#Country Time lemonade

[goshyesvintageads]

American Bottling Co, 1978

[tasiaadams33]

Country Time Lemonade Is Fantastic.

[oetscop]

nvm i like people again this is the sweetest person in the whole world

[schumigrace]

still mad about missing the northern lights but I'm currently sunbathing underneath this sky. so everything is okay

[motomamita]

fugitive!könig × naive!farmer!reader

warnings: smut, +18, no condom, innocence kink, breeding kink, baby trapping, virginity loss, female reader, dub-con!!

fugitive!könig who managed to escape the law, after committing several crimes, and now travels throughout the country hiding his identity.

On one of his many trips he ends up arriving at a small town, almost lost in time, where its few inhabitants live off their animal farms and orchards. Apparently no one had televisions, and the few radios only broadcast music that was overshadowed by static. This ensured that no one there would be able to recognize him and gave him the opportunity to stay and rest for a few hours.

Tired of walking and extremely hungry, König sat down in a small cafe to have a drink. The people around him looked at him strangely, not only because they didn't know him but also because of his intimidating appearance. His back was broad, he had long legs, and the muscles in his arms were noticeable even though he was wearing a wind jacket that covered him. However, no one seemed to be bothered by his presence, the people there loved tourists and König seemed completely like one.

When it was time to pay, he noticed that he had ordered and consumed more than he could afford. He was about to offer some of his "camping" knives in exchange for the money he was missing until a figure approached him.

"Don't worry if you don't have the money to pay." you spoke with a sweet voice and doing everything possible so that Konig would not feel embarrassed. "I sell the fruits to the owner of the place so I'm sure I can reach an agreement with him."

König was fascinated by you. Not only because of your timely friendliness but also your very natural and almost unique appearance that was very difficult to find in other places. You were wearing a jean gardener, some comfortable shoes and you were carrying a basket that minutes ago was full of fruits and vegetables from your garden. König looked down, somewhat shy and not knowing how to react to you, the truth is that during his escape he had not met many friendly people.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you for anything in return." You smiled when you saw that no words came out of his mouth. "Here we greatly appreciate tourists and travelers, after all they are the ones who keep this small town from turning into a ghost town."

You invited König to take refuge in your small house for as long as he needed before leaving again for another place. König accepted, surprised at your remarkable naivety in letting a complete stranger into your house and providing him with all the care.

When he arrived, you showed him where the shower was and what his room would be where he could rest. You left a clean change of clothes on his bed and selflessly went off to make dinner. Once he cleaned, König followed the delicious smell and came to the kitchen where you were on your back stirring a large pot of what seemed to be a stew. You were so focused that you didn't notice the presence of the big man behind you. he thought about how easy it would be to cut your neck with one of those long knives you had there. But the idea quickly disappeared when you turned around and a wide smile formed on your face when you saw him.

That stew was the best he had tasted in a long time, so much so that he served himself 3 plates, leaving you totally pleased. The next morning, König didn't really know exactly what to do. He could stay one more night and wake up in the middle of the night to raid your entire home, even leave after having a trip with you. He was hesitant, and that hesitation turned into doubt when you offered to cut his hair and trim his long beard, which he accepted.

That same afternoon König sat down to drink a lemonade made by you while he watched you harvest super large, red strawberries from a distance. He fixed his gaze on the way your pants hugged your butt in a tempting way and how you hummed a melody quietly that he couldn't make out. A tingling appeared in König's tummy and he suddenly noticed an erection growing inside his pants. You looked so pretty, so innocent. It was obvious from afar that you didn't kill a fly and that your care for him was sincere.

The days passed and König seemed to have no intention of leaving, that didn't bother you at all. Now he helped you with the heavy work on the farm, carrying large amounts of hay on his shoulder and feeding the animals. His favorite activity was watching you milk the cows, fantasizing about your hands and the way the milk dripped from them.

His approaches to you intensified, taking advantage of the slightest opportunity to touch you or rub against you. he soon discovered that you had no idea about any sexual activity, acting confused at his double meaning words and insinuations. You were the perfect muse to fulfill all his fantasies without anyone being able to stop him.

Your parents had died a long time ago, leaving you alone in charge of the big farm and all the obligations of the adult world. That led König to think that life on that farm couldn't be bad. He knew how to handle hard work well and you did everything you could to teach him and please him. The idea of ​​starting from scratch, with you there, totally convinced him.

You were a healthy, hard-working woman and you needed someone like konig with you. But König needed to have something that would force you to keep him there with you, forever and that would confirm the mutual love that you both had to give each other. That's when he found the solution: he had to get you pregnant.

That afternoon he made a point that you wouldn't leave the stable until you were full of his cum. He started by complimenting your dress and how pretty that color looked on you. Then the caresses that increased in intensity until he managed to let you be carried away by him and his carnal desire. Now he had you under him, with your skirt up and your underwear hanging from one of your feet. Out of desperation, König only lowered his pants to his heels, even with his work boots on. You were on a large pile of hay, sweating from the great summer heat and moaning loudly.

His thrusts were brutal, making their way inside you that you barely had time to understand everything that was happening. The pleasure was so much that you could barely think about anything other than König's gaze and the way his balls slapped your ass.

"Oh, baby. You're so so tight.. And wet, shit" König groaned, sighing loudly at the pleasure your pussy was giving him. "Tell me, how did a cute little thing like you stay a virgin for so long, huh?" You opened your mouth to answer but only moans came out. "Uh? Talk to me, sweetheart, talk to me.."

"I.. I don't know.." you managed to say, overstimulated by everything. König's rough shirt rubbed against your clit, giving both pleasure and pain. König was so big that he covered you with his entire body, leaving you with almost no place to breathe air other than his breath.

"Uh? Don't you know? These farm boys are idiots... They wouldn't know how to please a pretty thing like you..." König cut off his sentence to get even closer to you and kiss you, putting his tongue inside your mouth. You tried to keep up with him but that triggered the kiss to be even wetter and hotter for him.

"König.. Give me more, please!" He smiled as he heard the urgency in your broken voice. You looked so pretty like that, almost not understanding what was happening but still pleased and eager for him to give you even more.

He, ready to please you, grabbed your legs and raised them to your shoulder, adopting a new position. His thrusts continued, his fat cock forcing its way into your no longer so virgin pussy and the simple sound of your skin slapping together made your warm walls embrace him. Not really knowing what to do, you brought your hands to König's big, muscular shoulders, feeling a few scars on them.

"Oh, my pretty little thing.. I'm going to fill you inside and you're going to be the prettiest mom in this whole damn town.." You dug your nails into his shoulder and your gaze was filled with confusion. "You like it, huh? You're going to make me so happy, isn't that what you want?"

You hesitated for a few seconds, not sure what he meant but his cock rammed even deeper into you leaving you almost without any thought. Tears formed in your eyes from the pleasure and absolute adoration with which he looked at you.

"Come on, mommy.. Make me happy, carry my precious baby.."

In the same way that König had managed to get his way in prison, he had gotten his way with you. Now you both lived together as a couple on the farm, happy and with a baby on the way inside your fertile womb.

[urmum-lovesme]

Dad!Rafe coming home to an unexpected visitor...

Y/n sat on the couch, her baby gently cradled in her arms as she swayed back and forth, humming softly to soothe her. It was the end of a long day, and despite the overwhelming joy of motherhood, she was hoping that Rafe would come back home soon so she could have five minutes of ‘mommy time’. He had to leave today, much to his complaints, to go and check up on the Cameron Development office. She had encouraged him, why wouldn’t she? She knew how hard he had worked to get where he is, but it felt weird being alone with their daughter, the absence of his everyday presence for the past month was going to take a while to adapt to. Suddenly, there was a knock on the front door- a loud, insistent knock that echoed through the house. The voice that followed was unmistakable,

“C’mon, country club I ain’t got all day.”

Y/n’s lips curved into a small smile, recognising the familiar tone of Barry’s voice. She shifted the baby gently in her arms and rose to answer the door. When Y/n had first met Barry, she had been skeptical. After all, the guy was a drug dealer, and she knew well enough that people in that line of work weren’t exactly known for their warm personalities or moral compass. At first, she had kept her distance, unsure of how to navigate the relationship between Rafe's closest friend and herself. But over time, Y/n realised that Barry was a little different from what she had expected. He had never once treated her like an outsider, and while his exterior remained tough, he always showed her respect. Barry wasn’t as bad as people said. 

In fact, they actually got along quite well.

As she opened the door, Barry stood on the other side, leaning casually against the frame. His eyes immediately flicked to the baby in her arms, but his expression remained unreadable.

“Hey Barry,” Y/n greeted, her voice soft and calm, “Rafe’s not back yet.”

Barry blinked, clearly surprised for a moment, then let out a low laugh. “Shi, my bad, princess,” he said, adjusting the weight of the bag he had slung over his shoulder. 

“Wasn’t expectin' a welcome party.”

Y/n chuckled lightly and stepped aside to let him in. “You wanna come in? Rafe’ll be back in a bit- well I think...” Barry hesitated for a brief second, looking past her into the house before nodding. 

“Aight, why not.”

Barry’s heavy footsteps filtered through the halls of Tannyhill, as he plopped himself down onto the couch getting comfortable, bag once slung over his shoulder now shrugged to the floor. Y/n navigated over to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge door, the cool air brushed past her face as her eyes scanned the shelves. She reached for a chilled pitcher of lemonade, balancing it with one hand while adjusting the baby’s position with the other. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, she poured the liquid with practiced ease, the sound of it filling the quiet between Barry’s heavy sighs from the living room.

“Here” 

She said softly, making her way back to him. With the baby still cradled in her arm, she handed him the glass. Barry took it, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the lemonade. 

“No beer?” 

He teased, a playful grin tugging at his lips. Y/n’s eyes narrowed slightly as she side eyed him, her head tilting just enough to give Barry a look that was equal parts warning and amusement. 

“Don’t push your luck” 

She murmured, her voice light but firm. Barry chuckled, throwing his hands up in mock innocence. 

“Aight, aight, my bad mama” 

He said, leaning back into the couch, the grin still plastered on his face. She rolled her eyes, but a small smile betrayed her as it tugged at her lips. Y/n eased herself onto the large couch, careful not to jostle the baby, who had begun to settle against her chest. Barry glanced over, taking a sip of the lemonade. 

“You make this?” he asked, she gave him a glance, as she nodded, “mhmm.”

“S’good,”

He admitted, leaning forward to set the empty glass on the coffee table. As he looked to her his gaze softened slightly, he glanced at the baby in her arms, though he quickly masked it with his usual neutral expression. 

“Man, Country Club got lucky with you," he muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "ain’t no clue how he did that.”

Y/n chuckled softly, her hand gently patting the baby’s back as her little hand fisted her mother’s top. “He’s lucky, all right,” she agreed, looking down at her little girl, “but I think it’s the other way around most days.”

Barry raised an eyebrow at her, his expression changing a little as he took in the sight of her with the baby, a quiet respect in his eyes that he didn't often show. He cleared his throat, leaning back slightly in his seat as he tried to keep his usual tough-guy persona intact. His voice was quieter than usual, and Y/n caught the subtle shift, the care hidden beneath his typically gruff tone,

“How she doin'? Been a lotta noise in here tonight.” 

“She’s good. Just a little fussy,” Y/n replied, smiling softly at the baby, “She’s usually like this around bedtime, but I also think she just misses her daddy…”

Barry grunted, nodding as he looked down at the baby in her arms again, the similarity between the little girl and Rafe was uncanny. The baby had inherited Rafe's striking blue eyes and even her furrowed brow mirrored Rafe's intense expressions, a trait that often unsettled those around him. It was as if a smaller, innocent version of Rafe was cradled in Y/n's arms. Suddenly, a wave of urgency hit Y/n. She gnawed at her lip as she bounced the baby in her arms slightly before she sat up on the couch moving towards Barry, speaking out,

 “Hey, uh, do you mind holding her for a second? I really need to use the bathroom-”

Barry blinked, eyebrows furrowing in hesitation as she now stood in front of him, still gently rocking the baby in her arms.

“Listen, princess, I ain’t ever held no baby 'fore” 

He said, his voice slightly tight, clearly uncomfortable at the thought. Y/n laughed softly before shaking her head, “It’s just for a minute. I’ll be right back. Please?” She shifted the baby in her arms, her gaze imploring. After a beat, Barry sighed heavily, hand rubbing over his face, though there was no real anger in his tone. 

“Shi, alright, I’ll hold her.”

With some reluctance from him, Y/n carefully passed the baby to Barry, watching closely as he took her into his arms. He held her awkwardly at first, unsure of how to manage such a fragile little thing, but Y/n gave him a reassuring smile before quickly heading toward the bathroom.

As she disappeared into the other room, Barry shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a more natural hold on the baby. His hands moved cautiously, but as he adjusted, the baby made a little noise- a content huff- and he relaxed a little. He glanced down at the little face staring up at him, and for a second, his usual bravado slipped. As he adjusted, the baby let out a soft coo and her tiny hand reached up, instinctively grasping one of his fingers.

Barry froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as the little hand curled around his finger. His face softened, a rare, almost tender expression crossing his features. He gently adjusted his hold, ensuring the baby was comfortable, and for a moment, he just stared at her with something close to awe in his gaze.

“Shi-,” he muttered under his breath. “You kinda cute, huh?”

Rafe walked into the living room, a bag of takeout in his hand, ready to settle in for a quiet evening. But as soon as he stepped through the doorway, he froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

There, on the sofa, sat Barry- his usually hard-edged friend, the man who’d never been the type to do anything too tender or gentle. And yet, there he was, with Rafe’s baby girl cradled in his arms like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Barry was leaning back against the cushions, completely at ease now, the baby cooing softly in his hands. His gaze was softer than Rafe had ever seen, his usually sharp and intimidating presence replaced with a strange calmness as he looked down at the little girl. Rafe’s initial shock quickly faded into a mix of amusement and disbelief. He raised an eyebrow, stepping further into the room with a quiet chuckle. Just as he was about to say something, Y/n appeared at the doorway walking to Rafe, looking over at the scene with a smile that immediately softened her features.

“Aww, Rafe, look at that,” 

She said, her voice full of affection as she watched Barry with their baby. Rafe paused, his eyes flicking from his daughter to Barry, then back again. A grin spread across his face as he wrapped his arm around Y/n’s side. 

“I think we got ourselves a new babysitter,” he teased. Barry’s eyes narrowed, and with his usual bluntness, he shot back, 

“Shut yo bitch ass up”

“Hey! Watch your mouth in front of my daughter”

He said, his tone playful but with an edge of protection. Barry raised an eyebrow, but the tension broke when he let out a small laugh, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, yeah- we best friends now, ain't we cuz?”

He muttered, turning his attention to the baby cradled in his arms. The baby blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes, her tiny mouth opening in a silent "O" before a soft, contented coo bubbled out. Her little fists wiggled, and she kicked her legs faintly, her whole body giving that jerky, uncoordinated movement typical of a baby her age. Barry’s grin widened as he pointed to her. 

“See that?

Rafe shook his head, a faint laugh rising from his chest, “Man, she doesn’t even know who you are yet.”

“Nah, nah-” he replied confidently, leaning back on the couch. “She knows her uncle Barry, don't ya sweetheart.”

The baby let out another soft sound, something between a sigh and a happy gurgle, her tiny face scrunching in what could almost pass as a smile. Y/n laughed softly at the exchange, moving closer to the couch, with Rafe close behind her, his arms around her waist as they two looked down at their daughter. Y/n looked at Barry, her expression warm. 

“You’re good with her, Barry,” she said, a note of gratitude in her voice.

Barry gave a small shrug, his usual tough-guy persona slipping back into place, but there was a subtle softness in his eyes as he looked down at the baby. 

“She’s cool,” he said, his voice gruff but genuine, “ain’t as bad as people think.”

Rafe rested his head against Y/n’s as he watched his friend, amused. He teased, eyeing Barry with a grin. 

“Just don’t get too attached.”

[autumnrory]

cowboy carter is absolutely my fave beyonce album since lemonade like it doesn't seem like a lot that i've already listened twice in two days but for me who so often is like okay i'll listen to a new release and then come back to it in a week or so bc i'm listening to so much other stuff it does show how much i'm into this one

[rafeslittlepup]

Rafe taking bunny out for dinner for one of his business meetings and all his colleagues are like obsessed with how much of a sweetie she is

rafe hand rests on the small of her back as they all step into the country club’s dining room, his zegna suit crisp, and her dress cream and lacy and far too delicate. she clutches her tiny clutch like it’s holy, her nails a pale bunny pink, her perfume sweet and powdery like baby’s breath.

“evenin’, gentlemen,” rafe says, all slow southern charm, tugging her a little closer as they approach the long table of men in navy jackets and ties.

their eyes immediately flick to her.

“this your wife?” one asks, blinking like he’s seen a doll.

rafe doesn’t answer right away, at first he just glances down at her. she’s beaming, all shy, doing that soft bunny smile with her lipgloss sparkling under the chandelier light. then turns back to the man with a smirk like hell yeah, she is.

“sure is.”

they’re all polite at first, “you’re even prettier than your pictures,” “how do you put up with this one?”…. but it’s obvious. they’re all enchanted. she doesn’t talk much, just giggles and twirls her straw in her grapefruit lemonade (that rafe ordered for her, of course), but every time she laughs at one of his jokes or tilts her head like she’s listening so carefully, they look at him like “you lucky bastard”.

“she’s just—so well-behaved,” one whispers to another when she excuses herself to the powder room.

“yeah man, mine would’ve been on her phone the whole damn time.”

rafe hears it and smirks, sipping his bourbon slowly.

when she comes back, he stands, pulls her chair out for her, then leans close just to whisper “you’re makin’ ‘em all jealous, bunny.”

and she giggles, blushing a little. “why?”

he kisses her cheek, murmurs against her skin, “‘cause you’re perfect.”

[trendfag]

i should start making lemonade regularly

[miryum]

☆ 18+ minors dni ☆

Cowboy!Jason Todd who commandeered an impressive ranch out in the country. He came into town every once in a while to get supplies, but also to flirt with the leathersmith’s daughter (you). You always adored seeing him swagger into your daddy’s shop, all confident and smirking. He was just a year or two older than you and the whole town knew that you were practically taken. It was only a matter of time before he asked your father for your hand and you moved out onto his ranch

Cowboy!Jason Todd who, when he finally married you, took you to his ranch house and made you his pretty little wife

Cowboy!Jason Todd took his work very seriously. He loved horses and tending to cattle. The only thing he didn’t like was when he had to go on long cattle drives for weeks on end and had to be away from you. He didn’t like the extra strain it put on you and he knew you didn’t sleep as well when he was away.

Cowboy!Jason Todd who would often lie under the stars, wondering if you were doing the same

Cowboy!Jason Todd who knew it was pointless to send you letters when he was away. The mail was just too finicky and by the time they got back to you, he’d be home already. But he did it anyway. He grinned whenever you would run out into the fields where he was working, clutching a letter he had written a month ago, but you had just received

Cowboy!Jason Todd loved when he would return home from one of his cattle drives and you would run from the house, a wide smile on your face. He would jump off his horse and meet you halfway, picking you up and spinning you around – just how it happened in those books you read

Cowboy!Jason Todd who felt bad for all the work you had to do around the house when he was out with the animals. You cleaned the house, prepared the food, tended to the chickens, and did the laundry. You even brought out lunches for Jason and the workers everyday, paired with some lemonade or crisp water. Of course, he rewarded you with little gifts from all his trips and fulfilling every one of your wishes in bed (which we’ll get to later)

Cowboy!Jason Todd employed only one ranch hand – a young boy named Damian who you soon came to view as your own. He stayed on the farm with you, as ranch hands did. You made sure the boy got enough to eat and patched up all his clothes he tore. Jason couldn’t help but watch fondly as you would sit at the table after dinner as he did the dishes, muttering to yourself that “the poor boy grows too much. What are we gonna do with him?!” Jason would let his mind stray to how you would react when kids of your own skinned their knees or dirtied their clothes

Cowboy!Jason Todd didn’t mind if you wanted kids or not. He would give you whatever you wanted and would defend your wishes to everyone in town

Cowboy!Jason Todd who didn’t even go into town anymore. He didn’t have a reason to. He got his food from nearby farmers and knew how to take care of his tools. You didn’t really notice at first until you realised his leather saddle was a bit scuffed. You commented how your father could easily fix it, but Jason simply gave you a kiss on the cheek and told you he could do it. You didn’t believe him until you saw him with your own two eyes in the barn. You confronted him as to why he then even went to your father’s store if he could do it all by himself and he replied with a grin. “How else would I have met my future wife? Who, now I may add, is all mine.”

Cowboy!Jason Todd was a very fit man and his years as a cowboy did everything to help that. You loved watching him work – practically anything he did turned you on. There was when he was riding a horse and you watched the way his hips rocked on the saddle. There was when he was pitching hay for the horses and you watched how his biceps flexed and pulled deliciously. There was when he was sharpening the kitchen knives because you asked so sweetly and you watched the beads of sweat disappear under his collar. And there was when he was practicing his lassoing and unclipped his overalls, exposing his abs

Cowboy!Jason Todd always noticed when you ogled at him and god, did he love it. It made him feel like he was still worthy to be your husband

Cowboy!Jason Todd who almost never said no to when you would crawl up onto his lap and begin kissing him sweetly. His calloused hands would grip your hips and tug you closer. He loved to sit in his recliner because it had just the right amount of space for you to straddle him

Cowboy!Jason Todd was a torturous lover

Cowboy!Jason Todd who would either give it to you rough and quick or pull his hips back slowly before rolling into you. Every single damn time he would ask for consent about every single damn thing. And holy shit if it wasn’t hot as hell. After the first night when Damian couldn’t look Jason in the eye, he had suggested the boy move to the bedroom on the other side of the house. Damian readily agreed, not before throwing in a snarky remark

Cowboy!Jason Todd whose nails were always dirty, but you never minded

Cowboy!Jason Todd who loved to take your hand in his and kiss the simple diamond ring he had put on your finger the day he wedded you as a way of thanks

Cowboy!Jason Todd who also loved to mutter in your ear the vows he had spoken on your wedding day while thrusting into you

[janicekao]

Kryptonite

Pairing: Bo Chow x Black oc Summary: Bo Chow struggles to navigate through life being newly divorced from his wife, Grace. But a particular young woman who shops in his colored's only store has his nose wide opened and thinking that jumping back into the dating pool might not be so bad after all.

Warnings:#Sinners #JimCrowEra #TimePiece #1932 #NoVampires #Black!OC #AgeGap #OCisBratty #OCisAnnoying #OCisSlutty #LoveAffair #Spying #Stalking #RoughS3x #Coercion #CümW3aring #FanFiction #Smut #18+ #IDEK #BarelyProofRead #ItriedLol #NotManyImages

4k words Wattpad link Enjoy my babies<3 ---------------------

Bo Chow and his wife Grace own two grocery stores in the middle of Clarksdale, Mississippi. On one side of the street is a mart for white's only, and the other is colored's only. Between Bo, his wife, and their daughter Lisa, they separate through the day to have equal man-power in each store. Today, Bo restocks the colored store knowing that most of his black customers are sharecroppers who get paid at the end of the week, meaning that today (Tuesday) won't be very busy with shoppers, being that they are hard at work and haven't been paid yet. While Grace and Lisa service the whites store being that it's pretty much busy at all hours of the week.

They always feared that this partnership they have in running two businesses would soon split them apart— afraid that the separation during the day would also separate them at night... And being that Grace presented divorce papers to Bo only a few months ago, it seems that they spoke the separation into existence.

Is it possible to just fall out of love after so many years? Guess so, being that it is exactly what happened. After living such separate lives and hardly seeing each other in the day, it was like the Chows came home at night to strangers instead of their spouses. Although a failed marriage is never something to celebrate, one thing Bo and Grace Chow always know how to do is be great partners and parents to Lisa... Now with the divorce in motion, Bo has the opportunity to reach out to further places with his business skills. Soon he'll have more stores open across the country now that he's able to spread his wings. The plan is to open more stores and make enough money to take their very bright daughter out of the south. They always have hoped to take Lisa somewhere up north where she can get the best education and she'll never have to look back at Clarksdale again, and although it's taking a major sacrifice, at least the plan is finally in motion.

With divorce comes many changes. Thirty-four year old Bo Chow who has been married since he was fifteen has to learn how to be a single man again... and boy does it have his nose wide opened. From flirty exchanges, staying out at juke joints all night with friends, and jumping back into the dating pool, Bo can't help but to have his eyes on one girl in particular. Misses Ada Mae James. A girl so fine that Bo Chow is convinced she shits flowers and pisses lemonade. From her magnificent curves to her million-watt smile, Bo swoons for Ada like he's never been enchanted by a woman before.

He'd be lying if he said that he never took notice to Ada beforehand, he's only a man and he isn't a blind man at that. But to respect his wife and their two-decade long marriage, he knew it was always best to never stare for very long. But now that he's a free man, Ada James has quickly become Bo Chow's kryptonite— the only thing that can weaken the proud and loving family man with her lewd charm, cruel wit, and nonchalant ways of stringing him along like a dog on a leash.

As Bo continues to stack jars of pickled-eggs behind the counter, a gust of wind and the sound of his door chimes alarm his sixth sense— her presence is so strong to him that he knows each time when it's Ada James walking into his shop.

Gently turning to welcome her inside, they both stare without a word. So much to say, yet so little courage. Ava taunts him with her presence, not actually needing any groceries, she knows that this very moment is the best time to come and pick with his brain.

Bo hates that he can barely breathe— barely move around her. It's more than just a feeling of being hypnotized, but it's also his guilt about what recently had occurred. Guilty from the fact that since what happened the night before, Bo now knows every inch of her body, every strain of hair on her mound, and the way her knees shake when she's blinded by pleasure, all because he's seen it with his own two eyes... a secret between them that needs to continue to go unspoken.

Ada slowly struts through the colored's only grocery store with an unwavering stare at Bo Chow, she wears a dress far too shapely and short to be alone somewhere with a man and Ada knows this. Her hips sway with each step as she robs Bo Chow blind each second— stealing pieces of licorice and lemon drops, knowing that Bo won't say a word about it if it makes her happy.

He watches her in return as if she were a piece of the sweetest saltwater taffy. His mouth waters for her each second he lays eyes on her. Bo clears his throat, "did your mother send you with a list today?"

Never blinking, she refuses to respond. Ada opens the icebox, lifting a carton of eggs, and dropping them to the wooden floors of the store.

"Alright Ada James, that's twenty-five cent plus clean up and I know you ain't got the money for it." Being tested each second, Bo's nostrils widen as his chest pumps with angered breaths.

He places his veined-hardworking hands on his waist, "can I help you with something or not?"

Becoming a wasteful brat once more, Ada lifts a glass bottle of fresh milk from the icebox next... once again dropping it to ground as it shatters beside the mess of broken eggs. "Oops."

Bo huffs, immediately locking the front door and flipping the sign on the window to 'store closed.' "Back room—" he snatches her arm. "Now."

Caught by the bicep, Ada struggles to be released from Bo's powerful grip that has her nearing her tiptoes as she's pulled to the back of the store.

The back room is as much privacy as they're able to get although only hidden by a few shelves and saloon style-double doors that continuously flap open as they enter inside the room full of boxes. Ada finally retrieves her arm, snatching away with all her might as Bo towers over her with tensed muscles appearing beneath his rolled up sleeves. "Damn it Ada if you've come here to start some shit today—" his finger is pointed sternly at her face yet his focus is taken as Ada lifts her dress, revealing everything her mama gave her.

He gulps, "you're just— walking 'round all of Clarksdale with no panties on?"

"Not all of Clarksdale." She bites her lip, "just to Bo Chow's store."

On the type of time and energy of a demon, Ada takes his hand and slowly presses it between her legs... She waits for Bo Chow to pull away, but he doesn't, instead he becomes familiar with the heat and slip that has already taken over her womanhood.

Ada Mae James indeed came to start some shit today, but not with the store— with the owner Bo Chow only.

Sensitive to his touch, Bo can't imagine how long she's been like this. How long has he been on her mind to the point of having her buck and glide her cunt across his bare hand?

Ada directs his hand that now glistens with her juices to his face, assuring that Bo Chow not only smells her essence but tastes it as well. His eyes flutter shut, rolling into the back of his skull as he inhales the scent of Ada's lingering fresh rose bath water, a bit of salty Mississippi sweat, and the head spinning intoxicating effect of tasting her arousal.

She lowers her dress, lowering her eyes as well. "The next taste will have to be from the source, Mr. Bo Chow." She hints towards having him eat her pussy. Ada steps closer and lays a hand on his chest, so close that she breathes into his lips and Bo struggles not to kiss her. "Ada, look, if we had only met before I married—"

"We are nine years apart Bo, there wasn't a chance to meet beforehand because I would've only been a girl." Breath sweet from stolen candy, her lips are like magnets as Bo tries his hardest not to chase after them. Her seduction continues, "but right now I'm all woman and I want you. Just kiss me, you know your wife's at the other store."

"She'd kick both of our asses if she knew what you were up to."

"It would be worth it." Ada persuades. "And what do you care? The rumor has it that the Chows are over. There's one attorney in this town and apparently he's doing your divorce."

"So much for client confidentiality." He scoffs, tearing Ada's hands from his chest. "You still don't know what you're talking about. Grace and I are separating for the benefit of our daughter. Running the grocery stores aint what it used to be, I gotta travel out of the south to make more dollars to send babygirl to a nice college."

"Oh— extra dollars?" She taunts. "Is that what Grace Chow is looking for while mending the register at the white's only grocery store? Ya know, batting her eyes and hinting to the white men what a lil Asian persuasion is like?"

"She is!?" He nearly falls for it. "Shut up, Ada. You're just trying to get a rise out of me."

"Oh honey, I already have." Making light of the monumental hard on in his pants, Ada's eyes lower towards its direction. She laughs. "Look at you Bo Chow, still getting jealous over your wife, wanting your cake and eating it too. You can't have both."

He struggles to keep up with her mind games. "What do you want Ada?"

"You." Her answer is extremely clear.

On his way to deny the young girl some more, Bo finds himself licking his lips— still chasing after her taste hoping that it's still somewhere on his lip. "I just can't."

She notices his dilated pupils and tongue still searching the corners of his mouth for another sample of her pussy. "No? then why do you always stare at me for a bit too long, why do you pitch a tent in your pants when my perfume blows in your direction, why are you my bedroom window's favorite audience?"

...

Fuck.

The night before.

Bo freezes, nearly panicking and wondering if she remembers. He was so drunk after the juke last night that he had hoped it was all just a dream of how feral he had behaved at her window.

On his way home from drinking each night, he has to pass the James' family residence. He spotted Ada once before through the window, placing hair-rollers in hair before bed, and ever since then he's known exactly which room is hers. Bo likes to blame it on having too much whiskey being the reason he peeps through her window each time he walks by their house, but deep down he knows that he's always hoping to catch her at her vanity, undressing, or even spend just a moment in time to watch her sleep... but last night— last night was the moment his peeping-tom eyes refused to unglue from her windowpane.

"Tell me Bo, why did you linger at my window so long last night?" Ada drives him mad with nerves as she presses him further, so close that her bountiful bosom mashes against his tight muscles. "Was it the flame flicker of my candle that you thought was soo interesting? Or could it have been watching me play with my pussy?"

"I didn't watch!" He exclaims.

"You did, and you hardly could see." She makes him gulp and tense as the memories flood him. "The room was so dimly lit, so you had the nerve to squint and cuff your hands against the glass to take an even closer peak. You pressed your weight so hard against that glass to see inside that I thought that it would break."

He refuses once more and is immediately interrupted. "I didn't—"

"You stayed until I came."

"Stop." Holding his breath and trembling so terribly, Bo exhales to breathe in once again. Everything she says is so very true. Bo Chow watched her body arch off of the mattress each time she plunged her fingers into her core, the dimly lit candle in her room was just enough to see everything he needed— to see the curve of her digits as they drove into her heat and returned glistening with her satisfaction. He pressed against the window harder because not only did he want to see better, but he needed to hear her sweet whimpers. He had dreamed of her sounds every night since he could remember and he finally had the opportunity to hear them, he couldn't restrain himself. Ada knew of his watching and put on a show just for him. It was as if she knew just when he had a whiskey too many and would be on his way home. He nearly drooled at the sight of Ada tweaking her brown nipples and bucking at her own caress because her body felt as if it were on fire. He had wished to be inside to cool it— to ease her flames, just to enlighten them all over again. He watched for a half an hour, tugging his cock in his fist as he watched her touch herself, sure that the dirt and flowers against their house would be stained with traces of his spend come morning. Her fingers— he had wished them to be his digits, his tongue, his cock! He hated that when she finally climaxed and her knees began to shake, her fingers leaving her core left her empty. Bo wished with everything that he had that Ada Mae was filled with his seed instead, something that would keep her sated and stuffed until he would fuck her and do it all over again.

"I whispered your name when I came, could you hear it Bo? As focused as you were while watching me I know you at least read it off of my lips." Ada continues to pain him with a taunting chuckle, now beginning to ache in his trousers as they reminisce.

"I said stop!" Anger, embarrassment, and guilt eats away at him. He grabs hold of Ada and slams her against the shelves behind them.

Her gasp ends in a breathy moan. It's what she wants— what she craves. "Please— just like that." She begs to be manhandled.

"You're crazy. Like this?" A look of disgust crosses his expression. Bo can literally feel the pressure he is pushing her body with, the same cruel restraint he'd put on someone who tried to rob the store. He softens his grasp on her. "You're just looking for a man to make free use of your body."

"Yes, you." She admits. "Until the point of having bruises on my tender flesh. Injuries to run my fingertips across and be reminded of you with goosebumps all day long, Bo Chow."

Temptation is a demon on his back. His eyes lower half-lidded with lust, knowing that a rough fuck with Ada could release so much of his recent stress and tension. "Your body would ache."

"God, it already does." Her brown doe eyes glass over with the need to be absolutely pummeled.

He shakes his head, trying desperately to restrain himself. "Why are you doing this to me? Out of any other married man you could terrorize with your philandering you choose me?"

"I want you, Bo."

"Your folks won't even let you out the house at night, and they damn sure wouldn't let me have you." He reminds Ada of her strict household, twenty-five years old yet her parents have eyes on her like a hawk, making her even more sexually aggressive around men when she's finally free of her family. "Listen, I heard all about the arrangement. I know that they want you to marry the preacher's son... you and Sammie."

"Don't want Sammie, want you." Ada nearly pouts, grinding the crotch of her dress against Bo's clothed erection just for some type of relief.

"We are both unavailable."

"It makes it all the better." She insists, "I can have you Bo, every day in this shop at a scheduled time."

"Everyday?" He questions. "You want this to turn into a habit?"

"No, but trust that you will." Ada kisses him, finally connecting to his lips as Bo's eyes flutter shut.

Their tongue kiss is as good as he always knew it would be, they could stand here and kiss for hours and he would cum five times, but it wouldn't be enough for his needy new lover. "Goddamnit Bo, I'm so on edge!" Out of patience and bratty, she's willing to blow this whole situation up if she doesn't get her nut in the next few minutes. "Tell me yes baby, say it before I make a fucking scene."

"Yes, Ada." Bo continues to lose himself in her soft lips. "Let me feel you baby."

He pulls her closer, arms doubling at her waist as his hands roam up her back and the curve of her ass. His kisses become lewd love bites against her neck and chest as his fingertips unbutton the front of her dress to collect more of her spillage against his tongue. His tongue lolls at the hardened buds of her breasts, soaking her body in his spit as his fingers retrieve from her pussy soaked and webbing in her mess of arousal.

Bo turns Ada around, bending her back and arching it as he lifts her skirt for back shots. He exhales a near groan as a devilish smirk curls at his lips. His hands cup her ass, splitting her apart for all there is to see as he bends to kiss her back dimples. He takes off his apron and frees himself from the zipper of his trousers, he goes to pump his cock in his fist yet he already pulses with an overly sensitive erection. With blood rushing to the tip of his cock, he nearly curls over as he slides once through her folds to lubricate himself. He pushes forward once more and compliments the slip. "S'fucking wet for me— damnit, Ada." His next slip forward, breaches her entry, watching the band of her cunt accommodate his thick size.

Ada's teeth nearly go through her lip the way that she clamps down so hard. "Mmmf! Please Bo—more." He doesn't hesitate to sheathe himself to her hilt, tasting ecstasy as Ada takes his every inch.

"Ah, fuck." He hisses in disbelief, setting a slow rhythm that builds with each power-drive in and out of her cunt.

Bo watches her pussy grip him and mold against his cock as if she were made for it, he glistens with Ada's cream each time he pulls out and becomes dazed by the sound of their sloshing as he pushes back in. His hands become a ferocious grip on her hips, not allowing her to run and to take each devastating inch that drags against her walls until he is snug, balls deep against her cunt.

Ada's fingers dig deeply into the steal grates of the shelf she folds against and every curl in her hair has been fucked out— gyrated and sweated as she allows Bo's free use of her body. He lifts one of her deliciously thick thighs, placing her high-heeled foot on the lowest tier of the shelf, having his strokes dig deeper now at a different angle that leaves her jaw unhinged and at a loss for words as her moans come out in silent mouse squeaks.

The knocking against her cervix makes her vision dot with stars, Ada reaches backwards to ease his strokes and her arm is painfully twisted up her back as if she were being arrested as Bo's pounding heightens even more. "Shit Bo, you're killing me!" Her words are gritted through her teeth, but it's exactly what she asked for. His jaw clenches with a look of fierce possession staining his face. "Take it."

She does, fucking him back and clapping against his steel thighs as she rises to meet his urgent thrust. Her dress has become nothing but wrinkles in his white-knuckled fist. Precum mixing with her cream as Bo holds out as long as he can, breathing becoming ragged and uneven as Ada's pussy continues to clench into a vice around his shaft.

Her moment of release quickly becomes Bo's favorite tune, the age-old rhythm instantly taking over Ada as she is blindly forced over the edge.

They share a moan as her orgasm is more of a treat for them both, Bo slows the strokes with a grab to her throat, forcing her back against his chest as he paces himself with deep upward strokes.

The plunging hot penetration has Ada cock-drunk, grinning in pure passionate ecstasy as she feels her lover become a frenzied mess behind her. "You feel so good Ada— God, baby, this pussy is mine."

She nods. "Yours."

Bo's arms wrap around her body, his rough hands cup her breasts until they are dimpled with bruises. He fucks her with a goal of his own climax, tempo beginning to speed sporadically as he slams up into her battered cunt without moral compass.

As Ada feels the spear splitting her apart begin to tense and spasm, she recognizes his near finish. "Time it right, Bo."

Without even one thought of ever pulling out of this fantastic pussy, he nearly trips over his own words. "What? W-Why?"

"You're thirty-four with a teenage daughter, clearly you fire with loaded bullets, and I don't want one."

His hot white burst comes like an embalming injection, forcing him to pull out instantly and paint the outside of her mound like icing on a cake. Groaning as each rope of cum feels like it's taking years off of his life.

His cock glistens with evidence of his and Ada's shared pleasure. He's become so hooked on the pussy, he even pleads for more. "Wasn't enough, I need to fill you." Growing flaccid for less than a second, he returns to an erection standing at attention and being directed up his chiseled abdomen.

"You sure change your mind quickly Bo Chow." Ada teases, "first you refuse me and now you can't get enough?"

"Don't patronize me." His jaw ticks with annoyance, yet he fiends for whatever else Ada has. "But yes, I know."

Bo's wide hand and long fingers haven't left her flesh since, claiming what's his as he caresses her face and keeps a tender grip around her soft throat. He pulls Ada against his body, tongue kissing her with all his passion as he pushes her legs apart— preparing to fuck her this time in missionary with her legs tied around his waist.

"I tell you what—" Ada slows him down, lightly gasping in air as she takes notice to the gentle bucking and his hard cock gliding through her swollen folds again. "I heard your family is staying here to take care of the businesses while you travel to Chicago with the Smoke-Stack twins looking to make more money to send back home."

Close to lining his cockhead with her entry, Bo pauses. "You heard about that too?"

"I wasn't very far when I eavesdropped on the conversation you had with Smoke." Ada closes her legs, leaving him blue-balled and opened to hearing her. "I want in. I want to go with you."

Leaving with Bo Chow is the freedom she can finally get from her strict parents, spreading her wings with the man she wants instead of the man they have picked for her. But Bo is unsure about jumping head first into another relationship after the marriage he just finished ended only recently.

Ada holds power over Bo now and she knows it. So pussy-whipped that denying her feels almost impossible when the best sex he's ever had can be dangled right over his head. "Take me to Chicago, give me a life with you, and you can fill any hole of mine that you want." Her scant promise nearly makes Bo dizzy.

With a cock still throbbing and wanting more of the girl he has been lusting over for so long, he finally agrees. "Pack your bags, we leave tomorrow."

[menagerofmischief]

Dia's Diner Menu

olives and cheese friends to lovers cold appetizer rough sex ceaser salad "Lie to me again and you're not gonna like what happens next" sarma "Gonna put a baby in you" orange juice overstimulation strawberry lemonade breeding kink (chicken skewer) "Be a good girl and come for me"

Oscar Piastri x best friend!roommate!reader

TW; fingering, unprotected sex, tinder and bad tinder dates, kind of asshole!oscar at the start

WC: 2k

A/N: can't decide if I love or hate this. also tysm for 100 followers, I love you guys.

❀

I hummed, doing my best to pretend I was listening for possibly the hundredth time this night. I watched as Jake, proving by every second to be my very failed Tinder date, rambled on and on about himself. The stories were never ending, and therefore neither was his talking. 

I leaned my head on my hand, praying he was going to run out of oxygen and choke so I wouldn’t have to listen to him talk anymore.

This whole thing was a bad idea.

I first joined Tinder because I was bored and wanted an easy out from my crush on my best friend, Oscar. This was my third date with a guy I met on the app and each guy, along with each date, was proving to be worse than the previous.

Example A: Steve

First of all, who goes on a date with a guy named Steve. But putting names aside Steve wasn’t all that bad until he was asked me to go back to his place. Which was his mother’s basement. 

Example B: Tod

Was holding a fish in his profile photo. Ordered me a salad. Proceed to talk about his buddy Kevin for the whole night and then ditched me to hang out with him. He may have been more into Kevin than me, to be honest.

And finally, sitting opposite of me, talking about his big finance job, we had example C: Jake.

Perhaps it was about time I gave up trying to find anything on that stupid app and accepted defeat. “Listen,” I pushed my chair away from the table and got up, grabbing my bag. “This has been really interesting but I need to get going.” I took enough money to cover the things I had and put it down on the table before walking away.

✿ ✿ ✿

“Had fun?” Oscar asked from the couch once I entered the apartment.

I put down my purse and the bag from the convenience store and started taking off my heels. “Sure,” I said, straightening up once I was done. “I just love hearing about finance.”

I looked over at him. Oscar was sitting on the couch in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white shirt. He was watching TV, some random movie playing on one of the channels.

Oscar and I shared an apartment - but he really only occupied it on the off season when he wasn’t traveling from one country to another every week. It worked out well for us, I had someone to split the rent to and Oscar didn’t have to bother with finding someone to take care of his place while he was traveling - so it was win-win.

I walked over and sat down next to him on the couch. I pulled a pack of Oreos from the bag and opened them, putting one in my mouth before offering the pack to him. “Want one?”

Oscar took one, turning it around in his hands quietly before looking at me. I could tell by the expression on his face that he was annoyed and his eyes had a dark look in them.

“Wow, okay.” I said, trying to get up from the couch. Sitting in my room and binging Criminal Minds it was then. “If I was annoying you, you could have just told me to go to my room.”

Before I could make my move to leave, Oscar grabbed my wrist. His hold was rougher than I expected, fingers digging into my flesh. “Why are you going on all these dates?”

“Honestly Oscar, why do you care?” I tried pulling my hand away but his hold wasn’t budging.

“Because every time you get dressed up, go on a date with some random guy and come back here with snacks. And then we sit on the couch, eat snacks and you tell me all about how terrible your date was.” He said, his eyes narrowing. “And I nod along, so sympathetic, pretending I actually care.”

I scoffed at him, using all the force I could and yanking my hand out of his grasp. “Fuck you, Oscar!” I told him, rolling my eyes. “No one made you listen to me. You could have told me I was bothering you and I would have fucked off.”

“It’s not that you were bothering me!”

“Oh yeah? Then what is it?”

“I like you, damnit!” Oscar all but yelled, jumping up onto his feet. His hands grabbed my shoulders and I looked up at him. “I like you! And I’m mad. Mad that you’re dressing up for some guys from Tinder when I’m right in front of you.”

My eyes widened, mouth agape. I must have looked like a fish. “Oscar,” my words were quieter than I expected them to come. My voice cracking. “You never said anything.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to.” He confessed, his thumb rubbing the skin on my shoulder.

I licked my lips, looking up at him and offered a gentle smile. “I like you too,” I whispered, almost afraid to say it any louder.

Oscar doesn’t waste a second. As soon as the words are out of my mouth he is surging forward, smashing his lips against mine in a kiss much different from what I imagined our first would be like.

His hands move from my shoulders to wrap around my waist, pulling me into him. His lips are rough against mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth. I can barely breathe and my head is feeling fuzzy but still I do my best to kiss him back.

Before I know it, Oscar is picking me up, my legs wrapped around his waist and our lips still connected. Then he’s carrying me to his room and laying me down on his bed, crawling up to me to resume our kiss.

“Fuck,” Oscar mumbled, finally detaching his lips from mine and pulling back to look at me. “I wanted to do that for so long.”

“Me too,” I said, cupping the side of his face, rubbing his skin with my thumb. I wrapped my legs around his waist, trying my best to grind up into him and gain any friction by rubbing myself against the bulge in his sweatpants. “Please, Osc, need you!”

“Need me?” Oscar growled, pulling away a little and pushing up the bottom of my dress, exposing my panties to him. His fingers rubbed over the wet patch on my panties, making me buck up into his touch. “Is that right? You need me to fuck you full of my cum and make you go stupid on my cock, is that it?”

I whined when he took off my panties and roughly pushed two fingers inside of me without any warning. It was an unexpected stretch with just a little burn to it to leave me breathless.

“Tell me, Y/n,” he started, his fingers pushing into me hard and fast, not slowing down at all. “Why’d you join dating apps?”

I took a breath, trying to compose myself enough to form a reply. “Was bored,” I whined, gripping onto the sheets.

He gave me a dark look before his free hand, the one he wasn’t pleasuring me with, came down full force to slap my pussy. I all but screamed out, my body jolting forward with the shock of it and grabbed his shoulder with one hand to steady myself.

“This was a little preview,” Oscar said with a chuckle. “Lie to me again and you’re not gonna like what happens next.” His eyes fixated on me and my cheeks burned both with embarrassment and from how good I was feeling. “Now try again.”

“I didn’t think you liked me so -” I cut myself off with a moan when his fingers pressed against my G-spot, stroking it a few times before going back to thrusting in and out of me. “Fuck Oscar! I wanted to find someone so I could get over you!”

“Good job telling the truth, bad job at trying that,” he said. His thumb started playing with my clit, rubbing it in circles and I moaned loudly, feeling my orgasm approaching. 

“Osc, I’m gonna cum, please let me cum.” I begged, the feel of his fingers inside of me and the added pleasure of having my clit toyed with pushing me fast toward the edge.

“Go on,” Oscar encouraged, keeping the rhythm of his fingers. “Be a good girl and cum for me.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, I was sobbing out from pleasure, my orgasm crashing over me and my hips bucking up. 

Oscar pulled his fingers out of my pussy, making me whine at the loss of being filled with something, and keeping his eyes on mine brought them up to his mouth and sucked them clean. 

I sat up a little and reached for him. Oscar let me pull off his shirt and I took a moment to admire his naked chest, running my hands over the ridges of his abdomen. Then he helped me take off my dress and bra, kissing me gently before he started trailing kisses down to my neck and collarbones.

“Osc,” I mumbled out, my fingers pulling on the strings of his sweatpants. “Fuck me please! Need to feel you in me. Need to feel you filling me.”

Oscar wasted no time, taking off his sweatpants and boxers in one go. I only got one good glance at his dick before he was pushing it inside me, bottoming out in one thrust.

He was big, the tip of his cock kissing against my cervix and with each thrust I could see an outline of his dick bulging out on my stomach.

“Fuck,” Oscar grunted. “We could have been doing this much sooner if you had just said you wanted me to fuck you.”

“You could have said something as well,” I shot back.

“Yeah but I wasn’t the one on dating apps.”

Oscar’s hand sneaked between us, his thumb once again finding my clit and starting to circle it. I screamed out in pleasure, hiding my face into Oscar’s neck. “So good, Osc, fuck,” I babbled. “Gonna cum again.”

Oscar sped up, both his thrusts and his fingers. “I’m gonna cum too,” he grunted. “Fuck, gonna put a baby in you so everyone knows you’re mine. You like that huh? Yeah you do, I can feel you clenching around me.”

His thumb brushed over my clit one more time and I was screaming out as my orgasm crashed into me. It didn’t take long for Oscar to reach his peak either. His hips stilling as he spilled himself inside of me.

Oscar rolled himself off of me and laid down on the bed. We laid in silence for a few minutes, only the sounds of us panting for breath filling the air. Then the bed creaked when Oscar got up.

He left the room for a moment and then came back with a towel and my pajamas. He got on his knees in front of me on the bed and started cleaning up the mess between my legs. I whined when he brushed my clit, “Hurts. Too much, Osc!”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m just cleaning you up.” He said, bowing his head down and pressing a gentle kiss on my thigh. I let him do the rest without much protest. Once he was done he tossed the towel away and helped me put on my pajamas, then got into his.

Finally we got under the blankets and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a cuddle. 

“Are you free tomorrow night?” He asked, his fingers playing with my hair, making me shudder with delight.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Good,” he hummed. “I’m taking you out on a date.”

I only managed a smile and a nod in response before falling asleep.

[bunnyhugs77]

The Summer Lovin' Collection

❀: A collection of summer stories I hope remind you of the first sip of freshly squeezed lemonade; sweet on your tongue, with a tangy aftertaste that leaves you wanting more.

Each installment will be released periodically throughout the summer (May-August), Sorry in advance if there are any delays, I'm currently working full time but I'm really excited to share there stories with you.

PSA: These works are not related to each other in any way so they can be read in any order :)

The Honeymooners: As maid of honour, nothing made you happier than to celebrate your best friend at her wedding. After a wild night and drunken decisions you wake up in Maui, next to your long-time rival, Jeon Jungkook. And worse? You’re in the honeymoon suite… on your best friend’s honeymoon.

Pairing: Best Man! Jungkook x Maid of Honour! Reader

Sunset Showdown: You and Jungkook are both shortlisted for a high profile position on a luxury beach resort’s event team. Your spirits are high and competition is in the air while you'll both stop at nothing to get your way; but things get complicated when feelings are added into the mix.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Lifeline: Every year you and Jungkook fan the flames that burn bright between you during the summer but quickly fizzles when you return to your seperate lives in the fall. This summer, you both agree to keep it strictly platonic, but it's easier said than done when your hearts are on the line.

Pairing: Lifeguard! Jungkook x Lifeguard! Reader

Butterflies n' Bonfires: Out of your desperate need to make some quick cash, you volunteer four weeks of your summer to spend it in the woods with 40 girls and one infuriatngly level-headed and attractive co-counceillor.

Pairing: Camp Counceillor! Jungkook x Camp Counceilor! Reader

Bittersweet Summer: Welcome to the Hamilton Hills Country Club. 250 acres of perfectly manicured luxury, kept pristine under Jungkook's watchful eye. But if you're paying attention, you might notice his gaze drifting from the greens to his boss’s daughter, freshly returned from boarding school. She’s both charming, trouble, and a total wild card rolled packaged into one. Jungkook’s about to find out she’s the kind of whirlwind that doesn’t play by clubs rules.

Pairing: Head of Operations! Jungkook x Rich! Reader

The Summer Lovin' Collection Coming Soon

Accepting requests to be added to the taglist <3

[bitchinbarzal]

Marry Me | N Hischier

Inspired by: Marry Me by Thomas Rhett

Summary: You’re getting married. Not to him. And Nico, who’s loved you quietly for years, is about to let you go for good.

-

She always said she wanted magnolias.

“I want it small,” she told him once, on a summer drive through the countryside. “Just a few people. White dress, magnolias in my hair, my granddaddy preaching the ceremony. Nothing too big. Save my dad some money.”

He hadn’t said anything then. Just looked over at her legs up on the dash, her fingers out the window tracing the breeze. She was golden in that late August light, all sun-kissed and free. The kind of moment you wish you could pause.

He committed it to memory.

Because he already knew. Somewhere deep down, before he even let himself admit it, he knew.

He loved her.

The invitation came on a Thursday.

Cream cardstock tied with twine, her handwriting on the envelope.

His heart sank before he even opened it.

When he saw her name, alongside someone else’s, he sat down on the edge of his couch and didn’t move for a long time. Just stared at the RSVP line like it might change if he blinked enough.

He thought about not going.

But something tugged at him.

A whisper that said he needed to see it. To see her. To prove to himself that she was really someone else’s now. To finally bury all the things he never said.

The chapel is exactly how she described it.

Out in the country. Quiet. Intimate. A warm breeze moves through the white draped tent outside where guests are sipping lemonade. Every pew inside is decorated with soft white ribbons and blooming magnolias.

Nico’s in the back row. Not dressed for attention. He’s not here for that.

He’s here because he has to be.

Because this is the day he lets her go.

She finds him before the ceremony. He’s near the side garden, trying to breathe.

“Nico?”

Her voice catches him off guard.

When he turns, she’s there. In her dress. It’s simple, ivory, laced at the sleeves. A magnolia is tucked into her hair. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“You came,” she says softly, stepping toward him.

He nods, unsure if his voice will even work.

“I wasn’t sure I should.”

She smiles faintly. “I’m glad you did.”

It’s quiet for a moment. There’s so much noise around them—music, laughter, rustling flowers—but here, in this little pocket of space, it’s just the two of them.

“You look like you,” he says, because it’s all he can manage.

She looks down, then up again. “You okay?”

He could lie. Say he’s happy for her. Say he’s fine.

Instead, he exhales. “I got your invite. I stared at it for a long time.”

She doesn’t respond right away, but the air shifts. There’s something unspoken between them, buzzing just under the surface.

“I remember the night I almost kissed you,” Nico says, the words slipping out like a confession. “On my couch. You were wearing my hoodie. We’d just watched that movie you loved.”

Her lips part slightly.

“I leaned in,” he says. “But I panicked. We were friends, and you meant too much. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“I remember,” she whispers.

Nico’s heart stutters.

There it is.

The truth.

The memory they both buried.

“You did?” he asks.

She nods, eyes glossy. “I waited.”

It hits him like a punch. The years that could’ve been. The space that might’ve held them, if he hadn’t pulled back.

He could say it now. Could finally tell her everything. That she’s still his favorite person, that he never stopped thinking about her, that she doesn’t have to go through with it if there’s even a sliver of doubt.

But she’s standing in her wedding dress. There’s a man at the altar who thinks today is the best day of his life.

And Nico won’t be the reason she looks back on it with regret.

“I just wanted to wish you the best,” he says instead, voice rough. “That’s all.”

She blinks fast. Nods. “Thank you.”

He turns to leave, but something pulls him back one last time.

“I should’ve kissed you that night,” he says. “I think about it all the time.”

She doesn’t move.

Neither does he.

“I’m sorry,” he adds.

And then he walks away.

Because some stories don’t get rewritten.

And some people never get the kiss they always wanted.

[levellyscorner]

Reserved for Members Only (Country Club! Steve Harrington x F!Reader)

Summary: Steve Harrington is a walking cliché—rich, tan, bored, and dangerously charming. He drives a vintage roadster, smells like sea salt cologne, and has never been told no in a language he understands. Hawkins Country Club is his kingdom, and he rules it in boat shoes and a smug grin. Girls swoon. Dads nod. Staff talk. And Steve? Steve coasts.

Until she shows up.

Perched in a white lifeguard chair with sunburnt shoulders and zero patience for trust fund theatrics, she’s not charmed. Not impressed. Not remotely interested in whatever lazy flirtation he’s offering that day. Or is she?

Triggers: Power Imbalance (Wealth/ Class difference), Workplace boundaries blurred, Peer pressure.

A/N: Hello friends, I've had some writers block recently and decided to completely ignore the other things i have going on and spiral into a summer country club romance because… that’s just what my soul needed.

expect: rich boys with egos the size of the tennis courts, who may use his money to hide his secretly sweet side, citrus-slick tension, and irresponsible francization.

sun’s out. my lemonade is iced. let’s dive in 🍊🍋

“Cruel but golden”

part 1

Steve pulled his vintage roadster to a smooth stop on the pale gravel drive the engine purring once before falling silent. He adjusted the brim of his bleached visor, confidence. The air smelled of money and summer, freshly trimmed boxwoods, chlorine, and the faintest trace of white linen cologne carried on a breeze. From somewhere deeper in the club—maybe near the bar or under the shade of the veranda—a saxophone purred through the speakers, languid and honey-warm everything felt dipped in gold. He moved toward the pool, passing a row of scalloped umbrellas and sweating highball glasses, the scent of citrusy iced tea and coconut sunscreen drifting past him in waves. The pool lay beyond, gleaming like a sapphire cut flat—a mirror for the cloudless sky, disturbed only by the soft ripple of a lazy backstroke or the idle kick of sun-drenched children. 

And there she was. 

Perched atop her lifeguard stand like a bronzed sentinel, she looked carved from sunlight and pool haze. One knee cocked, your white suit a slash of bright contrast against your tanned skin, hair pulled into a ponytail that swung with slow authority when you turned your head. From behind mirrored sunglasses, you surveyed the water with the casual detachment of someone who knew every ripple before it broke the surface. A glint caught Steve’s eye as sunlight bounced off your lenses, slicing across the deck like a signal flare. He stopped just shy of the pool’s edge, letting his shadow reach you before his voice did. 

“Afternoon,” he called, voice low, carrying over the lazy hum of distant jazz with a loose wave. She lifted her chin just slightly, the mirrored lenses flickering as though reading the ripple of his approach. “Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence.” She let her sunglasses slip down the bridge of her nose, eyes glinting with amusement. “if you’re only here for cannonballs, I’ll need a better performance than your parking job.” Steve chuckled, brushing a speck of dust from his sleeve. “That parking job was art. You just don’t appreciate the classics.” 

She arched a brow, languid and unimpressed, then returned her gaze to the still water. You tilted your head, deadpan. “Mm. If by ‘classics’ you mean skimming the azaleas and giving Mr. Halpern a coronary, then sure—Banksy would be jealous.” He laughed, the sound low and amused, leaning against the whitewashed fence with a casual elegance that somehow looked rehearsed. “Tell me you didn’t miss me.” 

“I didn’t,” she said, too quickly to be convincing. He smiled just a little, just enough to show he knew better “And yet here I am.” He could practically feel her eyes roll from under her glasses, “I will say, you’ve got perfect timing. Right between swim lessons and entitled dads asking if I’m ‘technically allowed’ to read on the job.” Steve chuckled, easing closer. “What can I say? I’ve got a gift.” She didn’t look at him, not directly. Just adjusted her ponytail with one hand and scanned the pool with the other. “You’ve got too much time. That’s your gift” Steve’s smile faltered, just for a second, before settling into something more self-aware. “That’s what they keep telling me.” She glanced down, finally, sunglasses catching the light. “You bored or just making the rounds? Pretty sure the tennis girls would kill for a visit.” He shrugged. “Maybe I like the view better here.” She leaned back in her chair, expression unreadable. “Uh-huh.”  

“You ever walked around the gardens?” he asked, suddenly. That seemed to catch her off guard. She tilted her head slightly, just enough to look at him over the top of her sunglasses. “What?” 

“The gardens,” he said again, like it was a simple thing. “Just past the clay courts. They’ve got these little walking paths, and that ridiculous fountain with the cherubs.” He paused. “It’s quiet back there.” Her brows lifted a little. “Are you seriously asking if I’ve taken a casual stroll through the private-member-only section of the club?” He didn’t flinch if anything; the corners of his mouth pulled into a slow, amused smile. “Well, I wasn’t expecting you to say yes.” She exhaled through her nose, dry amusement flickering behind her mirrored lenses. “Good. Because I haven’t. Staff aren’t exactly encouraged to frolic through the hedges.” 

He leaned in a little, that easy grin still playing at his mouth. “Shame. It’s quiet back there since most people are on the course. It’s kinda peaceful.” She replied sharply, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder. “Oh, is that what you call it when you're hooking up with some girl behind a hydrangea bush? ‘Peaceful’?” He laughed, but there was a slight hitch in it — a beat of surprise. “Wow. Straight to the accusations.” 

“I’m just saying,” you replied, not even looking at him now as you adjusted your strap, “every time someone staggers back from the gardens with lipstick smudged and buttons misaligned, your name tends to come up.” He raised an eyebrow. “You keeping tabs on me?” She didn’t smile. “Oh, you are. Believe me. You’re all the girls on staff talk about.” 

Steve blinked, before his lips curled into a chesire grin. “Really?” he asked, like he wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or concerned. She adjusted her sunglasses, voice flat. “Your car. Your hair. Your habit of disappearing into the gardens and reappearing twenty minutes later like nothing happened.” He huffed a quiet laugh, leaning in a little more, his elbow resting on the fence like he had all the time in the world. “You sure you’re not just jealous?” That finally earned him a glance, her head tipping toward him slowly. “Don’t be so dramatic,” you murmured, gaze returning to the water. “Save it for the next girl you give a botany tour to.” 

He tapped the edge of her lifeguard stand with his knuckle, a hollow little knock like he was checking for cracks. “You going Friday night?” You didn’t look at him. Just blew your whistle once sharp and pointed at a kid inching toward the deep end like it was the edge of the world. “I don’t know what’s happening Friday night.” He let out a soft laugh. “Please. You know what party. Gatsby theme, overpriced cocktails, too much perfume in the air. A dozen guys in bowties pretending they understand jazz.” 

You huffed. “Sounds like a dream.” He smirked, leaning in a little closer, like he could coax the truth out of you. “So that’s a yes?” You didn’t answer right away just flicked your eyes toward the water again, watching a pair of kids race from the shallow end with reckless limbs and too much chlorine in their eyes. He let the pause stretch, but not too far. “You dodging the question,” he said, tapping the side of the stand again. “Which tells me you’re thinking about it.” You scoffed, adjusting your sunglasses with one finger. “It tells you I’m working.”  

“That too,” he allowed, grin lazy before squinting up at you, one hand braced on the lifeguard stand, his voice light but steady. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re working through it. I was hoping you’d be available.” 

That made you pause. You tilted your head slightly, giving him a look from behind your mirrored sunglasses. “You’ve got options.” He grinned, sharp and unbothered, the afternoon sun catching the gold thread of his collar. “I do,” he said, voice low and warm. “Plenty of options. But I was hoping for you.” You snorted softly, adjusting your grip on the rescue tube. “That line work on the others?” He tilted his head, mock-considering. “Maybe. But I’m not using it on them.” You glanced down at him, mouth twitching. “What a lucky girl I am.” 

“You could be,” he said, tapping the side of your chair again. “Friday night, you, me, maybe something stronger than club lemonade.” He tilted his head, watching you with that half-smile that always felt like it had a secret tucked behind it. “What, afraid you’ll have fun?”  

“I’m working,” you said plainly. He tilted his head, still watching you like he could see through the brush-off. “Sure. But you’ll be off by eight. Party starts at nine.” You didn’t answer. Steve let the pause stretch, just long enough to let it settle. Then, voice quieter but edged with something sharper, he added, “You know, it kind of seems like you’re scared to say yes.” Your eyes snapped down to him but ge didn’t flinch. Just smiled, slow and sure. “It’s fine if you’re not interested. But don’t act like you’re not tempted.” You opened your mouth, then shut it again, the heat curling at your ears more frustrating than the sun. “I’m not scared.” 

“No?” he asked, stepping back, his smile lingering like the sun on skin. “Then prove it. come with me. As my date.” You gave a short laugh, in disbelief shaking your head. “You’re asking me out now?” 

“I’m daring you,” he corrected holding up is pointer finger, eyes glinting. “Big difference.” You stared him down, expression flat. “It means I’d be showing up to a Gatsby party on the arm of the club’s most infamous flirt. With every tennis girl in a 50-foot radius watching.” He smiled, slow and bold. “Exactly. Sounds fun, doesn’t it?” You tilted your head. “You’ve really got a high opinion of yourself.” 

“And yet,” he said, stepping back, walking away just far enough to be cocky about it, “you still haven’t said no.” He didn’t look back, but he tossed one last line over his shoulder, soft and deliberate: “Eight o’clock. I’ll save you a drink—unless you’re too chicken.” 

[slasherscream]

Hello Bee! First I want to say that I really love your writing and your characterization of the characters. I've read so much of your stuff over and over again, it's so good! Thank you so much for writing it all!

Secondly, I wanted to make a request. Sorry if this sounds dumb, but could you please make a crazy ass husbands with an artisitic s/o? Like someone who may not necessarily create art, but is really passionate about like painting, and music, and just all the types of art? I saw you added Vincent Sinclair and thought of this 😄.

If not its fine, I still want you to know that I adore and enjoy your writing! Well wishes! 🩷🩷

Qimir (the acolyte) - Qimir likes the way you get carried away by music. The way you close your eyes when you walk into a cantina and musicians are playing. The little songs you hum to yourself when you’re piloting the ship, or fixing something. Music awakens something in your soul. You feel it deeply. Love songs and tragic laments alike light a fire in you. Every now and again he’ll have the two of you go to planets known for their music, their unique sounds, and singing styles. It’s always under a false pretense. The training or mission he sends you on are usually extra grueling before you’re given your “reward”. Otherwise, he feels like a slave to the whims of your joy. What wouldn’t he do to see you smile? To relish your little gasp the first time you hear a new instrument or song? He likes to reach out, using the connection you two share, and feel what you feel. He’s so glad he freed you from your shackles of repression. The way you indulge your passion is beautiful. 

Norman Bates - You’ve always loved flowers. The first thought you had about the motel was that it needed some nice flowers outside. You’ve traveled the country, visiting all sorts of gardens. It’s an odd hobby, but one you chased relentlessly. Until you met Norman, and settled into the hotel with him. But eventually you start to crave those gardens again, so you decide for the first time not to just admire gardens, but to cultivate one. There are a few false starts. Miserable failures. Mixed successes. But Norman is encouraging every step of the way, and eventually your little motel begins to shine. Ivy creeping up trellises you place against the house. Roses, peonies, lavender, poppies. All in ranges of colors and sizes. You repaint the motel when it begins to look shabby in comparison to the garden blooming around it. For the first time the motel starts to look… welcoming. Like a true home. People in town begin to stop by and spend the night just so they can have breakfast in the garden the next morning. People propose to each other at the Bates Motel. Get married there. Honeymoon. Have the celebrations for their baby’s christening among all your flowers and saplings. Norman doesn’t have a green thumb, but he brings you lemonade and kisses your cheek and thanks you earnestly for bringing color and life into his world. 

Hannibal Lecter - This is one of the ways you and Hannibal bond. You could talk about art for hours together. He’s a wonderful conversationalist, and your raw passion for the topic makes it so that you always have something new to say to one another. Date nights consist of going to art galleries for big and small artists. Something about being in one another’s presence sweetens the art itself. Hannibal often surprises you with trips to other countries just so you can go to their art museums and partake in new art scenes. Money is a small thing to Hannibal. The conversations you have about art? Those are priceless. 

Shane Walsh - He’s never been too interested in the arts. Not before the end of the world and certainly not after it. The only art that matters now is the art of survival. He tells you this often. Tells you to look to the future. Focus on surviving the day. On perfecting the skills he tries to teach you, day in and day out, so even if he’s gone, you’ll be okay. But you make him soft. For all that he bitches, he’s always giving in. Always looking to keep you alive, yes. But he wants you to be happy too. So he takes detours, and looks for libraries and bookstores that are beginning to cave in on themselves and smell of rotten pages and wood. He’s risked entire hoards of walkers to retrieve a book he knew was your favorite. He doesn’t mind when precious bag space is taken up by whatever paperbacks you can get your hands on. One day he might find a town that he likes enough and decide to go through the trouble of turning a library into a home for you. It will be well fortified, and he won’t like how many entry and exit points it might have. But he’d love to see you in your element, surrounded by what you love. 

V (from V for Vendetta) - So much art has been ruthlessly crushed beneath the boot of the fascist government you live under. Admiring the arts, any form of it, is like trying to hold sand in your hands. Your grip grows ever more desperate to hold onto anything. But there is no rhyme or reason to what is outlawed or taken away. Little bits of your soul are chipped away, with each new restriction, with each new burning or banning. Until V whisks you away to his hideout, and suddenly the world is made anew again. You are surrounded by art, art you didn’t even know existed. Things you couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams. You inhale everything the gallery has to offer. You feel nearly gluttonous. In each room there is something new to see, hear, read. A feast for your senses anywhere you turn. You feel alive for the first time in years, maybe ever. V, in turn, feels his own form of gluttony. He cherishes every bit of delight he brings to your world. He feels like the worst kind of miser. The lowest of villains. What could be more precious than your smile? Or your laughter? Nothing. And by keeping you here, with him, he deprives the world of you and all you have to offer. But the world isn’t kind to precious things. So he keeps you like all the other treasures of this world. Hidden. Safe. Loved. 

Candyman - You collect book nook shelf inserts. Your home is covered in shelves, just to fit them. You have more book nooks than you do books separating them. Daniel is charmed to death by the collection. By the tender, diligent way you take care of them all. You spend hours of your week dusting. Fiddling. Making tiny adjustments. There must be something meditative about it, because you never complain. The joy he felt whenever he held a paintbrush is the same joy that flashes across your face when you open a new kit. He watches you assemble your precious, miniature worlds and ask you quiet questions, every now and again. He doesn’t want to break you from the beautiful trance you fall into, but he loves to peek into your mind. “What drew you to this scene, my love?” / “This one has an enchanting gloom to it. You have such an eye for art.” / “This one looks especially fragile, you might have to be more gentle, love.” He enjoys watching you lose yourself in your hobby. He loves the way you are unashamed in your joy. How you take pride in this work. You curl up into his side, after you’ve spent hours assembling one of your nooks, and the two of you will stare at it in all its completed glory. 

Robert Neville (I Am Legend) - At first he thought you were a hallucination. He’d been hearing things more often. Seeing things too. The human mind wasn’t built for isolation, as a scientist he was well aware of that. He tries to compensate as best he can. With his mannequins. With entertainment. By focusing on his research. He only has to stay sane long enough to fix the world he couldn’t save. That’s all. But then he sees you, while he’s hunting. The sun is still high in the sky, and you don’t move like a dark seeker. You’re cautious, slow. You also don’t move like a hallucination. You don’t really look like one either. He almost doesn’t approach you, afraid he’ll discover you were a mirage. He follows you all day long, until the sun is getting too low for comfort. Then Robert approaches you, fumbling through the obvious (it isn’t safe out here), barely remembering to introduce himself because people have names. Hoping desperately that you’ll trust a strange man instead of taking your chances with the dark. But the entire time he talks to you his eyes keep drifting to all the jewelry you’re wearing. Earrings. Bracelets. Necklaces. Rings. They glint in the light. Hypnotizing in their imperfections and intricacies. You move into his home, but you two drift around each other like ghosts. You’ve been alone so long, the both of you. You dreamed of meeting another living person. But faced with the reality of it, you’re overwhelmed. Until one night after dinner he finds you in the living room, making more of your jewelry. Slow and careful. He asks you about it, and you tell him it kept you sane while you were alone. Made you feel human. Then you look up at him, and he freezes under your gaze. (It’s been so long since he’s looked into someone’s eyes. It almost hurts. He can’t imagine ever looking away.) You ask him what kept him human. He’s not sure he still is. But he moves to sit beside you on the floor, hands you beads, and tells you he's been pretty fond of movies lately. 

Lestat De Lioncourt - You were a tailor in life, before he turned you. In death, in this eternity he’s given you, fabric is nearly your religion. With your vampiric eyes, you see even the tiniest flaw in stitching. All colors look more vibrant. The world looks more alive. Even though you can never see the way certain fabrics and colors catch the light of the sun, moonlight and starlight can be just as beautiful. You drag him to fashion shows in order to soak in the new styles, and cuts of clothing. You are as endeared by couture as you are the various counter cultures that arise throughout the decades you spend together. You spend exorbitant amounts of money on the finest bolts of cloth and thread. Sewing and tailoring and designing can be done entirely on your own. In fact, you’d probably be done quicker if you were just left to your work. But Lestat gets lonely when you lock yourself up in your work room for days on end. He likes to drape himself against your back, push himself into your side. Trail teasing fingers up your arm, to see if he can get your ever steady hands to falter (he cannot.) Looking over your shoulders and seeing what latest fashion has caught your eye is his hobby. You don’t mind the company of your muse. Sometimes you even sit him in front of you as you sew, and let the sound of him talking guide your needle and thread. He hardly wears anything you don’t make. Not only is your work superior, but every piece is made of love. 

Abe Sapien - You love everything about movies. How they’re made. Sound design. Light design. Set design. The difference between digital and film cameras. Abe was caught in your orbit the minute you were recruited. Talking to you, trying to form a connection, however, did not come as easy. Awkward nods as you passed one another in the hall. Stilted, dry conversation as you ate lunch at the same tables. It was enough to drive him mad. He didn’t know why he alone was unable to form any sort of acquaintanceship with you (especially when he wanted far more than that). This all changed during movie night. You were watching the voted on film play out on screen, entranced by every individual frame, it seemed. He’d never seen anyone smile so fetchingly, or blink so little. He bravely, and quietly, asked if you were enjoying the film. You began to eagerly whisper to him all sorts of details about how the film was made, the difference between the final product and script. Apparently, it was one of your favorites. With one conversation, the bridge between you two was crossed. Abe had been so caught up in enjoying literature, he hadn't explored much of the diverse realm of cinema. Happily, you appointed yourself the esteemed position as his guide. Somewhere between sharing your tastes, late night discussions, and dry eyes from sleepless nights, you leaned over to kiss him. He kissed you back, and you both forgot all about movies for a little while. 

Vincent Sinclair - You were an avid admirer of sculptures. You went to museums, and had to curl your hands into fists to resist the urge to reach out and touch the statues. There was something so beautiful about someone taking the time to carve human shapes out of stone and earth. To make marble resemble fabric as delicate as silk. It was breathtaking to you, really. Until you came across the House of Wax, you hadn’t really thought of wax as a means to make sculptures. Instantly, you are captivated. You forget that your car is being “repaired”, so closely do you look at every sculpture. You admire each one from several angles, for long periods of time, face giving away nothing. Vincent watches you, wanting to know what you’re thinking about his art so desperately he feels as if he’ll die. He interrupts Bo from the preparations to kill you and makes him ask you questions. Bo asks each one through gritted teeth, irritated to be playing a game of telephone, but even he is a little charmed by your thoughtful answers. When Vincent insists on not killing you Bo just shakes his head and washes his hands of the situation. You fall asleep in the town’s only motel, but when you wake up you’re in Vincent’s workshop. You’ll be able to admire his art for as long as you like now. 

Joel Miller - You tell him stories. You’re an avid collector of them. Wherever you go, you collect a story from someone. Sometimes they’re fantastical. Some myth or aesop fables that will be lost to the sands of time and the chaos of the apocalypse within just one more generation (if humanity makes it that long.) Other times they’re heartbreakingly real. The taste of an apple pie someone’s grandmother used to make for them. The memory of someone trying on their wedding dress for the first time. You have a way about you. It’s your eyes. The warmth in them. The understanding. Even after so many years of survival and fighting, you possess an empathy that should have gotten you killed by now. Instead you’re the keeper of people’s stories. You’ll be riding side by side on your horses, and Joel won’t sense any danger nearby, so he’ll say the magic words: You got a story for me today, L/N? And you always do. The sound of your voice keeps his head quiet. 

A/N: i blushed bugs bunny curled ears style. thank you for the compliments, made my day! i think yours is the first crazy ass husbands gang request i’ve written! if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writer's fuel is engagement. Xoxoxo