touch herself when you let her go. “No touching yourself, Chaeyoung.”

“But,”

“No buts.” Chaeyoung nods and goes back to servicing you. Her desires grow stronger as time passes, more when she gets a taste of your precum. She can feel her thighs becoming wet with her juices as she bobs her head. Despite her increasing desires, Chaeyoung holds off on touching herself. She places her hands on your thighs just so you know she isn’t defying you. You smirk at her subservience and push her head down to the base of your cock, choking her as you fill her throat. “I’m cumming, Chaeyoung; I want you to drink it all.” 

The petite woman tries her best to drink the waves of cum pouring into the back of her throat. It becomes too much, though; it spills from the corners of her mouth, rubbing down her cheeks. You were more than satisfied with her work. As you look at Chaeyoung, you see her bloodshot eyes. She had nearly passed out. Still, though, she wanted more. Chaeyoung licked the cum on her cheeks, cherishing every drop of the salty liquid. You pat Chaeyoung’s head. “Come on, let’s go to the bedroom.” Chaeyoung rises and waits for you to lead her to the bedroom. 

You take her arm and get her in front of you. You stare at Chaeyoung for a moment, remembering how you woke up with her the other day. You grab her ass and lift the young woman, kissing her as you lay her on the bed. Moving your hands from her soft cheeks, you pull her shirt off her, leaving Chaeyoung in a pair of red panties. You pull away the soaked garment and rub your cock against her slit. She whimpers, her body craving your cock.

“Tell me what you want, Chaeyoung,”

“Please fuck me. I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk anymore.” Chaeyoung begs, holding her legs apart for you. You smile and push your cock inside the young woman, giving her a little more than half before you begin to pull out. Chaeyoung moans, resting her head against the bed as she feels your cock stretching her tiny cunt. It almost hurts, but the pleasure she feels covers it all. 

Leaving the head inside, you wait for a second before ramming your length inside Chaeyoung. Her soft moan becomes a shrill scream as she feels your cock hit her womb. This was the feeling she remembered. Chaeyoung’s toes curl as the pleasure hits her like a truck.  You grab Chaeyoung’s legs, placing them close to your chest as you thrust into her cunt. 

Chaeyoung’s tightness was nice; it held you tightly as you slid in. Considering she was wet before you had started, you were able to slide in and out quickly. You drive yourself deep into Chaeyoung, smashing yourself against her womb. Chaeyoung moans your name as you fuck her senseless, your pace becoming quicker as time goes on. The petite woman was already on the verge of cumming. Now that you were feeding her desires, her core was tightening, her muscles flexing. “I’m gonna cum,” she moans softly, biting her lip as the pressure in her body builds up. 

“You’re going to cum already? I’m not even close.” You reach down and pinch Chaeyoung’s nipples, making her whine. “Well, I’m not going to stop even if you do. Cum for me, Chae.” You pull on her nipples, stretching them. Chaeyoung cries out, the mixture of pain and pleasure becoming too much for her. 

“I’m cumming!” She screams, her walls tightening around you, trying to get your cum. You continue thrusting into Chaeyoung, the waves of pleasure crashing over her, only getting stronger as you overstimulate her. “Fuck!” Chaeyoung cries out as you continue to thrust into her. You slow down, letting Chaeyoung get a small break. You didn’t want to break her yet. You steal a kiss from the young woman, groping her breasts as you wait for her body to relax. “Thank you, Master,” she mumbles. 

You smirk. “Don’t thank me yet, Chaeyoung.” You pull away and look over the young woman; her chest rises and falls quickly, and she already looks like she’s in heaven.

You grab onto her waist. Tongue hanging out of her mouth and eyes nearly shut, you begin thrusting into the petite woman again. She wraps her legs around your waist as you fuck her like a toy. Chaeyoung grips your wrists, biting her lip as she feels your cock slam into her womb. “Oh fuck, harder, fuck me harder,” Chaeyoung moans. You lean in and kiss her, keeping her quiet while you move in and out. You dig your nails into her skin, making the young woman moan louder. She felt herself melting away, accepting your ownership like the night you met. Chaeyoung’s walls began to tighten around your cock; you grunt in response, the pleasure becoming too much. Your cock began to throb, telling Chaeyoung what was coming next. “I want it inside; please cum inside me, Master,” Chaeyoung begged you, tightening the grip she had on you. You didn’t care where she wanted it; you just needed to get all your energy out. 

You continue to thrust into the young woman, speeding up as you get closer to your climax. Chaeyoung’s moans grew louder. She shut her eyes and yelled. “I’m cumming!” Her hips shot up as she came, and her walls began milking you, squeezing down on your cock. You drove your cock deep inside Chaeyoung, pouring your seed into her needy womb.  Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she felt your hot cum fill her body. “It’s here,” she murmured. Chaeyoung moved a hand down to her slit; her fingers slowly circled her clit. “You’re the best Master.” 

Chaeyoung turns onto her stomach, laying her head down on the bed. She was tired, her body tingling all over from her previous orgasms. You watched her small ass shake as she turned over, and you still had the energy to get out. You weren’t considering Chaeyoung’s feeling as you raised her ass into the air. You slapped one of the full cheeks, making her yelp. Looking over her shoulder, Chaeyoung watched as you got behind her and slammed your cock back into her dirty cunt. Weak moans flowed from her lips as you settled down deep inside her. She groaned as you snaked your arms around her legs. “Master?” she mumbled, wondering what you were doing. You move your hands around Chaeyoung’s arms and place them on the back of her head before gathering your strength and lifting her off the bed. You began your thrusts against going deeper than before as you gave her every inch. “Oh shit, you’re so deep.” You forced Chaeyoung’s head down; as she looked toward you from her position, she watched your cock disappear into her tiny cunt with every thrust. The sight, along with the lack of mobility, turned Chaeyoung on. 

She couldn’t do anything else but watch as you used her. She watched as your cum became creamy as you stirred it inside her. Chaeyoung could hardly contain herself; her body was already sensitive, and now that you had given her an entirely new feeling, she was losing it. Every thrust you gave her was like another orgasm coming over her. The petite woman was a toy to use at will, and you were going to spend all your energy on her. You came inside her again, dumping another load inside her sore cunt, but Chaeyoung was grateful. She mumbled a thank you as you continued slamming yourself inside. At some point, Chaeyoung began to drool on the floor, her mind completely gone.

As you began to run out of strength, you moved her over the bed, letting Chaeyoung go and dropping her onto it. It wasn’t the end just yet, though; you want to get one last use out of her. You continued your thrust until you came again. Thoroughly spent, you pull out of Chaeyoung and collapse next to her. The young woman was covered in sweat, her hair messy and matted to her forehead. Cum was running down her legs, dripping from her red cunt. You lean over and kiss the top of her head, “My little toy did a good job,” you tell her. The edges of Chaeyoung’s lips curl up at your praise. Dragging her full body onto the bed, Chaeyoung gives in, falling asleep instantly, more than satisfied even if her body aches when she wakes up in the morning.

[steviewashere]

I know we love writing Steve and Eddie as these big ol' romantic guys, like fully waxing poetics and throwing petals everywhere.

But. Listen. This is totally their dynamic.

*Eddie sitting on his couch during a movie night, Steve is in the opposite arm chair with a heaping bowl of popcorn in his lap*

EDDIE: You should come over here and cuddle me.

STEVE: I would, but I'm eating popcorn and also you keep farting. So I'm staying right where I am.

EDDIE: I am not farting! You're making up—

STEVE: *giving Eddie a you're bullshitting look*

EDDIE: Maybe I tooted, man! It's my couch, I can do whatever I want! Just get over here and cuddle with me. You've been at work all day and I miss you.

STEVE: Mm, but I'm eating popcorn, though. And you didn't want any. *shoves a giant handful into his mouth, obstructing his voice* I also know you. If I come over there, you're gonna stick your grimy hands into my popcorn and eat all of it and then when I ask you to make more, you'll whine and groan and be a big baby about it. So. *he shrugs, swallows his mouthful, immediately replaces it with more popcorn* No, I'm not gonna come over there.

EDDIE: *pouting* My hands aren't grimy.

STEVE: I can literally see the paint from your mini-figure things. I don't want paint flakes in my food.

EDDIE: *still pouting* It adds to the flavor.

STEVE: *deadpan* It leads to lead poisoning. *picks up a piece of popcorn and flicks it at Eddie, watching it bounce off his head* Leave me alone, I'm trying to watch the movie.

EDDIE: *sulking now, huffing and puffing to himself, arms crossed tight over his chest, not even watching the movie, instead watching Steve* I should've pissed in your popcorn when you weren't looking.

STEVE: *sighs* If I come over to the couch, will you stop being annoying?

EDDIE: I could be persuaded.

STEVE: *gets up and plops down next to Eddie, still holding onto his popcorn bowl* My hands are greasy with butter. I'm not cuddling with you yet.

EDDIE: *ignores him and goes immediately for the popcorn, scooping up as much as he can fit between his fingers and shoving all of it in his mouth—well, almost all of it, some of it falls into the ends of his hair*

STEVE: Eddie, come on! I thought you wanted to cuddle?!

EDDIE: *smiles, teeth, popcorn and all* Nah, I just wanted your food. Thanks, by the way.

STEVE: *sighs and resigns himself to having to share his popcorn* I have got to stop falling for this every time.

EDDIE: *loudly shushes Steve* You're talking over the movie, be quiet.

STEVE: I hate you.

EDDIE: No, you don't.

STEVE: *sighing again* No, I really, really don't.

*Eddie cuddles into Steve's side, stealing more popcorn as they both watch the movie...and then...a small toot is heard*

STEVE: Stop fucking farting, Eddie!

EDDIE: *cackling*

[toxicanonymity]

Mama's Boy, 18+

slasher Joel masterlist | problematic playlist | AO3

PAIRING: Slasher!Joel x f!reader LENGTH: 7.2k words and none wasted tbh SUMMARY: Dinner at his mom's house, mostly. WARNINGS: 18+ dark, unsafe PinV, gunplay, degradation, a bit of angst, a whiff of incest, choking-adjacent, dark!reader, major revelations (!), feelings maybe? (god help us), mommy and daddy issues, slasher Joel needs a hug. NOTES: Today is not only mother's day, but also the 2nd anniversary of his first fic. This is packed. @flawssy-227 ty for your activism. And @thesummerpetrichor, I thought of you 🖤. Joel can carry reader.

It's Sunday. He lets himself in. 

“Still in bed? Must’ve been ass up face down pretty late last night, huh? Told ya i'd pick ya up… ”

You squint at him as your eyes adjust. “What are you talking about?” He has something draped over his shoulder.

Too much talking. Not enough fucking. 

He scoffs, “Really? Sunday dinner, slut.” He marches over to your nightstand with a snarl, picks up a folded piece of paper, and tosses it at you like a frisbee. 

Oh yeah. 

You unfold it as if it's the first time you've read it: “pick u up sunday.” There's a sketch of his fat cock and a thinner outline of what's presumably a dong next to it. “p.s. u need a real toy.” 

Well, here he is. Picking you up on Sunday, and he's even kinda cleaned himself up. A plaid shirt and jeans tighter than his work uniform. Looks like a normal guy you could pass in the supermarket, none the wiser that he’d shove a huge tool up your cunt.

He stands by your bed holding up one dress in each hand. Neither of them yours. 

“Now put on somethin’ decent.”  

He throws them onto the bed, then pulls a gun out of the back of his pants.  “What do you think? ” He gestures between them with the gun. 

One of the dresses is simple, clean lines, not far off from something you might normally wear. But it has a brown stain and a frayed edge. It doesn't feel right. 

The other dress is a strawberry plant pattern with short sleeves that puff out. It's faded and outdated, but clean and in decent shape–from what you can tell, at least.

“Got my own clothes,” you tell him.

But he insists, “This ain't the street corner, sugar. You're gonna pick one of these.”

“I'm too tired for this,” you complain, then add, “I dunno what makes you think I wanna go to your mom's house.” 

“Come on, baby…” He looks at the gun. “I don't wanna use this… unless I'm stuffin’ your muff with it later ”

After looking at both the dresses, you can't bear to put on the stained one and choose the strawberry print. You feel unexpectedly cute in what could have been plucked from a mid century catalogue for housewives, although it’s probably from modcloth circa 2015.

Turning around in the mirror, it’s actually really flattering, and there’s something kinda sexy about dressing up like this degenerate's pretty little wife…Yep, you're really doing this. 

Maybe it’s partly out of morbid curiosity, wanting to know where he came from. 

How he…. happened. 

He brings you a pair of your own shoes and puts them down for you to step into. 

“Yeah, that's my girl,” looking over your right shoulder at the bathroom mirror, he grabs your ass, then sticks his hand between your legs from behind, hooking his hand under you to reach your clit. Your feet spread reflexively, giving him more room. Still holding the gun in his right hand, the hand between your legs tents the dress as he strokes you, and your gut begins to swell with need. He spreads his feet and angles himself slightly toward you, getting close enough to press himself against you, letting you feel the warm log in those tight jeans, gun held against his meaty thigh. Your chest heats up and you adjust your tits in the dress, copping a feel of yourself while you’re at it. 

“Good girl ” he mutters. With a glint of affection in his eyes, he says, “You were born to wear this dress, kitten.” Now that he’s got you dripping, his fingers slip into the crotch of your panties and he shoves one, then two, inside. “Mm,” he grinds against you as he stuffs you with his fingers. Then he pulls them out and squats down. He lifts the skirt of the dress and yanks the panties down to your ankles. You lean forward and brace yourself on the sink. He stands up, slides the gun between your legs and the smooth, cool metal of the top of the barrel rubs through your slippery seam. Your hips tilt and he slides it forward one last time, before taking it away.

He pats your ass, and says, “Now c’mon, let's go.”

Not even the decency to fuck you first. Not even with the gun.

You scowl at him in the mirror. 

He asks, “Am I gonna have to drag you, kickin’ and screamin’?”

“Yeah, actually,” you reply. 

“Alright,” he agrees, all too happy to oblige. He puts the sticky gun in the back of his pants, bends his knees. and lifts you over his shoulder with a grunt. 

He steps through your open back door and slams it behind him with one hand, his other arm braced over the bare backs of your knees. 

You yoink the gun from the back of his pants and he says, “God damnit, be careful with that,” without putting you down. 

“You seem pretty sure I won't shoot you,” you observe. 

“Course ya won't. Be like a … like a drug addict shootin’ their dealer… nah, shootin’ the drug cooker. Yeah. And he's the only cooker.”

He's getting slightly out of breath as he walks. Or maybe it’s the effort of all that thinking. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask.

“Cock hungry whore ain't gonna kill off the biggest cock she's got.” 

You press the edge of the barrel against the small of his back and nudge it into his jeans, then demand, “Put me down.” 

He groans in exasperation, stops, and sets you down in the side yard. 

You almost forget to point the firearm at him. Almost. With the gun raised, you ask, “What’s with the gun anyway? Thought knives were your thing.” 

He shrugs. “Special occasion?”

“Why do you want me to come to dinner so bad?”

“Cause I told her we were comin’, okay? Told her ya liked the casserole.”

For the first time, you notice his hair is a little bit combed. You ask, “What'd you tell her about me?”

“Uh,” He scratches the back of his neck. “She knows we met when I was workin’. Knows I gave ya a ride….knows ya ain't like other girls.” 

“What’s that mean?” You ask, adjusting your grip. 

“I dunno… ” He shrugs, then gets frustrated.  “I ain't brought home a girl home in a long time, okay? And she's gettin’ older, and…” 

When you've lowered the gun, he lunges forward, muttering, “Gimme that,” as he disarms you with ease that makes your heart skip a beat. He grabs you by the arm and marches you to the Volvo. He opens the passenger door and manhandles you into the seat. 

When he gets in the car, he leans over and buckles your seatbelt for you. He smells clean and minty. 

As he puts the car in drive, you ask, “What else did you tell her?”

“Uh…. She knows we ain't been on many dates.”

“Not many?” You ask with a laugh. “You mean none?”

He glances at you twice, suppressing a flattered smile at the implication he perceives. He wets his bottom lip. “That mean ya want to?” 

He holds the gun against his thigh and steers with one hand.

-

-

When you get to his Mom's house, he warns, “Just don't talk about all your whorin’ around, okay? She won't like it.” He checks his hair in the rear view mirror.  

You laugh, “What whoring around?” 

“All those skinny dicks in your phone,” he mutters, getting out of the car.

“Excuse me?” You ask, still sitting. 

“Just tell her about your day job instead,” he says, as if you genuinely don't think or talk about anything other than cock without prompting.

Wait--skinny dicks in your phone? Your train of thought dies when he puts the gun in the back of his pants, and in doing so exposes a few inches of skin, and the tail end of a scar. After he shuts the driver side door, you open yours while he hurries around to help you out. 

“Come on,” His big hand wraps around your inner elbow again. “We're gonna be late.”  He's slightly in front of you 

“Bringing a gun into your mother's house?” you ask as he pulls you along.

He freezes, then mumbles, “You're right. Don't want her to think you're a bad influence. Even if ya are.” 

What a gentleman. 

He goes and puts it in the glovebox, then jogs to catch up with you again. 

-

-

When she opens the door, Joel's mother beams at the sight of her son. She steps outside, frail and slow moving. She's pretty, with silky white hair that looks older than her face. The storm door creaks to a stuttering close behind her.  

At first, it's like you're invisible. He lets go of you, and they embrace. She reaches for the back of his neck and says,  “C'mere, baby,” pulling his face to hers. He kisses her on the cheek, then she kisses him, and then, as they separate, Joel gestures toward you. Her eyes are curious when they meet yours, then her face comes to life as her gaze falls down your body. She puts a hand on her hip as she checks you out, her other hand rising to her mouth for a moment, then resting on her chest, fingers centered in the hollow of her collar bone. 

“Joel,” she half-laughs in flirtatious accusation, then narrates, “Well, there she is…”

“Don't she look nice? ” Joel asks with a subtle smile and blush. 

His mom admires you with an air of disbelief, then goes in for a hug. Her fragrance isn't entirely new to your nostrils, and the sensory recall brings an unsettling tingle to your loins: The night Joel brought the leftovers.

She holds you close, pressing her body all the way against yours without fully relaxing. Firm and in control, and yet , she feels softer than she looks. Her bosom is like a warm pillow. Like a relic of young motherhood, reaching through time, tickling your inner child awake. 

As the hug ends, she gently pinches the puffed sleeves of your dress and says to Joel without looking at him, “Yes, baby. She looks real pretty.”  Then, glancing up from your dress, she tells you with a smile, “Can't promise strawberries, but I do have cherry pie. Come on in.”

“Thank you, ma’am” you nod. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” she chuckles, “You can just call me Mama.” 

It sounds like you should know better. Like ‘Mama’ is the most obvious option. You glance at Joel, and he nods with a little smile of permission, as if that's what you’re looking for, and he's glad to give it.

Might as well rip the bandaid off: “Okay… Mama… well, it's nice of you to have me over.” In the back of your mind, you hope Joel doesn't think this is any special effort on your part. It's more like, your job requires manners, and this is your default setting with older folks. 

She holds the door open with her body and you have to graze past her. “Smells delicious,” you observe with genuine hunger, having slept through the first two meals of the day.

She straightens her frilled apron with a smile and suggests, “Joel, why don't you give your girl a tour while I finish up?” 

This is a relief - you hadn't been consciously dreading it, but worst case scenario, she would've asked you to help in the kitchen. She seems like that type. 

–

It’s a humble brick ranch. Dimly lit. Everything is out of style, but tidy.  There are a few bedroom doors, but he doesn’t open any of them, and you don’t pry. The paint in the hall is disrupted over a poorly repaired dent in the wall. You try not to look at the stains on the ceiling. 

One of the living room walls has a fireplace, and one wall is lined with pictures. There's a bare corner with nothing but a crochet rug – a rounded  rectangle, with raised crosses. The paint is newer over there. Bubbling and wanting to peel as the wall approaches the perpendicular wall, the one with the fireplace.

Before you can get a good look at anything, Joel steers you outside. In the small backyard, a wooden garden bed has overgrown with weeds. The lawn is nice and trim. “You help out with the yard?” You ask.

“Uh, sometimes,” he answers. “ She's got somebody else too .”

He rocks forward on his feet, arms crossed. 

“So... you gonna fuck me in your boyhood bedroom?” You ask, and he clears his throat with a forced smile, brows knitted.

“What?” you ask. “Why the hell else would you take my panties?” 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, allowing himself only a brief glance at you, until he does a double take and admits, “Fuck, you look good.” He seems more distressed by it than anything.

No such luck, you guess, raising your eyebrows at the visible outline against his thigh. Never would've pictured him in jeans. 

He runs his hand through his hair, puffs out his cheeks with an exhale, and adjusts himself with effort before leading you back inside. His boot grazes the side of a metal bowl, sloshing water into dark spots on the cement.

-

-

She pours Joel a glass of milk with dinner, and when you politely decline, Joel says, “One glass won't hurt ya, baby .” Mama seems pleased to bring over the old fashioned bottle of milk. She rests her free arm on the back of your chair, with the fine lines of her cleavage near your eyes as she fills your glass. 

The meatloaf is delicious, with sauce that reminds you of barbecue. The mashed potatoes are over-buttered, but they hit the spot. She smiles to herself, satisfied to watch you eat. 

“So tell me about yourself,” she says. “Do you work?” 

You swallow your food, nod, and tell her which clinic you work at. 

“Oh,” she recognizes the name. “The one over on Main Street?”

“Yes, that's right.”

“That's nice,” she says. “Joel's going to own his own business one day. Do you ever want to own your own practice?” 

“Oh, no, I don't think so,” you answer, then ask Joel, “What kind of business?”

“Joel, I'm surprised you haven't told her,” his Mom says, then lowers her voice to a conspiratorial volume to tell you, “He’s too modest.” 

“Ya know, I guess a tow and repair one-stop shop,” Joel says. “Not a lot of guys do both, but I can really take care of ya. Same night, even. Late hours, too.” 

His mom nods. “I always knew he'd be successful,”  she says. “Even in the darker days.” 

Joel tenses and begins to tap his heel. “ How about you, Mama? ” he asks, “ What have you been up to? ”

“Oh, you know, this and that,” she says. “Crossword was a doozie today!” she laughs. “What are you two gonna do this week? Anything special?” 

You shrug and look at Joel. 

He starts, “Uh… ”

His Mom bails him out, “You oughta take her to the drive-in like I said, baby,”  then she asks you, "Would you like that, honey? You like the drive-in? We used to go, it was so nice.”

“Sure, I like movies,” you answer. 

“See, Joel? She likes movies.”

-

Joel finishes his meatloaf relatively quickly, and his mother puts another generous slice on his plate. 

“I don't need any more, Ma,” he says, but she doesn't listen, and he digs into it anyway. By his third slice, he’s pushed back in his chair, adjusting his belt. He pats his tummy and says, “There's nothin’ she makes that ain't good.”

“Only the best for my boy,” she agrees, then asks you, “Ain’t that right?” 

“Of course,” you agree.

“Oh! I saw Randall Junior earlier,” she says. “He came by and did the lawn.”

“Randy,” Joel corrects her. 

“Yeah, Randall’s son.”

“Randy,” Joel repeats. “He ain’t even a Junior, Ma. He’s the third.”

“Well, it was nice to see him,” she reminisces, fiddling with the corner of her placemat. She catches herself, smooths it down, then brings her hands together, fiddling with her left ring finger. “I swear, that boy’s an inch taller every time I see him.” 

“He’s in his thirties,” Joel tells you, drawing a genuine smile to your lips. One that brings a sparkle to his eyes. 

“Well, anyway,” she goes on, “A face like that belongs in the movies,” she chuckles to herself.  “Of course, he’s nowhere near as handsome as my Joel,” she looks at you reassuringly as she says it. Lest you pine after Randy the third . 

A silence stretches on until you say, “Well, this was delicious. I’d love the recipe…” You dab the corners of your mouth and put down your napkin. 

“Oh, it’s not a recipe, honey,” she boasts, “It’s somethin’ ya do from the heart.” After a moment, she adds, “But I can write down the ingredients! Now, how about some cherry pie?” 

She stands up, puts her apron back on, and you help her clear the table. “Go on Joel, we’ve got it,”  Mama tells him, and he goes to sit in the living room.

“Okay,” Mama whispers to herself as she plates the first slice, a generous one. “This one’s for him.” You take it to Joel and he sits up from the couch to accept it with a thank you, reading your face for signs of how things are going. You flash him a small, unrevealing smile.

“Gonna take a piss,” he mumbles, and his eyes ask if that’s okay. “Sure,” you say with a little curtsy, trying not to smirk as you turn and head back to the kitchen.

Mama’s about to plate the other slices of pie when she lifts a finger in the air and says, “Oh, let me write this down before I forget,” then retrieves a notecard and pencil from a drawer. She puts on a pair of glasses and smiles to herself as she jots down the ingredients. You dwell in the threshold of the living room.

She looks up like she’s trying to remember something, then looks down and keeps writing on the notecard. 

You begin to look at the pictures on the wall. Some are of Joel, and he’s straight-faced. Some are of cats. Charmingly, a blurry photo of a black cat has been deemed frame-worthy. It sits within a bigger rectangle, the shadow of where a different frame used to be. There are a few spots like this. There are a few relatively recent photos of Joel and his Mom. None with his father, as far as you can tell. None now, and none then. But when you look closer at the older ones, it’s clear some of them have been trimmed. 

“He hates having his picture made,” Mama startles you from less than a foot away. 

“You two seem really close,” you offer. “Just the two of you?” 

She raises her eyebrows in amusement and lowers her volume. “Oh, Joel made sure of that .” 

A chill in her voice hardens your nipples and dries your mouth. You search her face for more, but her eyes have wandered, and her face has fallen. “Been about thirty years, just the two of us—well, just me for a while…” You follow her eyes to the corner with the crochet rug, and she squeezes your arm.  

“Are you okay?” you ask. 

She eases her grip and manages a little smile. “Yes, dear.” She hands you the notecard.

Her handwriting is beautiful. Captivating. 

You stay there, eyes scanning the photo wall, while she finishes plating your pie and hers. 

One of the frames catches your eye. It’s the first one you’ve really zeroed in on, looking at the faces and not just the context. The picture is faded and yellowed.  

Joel is young and smiling, with a pin-up looking woman hanging all over him.

A rush of begruding jealousy begs the question, who is that?

And then, your stomach turns before the realization sets in. 

It’s a much younger Mama, with dark, loose curls befitting of a centerfold. All dolled up and glowing, with her arm around his middle. And god damn, her tits are swelling up out of her neckline. She looks…. Hot. Your lungs go hollow, then your chest expands with a deep breath. Something's stirring in your gut. Arousal? Attraction?  

Your eyes pan down to her Mary Jane heels, but the swell of her breasts, those bouncy curls… your eyes are pulled back up her body. The dress is cute, and proper. Innocent, even. But the way she wears it… Sweetheart neckline, puffed sleeves… You squint for a closer look, and your breath hitches.  Heat rises to your face, to the tips of your ears. Your heart races. You pull your eyes away, chest burning, and pretend you don't notice anything.  

Something soft brushes your calf and you gasp and jump as you look down to see a black cat thread between your legs. 

“Oh, it’s Daniel!” Mama says. “He must’ve come in behind you. Not allergic, are you? Here’s your pie, honey.” She sets down your plate on the coffee table.

“You good, baby?” Joel asks. 

-

Taking your place on the sofa next to Joel, you sit like a lady, one foot tucked behind the other ankle, minding your lack of panties. The dress is just long enough to cover your knees. 

The three of you finish dessert in silence aside from forks scraping good china and Daniel purring from that rug in the corner. Joel finishes first, and stretches his arm behind you on the sofa. When you finish, you sit back with him, knee brushing his. You will yourself to relax. You will yourself not to ogle his mother in trying to reconcile her fragile frame of today with those curves of yesteryear. 

She looks back and forth at the two of you sitting side by side and smiles. She puts down her plate, crosses her legs toward you, and clasps her hands. A smile rises through her pretty cheekbones as she looks directly at you. 

“Ya know, Joel was top of his class.” 

You raise your eyebrows. 

Joel takes his hand off the back of the sofa and leans forward, forearms on his knees, full belly filling out the plaid against his lap as he wrings his hands.  “Mama.” Joel’s tone is cautionary, but his face is more pleading. He shakes his head ever so slightly. 

Ignoring him, she smiles proudly at you.

You try not to sound as skeptical as you are when you ask, “Really?”

She nods. 

“Mama,” he whispers. 

“Mm-hmm,” she smiles. 

He sits up straight, wipes his hand down his whole face and sits back in defeat. His arm doesn't return behind you. 

She continues, “There were a couple other boys, went in ‘round the same time – took’em three tries to get their GED. Three tries, at least. Not my Joel. He got his on the first try,” she beams. “The warden shook his hand.” 

“Okay,” Joel mutters. 

The Warden. Your heart skips a beat and your face goes cold, but you pray it doesn't show. 

You turn and congratulate him, “That’s great, Joel.”

He doesn't meet your eyes. He’s looking at the carpet with a defeated scowl, jaw flexing, chest heaving, arms crossed limply over his stomach.  He tries to manage a smile of acknowledgement. You can see the effort, but humiliation prevails.

You feel for him and add, “Really, babe.” 

His face softens, but his posture doesn't change. After a moment, without looking up, he mumbles, “Long time ago.” 

“Yeah,” his mother nods. “He's always been a smart boy.” She starts talking about his favorite subjects, and how he could have gotten his bachelor's too, three times over, if the program was worth a damn, and state funding, and blah blah blah, riots, and understaffing, and shanks hidden in law library books, and a few bad apples spoil it for everyone…

Your eyes are on him, tuning her out, best you can, despite your curiosity. You rest your hand on his knee, and he relaxes a little. And then, once your face turns toward his mom again, Joel looks at your face, assessing the damage. 

You want to hear it all– how long he was locked up, how he ended up in juvie. You're afraid you already know that part. 

Daniel purrs loudly from the crochet rug, and you will yourself not to look in that direction. 

Joel's Mom looks at Daniel and gets quiet as her eyes wander up that wall that must've been painted over, God how many times in the past thirty years? She idly caresses her ring finger. 

You squeeze Joel's knee, slide your hand up his jeans a couple inches, and squeeze again. You tap your thumb, and his hand joins yours.

“We oughta get goin’, Ma,” he announces. 

“Oh,” she frowns, slumping in defeat. 

“I'm workin’ tonight, and she's gotta work early.” 

“Okay,” she whispers to herself, stands up, and smooths her dress. 

—---

“It's nice to know there's a good woman looking after my son,” she says as she bids you goodbye with another hug. 

Your heart swells at the praise, you can't help it. Her apparent sincerity weakens your eyes, makes you shake away your own memories and steel yourself as she says goodbye to Joel. 

“Chin up, baby.” She holds Joel's face, makes him look at her. “Give your mama some sugar.” She gives him a smack on the lips. He doesn't kiss back, but he does accept her hug. 

He pulls up his jeans on the way to the car. Almost forgets to open the door for you. 

He doesn't look at you, even when he buckles you in, which you would have done yourself if you hadn’t froze.

He swallows more thickly. His posture is less proud.

For the first few minutes of the drive, you ride in silence. Then you ask, “Are you okay?” 

“Why wouldn't I be?” He grumbles. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask, tummy tickling with a pang of sympathy for the man. 

“No,” he answers flatly with no hesitation. 

“You don't have to,” you reassure him. 

“I know I don't have to,” He snaps. “God, it's all anybody ever wants to talk about.” 

You watch him scowl at the road, clenching his strong jaw.  His gaze is so dark. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. As if noticing this himself, he stretches one hand out, spreading his fingers before assuming a more relaxed grip.

You wonder… was he born a killer? 

He's got this tough, violent shell about him, and now you know there's something else under there. Is he sorry he brought you to dinner, you wonder? You don't want him to be. 

“Well, it was nice meeting your mom,” you remark. “Meatloaf was fantastic…. The pie, too.” You cradle the Tupperware stacked in your lap. “You wanna hang out for awhile?” you ask. 

“Gotta work,” he answers flatly and swallows with his eyes still on the road. 

“Well, that's too bad.” It really is. 'Cause you're not any less horny than he got you in your bathroom two hours ago. Wetter, if anything, you realize, and warmth blooms in your cheeks. Now the sun is going down. You reach back and put the Tupperware on the back seat, then shamelessly turn toward him. You lean your temple against the headrest and watch him drive. 

He’s hard-working. Complicated. Private. And his mom’s right, he is successful, all things considered.

You wonder where his dad is buried. Whether he was handsome, like Joel. Maybe . But with or without him, Joel got those looks from Mama. 

Joel glances over and shoots you a dark look. A warning.

“You don't gotta play nice,” he says.

“I'm not playing anything,” you protest. 

He lets out a dismissive chuckle.

“Pull over,” you tell him. 

“For what?” He asks.

His meaty thighs are spread, swelling in those tight jeans. He follows your eyes and squints at you, then slides his hand under his belly and adjusts his belt, annoyed. 

“Just pull over Joel,” you repeat.

“Ain't in the mood for your games, sweetheart,” he says.

You open the glove box, then close it with the gun in your hand.  You point it at him. “Pull over, god damn it,” you tell him.

He squints and looks at you up and down before dismissing you with a silent, condescending laugh. 

Keeping the gun trained on him, your free hand unbuckles your seatbelt, then slides between your legs. You pull the skirt of the dress all the way up to expose your cunt.

“You serious?” He asks. 

“Serious as a heart attack,” you confirm. 

And that's not what killed his dad, you think. 

It must've been messy. 

He must've deserved it, by the looks of Joel's back. The way the moonlight skidded over his scars, that night in your bedroom.

Joel shakes his head, keeps driving, and you lift the gun to his temple. “Pull over right now,” you repeat, quieter.

“Jesus, FUCK,” he relents, neck vein bulging as he veers toward the shoulder. 

It's close to dusk now, on a suburban road, and you're half way out of the seat before the car's in park.

Stretching your leg over the center console, you help yourself into his lap, straddling him, still holding the gun. With your free hand, you begin to unbutton his shirt. 

For a moment, all he does is stare at you and breathe heavier. “You're fuckin’ with me,” he tells himself out loud, not wanting to fall for a joke. He has his elbows back and out of the way, one arm on the door, one on the center console, but he’s itching to have you. You can see it in the way his biceps twitch. His stomach rises and falls with heavier breaths under his white tee. 

“I’m not,” you assure him. 

He lets you pick up his hand, and you guide it between your legs so he can feel how wet you are. 

His face darkens, and his hand reflexively grabs your cunt. 

“Somethin’ wrong with you?” he asks.

“That’d make two of us,” you answer.

You glance at the gun to make sure the safety's still on, then point the barrel at his chest and reach down to grab the massive bulge in his jeans. The largest you could imagine, for a cock that’s not quite hard. And he chubs up quick under the lustful pressure of your palm. 

“You're into this shit,” he says. “ Like some kinda kink.” 

Ya think?, you manage not to say out loud.

But you get the subtext: He’s a real person... With a real big cock that swells harder in your palm as you massage him slow with your breasts heaving. He cups your bare ass cheeks. You slide your hand up the front of his jeans, and his hips lift under you, chasing your palm. The heel of your palm presses into his gut as you unbuckle his belt. You rest your wrist on the seat, gun pointed toward the back of the car as your hand continues its work between your bodies.

With his belt buckle out of the way, you grope at his cock through the denim again, then unzip his jeans and rest your hand on the curve of his belly, splaying your fingers out before sliding your hand down into his jeans. As your hand engulfs the mushroom shape of his cockhead, then his swollen shaft, you moan at the girth. “Yeah,” you breathe, “You gonna fuck me in your mother’s dress?” You end the question with a firm grab of his package, and he grunts, nearly breathless, then sighs as you palm his cock hungrily through the cotton of his boxer briefs. 

“Looks really fuckin’ good on you,” he answers with a nod.

Blood’s still rushing to his cock, responding to its need to stiffen up and plug whatever gaping hole appears in front of it. 

“Looks good on her too,” you note. 

“Fuck,” he breathes under your slow but aggressive massage. His eyes pour over your chest and he says, “Looks better on you.” If he’s not lying–and it feels like he’s not–-it’s quite a fucking compliment. His shaft plumps with as much as blood as it can hold, stiff as a rod, fat and juicy, hard as hell, spilling precum in his boxers. 

“Ohh, fuck,” he moans. His hips lift and his abs tense and his belly swells against your forearm. 

You slide your hand up again, and under his waistband. You brace your wrist on his shoulder, pointing the gun toward his neck as your hand slides into his warm boxer briefs to feel the smooth skin of his aching manhood. 

“You wanna put that down?” he asks. 

“No,” You reply, unable to connect your thumb fingers around his girth. 

“Man, when ya need it ya need it, huh?,” he murmurs, eyelids heavy. “Need this cock real bad, don’t ya? ” 

“Yeah,” you answer.

“Need to pack that droolin’ gash,” he says. “ Pack it full. ” 

“Yeah,” you nod and raise yourself a few inches. You get his tip at your entrance, then slide it through your dripping pussy.

"Oh, fuck,” he moans, “God damn sex kitten.. . FUCK, youre hot” 

He breathes audibly, watching you with forced patience as you notch his broad tip at your hole. You start to sink down on him with some difficulty, face scrunching, biting your lip in frustration, eyes watering with need. 

“What's the matter, sweetheart? Forget how to take a cock all the sudden?” 

You lift yourself up and sink down a little more, swallowing the tip. 

“Oh fuck,” he moans. He puts his hands on your hips and pulls you down with an upward thrust, spearing you on his monster girth.

“Yeah…oh, fuck,” he breathes, not quite bottomed out. “Ugghh,” he groans, pulling you down more with an upward thrust to the hilt, fully seated in you at last. 

“God, you're filthy.” He wets his bottom lip, admiring what a mess you’ve become in his lap. “Hot little slut like you…. Oh, you're trouble,” he says. 

You begin to lift yourself, letting most of his meat out of you, tip dragging thick and tight through your walls, your slick beading under the crown and sliding down his shaft. Then you sink back down, splitting yourself open on his girth with a sigh. 

The sky has erupted into shades of pink and purple as it begins to sink past the horizon. 

Electricity runs through your blood. Your skin hums. His neck glistens with goosebumps and the hues of his shirt look brighter in the almost-dark. 

He grabs your hips as you ride him, then moves his big hands to your waist. Each time you slide up his cock, it’s easier to sink back down. Your body’s hungry for more each time. You can feel it pulsing wider around him, welcoming his girth, hungry for more. 

“Yeah,” he encourages you as you find a rhythm. “Like that.”  

You seize one of his wrists to move his hand to your neck.

“You're a real freak, baby,” he taunts you, brushing his thumb against the delicate skin of your neck before carefully positioning it and raising his eyebrows at you. He closes his eyes as you sink down on him again and his girth slides easily through your soft walls. When he opens his eyes, his massive hand gives your neck a little squeeze, and you moan in appreciation. 

“Guess it takes a freak to fuck a guy like you,” you spit back.  

He scowls, and his nose twitches. 

You go on, “Mighta picked the only freak in town who’d fuck you by choice,” you tell him. “Lucky call,” you say. “Lucky you have such a fat fucking cock,” you taunt him and study his face, hopeful for a sign that he could snap.  “What else do you have?” You ask, and it feels almost too cruel. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a lot to have… fuck,” you breathe. “Mmm,” fully stuffed by his girth. 

“Quit runnin’ your damn mouth,”  he snaps and grabs the gun by both ends at once, smoothly disarming you with an effortless twist of his hands. He places the barrel against the hollow of your neck and asks, Is “That what ya want, ya dumb slut? Tryna get yourself killed?” 

You freeze, half-way on his cock, getting lost in his eyes. 

“Well God damn, if you're gonna ride it, ride it. I'm gonna lose my goddamn patience” he warns. 

When you don’t sink down fast enough, he gets rougher, putting you in a bruising grip, one arm wrapped around you, tightening like an anaconda. 

He fucks up into you from the bottom, both arms behind you, with the gun held vaguely to your neck.

“Yeah,” you moan. 

He growls, pushes his back against the seat, and his stomach pushes against your front, pushes and rubs as he fucks you harder, rocking the car. 

The windows fog up.

He unzips the back of the dress and tears it down to reveal your breasts. 

He watches them move as you’re bounced on his thick manhood. He snarls and grunts like an animal possessing his prey. 

“I see you,” you whisper, intoxicated by the rhythmic stroke of him up in your guts.

“Fuck you,” he rasps.

“Fuck me ,” you retort,  “Fuck me,” you repeat, “Fuck me, killer,” your cunt spasms with the word. 

“Knew what I was, don’t act fuckin’ surprised.” 

"Fuck," you moan, swallowing up his cock. “I'm -mmm- m’not,” you say. “I'm turned on.”

“You’re sick,” he says, burying his cock in you fully, once again.  

Your nipples harden, you moan, and he looks at you skeptically, even as he feels your walls twitch around his absurd girth. 

“Know that pussy's hungry for something bigger,” he says. 

“Like what?”  you ask and feel the gun leave your neck. 

“Get up.” He checks the safety.

When you rise up, he holds the gun near his dick, making the barrel of it look like a twig. 

“Best I got here,” he says with your gummy walls clinging to his shaft as you let out all but the tip. 

“Think she can take it?” he asks. “Shit, we know she can.” 

You lift all the way up onto your knees, letting his cock fall out. It bounces, bringing a string of slick with it, and stands stiff at attention. 

He works three fingers into you with ease. 

“Gimme your hand,” you ask.

“Hand's fuckin’ busy,” he says, referring to the one holding the gun. 

“No, gimme your whole hand,” you demand greedily, and grab his wrist with his fingers still buried in your cunt. 

“Attagirl,” he says, then works a fourth finger into you.  “Best I can do here, sweetheart,” he winces as he fucks you with four clustered fingers. 

“Fuck this,” he decides, unable to stand his throbbing cock growing ever colder outside your cunt. 

He positions you over his dick and the gun, uses his fingers to spread your pussy around both, then pulls you down. 

“Uh–ughh,” your mouth is agape as you sink down the shaft and barrel, taking them both. 

You’re a quivering mess. 

He holds the handle steady and says, “Good girl.”

You don't go all the way down. The cool barrel slides against one side of your walls. 

“God damn, this hungry pussy,” he pants, cock stiff against the gun.  “God damn, i know she can take more,” he says, frustrated without much more to give you.  

“How do you know?” you ask 

“Cause I've seen ya gapin’ wide open, sweetheart.” 

You moan at his words, pussy quivering around his cock and gun. 

“Wide fuckin’ open,” he repeats. “Ya take my fist… take two dicks…fuck ,” he twitches inside you. “ Took my goddamn wrench…. greedy fuckin’ cunt,” he goes on. 

Then you're seized by a swell in your lower belly…. The pressure that’s been simmering quickly boils over, and you whimper as you come on his cock and the gun. 

“Yeah,” he pants as your walls flutter and your thighs quiver. 

He lifts you up with one arm, and takes out the gun, putting it aside. Then he slams you all the way down on his cock. “Oh god, yeah,” he pants, “Freak nasty whore ” 

You moan and let it ride, clenching around his cock, your walls hugging it tighter each time, with the girth of the gun no longer holding you open.  

Your climax wanes and your legs are weak. “Oh fuck,” he pants, “Gonna fill this dirty snatch,”  He sweats and grunts. “Gonna stuff her with my load,” he warns, “Bout to fill this gash right up .”  

“Fuck,” he breathes heavier and grunts with each thrust up into you, then slams you down, and with an upward jolt of his hips begins to drain his massive balls. “Fuck,” he sighs as he comes inside. “Fuck, you're crazy,” he says with another rope, warm and sticky, hitting your womb. 

“Tryna get knocked up by some psycho killer ya picked up on the side of the road,” he says. “ Fuck, you goddamn freak .” 

Still milking his cock, something possesses you to cradle his face as he slows down. Another burst of warmth in your core, as your face approaches his. He starts to turn his cheek, but your hands become forceful. “C’mere, asshole,”  you demand, grinding into him with his cock pulsing deep inside again. His neck begins to relax, and he sighs with his eyes closed. You hold his face steady and bring your face to his. When your lips meet his are limp and open. 

Another warm spurt into your womb, and when you moan against his mouth, he moans back. His lips soften, then cradle yours. Your tongue slips into your mouth, and his pushes into yours. He grabs the back of your head, pulling you into his face as he kisses you, releasing a final burst of hot seed. “Mm,” he grunts into your mouth, hands holding each other’s faces. Glued together, consuming each other in the dark. The passion simmers to something gentler as your loins twitch with aftershocks, becoming over-sensitive. 

You break away to breathe, gasping for humid air in the fogged-up car. 

He pants, looks up at the ceiling. His neck vein pulses. His skin is clammy looking, dewy with cold sweat, 

“Fuck,” sighs, his chest heaving, “Still got your goddamn tits out.” He admires them, then feeds himself one. He tongues your nipple, and when your cunt squeezes him, he winces, letting it out of his mouth. 

A tractor trailer whizzes by, shaking the whole car. 

“Alright,” he says, and nudges you off his lap. “Now pull yourself together.” 

He takes the gun, wet with your juices, puts it on the dashboard near him. He looks over at you skeptically when you've climbed back over the center console into your seat.

“You better stuff that dress between your legs,” he warns. “Don’t want ya leakin’ all over the goddamn place.”

-

-

-

THANK YOU FOR READING.

Believe it or not, I cut two scenes from this lol so I might put them in a little bonus visit between Joel and his mom soon.

Look, this took me a year and I feel like I've finally done my mental vision justice lol. So, please interact 🧎‍♀️🥺🖤

anon is fine if you're shy!

[muniimyg]

*ੈ εつ‧₊˚° ♡ ༘ ctrl+alt+delete // jjk ༘ ♡ °˚₊‧ εつ ੈ*

19 // next // series m.list

note: oh wHAT DO YOU KNOW ABT MEET CUTES??? huashjdkfasjf.... ignore my mistakes ,, i am sick ! goodnight pretty pussy kimi friends <3

//

friday night. 

jimin’s voice rings through the chaos of the small, but somehow always too crowded, apartment. it’s filled with people yet jimin’s squeaky yapping is the loudest thing in jungkook’s ear.

“stop freaking out!” jimin cries, dodging around taehyung, who’s already got a hand to his forehead like he’s holding back a migraine. “bro, you look fine.”

“but what if this is the wrong shirt?” jungkook whines, his brows knit together, tugging at the hem of the plain black tee he’s been second-guessing for the last hour and a half.

taehyung groans, dramatic as ever. “what if i hit you right now?”

“what if you go kill yourself—”

before jungkook can finish, the sound of liquid splashing against fabric cuts him off. the liquor spreads fast and drips down his shirt.

jungkook takes a deep breath in.

“oops,” jimin says, not even trying to hide the grin as his tequila splatters all over jungkook’s chest. “now you have to change. you’re welcome.”

“you—!” jungkook starts, eyes narrowing like he’s about to lunge.

“do it,” taehyung interrupts, his grin lazy, sharp, and mean in a way that only jungkook’s closest friends can manage. “before ___ walks in and sees you covered in alcohol. how’s that for a first impression, mr. perfect?”

jungkook shoots both of them a glare, muttering curses under his breath as he storms off toward his room, the familiar bubble of frustration fizzing in his chest.

god. 

tonight, out of all nights; he’s spiraling. really—because how could they not see how serious this all is? 

you’re coming over. 

you. 

st4rg1rlyni3. 

… and since this is your first time meeting… he has to get it right. he has to at least look good. presentable. maybe even… handsome.

once jungkook reaches his room, he pulls open his closet door with more force than necessary. the shirts hang neatly—too neatly—because he reorganized them this morning, just in case you’d... what? wander in here and look inside his closet?

he groans at himself, grabbing the first thing that doesn’t make him want to scream, a striped blue button-up he swore he wouldn’t wear tonight.

as he shrugs the shirt over his shoulders, he’s halfway through tugging it down—arms trapped in the fabric, mid-struggle—when his door creaks open.

his heart stalls. freezes, really, like his whole body is buffering.

because it’s you.

you’re standing there, hand still on the doorknob, looking as though you hadn’t expected to walk in on this exact moment—but you’re also clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

“oh.” your voice comes out light, amused. you glance down at your phone for a second before back up at him, a brow raising. “taehyung said the bathroom was—hmmm. okay. i get it.”

jungkook is acutely aware of every awkward detail: his hair sticking up from all his stressed-out fidgeting, the half-buttoned shirt that’s probably wrinkled by now, the way his mouth is hanging slightly open because he still hasn’t figured out what to say.

“um...” it’s the best he can manage, voice a little cracked.

your smile grows, softening the edges of the moment. 

“nice shirt.”

he stares at you, feels his cheeks flush a little hotter. because of course you’d show up looking this good, all easy confidence and effortless charm, while he’s here feeling like a walking disaster. your hair is curled in such an effortless way that truly scratches his brain. you’re wearing a baby pink dress that tugs your curves perfectly. 

truth be told, he was just talking shit about the colour pink. 

seeing it on you? 

yeah. it’s his favourite colour now too—

that’s when jungkook realizes he’s been silent for a minute too long. you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for a response.

“thanks,” he finally blurts, so fast it sounds like one word. then he clears his throat, scrambling to add, “just—uh, just picked it.”

your gaze lingers on him, a smile tipping into something dangerously close to teasing. 

“what’s… with the awkwardness? am i prettier than you expected?”

his breath hitches, and you swear you catch the faintest blush coloring his cheeks. but jungkook recovers quickly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

“the issue was never if you were pretty. you are pretty. there’s no denying that,” he admits, his voice steady yet soft. “it’s your attitude.”

your brow arches, feigning offense. 

“what attitude? i just got here.”

“that one,” he says, gesturing vaguely as if you radiate something he can’t quite put into words.

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “oh, so we’re acting like we didn’t just celebrate seven days of talking with cake? like you aren’t completely obsessed with me—”

“okay, miss disliker.”

“mr. vlog dedicator.”

“weren’t you mad at me a few days ago for muting when i peed?”

“yeah. i can admit to that. if i made peeing videos, you’d watch them, right? can you admit to that?”

jungkook bites down on his bottom lip, a nervous habit you’ve started to notice, and inhales sharply through his nose. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and for a moment, his gaze drops to the floor like he’s trying to gather himself.

the air stills.

“sorry,” he finally breathes, his voice low and almost unsure. “seeing you in person… god, i don’t know how to act right now. i’m sorry, baby.”

his words settle over you, warm and sweet, sinking into the spaces you didn’t know were waiting to be filled. your stomach tightens, flipping over itself, and you’re suddenly too aware of the way his voice dips when he calls you baby.

jungkook finishes buttoning up his shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly on the last button, and then he extends his hand toward you. 

“nice to meet you—”

but before he can finish, you reach out, wrapping your arms around his neck instead.

his entire body tenses for a split second, caught off guard before he melts into the embrace. his arms come around you, pulling you close, holding you tight.

you rest your chin on his shoulder, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. his cologne—something woodsy with just a hint of spice—wraps around you, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment.

why does this feel so right?

your hands flex against his back, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips. it’s overwhelming—how natural this feels, how easy it is to lean into him like this.

he exhales against your hair, his breath warm and steady now, and you can feel the tension draining from his body. you pull back slightly, your arms still looped around his neck, and meet his gaze. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—uncertainty, maybe, or hesitation—but it’s quickly swallowed by a softness that tugs at your chest.

his hands slide down to rest on your waist, grounding you in place. “hi.”

you blink, your stomach flipping again as his words settle in. he’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the room, and it’s almost too much to bear.

“hi.”

“i’m really nervous, to be honest. jimin and tae have been eating up my anxiety and i’m… i’ve embrassed myself in front of you already so what the hell?” he says, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly. “you’ve been in my head. and now… now you’re here, and i don’t know what to do with myself.”

you smile softly, trying to keep things light despite the way your heart is racing. 

“excited much?”

he laughs, the sound warm and a little breathless. “only a little.”

you don’t know who moves first, but somehow, you find yourself leaning in, his forehead pressing gently against yours. his eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, the world outside fades into nothingness.

“you smell nice,” he murmurs, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the ghost of his breath.

“so do you.”

he chuckles, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “this feels too perfect,” he whispers, almost like he’s afraid saying it out loud will break the spell.

your stomach flips again, and you’re suddenly so aware of everything—his hands on your waist, the warmth radiating off his body, the way his lips hover just a breath away from yours.

“then don’t ruin it,” you tease, your smile growing.

he grins, leaning back just enough to meet your eyes, and for a moment, you’re both caught in the weight of everything unsaid.

“not a chance,” he says, his voice steady now. 

you believe him.

the night feels like a dream. 

not the kind you forget the second you wake up, but the kind you spend the rest of the day reliving, hoping to hold onto every detail.

jungkook’s mind is filled with you.

every time he looks at you, touches you, or hears you—he can’t help but feel like his heart is beating outside of his chest. it’s so strange and love has never felt this way—so intense and real… so fast. 

you’re witty in a way that makes his chest ache, sharp without being mean, playful but never overbearing. he can’t remember the last time someone teased him, really teased him, without making him feel small. you make it fun—safe, even.

and god, you’re beautiful. 

not in the way he thought before, through screens and pictures, but in a way that’s... more. the kind of beauty that makes him feel like he should thank someone—maybe you, maybe the universe—for the chance to be here, breathing the same air as you.

he notices the way hobi smirks when he catches jungkook staring at you too long. the way taehyung elbows him whenever you laugh at one of his dumb jokes. the way jimin whispers “she likes you, idiot” every time you brush past him, your shoulder grazing his.

it’s obvious. 

to everyone. 

and apparently, to you too, because you’ve joined in. 

you’re teasing him just as much as his friends, your words sharp and deliberate in a way that keeps him on his toes. it’s almost unbearable, the way you make him feel like a little kid with a crush, heart pounding and cheeks burning every time you look his way.

and then, in the middle of it all, he snaps. 

not in a bad way, but in the way you’d snap a rubber band to bring yourself back to reality. he steps closer, his hand finding your waist, his fingers curling just slightly.

“can i show you something?”

your brows lift, curiosity flickering across your face. you nod. 

“sure.”

jungkook leads you to his room, the chaos of the party fading behind you. his fingers brush yours as he walks ahead, close enough to touch but not quite. it’s deliberate, like he’s trying to keep his cool but failing miserably.

once you're in his room, he gestures towards his balcony.

you two step out and it's this set up of a cozy and quiet escape. there are string lights wrapped around the railing, a single blanket draped over the chair, and the view—god, the view is stunning.

the city stretches out like it’s alive, blinking lights and faint noises making it feel infinite.

“i fought for this room,” jungkook brags, leaning against the doorframe. “tae wanted it, but i beat him in an arm wrestling match.”

you laugh softly, stepping out onto the balcony.

“it’s worth the fight.”

“it is.”

he doesn’t mean the room, though.

you settle into the blanket he hands you, the conversation flowing into something softer, deeper.

“it's been a few hours already but... it’s still so weird seeing you in person,” he admits, his voice quieter now, like he’s letting himself be vulnerable. “i feel like... i’ve known you my entire life. it feels...”

“different?” you offer, your gaze steady on him.

he nods, his lips curving into a small smile. “in a good way."

“in a good way." you echo.

with that, you two settle in to each others presence. looking out at the view and laughing at each others lame jokes. for two sociable people, you two sure love your space from everyone... perhaps, it's because you're with the one.

as the conversation drifts, eventually, jungkook asks, “so... the anon thing. have you figured out who it is yet?”

you shrug, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“no, not really. hobi told me to take it slow. to focus on myself for now.”

“what does that mean for... you know.” his voice drops, suddenly shy. “your content.”

another shrug.

“i’m not sure. i don’t know if i want to keep going, but... i don’t think i have any other options.”

he frowns, leaning forward. “what do you mean by that?”

you hesitate, your fingers tracing the edge of the blanket. “i don’t really know what i am these days, to be honest with you.”

that's the plain truth.

you haven't really admitted it to anyone... honestly? hardly to yourself... but for some reason, it just came out. for a moment you think; maybe this is dangerous. trusting someone so fast and feeling how natural it is to say the hard things...

then, there’s a beat of silence before he speaks.

“that’s okay.” jungkook voice is steady, sure. “not knowing is okay. being you is enough.”

you blink, startled by the simplicity of his words.

they hit harder than you expected, settling somewhere deep. it’s strange, feeling so understood by someone you’ve only just met.

the moment is broken by the buzz of jungkook’s phone. he checks it, lips quirking into a smile.

“jimin says everyone went to the pool.”

he stands, holding out a hand. “come on.”

jungkook leads you to the rooftop pool. 

the rooftop is alive with soft laughter and the sound of water splashing, but all of it fades when you step out hand-in-hand with jungkook.

every set of eyes shifts to where your fingers are intertwined, lingering just a second too long before darting to his face, then back to yours. you feel your cheeks heat up, suddenly shy… but you two don’t let go. instead, you hold his hand even tighter. 

instinctively, you move slightly behind him, but jungkook isn’t having it.

he pulls you forward gently, his hand sliding to your waist, keeping you anchored there. 

for fucks sake… the prettiest girl at the party is with him. why would he hide this? why wouldn’t he boast?

“do you guys swim often?” you ask, trying to deflect from the weight of their teasing stares.

jungkook shrugs, playing it cool. “only when i wanna vlog and get your attention.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “right… because you just hate it when people only like you for your body?”

he nods, lips twitching into a grin. “exactly. oh, you so get me—”

“hate to break it to you,” taehyung interrupts, draping an arm around jungkook’s neck, “but posting thirst traps isn’t exactly original content.”

“what does that make me?” you quip, arching a brow.

taehyung shrugs, also playing it cool. “jungkook said he’d beat me up if I ever click your links.”

you snort, covering your mouth to hide your laugh.

“oh, come on,” taehyung continues, pulling at the hem of jungkook’s shirt, threatening to lift it. “jungkooookieee… go for a swim and do the whole romantic wet hair look. she’ll love it.”

“shut up—”

“no, seriously! right, ___?” taehyung calls over his shoulder, his grin mischievous. “you’ll love it, right?”

before you can answer, jimin comes barreling in, teaming up with taehyung to ambush jungkook. they shove him into the pool, their laughter echoing as jungkook resurfaces, glaring at them.

you step to the edge, watching as the three of them wrestle and splash around in the water. hobi appears beside you, crossing his arms with a knowing smile.

“this is gonna get worse before it gets better,” he teases, nudging you lightly.

you kneel by the pool, your gaze following jungkook as he swims to where you’re crouched. his wet hair clings to his forehead, and there’s a boyish charm in the way he grins up at you.

he’s breathtaking like this. 

wet hair curling just enough to look messy, droplets sliding down the sharp line of his jaw, catching faint glimmers of the rooftop lights. his shirt clings to him, fabric plastered to every dip and ridge of his body, leaving nothing to the imagination—not that it matters. you’ve spent enough time watching him online to know every detail by heart, but this is different. 

you swallow hard, a little lightheaded. 

“help me up,” he says, holding his hand out.

“no.”

his grin falters. “what? why not—”

“you’re gonna pull me in.”

“no, i won’t.”

“yes, you are.”

“how do you know?”

“i know you.”

jungkook tilts his head, his grin returning as he leans his arms on the pool edge. “oh? you think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

you smirk. “don’t i?”

“you don’t,” he challenges, wiggling his fingers. “come on. trust me.”

against your better judgment, you give him your hand. the second his fingers close around yours, you know you’ve made a mistake.

“jungkook, don’t—”

but it’s too late. 

he tugs you in, and the cold water shocks you, stealing the air from your lungs. you bob to the surface, pushing your hair out of your face, only to see him laughing like a kid who just got away with a prank.

you splash him. “you’re the worst!”

“am i?” he teases, swimming closer.

you’re still laughing when he scoops you up under the water, holding you bridal style. he hums, grinning down at you. “saved you.”

“you pulled me in.”

“okay, fine. i pulled you in.”

“you give in easily.” you tease, splashing water to his face. jungkook squints, taking the splash. before you can say anything else, he defends himself with a few words that make your stomach turn again. 

“how am i supposed to argue with a pretty girl like you?”

back in his room, jungkook has a hoodie and a pair of sweats laid out for you. he’s drying off with a towel when you step out of his bathroom, his clothes hanging loose on you.

he pauses mid-motion, the towel draped over his shoulder as his eyes take you in. “you look better in my clothes than i do,” he teases, his voice dipping just slightly.

“gross.”

he grins, leaning against the dresser. “i’m serious. i might have to start hiding my hoodies.”

“please. you’d hand them over without a fight.”

“not true.”

you roll your eyes, stepping closer. without a word, you take the towel from his shoulder and start drying his hair. he freezes for a moment, caught off guard, before leaning into your touch.

your fingers work through his damp hair, your eyes inadvertently drifting to his lips. the air between you feels heavier now, thick with something unsaid. jungkook tilts his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to your eyes.

he leans in—so close, you can feel his breath on your skin—and then stops himself, pulling back just enough to create a sliver of space.

“i... i’m gonna wait,” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“for?”

jungkook exhales, dragging a hand through his half-dry hair, the strands falling back into a soft, messy tangle that makes your stomach flip. the towel around his neck shifts as he fidgets with it, like it’s the only thing grounding him right now. 

“i don’t know,” he murmurs, voice quiet, like the words aren’t fully formed yet. “i want to show you i’m patient. i want to show you that i’m a good man. i am... so...” his eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze for a beat too long, raw and unguarded. “let’s go? i’ll drive you home and hold your hand the entire way.”

you tilt your head, biting back a smile. 

“you’re really not going to kiss me right now?”

his lips twitch into a soft laugh, dimples pressing into his cheeks as his shoulders relax.

“i just want you to know that you’re perfect for me,” he says, his tone so sincere it makes your breath catch. “i want to be perfect for you... and it’s hard when i’m losing my patience. if i kiss you right now…” he hesitates, his voice dipping lower, “i won’t stop.”

you lean forward, close enough to catch the faintest scent of his cologne mingling with chlorine. 

“okay, i get it. you wanna be a good boy. fine by me…” you whisper, your lips brushing the air between you. “you’re right. maybe you shouldn’t kiss me tonight—as a matter of fact—don’t.”

his brows lift, the corner of his mouth curving into a grin that feels dangerously addictive. 

“really?”

“yeah.” your smile widens as you lean just a little closer, your nose nearly grazing his. “i like making people wait.”

his grin deepens, the heat in his gaze undeniable. 

“yeah?”

“yeah. i like it because it usually leads to begging.”

and then, before he can respond, you close the distance—not to his lips, but to his cheek, pressing the softest kiss there. when you pull back, jungkook's stunned expression is almost too satisfying. 

almost.

[violetwolfraven]

Hey guys? As grocery prices go up and fresh food gets harder to get, knowing it will probably only get worse…

Potatoes are pretty easy to grow once they start turning green and sprouting. Just stick em somewhere they’ll get a lot of light about 2 weeks before you want to plant them for real and wait. After that bury them about 4 inches deep in a garden or container and they’ll be ready to harvest after the plants stop flowering.

You know how if you leave garlic alone for too long, it starts to sprout? Put that shit in some dirt with the sprout exposed, water it, and you’ve got yourself a garlic start.

You can grow peppers from seeds out of the ones you get at the supermarket. Peppers are decently easy. Start them indoors in a small pot, bury the seeds about an inch deep. Keep it next to a window or under a grow light for at least 10 hours a day and water it enough to keep the soil damp (~3x a week in summer, ~1x a week in winter). You should start them in winter or early spring so they’ll be nice and big and strong in time for the growing season. If you have the space to do so, move them outside after the danger of frost has passed. *with the caveat that they might or might not give you peppers in the first year.

Mint may not be a full meal but it’s a good addition to a salad or spring roll. It’s also ridiculously easy to grow. You kind of just get a store bought seedling and let it do its thing. Water it occasionally and be aware that it will die back over the winter, but mint is stupid easy. It can and will take over an entire space though, so maybe only plant it in a container.

Green onions can be sprouted from the white part with the roots. Just cut it about 2 inches away from the root, save the ends, stick the ends in a glass with some water, put that under light for a few days, then plant.

A short list of common edible plants you might be able to find (*with the caveat that most of my knowledge comes from only one region): lilacs (flowers), dandelions (leaves and flowers), lavender (flowers), peonies (flowers), basically any aggregate berry (shaped like a blackberry or raspberry).

With anything you want to start inside and later transplant outside, you should harden them off first. Hardening off is when you put the pots with the baby plants outside for longer and longer for a week or two leading up to when you’re transplanting. Start with leaving them outside for only a few hours at a time before you bring them back in and work your way up to leaving them out in their pots overnight before you plant them outside.

I’m a pretty amateur gardener and this is based on my experiences. Feel free to add your own if you know other tricks that might help someone.

[miange1]

YAY

okay so i wanna request something where donnie is talking about his crush on reader(male) to his therapist and it's sorta like the situation where he almost jerks off in her office yk?

but he starts to spill too much saying that he's basically a really gross and stalker pervert towards you😪

maybe add something a little cute at the end after all of that :3

DONNIE DARKO

male reader, perverted tendencies, donnie starts seeing reader in hallucinations, wet dreams, stalking, taking underwear and 'using' it, reader has a crush on donnie but doesn't know what he does, a full fic instead of head cannons for once, slight homophobia even though donnies friends were talking about a gay smurf

"Donnie.." his kisses trailed along your soft skin, grabbing hold of your waist harshly to keep you still and close to him. He loved moments like these with you, moments where he could have you all to himself and use you as you pleased because you would never say no to him, right?

You loved him, and he loved you. "Hm." He hummed, glancing up at you a bit as his kisses stopped at you hip, and his hands moving towards the bottom of your pants.

"Donnie no," He was confused, why were you saying no? You never say no, what was wrong now? "What, why? You're hard for me, why are you.." you shook your head and shushed him. "It's time for school."

Of course it was a fucking dream, he could even remember himself sighing and realizing in his head before he had woke up.

He was in no mood to deal with anyone today, more than usual. The boy was so close to punching his friends in the throat if they made fun of that girl one more time. He just wanted to get on the bus and be able to see you for the few seconds he could, and then for the hours he could stare at you through eyes you couldn't see.

"Guys, just leave her alone. Bus is about to come anyway." Even as he spoke he was only thinking of you, the cigarette burning to the curb right before the bus had pulled over to the curb, and he'd let the stick fall onto the concrete.

Neither of you had classes together, you'd just see each other in the hallways and it was a miracle you had looked over and waved to him. First thing that went through his mind was that you were the most beautiful boy he had ever seen.

First thing that went through his friends minds was that you were a faggot. "He's into you man." Donnie scoffed, head shaking in disbelief, "All he did was wave at me, I mean we barely even know each other." Which was only partially true, he knew almost everything about you. Knew of your interests, knew what you liked to watch and read, knew what kinda porn you liked, knew what brand your boxers were, and could probably guess which you were wearing right now.

Even last night he had watched you be confused as to why half of your pairs were missing. Sometimes he wished you could see it, see his eyes rolling back as his own hands were working at jerking himself off— taking in your scent and feeling so high off of it.

"Donnie!" He jumped up a bit, realizing he had been in class. Jesus, when had he gotten here? "I said do you have a pencil for me to borrow?" Blinking a bit, he nodded his head. "Yeah..yeah, here man."

"What's gotten into you, snap out of it." He wished he could, if he hadn't met you everything would go somewhat smoothly and he could continue along with his day.

"Hey Donnie!" Hearing your voice, he instantly turned his body around and started walking next to you. "Hey," he felt shy, itching to hold your hand but he just shoved it in his pocket. "I'm gonna be going to the movies later, you wanna come?" God, he wanted to say yes, say yes so so badly— but he couldn't. The hope in your eyes slightly went away as he said no, "Ah, I understand." No, no you didn't understand. He didn't want you to understand it that way, he needed you to understand how badly he needed you.

"Hey, hey, look." He blocked your way, standing in front of you as the gravel crumbled underneath his feet. "Look.. I have a therapist, and that's the reason I can't make it tonight." His heart skipped a beat as you smiled slightly, this time actually getting it. "Oh, then there's no worries! I just thought you didn't want to hang out with me." Never in a million years would that be possible, not now or ever.

"Of course I wanna hang out with you." He grabbed your face, almost till it hurt. "What makes you think I don't?" You laughed, your cheek squishing together more as you did so. "Well, maybe the fact you're trying to pop my head open."

His hands let go, heading to his sides while he tried to laugh it off.

Hypnotherapy. Donnie wasn't sure how to feel about it, each and every time he'd 'wake up' hard, and his dick almost out.

"So..Donnie." Dr. Thurman walk back and forth around the room, "Have you met anyone new?"

Donnie nodded, taking a bit before answering. "I met a boy.." he muttered, already feeling a slight twitch in his pants.

"That so? ..Is he like Frank?" Donnie shook his head, no. "No..no, he's nothing like Frank, he's.." He bit his lip, slightly giggling. "He's real." Dr. Thurman took that as a note to most likely stop. Because if Donnie liked this boy, then his pants would be unbuttoned again.

"Do you have any romantic interest in him?" Donnie looked over at her, eyes practically closed but not too much. "You gonna call me a fag if I say I do?" Dr. Thurman shook her head. "No, if you have interest in him we should discuss it." She almost felt the need to say 'For his safety' but she kept it shut.

"Would you mind explaining more?" Bad idea.

"Mh.. well.." His body shifted on the couch a bit. "His body..I love it..I wanna be all over it." Taking a breath, he continued on. "And fuck him..really really hard, feel him squirm and moan out my name." His hands went to his pants, unbuttoning somewhat slower.

"He's so sweet to me..wonder if his moans are sweeter..if his hole is as tight as my fist when I—" "Donnie. I need you to..explain something else." She didn't want to hear that.

"Explain what..how I look at him while he's asleep and awake? Sniff his clothes? Fantasize about using his body how I'd like? That what you wanna hear?" Dr. Thurman clapped her hands.

"that's enough for today Donnie."

"Morning Donnie." You gave him your usual wave, smiling over at him. He reciprocated, before reminding himself of something.

"Oh— hey, wait a minute." He stopped you, grabbing your arms. "Do you wanna..go out? Somewhere? Sometime?" He went silent as you seemed dumbfounded, his heart feeling heavy and he felt sort of angry.

Why were you looking at him like that? Confused? Did you not want him like he did? "Like, today? Sure why not." Then you smiled at him, and he felt himself get less tense.

"Great."

[puck-luck]

omg your celly is so cute! i’d like to order a cappuccino with cold foam for luke hughes. i just really want something cute or playful with yearning from luke. maybe friends or friends with benefits? i hope this makes sense and i did this right, thank uuu

thank you!! i hope this was enough yearning for you, i'm thinking that luke really does want something more with y/n. i think y/n just doesn't want anything to change between them. we'll see if this blurb continues in the future (i might add a pt.2 in another celly request<3)

“Oooh, Y/N and Luke are going in the closet,” Kayleigh chirps. Rutger sits next to her, arm slung over her shoulders. He sticks out his tongue, grinning widely. Similar chirps echo through the room as you and Luke stand up, rolling your eyes and making a face at all of the onlookers. They’re making a big deal out of this game and the fact that you and Luke are going into the closet for seven minutes. What they don’t know is that you and Luke started hooking up in his first semester at UMich and it has continued through each of his visits back to the state.

“Oooh,” Luke mocks as he closes the door, plunging you both into darkness. He turns around and faces you, grinning widely.

“I can’t believe I have to be in the closet with you,” you bemoan, pinching your lips together and scrunching your nose fondly when Luke rolls his eyes and shakes his head, his whole body sagging. As he stands back to his full height, though, his smile is wider that Rut’s.

“I know,” Luke responds. “It’s such a joke. You and me in the closet? As if anything would ever happen between us.”

You chuckle, biting your lower lip lightly as Luke locks the door behind him. The click sounds and your eyebrows twitch, daring Luke to come closer.

He does. He approaches you with his tongue poking through his bite, giggling breathlessly as he cradles your face and sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. He consumes you whenever he kisses you, always treating it like it’s the last time he’ll get the chance. 

“Is this all we’re going to do in our seven minutes?” you ask between kisses. 

Luke hums, tongue stroking yours sensually. “Consider it foreplay.”

“You confident that you’ll get to home base tonight?”

“You think I won’t?”

Now it’s your turn to hum, tilting your head to the left and reconnecting with Luke when he tilts to his left. “Hmm, I don’t know. Don’t you have to leave soon? Go back to your parents’ house since you don’t live here anymore?”

Luke makes a wounded noise, his hand trailing down from your jaw to cup your tit. “Are you making fun of me?”

You giggle. “I’d never.”

Luke’s kisses turn softer. It’s probably been four or five minutes now, so your time is coming to an end. You’ll have to separate soon, but it’s so hard when Luke’s entire palm is sealed over your breast comfortably. If you had more time, Luke would brush his fingertips beneath the underwire of your bra or reach past the cup to thumb over your nipple. 

“You should meet them,” Luke murmurs. “I think they’d like to meet the girl I’ve been sleeping with for a couple of years now.”

“Careful, Lu,” you warn in your sweetest voice. You twirl a curl around one of your fingers, tugging gently. You brush his lips again. “One of these days, someone will start to think that you like-like me.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” Luke ponders aloud. He smiles into the kiss and moves his palm from your chest to your behind. He smooths over your ass, digging his fingers into the meat there before letting go. “I feel like someone has been saying that for a while now.”

“Oh, but he only says it when he’s having sex,” you tease. “It really confuses a girl.”

“Well if the girl comes to meet my parents…” Luke trails off. He fills your mouth with one last sweep of his tongue and plants a kiss on your neck. “It’s not really just when we have sex, is it?”

“Maybe sometimes when you’re on the road, but then you usually start jerking off.” You beam up at him, hands removed from his body and clasped behind your back. “But I don’t mind.” You let your eyes roam down his figure before your friends outside open the door and catch you and Luke in a situation. “You should wear looser pants next time we play Seven Minutes in Heaven. Inviting me to meet your parents really gives you a stiffy.”

He grins at you and tries to adjust himself into a position less noticeable. “Better?”

You shake your head, snickering. “It’s just too big, Lukey…”

“Don’t– talk about how big my dick is,” Luke says through gritted teeth. “You’re going to make it worse.”

You brush past him towards the door, cupping his cock through his pants. “Size kink?”

Luke hisses at you, sucking air through his teeth and circling his fingers around your wrist. He pulls your hand away, holding it in front of his chest, far away from his crotch. “Stop it.”

You wiggle your fingers at him and unlock the door with your other hand, twisting the knob and leaving Luke to sort out his big problem.

[ink-stainedkiss]

Boxer Katsuki Bakugo Headcannons ✧˖°

Boxer!Katsuki who finds it endearing that you research his opponents before his matches. While he doesn’t expect you, nor need you to, it shows how much you care about and support his career. In the car, if you give him a fact about the person he’s fighting, he’ll nod and accept the information. And sure, his manager and coach have already told him everything he needs to know, but he would never tell you that.

Boxer!Katsuki who always gets you into his games for free. No discussion. You walk in with the undefeated Dynamight, nobody is questioning you. The staff practically acts like you’re on the same level as Katsuki, but that’s because they know if they were to treat you rudely, Katsuki wouldn’t be too happy.

Boxer!Katsuki who lets you relax in his locker room. He loves practicing his moves while you watch, because you aren’t very subtle when you stare at his chest. Katsuki doesn’t complain though and he prides himself on how much you love his figure. He’ll add cocky comments now and then, telling you to quit gawking, but the threats are never truthful.

You sat on a foldable chair next to the wall of lockers as your boyfriend struck a large punching bag over and over. Sweat beaded down his forehead, making his blonde hair stick to the skin. Grunts and pants pushed their way out of his mouth and occasionally he would let out short growls. Even if you were ‘mindlessly scrolling on your phone’ you knew that Katsuki was sexy as hell. A smirk appeared on your face at the thought. Unknowingly, your boyfriend had caught you looking like a pervert at him and he slowed the swinging bag, raising a brow at your lost-in-thought face.

“Like what you see?” He teased from afar, noticing how you were torn from your thoughts and a small blush appeared on your face. You scoffed, going back to your phone that had turned off from lack of use,”I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckled, obviously not believing you for a second,”You sure? ‘Cause it looks like you’re drooling over me.”

You looked up, glaring at the man, which he only found cute,”You’re clearly seeing things, maybe you want me to look at you.” Katsuki realized you wouldn’t accept your defeat and moved off of the platform, smirking as you didn’t look up from your screen. He removed one of his gloves and lifted your chin,”I’m just messing with you.” Before you could comment and deny, he locked his lips with yours, smiling just a bit as you melted against his mouth.

Boxer!Katsuki who doesn’t care if someone walks in during your guy’s make out sesh. You’ll stand next to him, blushing like crazy, and Katsuki won’t even bat an eye. He has his hand resting on your waist, listening to whatever the person had to say. He really doesn’t care about Pda and if he wants a kiss, he’s gonna get a kiss. In the beginning of your relationship, you often worried how the media would react to it, but after a certain game, Katsuki kissed you right in front of the cameras. He made it clear he didn’t give a shit what people thought about the two of you.

Boxer!Katsuki who finds it cute that you worry so much about him. He’s been boxing for years now and no one frets over his being as much as you do. When his manager tells him he has five minutes before entering the ring, he gives you a long kiss, then always expects you to tell him to be safe. If his opponent is known for being rough in the ring, then you are extra stressed out. You understand that there are paramedics for a reason and injuries are bound to happen, but you can’t stand to see Katsuki in pain.

Boxer!Katsuki who almost winds up late to the match because he forgets the time and can’t seem to leave without one more kiss. Though his manager gets annoyed, he could never ask you to leave, because if Katsuki heard of this, he would immediately drop him and find someone new to be his manager. Which wouldn’t be hard since people are already obsessed over his records and fame.

Boxer!Katsuki who searches for you in the crowd as he’s being introduced. Without failing, he’ll scan past the screaming and crazed fans and see you in the reserved area. Sometimes, you love having a little surprise for him as he walks out. Since he’s portrayed as a big bad boxer, you like making him chuckle by making large cardboard cutouts of his face and waving them around proudly.

Boxer!Katsuki who fights like an underdog coming to their senses and finally realizing their strength. And it’s all for you. He hits hard and fast, making sure when the ref breaks them up, he sneaks a glance at you and your astonished face.

Boxer!Katsuki who if he does end up with a small injury after the fight, like a nose bleed or his face burning up, never goes to the provided nurses, instead he lets you take care of him. Before you met Katsuki you had taken some medical classes for small things and injuries, so he sees you as a perfect nurse for him.

You had been sitting in the locker room for a while now, resting in the nicer area with a small tv and a large couch. When the door opened, you quickly looked over, gasping softly as you took notice of your boyfriend. He was wearing a bedazzled robe with his title on the back and still in his gloves but you were only focusing on the scarlet liquid dripping from his nose. Instantly you rise from the couch, grabbing his hand and yanking him to the wash room,”I didn’t see your nose start bleeding out there.”

He had a lazy smile as you walked around the bathroom, taking immediate action for something so small,”It started in the hallway and I knew you would help me.” You huffed, knowing he could easily clean it himself, but he needed you to do it. Although, you would be lying if you said you didn’t love seeing him watch you with such adoring eyes.

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed and you retried a small cotton pad and alcohol. You got to work, using the dry gauze to soak up any of the fresh blood,”You did good out there.” The boxer chuckled under his breath, wrapping an arm around your waist to drag you closer,”Just good?” You tossed the cotton into a small bin beside the two of you, smirking at his words,”Well, I can’t boost your ego that much.”

The blonde’s grin grew and leaned in for a kiss, but you put a finger up, pushing him away,”You still have blood all over you.” He frowned, suddenly not liking his bloodied nose. Fortunately for Katsuki, it didn’t take long for you to wipe away the dried substance that had gotten as far as his collarbone.

Once you were done, you put away the supplies and finally you cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a slow kiss. Alas, it didn’t last long as you felt his face was hot to the touch.

Boxer!Katsuki who rested his head in your lap, a cold rag across his forehead, and talked on about the fight from his perspective. You watched him dreamily, humming in response to his words, and you played with his messy golden locks. All you could really think about was how the media would react if they found out their scary champion, who had just K.O’d his opponent an hour earlier, enjoyed being pampered by his loving girlfriend.

[iateyourparents]

hello! could you write johnnie guilbert fluff? maybe a scenario where him and fem!reader are spending a day together (filming a video, doing random stuff) just being two people in love and jake and tara tease them and call them a married couple

deaf, mute and blind | j.g.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x fem!reader

summary: you, johnnie and jake are recording a new challenge video.

warnings: use of y/n, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry but english isn’t my first language)

an: hi, thank you <33 hope you like it!

pictures are from pinterest :)

“Hi guys, it’s me, Tara, and today I’m here with Jake, y/n and Johnnie.” Tara introduced you and you all waved to the camera.

“Hi!” you greeted her viewers.

“Today I’m gonna torture my guests… No, but I wish.” she pouted and you all laughed “Today, my guests will be playing into deaf, mute and blind but…they will have many challenges and quests to do throughout the day. But they main goal is to do shopping and bake me cookies! Any words guys?”

“I hope I get deaf, cause I don’t think I can go much longer with them talking.” you rolled your eyes looking at Jake and your boyfriend.

“Hey!” Johnnie gasped pretending to be offended, placing hand on his chest “That hurt love.”

You only rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that was forcing its way onto your face.

“Alright, so now they will draw sticks and get to know what senses will be taken from them!” Tara showed her viewers three sticks and then she turned to you “Ladies first.”

You took the one in the middle and immediately looked at written words.

“Yeah! I’m deaf today!” You did a little winning dance. Next one choosing stick was Johnnie and he got mute.

“Oh, so I will be blind.” Jake stated “That’s good actually, at least I don’t have to look at your ugly faces.” he smirked and you laughed.

Tara handed you all your things - blindfold for Jake, duck tape for Johnnie and earphones for you.

“Let me also add, that the person who won’t do the most of their mini challenges, has to take a cold shower on the street!” Tara smiled mischievously.

“Is this enough to charge her with domestic abuse?” Jake asked kind of scared.

When everyone was ready Tara started talking to the camera and you could only guess she was explaining to people what you gonna do and not long later Johnnie took your hand to let you know you were going out. You both helped blindfolded Jake to the car and Tara drove you to the nearest store.

She turned on the camera and pointed it at you and Johnnie. You didn’t see anyone talking so you decided to speak “I think Tara already told you guys but we’re making cookies so now we have to find all of the needed ingredients.” you informed and Tara pointed the camera to Johnnie who was gesturing towards some alley. He took your hand and started dragging you there with Tara going behind you but you suddenly stopped, remembering something.

You quickly turned around and jogged to Jake to walk him to Johnnie and Tara. He said something that made Tara laugh and Johnnie’s arms shudder in a silent laugh.

You really started to regret wanting to be deaf one, because not hearing anything yet seeing it, made you frustrated. Also, not hearing Johnnie made you kinda sad. But atleast you listened to your favorite songs.

You all went to grocery alley where Jake gave you his phone so you and Johnnie could find all ingredients for cookies.

Tara was pointing the camera on you all the time and you decided to speak from time to time in case she and Jake weren’t saying anything.

“So we will be doing chocolate chip cookies. Or rather we will be trying to instruct Jake to do it without hurting himself or poisoning us.” you felt a light push on your shoulder and you laughed seeing how Jake was struggling with trying to not miss your form while hitting.

Johnnie swatted Jake’s hand when he tried to hit your shoulder again and side hugged you while looking for flour.

“Johnnie, we need flour for cakes, this one is for bread.” you told him and he gave you a ‘what the hell’ face and you knew that if he could talk and you hear, he would be asking about the difference.

“Alright, I think we got everything.” you stated when you found everything and you all went to cashier’s stands where everyone was looking at you like at idiots, but that wasn’t anything new with Johnnie and Jake.

Tara quickly paid when it was yours turn and you and Johnnie walked Jake to the car.

When you were at home you quickly started to prepare kitchen for your baking.

Suddenly, you felt someone tugging gently at your arm and you saw Johnnie pointing ahead of you. You saw Tara pointing the camera at you all and you took it as a clue to start talking.

“Alright, so now we will be trying to instruct Jake how to make cookie dough, wish us luck!” you smiled sarcastically.

You somehow were cooperating well, Johnnie was showing you the recipe and you were reading it for Jake who then with your and yours boyfriend help were making most of the work.

When cookies were in the oven you didn’t have anything better to do so you sat on the floor in front of the oven and you were just looking at the cookies.

Some time later Johnnie joined you, sitting next to you and placing his head on your shoulder. You hugged him into your side and he gladly snuggled into you, kissing your shoulder.

You sat there for a few minutes, when Tara came to you with a camera and some bowl and told something to Johnnie and then showed you her phone, where she wrote in the notes that now you will be doing random challenges before you could take the cookies out from the oven. It would decide who is the loser of the video.

You all stood in the living room and Tara came to you with the bowl and you took one piece of paper.

“I’ve got ‘activity without your sense’” you read it for them and viewers out loud and then showed the piece of paper to the camera.

Moment later Tara gave you another paper, which turned out to be an instruction what your activity was.

“So I have to call a random contact and try to have normal conversation with that person. That will be hard.” you sighed “Can Johnnie and Jake help me? Like by gesturing?” You looked at Tara and she only nodded.

You looked at the camera and smiled “I’m actually kinda scared that they will gesturing wrong things and I will make a fool of myself.” you laughed and you could see Tara snorting.

Your challenges were done, it wasn’t that bad or at least you were hoping so.

Then you took the cookies out of the oven and tried them when they weren’t hot. They were really good.

“Teamwork makes a dream work, i guess.” you smiled at the camera.

Then you could finally take off the earphones and you were never as grateful for hearing Jake and Johnnie as now.

“God, it’s so good to hear people again. I missed your voice.” you told Johnnie who smiled widely at you and kissed your cheek.

“I’m glad to see again, but I’m scared of how many bruises I’ve got today.” Jake laughed while still trying to get use to the light in the room.

“Alright guys, they made it.” Tara smiled at the camera “I can’t with how cute y/n and Johnnie were today. Literally goals. You were like and old married couple.” she giggled and you smiled.

“So, who’s the loser?” Jake asked after few minutes.

“You Jake.” You laughed “You didn’t do any of your challenges correctly.”

“That’s true.” Tara smirked “You will do your punishment later.”

You stopped recording for some time so Tara could get all of the needed things for Jake’s punishment, so you and Johnnie went to sit on the couch while hugging.

“I really missed your voice today.” you admitted again quietly.

“And I missed talking to you.” he smiled “And kissing you.” he kissed you.