plowing leaves

Steal my sales? They're all yours.

(warning: long story)

This story takes place back when I was selling high end used cars. We carried everything from your luxury Hummers, to your Ferrari, Rolls Royce, and twice while I worked there, Bugatti.

We were paid a base salary, at the time $1,500 a week, and we worked 10 hours a day, 12 days on, 2 days off. We also got a commission for every sale, with a base line of $500 per car, up to $7,500 on my largest sale, a Ford GT40.

We were expected to be on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and if any of our customers had a problem, it was our problem too, and we needed to get it solved as a top priority.

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Strike Three (Kyungsoo) [Smut]

Daddy Kyungsoo ;) ;) ;)

——————————–

An hour. It’s been an hour since Kyungsoo and I (along with the others) arrived at this club downtown. It was Soo’s birthday and Chanyeol thought it’d be great to bring us all to this club to celebrate it. Kyungsoo objected the idea at first, of course, but I told him that it was a good idea and that he needs to get out more. He reluctantly went along with it but I’m pretty sure he’s still against it seeing as he’s just sitting in the private booth that Junmyeon so kindly reserved for us.

Kyungsoo was clad in his black suit, matching with Junmyeon as well as Sehun and his soft hair was styled up. When he came to pick me up, I almost wanted to cancel this club idea and just take him on the couch, he looked so great. He had his arms crossed, sitting at the private booth, eyes judging every person that crossed him. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be here and I found that a bit funny since he looked like he was pouting on the seat. I tried to get him to come dance with me but he refused.

I was three drinks in and the place was starting to get hazy. The blaring music was starting to hurt my brain. The sound was reverberating off the walls, making the place seem like it as vibrating. There were sweaty bodies surrounding me and all I wanted to do was go sit with my boyfriend. Looking around, I saw Chanyeol and Baekhyun surrounded by nearly seven girls. Yixing, Sehun and Jongin were in the middle of the dance floor, owning it by themselves. They were catching the attention of many people and pretty soon, three other guys were picking a dance battle with them. I chuckled and looked to find where the rest of them went.

When I couldn’t find them, I saw Minseok, Junmyeon and Jongdae sitting with Kyungsoo. Each had a pretty looking girl in their arm. I started giggling when I saw Kyungsoo looking very uncomfortable.

My feet started making their way towards him, planning to rescue and get us both out of here. But before I could even make three steps, someone grabbed my arm.

“Hey, pretty lady.” some guy greeted with a creepy smile. I knew this guy was drunk off his ass and that I need to get away as quick as I can. He had a bottle of beer in his other hand.

“What you say we, uh, hit the dance floor?” he smirked, his grip getting a bit tighter. My eyes never faltered, I challenged him to say something else.

“Sorry, I don’t dance with anyone but my boyfriend.” I apologized before my hand went up to try to remove his grip off of my. He then leaned in closer, making me back up a bit.

“Your boy don’t have to know nothin’, sweet-cheeks…” he let out a dark chuckle as his voice slurred, trying to advance further. By now, I was starting to freak out a bit, my heart was beating fast, worried that this guy is going to do something that I won’t like. He took a gulp from his beer.

“Her ‘boy’ doesn’t have to know, what, exactly?”I felt my heart relax as I heard that familiar voice behind me. The guy took his predatory eyes off of me and looked behind me. I turned around to see Kyungsoo. His hands were in his pockets, making my cheeks warm up at the thoughts of what he could do in that suit.

“Who—who the hell are you…her boy?” the guy scoffed in amusement as he took a look at Kyungsoo’s form. I grabbed his this moment to rip my arm out from his clutch and move behind Kyungsoo. He took hold of my hand, intertwining them together.

“No. I’m her man. She’s taken, pal. Go find someone else.” Kyungsoo growled, his glare never lowering from the guy’s eyes. The guy rolled his eyes, taking another swig from his bottle.

“And what are you…what are you gonna do ‘bout it if I don’t? Your girl there…she’s pretty sexy…why can’t we share? I’m sure she’ll be okay with that…” the guy smirked as he licked his lips at the last sentence. But in a split second, I saw a flash of Kyungsoo’s fist and the guy was laying on the floor, unconscious.

“Kyungsoo!” I exclaimed, watching as he pulled me back to the table. But we didn’t sit down, he stopped in front of the table.

“We’re leaving early. See you guys tomorrow.” he grumbled the words to the three that was sitting at the table before taking me out of the place and into his own car.

“Kyungsoo?” I questioned once he started driving.

“I bet you liked that, didn’t you? I told them I didn’t want to go. And you wearing that short-ass dress doesn’t help anything.” he growled, eyes still on the road. He had one hand on the wheel and the other on my upper thigh. My breath hitched as my body was slowly getting warmer. His thumb and index finger pulled at the hem of the dress to prove his point about how short this dress was.

“Why did I allow you to leave the house like this? I should’ve just made everyone stay home and watch a movie. That guy could’ve done anything to you. This is strike one.” he added as we neared my house. He got out and opened the door (even when angry he can still be a gentleman) for me. We made it up inside the house before I was slammed against the door.

The click of the lock was heard and I looked at him. He had one hand in his pocket and the other against the door, next to my head. The sight of him right now made my whole body feel hot.

“I don’t like sharing what’s mine.” he muttered and grabbed my arm, bringing me upstairs to my room. In seconds, he had pushed me down onto my bed and straddled my waist. His suit jacket was long gone as he rolled up his sleeves. I could feel my core burning up as I watched his muscles flex under the black dress shirt he had on.

“Since it’s my birthday, and you were being a naughty little girl at the club, this is my present.” his hand went down to unbuckle his belt. In a swift movement he had a hold of both my hands and used the belt to bound them together. Then, I felt my whole body being flipped around and was now on my knees. I couldn’t really support myself up with my hands so I rested on my elbows. He grabbed my hips and, without me expecting anything, pulled me closer to grind through my dress and panties. I let out a moan I’ve been holding since I’ve seen him in his suit.

“You don’t moan or cum until daddy says so. Got it, princess?” this was definitely a new thing and I am definitely not complaining. By now, the wetness could be felt between my thighs. I rubbed them together to try and please myself but he stopped me.

“Oh, no no, that’s strike two baby.” he chuckled darkly before raising the hem of my dress over my butt. Another chuckle reached by ears and before I could turn around to look at him, two of his fingers rested themselves over my damp underwear.

“My, my. We haven’t even started anything yet and you’re already soaking, baby.” he cooed sultrily, moving his hands up and down my folds over my panties. I let out another moan as I buried my face into the mattress, knowing I’ve made a mistake.

“What did I say?”

“N-no moaning until you say so, daddy.” I repeated his words from earlier.

“That’s right. Strike three.” he growled before ripping my underwear off. A resounding sound of a smack landed on my rear and I bit my lip to keep myself from making the same mistake like before. He gave me three more spanks before burying two fingers inside me.

“Let it out, go on. Let the neighbors hear you.” he commanded before thrusting his fingers inside of me. I didn’t hesitate to let my moans roll out. He was rubbing my insides, making me go crazy. Just before I could cum, he pulled out his fingers and smirked, making me huff in frustration.

“No cumming until I say so.”

“Yes, daddy.” I mumbled back.

“Now about you do me a favor, and help out?” he stated more than questioned. I felt him get off the mattress and move to where my head was. He still had his dress shirt and pants on but his zipper wasn’t zipped up.

Sticking out from it was his already erected member.

“Suck, now.” I complied without any complaints. My tongue gave the tip a few licks before taking his thick size into my mouth. I ran my tongue over his shaft as much as I could. He was groaning out in pleasure. My head bobbed up and down, trying to get as much of him as I could.

His dick started to throb in my mouth and I knew he was about to release. I was going to pull back but his hands buried themselves in my hair and pushed my head down, keeping it there as he came with a low growl. His head was thrown back in delight as his seeds shot down my throat before he let my head go, watching me swallow.

He then move back to my ass, giving it a grope before taking his shaft and teasing my entrance.

“Daddy, please…” I breathed out, wiggling my hips to get closer. He didn’t answer, instead, plunged his cock into my core, taking the breath out of me.

My hands curled into fists as he pulled out only to thrust just as hard back in. A loud moan came out again as he repeated his hip movements.

“Daddy..more…please give me more..” I begged as I felt his hands grip my hips, pulling me towards his thrusts. I felt my walls clench around him, alerting me that I was about to come. Just when I was, he instantly pulled out.

“Daddy!” I whined, looking at him in shock. He held a dark smirk as he looked at me. He then flipped me over onto my back and spread my legs. My thighs were soaked as he teased my folds again.

“Beg. Beg for it.  Beg for me to fuck you.” he demanded as he ran the tip across my opening and around my clit.

“Please, daddy. Please fuck me hard and rough. I want it so much, daddy. Please allow me to cum!” I pleaded. The smirk only grew bigger as he quickly undid the restraint around my hands and thrust into my soaking pussy once again.

The force of his thrusts had me rolling my eyes back in want. One hand went to rub circles around my clit while the other went up towards my breast to fondle them. The bed was rocking as he plowed into my hole, leaving me speechless and hot.

I felt the all too familiar need to come again and I knew he knew that. His pace got quicker and his breathing was getting faster.

“Cum.” he demanded, pressing down onto my clit and giving a last hard thrust, making me scream out in pleasure as I came. My walls clenched around his hard cock. He let out a deep moan as he, too, came with me.

When we were lowering from out climax, he fell right beside me, the both of us covered in a sheet of sweat and breathing unevenly.

“God, that was sexy. So much better than that club.” he whispered in my ear.

“Happy birthday, daddy…” I whispered back

——————————

You are all killing me with all these daddy scenario requests. The next one is another daddy scenario. Guess who it is.

MASTERLIST

Originally posted by kyunseu

A start to a fic that went in a completely different direction, so I never used it. I needed fluff today. 


“Steve!” Peggy called to the other room.

He didn’t answer immediately. She tried again.

“Rogers!”

His head popped out of the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. She had to crane her neck to see him over the back of the couch where she was sitting. Her due date was in three days and her full-term, pregnant belly didn’t allow for much movement. The last of the work she was attempting to plow through before her leave started at the end of the week was spread out around her on the cushions. Sitting up to reach the coffee table was too much effort.

“What?” he said though she barely made out the word.

“Come deal with your child. I’m done.”

There was a pause while he presumably finished brushing his teeth before he came back into the living room of their small two-bedroom, Brooklyn apartment. He stopped when he was standing directly in front of her, but out of reach. Three years of marriage and he was still scared of her. Somehow that was satisfying.

“Peggy, honey, you’re pregnant. I don’t know what I can do,” he said with as much care as he could.

She wasn’t just pregnant, she was very pregnant. She wasn’t so much as sitting on the couch as she had entrenched herself.

“This is your fault, Rogers. All your fault.”

“It takes two to fondue.”

She chucked a pillow at him, which he dodged easily.

“Your child is doing army drills on my organs. I just want a few minutes to concentrate.”

He sat down next to her and put his cheek against her belly. 

“Hello, little one,” he said. “How about you give your mom a break? You’ve got to be good for her, okay? I’m leaving very early tomorrow and I’m going to be gone for a couple of days. I need you on your best behavior. Just two days. Can you do that for your old man? I’m feeling really badly about leaving so close to when you supposed to make your appearance, but it can’t be helped.”

His deep tone vibrated so that she could feel his words as much as hear them. It didn’t matter what he said. He could read the dictionary, but the baby would stop fussing to listening. The baby’s kicking didn’t stop, but they slowed a little. 

“There’s always a mission,” said Peggy without resentment.

He picked his chin up so he looked at her. “I’ll be back in time, alright? I promise. Come hell or high water.”

He had disappeared for five years. She had thought he had died. For five years, she moved on with her life. She went to work for the S.S.R. and made a life. She picked up the pieces after the war. Until one day, completely out of the blue, Jarvis had called to say Stark had found the plane. Then Stark had added something that had really changed everything. Steve could be saved.

She had dropped everything to go dashing to the crash site. It was another month before he woke up. She had been beside his bed, waiting.

“Did I miss the dance?” he had asked.

A few weeks past and nothing had happened between them. She was still working in New York and he had been whisked off to Washington DC for debriefings, photo shoots, and a grand reveal of his return. They talked every day as he adjusted to the new world and she adjusted to a world where her love was alive. She had let him set the pace. He had been through so much.

She took her first chance she had to visit him in DC and he has asked her to marry him in a dance hall her first night.

“I want to dance with you every day for the rest of my life,” he had said.

Six months after that, they married in a secret ceremony at City Hall. Their life had fallen into a pattern since then. Long hours at the office, both rushing off on missions, but always happily coming home again to their little apartment. Days off spent exploring the city or just in bed. They attended the odd public appearance where the world knew her as Mrs. Rogers, though she never legally changed her name. There was also the odd life or death situation, but that happened in their line of work. And though everything was changing or about to change with the impending birth of their child, she loved her life.

She rubbed the back of her hand against his cheek. “I know you will. You always come back to me.”

you and him

you have always been fast paced. you rush through life as the current keeps your kayak straight, always looking for the next view. you plow ahead, leaving behind those who can’t keep up.

he is gentle with me, careful not to leave me behind. he makes me laugh and it’s soft, my heart is soft again. holding his hand is like traveling back in time, where there is no fear, only love.

you break hearts in each city that you visit. these girls fall for you but you never can let anyone close enough, just close enough to really see you. you are more than rushing water, why do you have to swallow back words that show that you can be steady and calm. 

he has never broken anything in his life. not an arm, not a leg or even a heart. he speaks when he thinks something is valuable enough to say and he is steady and calm. he tells me I am the light but in reality he is the one lighting my path, he is burning brighter each day and I have never felt so much yellow.

you were always a maroon. too exotic to be considered red, but not exotic enough to be anything else. you are full of what if’s and maybes but that doesn’t seem to bother you right now.

he is yellow. I can close my eyes and feel his warmth. he is full of rational decisions and thought out plans. he is a cup of coffee on a rainy day. he is a mason jar full of flowers. he brings the light even when he isn’t burning his brightest. 

I always thought that maroon was my color but now I know how I feel about yellow. 

V.M.B

6/25/2016

A Pattern

“Liam gets a dog from his parents, to learn responsibility and stuff. Anyway Liam loves the dog and starts smelling like his dog…with the result that Brett is really jealous. Starts thinking that he has another were-friend and like acts really possessive. When it comes out that Liam smells like dog, it doesn’t get better and he and the dog like growl at each other and stuff”- funnyfreckless

Liam doesn’t even notice it at first. When he does, he thinks he’s probably just reading too much into it, looking for something more in things that could be easily brushed off. After a while, though, there’s no denying Brett’s acting a little strange. He’d never been much of a touchy-feely person. Now, though, Liam seems to find him standing just a bit closer than necessary, brushing their shoulders in wide hallways, being right at his side when the two packs meet up. Liam would love for it to be something more, because if he has to be a werewolf he can at least have a hot werewolf boyfriend, right? But no, he has to constantly remind himself that it’s probably nothing, that Brett probably only tolerates him, at best. Still… he’d once heard Stiles say something interesting; once is an incident, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern. Liam decides maybe it’s time to look for a pattern.

Once:

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Character Analysis: Shiroe

(Note: This is based on the light novel, with the exception of volume 10, which has no English translation. Spoilers are present for anyone who hasn’t gotten to volume 10 or the end of season 2. I tried to be as objective as possible, but anything here is free to debate.)

As our series’ villain in glasses hero, Shiroe is ruthless and calculating, but never conniving. He works for a selfless cause but uses methods fit for a swindler. In spite of whatever views he’s garnered from the public, he’s still a self-doubting, reserved young man with trust issues and a lonely background.

[PDF version]

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Fallout 4            review

It does take a while to get into it. It starts off fresh and invigorating; your character, named and shaped in your vision, scuttles to a near by vault to ward away from an incoming nuclear blast (a blast you witness first hand and only escape from at the last possible moment). The murder of your partner and the kidnapping of your son warrant your awakening from a cryo-chamber and propel you out the steel cage and into the rotting remnants of Boston. And everything so far is great. The game isn’t selfish in providing jaw dropping moments -the aforementioned nuclear blast and the moment you step out of the vault; with a flood of searing white light beating down on you until it fades away to reveal the wasteland- and the graphics are just phenomenal. Because of the bomb, most structures have been plowed down, leaving large splotches of barren landscape. It is in these areas that, for the first time in any video game, I took notice of how the earth and the sky are both separate and completely compliment each other. Desolate orange plains meet a bleach blue sky in the horizon during the day and then during the night the ground is blanketed in darkness, only illuminated by Dalmatian spots of lit structures; a gorgeous midnight sea only matched in beauty by the night sky, itself also a stretch of black populated by freckles of light.
Then, as you travel further along the waste and the story, things take a frustrating turn. I don’t know if it is my personal impatience or the game’s insistence in putting you on a strict diet but I found myself dying so, so many times. Most of the time it is my fault. I can’t just waltz into a den of monsters guns blazing and expect to come out the victor. I also have a knack of getting into sticky situations in order to test out who has the rocket launcher and which mutant is a suicide bomber. But I was only driven to such morose (albeit playful) experimentation on my own life because of how much unexpected factors come into play when invading a base. Two of the biggest examples is the Forager base and the encounter with the Mire lurk Queen. On that first one, it takes a lot of backtracking (in terms of saves) in order to figure out how to not only defeat the grunts guarding the gates -who have a annoying festishization of fire- but the main baddie, clad in power armor and surrounded by more pestering cohorts. I was able to beat him but that only came after dying a dozen times then realizing that a nuke to the forehead solves the problem mercilessly. In regards to the Queen monster, that also entailed many deaths that built up my frustration but, instead of finding an enemy’s weak spot, required exploring every nook and cranny in area to settle on a rocket launcher.
Though, my personal squabbles shouldn’t imply that those harsh lessons go unrewarded. In fact, once you do submit yourself to the rhythm of the game does the world leave itself open for your taking. This opportunity comes not only from strategically leveling yourself to the quirks and grievances of a specific enemy but the discovery and subsequent modification of weapons and armor. The wasteland is filled with guns predictable in a FPS (assault rifles, shotguns etc.) and then filled with oddities like the Fat Man, a monstrous catapult that slings mini nukes to the closest pin. Oh, and then there’s the Gamma Gun, a gun…satellite (?) that shoots onion rings of radiation. And I’d be an asshole if I don’t mention the Power Armor: a cross between Iron Man, hazmat attire in a cheap B-movie and the divine curves on a medieval knight’s armor. There is no better joy than seeing your Power Armor blossoming open at every limb just for your entrance.
Of course, venturing further into the world also entails exploring the staggering amount of stories encased within the game. This is not just speaking about the story of your character (which we’ll get to in a moment) but the stories of the world. You don’t have to look far to stumble upon a (intellectually) gentle mutant or to notice brain fungus (yeah, literally) growing on decayed walls. One of my favorite characters is Hancock, the ghoul mayor of the town ______, whose pre-introduction to you is repeatedly stabbing a con man that was trying to ease you into buying “wasteland” insurance. As someone who is bombarded by door-to-door salesmen on a day to day basis, this moment came as a cathartic relief. Along with beefing up your favorite gun for maximum, gory results, this game is great at realizing your giddiest fantasies (and emphasis on fantasy, to those worried about that previous sentence).
In regards to the “story” of the game, it regulates itself to the mystery/revenge/science fiction niche so compelling to me and every other gamer that gobbled up Fallout 4 on release. You venture to find and return your son, now a few years older than the last time you seen him, takes you to a healthy variety of environments and places you in contact with an assortment factions. A big compliment that I’d give to the game is its insistence on giving each character and their preferred group a philosophy that goes against other factions. This not only creates tension between the groups but places an enormous amount of responsibility on you. A complete commitment to the Brotherhood of Steel may likely sever your relationships with those who helped you get as far as you did; like the synth Nick Valentine who is essential to your journey but he and his “kind” is universally hated by BoS, along with the majority of “diverse” friends you make along the way.
Then there is the tension between continuing your journey at all or deciding to stay in the wasteland to expand on your fortunes and credibility. As mentioned, there is enough there to invest in without having to entertain the main storyline but doing so would cheat you out of astounding moments almost unparalleled in gaming. One that really floored me is scaling the neurons of someone else’s brain; glowing purple vines that lead to floating chunks of room that replay moments of someone else’s life. This specific someone had more than enough evidence to condemn him as a monster but through this gallery reveals himself to be achingly human; merely the product of life’s harsh constructs. This moment is amazing and its mixture of oddball science and heartfelt sentiment nearly rivals Fallout 3’s black and white simulator sequence. Then again, coming back to the original point, there is no reason why you can’t wander the wasteland and participate in its linear story. You can do anything! My argument is merely the effect of the near endless decisions compacted in the game. With so much, the game practically begs you to come back as someone new.

White guy plows into a Muslims leaving a Mosque on purpose but no one will call it terrorism. WTF. IT IS TERRORISM…oh wait he is white so its not. Only us Muslims can be terrorists. 

An Amends

This ficlet is part of the Claire returns early with Bree AU which begins with A Ringing Phone and a Folder.

This ficlet is a direct continuation from Old Enough

My Fanfiction Master List

Available on AO3 as The Nature of Choice.

This Outlander canon divergence AU ficlet alludes to information/events that appear in Dragonfly in Amber and Voyager.

As always, let me know what you think.

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