😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭SPIT IN MY PUSSY😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭AND EAT ME OUT😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭IM SO HORNYYYYY😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭GIMME THAT DICK😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭WHERES MY PLATE AT😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭AM I MUTED😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
You had met Choso while playing a silly online game. You never thought your relationship would end up where it is now—ditching plans with real-life friends just to spend more time together, and even sleeping on call, something you once claimed to hate.
But the strangest part of this whole thing was the nudes you’d send each other. Ah, but only to “relieve stress.” That’s what best friends do, right? Help each other out?
“Ah—I’m so hard for you,” you heard Choso whimper through the phone. “Can I— Can I see your pretty body? Choso needs you..” You could hear the wet, sloppy sounds he was making while stroking himself.
“You want to see my body, Cho? Why don’t you ask like a good boy then?” you teased, sliding your hand down, rubbing slow circles on your clit while grinning, all teeth. You loved how needy Choso was—it was one of the things that first caught your attention about him, aside from his stupidly handsome face, masculine features yet somehow still so delicate.
“Please mommy, can I see your pretty breasts? Choso has been such a good boy for you…” he moaned, voice trembling with need.
Pleased by his begging, you grabbed your phone with your left hand, positioning it so he could see your bare breasts, perky nipples, and your hand shamelessly tucked inside your underwear. You took a picture and sent it to him.
“Good boy.” you answered softly. You could feel yourself growing wetter with Choso’s loud whimpers so close to your ear, his voice so needy, yearning for you, whispering your name over and over again.
“Ah— mommy! Your tits are so pretty… I want them in my mouth, please I need them in my mouth—Ah! I’m gonna—Please—!”
“Oh, Cho—” you felt your arms giving out as you desperately rubbed your sensitive bud. You imagined what he looked like right now: long strands of hair falling across his face, flushed cheeks, lips parted in a small “o” as he pathetically stroked his pretty cock. Fuck.
You and Choso came at the same time with a loud moan, both of you saying each other’s names. You pictured his hot cum filling you instead of spilling onto his stomach, painting your insides white. You wondered if he thought the same thing.
“Ah shit..” you mumbled as your body tiredly melted.
Completely out of breath, Choso lazily thanked you. “Thank you mommy… I love you so much..iloveyouiloveyou—”
I like smut as much as the next person but yall aren't even trying to write anymore. All fanfic on here is just 300 words of sex and then just tagging any character you think fits.
first year high schooler ryomen sukuna was starting to think volleyball had ruined his life. but it was not because he disliked it. if anything, the thought was opposite. quite annoyingly, he liked it far too much. much more than he thought he would possible. and frankly, it wouldn’t have been what he expected more than a year and a half ago for himself.
he liked the impact of a perfect spike against his palm. it just felt too good, feeling that satisfying burn in his muscles after practice. he enjoyed watching the ball slam into the floor hard enough to make people flinch.
in some ways, there was something addictive about becoming stronger at something so quickly, about seeing people stare at him with the same mixture of awe and caution they always had. except now it was on a volleyball court instead of outside convenience stores after fights.
volleyball had also introduced him to a very specific problem. that was the unbeatable concept, the most unfathomable concept in the universe. the push and pull of destiny, the endless crash of the waves. the concept of love….the concept of you.
it was something that he would have never thought of years ago, especially a year and a half ago. he wasn’t the type of boy who could have ever been good at being gentle, let alone be willing to let his guard down and be vulnerable for anything, for anyone.
but somehow, ever since he started dating you, the former red eyed devil of the streets, that young delinquent he was, was no longer there. Instead, all that remained is this young man, this ryomen sukuna who had been acting like a complete idiot. a complete, embarrassing, hopeless idiot, who was head over heels in love with you.
and the worst part was that nobody could even believe it. nobody at school would ever imagine the infamous former delinquent ryomen sukuna, the guy teachers kept an eye on out of habit, the guy with tattoos peeking from beneath his uniform collar, the guy who looked mean even while half-asleep, was internally losing his mind because his girlfriend looked too cute holding a pen.
he could not believe it at first, but he quickly realized that he was now that sort of boy he used to think were just fools. he was now constantly looking up, waiting for you to be in his bird’s eye view, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and be relieved.
you sat in the gym almost every afternoon during volleyball practice, student council work spread neatly across your lap while you waited for him to finish. sometimes the manager would offer you a chair closer to the heaters during colder days, but you always stayed near the court because, according to you, “i like watching my boyfriend play” and you repeated that all the time. which was a killer line.
because that sentence alone had nearly gotten him on his knees and made him realize that he couldn’t breathe the first time you said it. then each time you had said it, it had him fighting for his life. he couldn’t believe it. he was a boyfriend, and let alone, your boyfriend.
he couldn’t go without you now.
he just knows that he can’t do things without you.
how could he, when you are everything good in life?
today, practice had run late.the weather outside had shifted colder with the approaching rain, and even inside the gym, the air carried a chill that lingered against sweat-damp skin. the windows had fogged slightly near the corners, sunset light filtering weakly through the gray clouds overhead.
sukuna was exhausted, beyond comprehension. he could feel the way his head was fuzzy and light-headed. he dropped onto the bench beside you with a low exhale, towel hanging around his neck while he rolled one sore shoulder. his practice shirt clung slightly to his back, still damp from drills.
you looked up immediately from your paperwork. “there you are, i couldn’t see you.” you said softly. “i thought you left. its a good thing i saw your bag in here.”
“had to do the drill outside, for terrain practice.”
“you were doing extra spikes there, huh?”
“tch. coach asked, so i don’t panic when if the volleyball floor isn’t even.”
“you scared two first-years, i heard. you kept asking the senpais for help and you kept glaring at them.” you couldn’t help but say in a light tone. “you could have smiled a little you know.”
“they’ll survive without it.” he says as he takes his water bottle. “‘sides they aren’t you. why should they get my smile?”
“i suppose that’s fair enough.” you tell him. “though, you hit one hard enough that he ducked before the ball even crossed the net. be a bit more mindful next time.”
“he should learn instincts then.”
your lips twitched faintly, the one you had been suppressing for a little bit now. sukuna watched the tiny smile form and immediately felt that stupid feeling in his chest again. god, there it was.
that thing. that unbearable tightness whenever you looked amused by him.
he clicked his tongue and grabbed his water bottle instead, trying to ignore the fact he was staring. you noticed anyway, because you always noticed. you blinked your eyes adorably and you tilted your head slightly. “what?” you asked.
“nothing.”
“you’re staring again.”
“no, i’m not.”
“you absolutely are.”
sukuna glared at you weakly before unscrewing his water bottle. unfortunately, the moment his fingers curled around the cold metal, he remembered something. he looked at your hands for a moment. he starts to think for a moment, about the way you hated the cold.
it wasn’t dramatic, it wasn’t unreasonable either. and you don’t complain about it often. but he could just feel it, he could just see it. you couldn’t cope. you just got quietly miserable whenever temperatures dropped even slightly.
you tucked your hands into your sleeves. your nose turned pink. you complained under your breath about frozen fingers while trying to maintain your usual composed student-president image.
and sukuna, sukuna thought it was the cutest thing he had ever seen in his entire life. which was a serious problem. because now every time the weather got cold, every time a place felt cold, or when something was too cold to the touch, he couldn’t stop paying attention to you.
a few weeks ago, you’d grabbed his hand while walking home after rain. his muscular fingers had still been freezing from carrying an iced drink, and you’d immediately jerked in surprise before pouting up at him.
“your hands are cold, ‘kuna.” you’d complained quietly. “now mine are cold too.”
you hadn’t even sounded upset. if anything, you’d sounded clingy, almost like you expected him to fix it. sukuna had spent the entire night afterward staring at his ceiling because the memory kept replaying in his head.
now it had permanently altered his behavior, his train of thought, his perspectives. so while you sat beside him in the chilly gym, absentmindedly rubbing your sleeves over your hands for warmth, sukuna’s brain short-circuited instantly.
fuck, there you went again.
you looked too cute.
way too cute for him to handle.
you didn’t even realize you were doing it either, perhaps that was the worst part. your brows furrowed slightly as you tried warming your fingers beneath your sleeves while still reading over council papers, and sukuna physically had to look away for a second because something about it hit him directly in the chest.
how was anyone supposed to survive dating you?
“how are you cold already, babe?” he muttered roughly.
you glanced at him with mild offense. “because it’s freezing.”
“it is not.”
“‘kuna, i can literally see my breath outside.”
“that’s normal.”
“it shouldn’t be.”
you tucked your hands farther into your sleeves stubbornly, shoulders hunching a little against the cold air. and that, that right there nearly killed him. ryomen sukuna stared at you for a long second before dragging a hand down his face.
fuck it all, it was too much.
you were adorable.
actually adorable.
he hated this feeling. hated how soft you made him feel. hated how his chest kept tightening over things as stupid as your cold hands. before you could notice the crisis happening internally, sukuna abruptly started rubbing his palms together.
you blinked. “what are you doing right now?”
“nothing at all.”
“you’re aggressively warming your hands.”
“i said it’s nothing.”
then, dissatisfied, he shoved both hands underneath the collar of his shirt to warm them properly against his skin. your eyes widened slowly as realization hit your face all at once.
and then you smiled. you couldn’t help it, you couldn’t help look at him so fondly.
“oh my god…” you whispered.
“don’t.”
“you’re warming your hands up for me.”
sukuna wanted the floor to open beneath him. “you’re cold, okay?” he muttered defensively, refusing to look directly at you now. “you hate cold stuff.”
your expression softened so visibly it made his stomach flip. “‘kuna…”
“it’s annoying watching you complain.”
“i complained once.”
“you looked miserable.”
“because i was cold.”
“exactly.”
you stared at him for a moment longer, something unbearably affectionate settling in your expression. then you laughed quietly under your breath, so softly, it felt like a feather had landed on his skin, carefully placing its tenderness against him. sukuna felt like his organs were rearranging themselves.
“you’re seriously so sweet, aren’t you, kuna?” you said.
sukuna almost choked. sweet? him? absolutely not. “you’re hallucinating, babe.”
“you’re warming your hands because mine get cold.”
“you act like you’re dying every time the temperature drops below twenty.”
“because cold weather is evil.”
“there’s something wrong with you.”
“you still like me.”
unfortunately, that was true. painfully true. and there was nothing he could do about it. sukuna finally pulled his hands back out from beneath his shirt before awkwardly holding one toward you, still refusing eye contact. “here.”
you looked down at his hand, then back at him. and suddenly your entire expression melted. sukuna immediately knew he was finished. because there it was again. that look. that impossibly soft, affectionate look that made him feel like he’d been punched directly in the chest.
carefully, you slipped your hand into his. the second your fingers touched, your eyes brightened slightly.
“they’re warm.” you said quietly.
the happiness in your voice over something so small genuinely made sukuna’s brain stop functioning. fuck. fuck, you were cute. you held his hand with both of yours now like you were stealing his warmth, shoulders relaxing immediately.
“‘kuna, you’re so good at everything you know?” you murmured, looking absurdly content, “how could you just fix everything so easily? you’re like a healer…..no, no, you’re like my personal heater.”
that did it. that actually did it. sukuna felt his entire face heat instantly as he stared at you in disbelief. you were holding his hand against your cheek now, eyes half-lidded in comfort from the warmth, and sukuna genuinely thought he might die right there in the middle of the gymnasium.
how could someone act like this and not realize what they were doing to him? how could you just cross the boundaries and make the greys turn into a rainbow? his heartbeat was so loud it was annoying. you noticed his silence and blinked up at him innocently. “what?”
you laughed softly again before squeezing his hand tighter, still warming your fingers against his palm. and sukuna, he couldn’t do anything else. sukuna looked at you curled against his warmth like trusting him came naturally, like loving him was easy, and felt something helpless bloom painfully inside his chest.
because nobody had ever needed gentleness from him before. nobody had ever looked this happy just because he remembered something small about them. he stared at your intertwined hands for a moment before muttering under his breath, almost too quietly to hear, he says, “you’re gonna ruin me.”
you blinked. “hm?”
“nothing.”
but you smiled anyway, like maybe you’d heard him after all. and while the gym buzzed faintly around you with distant voices and squeaking shoes, ryomen sukuna sat there completely lovestruck, warming your hands between his own like it was the most important job in the world.
“i really do like you, ‘kuna.” you whispered to him softly, feeling warmth all over your face. “i promise, by next week…i’ll figure out what my nickname is for you….it can’t just be you who has a cute one for me.”
he could feel his blush intensify. he lowers his head. “y–you don’t have to say shit like that—fuck….”
“‘kuna, are you okay?”
“I…i’m fine! just…just keep letting my hands warm you, okay?....i warmed my hands to touch you….just…just let it warm you up.”
"alright, alright....tsundere."
"i am not a tsundere—babe!"
"hm...i believe you."
he blushed even more.
he knew you were right.
he just won't admit it.
".....just keep warm, okay?"
"okay." you smiled.
epilogue
years later, olympic volleyball legend ryomen sukuna still warmed his hands before touching yours. it had become such an ingrained habit that he no longer consciously thought about it anymore. whenever the weather turned cold, whenever rain tapped against the windows or winter air slipped beneath doorframes, his body simply moved on instinct. rub his palms together. warm them against hot water or the fabric of his sweater. then reach for you.
you noticed every single time. this morning, rain drizzled softly outside the apartment while pale gray light filled the kitchen. the heater hummed near the corner, but apparently not enough for you, because you stood near the counter bundled in one of sukuna’s old hoodies with your hands tucked deep into the sleeves.
your nose was pink from the cold. sukuna thought you looked ridiculous. ridiculously cute for your own good. you frowned down at your coffee mug like it had personally betrayed you. “why is the floor cold?”
“because it’s winter, babe.” sukuna answered from the table without looking up. “bound to be cold iike this.”
“well i don't like it.....winter is evil.” you sniffle.
“you say that every year.”
“because every year it’s true.”
he finally glanced toward you then and immediately felt that familiar ache settle warmly in his chest. years later, and you still looked exactly the same whenever you were cold. the tiny pout. the way your shoulders hunched slightly. the way you curled your fingers into your sleeves like a disgruntled cat.
sukuna had once believed he would eventually grow used to loving you. nstead, it seemed to get worse with time. he still is overwhelmed each and every time by how much he feels for you, by how deep the depths get when it comes to you. yet he wouldn't trade this for the world. not one bit.
you sighed dramatically before shuffling toward him across the kitchen. “my hands are freezing.”
“that sounds like a personal problem.”
“you’re so mean to me.”
“do you want some hot cocoa?”
“.....yes, please. thank you.”
“already have it on the kettle, babe.” he says from his seat, smiling. “give it a few minutes, okay?”
“......okay.”
almost instinctively after that, you still moved directly between his legs where he sat at the table, leaning against him automatically. sukuna’s hands settled on your waist without thought.
then, after a brief pause, he clicked his tongue softly and pulled one hand away. you watched silently as he reached toward the sink, running warm water over his palms for several seconds first.
a smile slowly spread across your face. “still doing that, huh?” you asked quietly.
sukuna dried his hands with a towel before looking back at you. “doing what?”
“warming your hands before touching me.”
“your hands get cold.”
“so?”
“so i don’t like when you complain about it.”
you laughed softly beneath your breath, and sukuna immediately felt his heartbeat stutter in the same humiliating way it always had.
he still remembered being sixteen years old and internally panicking in the school gym because your fingers had gotten cold from his.
now, years later, he was married to you, living with you, waking up beside you every morning and somehow he still reacted exactly the same.
you reached for him the second he held his hands out, slipping your smaller freezing ones into his warm palms with an immediate relieved sigh. “there he is.” you murmured happily. “my human heater.”
sukuna rolled his eyes, but his grip tightened automatically around your fingers. then he noticed the tiny pleased smile spreading across your face while you warmed your hands against his.
fucking hell.
still cute.
still unfairly cute.
he leaned down to kiss your forehead, already feeling that familiar helpless warmth blooming in his chest, when tiny footsteps suddenly pattered through the path of the hallway.
both of you turned. ryomen sukumi stood there sleepily in oversized bear-print pajamas, one tiny fist rubbing against her eye while her stuffed rabbit dragged limply behind her.
sukuna froze immediately. because somehow, every single morning, seeing his daughter still caught him off guard. one-year-old sukumi was so much like you it was honestly ridiculous.
your rounded cheeks. the same whimsy in your eyes. your adorable expressions. your habits. especially your habits. she may be his carbon copy but everything she is, all he can see is you and only you.
right now, she stood in the middle of the hallway with her tiny hands shoved deep into her pajama sleeves exactly the same way you did. same pout too. same betrayed expression toward the cold air.
sukuna physically felt something cave in his chest at the sight. you noticed immediately and bit back a smile. “good morning, kumi, my baby.” you said softly. “you're already up?”
sukumi looked at you with watery sleepy eyes before mumbling miserably, “cold…”
and there it was. that same exact tone you used every winter morning. the kettle was sounding but all he could hear was that sound, like back then. that tenderness of his heartbeat at the sight of this wonder. sukuna stared at his daughter in complete silence while realization slowly settled over him all over again.
she was exactly like you, in everything.
sukumi waddled farther into the kitchen before lifting both tiny arms upward dramatically. “mama…'kumi cold.”
you crouched instantly, brushing her messy hair back. “your hands are cold?”
sukumi nodded sadly. “very cold.”
sukuna watched the entire interaction with narrowing eyes as he turned off the kettle. he could not take his sight of you and sukumi. because she even complained like you. this was unbelievable. and yet all he could think was, how wonderful this was. how the two pieces of you two made someone as lovable and tender and cute as you, his beloved wife.
you glanced over your shoulder at him, visibly trying not to laugh. “my love.”
“don’t.”
“you’re making the face again.”
“what face, pray tell?”
“the one where you realize your daughter inherited all my habits.”
“she’s dramatic.”
“you think i’m dramatic too.”
“because you are.”
before you could argue, sukumi suddenly turned toward him instead, tiny hands still hidden inside her sleeves “dada, dada.” she mumbled.
sukuna’s expression softened immediately despite himself. “what, kumibear? what do you need from dada?”
“warm, kumi...kumi want warm.”
goodness gracious.
he was doomed.
completely doomed.
because now she was looking at him with the exact same expression you used whenever asking him to warm your hands. same hopeful eyes. same tiny pout. same complete trust that he would take care of it. sukuna exhaled slowly through his nose before crouching in front of her.
“c’mere, kumibear.”
sukumi toddled forward instantly. and before even touching her, sukuna rubbed his palms together first. almost as if she just knew fully well that this was the best thing she can do to put herself at ease, almost so instinctive that she curls intp his warmth immediately.
he does same thing he’d been doing for years. he puts his warm touch on hers. you watched quietly from nearby while he carefully took sukumi’s tiny hands between his own warm ones.
the second the warmth reached her fingers, sukumi visibly brightened. her little shoulders relaxed. her eyes widened slightly in relief. then she smiled so big, so comfortably.
and sukuna genuinely thought his heart stopped. because it was your smile. exactly your smile. when gratitude was shared, when good moments were experienced, when love was wholeheartedly given without any boundaries. this was you. all that he had loved of you, in your daughter's smile.
“warm, dada.” sukumi whispered happily before immediately pressing his hands closer against her cheeks. "kumi loves."
you made a tiny strangled sound beside him, clearly trying not to laugh at his expression. sukuna glanced up at you flatly. “don’t start.”
“you look emotional.”
“i’m not emotional.”
“you absolutely are.”
because he was.
he really was.
he couldn't help it.
this was everything.
all he wanted then, as a kid.
he had it now, with you.
sukuna looked back down at sukumi happily holding his hands against her face while leaning trustingly into his warmth, and suddenly he was struck with the overwhelming realization that this was his life now.
you. your daughter. these cold hands every winter morning. the tiny domestic moments that somehow felt bigger than anything else. and worst of all, he loved it to bits. he loved all of it so much it honestly made him feel sick sometimes.
you moved beside him then, resting your chin lightly on his shoulder while sukumi continued clinging to his hands. “look at her, my love.” you whispered fondly. “she does the same face i do.”
“yeah, she does.” sukuna muttered quietly, unable to stop staring at her. “i noticed.”
you smiled knowingly. because you understood exactly what was happening to him. years ago, sixteen-year-old sukuna had nearly combusted over you holding his warmed hands in a cold gym after volleyball practice.
now he sat on the kitchen floor with your daughter clinging to his palms the exact same way while you leaned affectionately against his shoulder, and somehow he was even more hopelessly in love than before.
"does kumibear want hot cocoa too? like mama?"
sukumi nodded against him. "cocoa, papa."
"that sounds wonderful." you whispered, pressing a kiss on his shoulder.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Your one night stay at a motel together starts out tense when you go through his phone after you feel like he's been hiding things from you.
disclaimer: read both diewithme and starfall before this! also maybe some of the other mw fics for more context
tags: midwest!hollis, jealous!reader and jealous!hollis, angst and smut, staying in a motel, late night gas station runs, make up sex (you both couldn’t stay mad at each other), quickie kinda, p in v, oral (f receiving)
w/c: 2.9k
a/n: new mw holli fic for yall ^__^ i’ve gotten a few requests to write more angst w them with arguments n such where they ultimately can’t stay mad at eachother so here is one. as usual no screenshotting/talking about this fic outside of tumblr thank u
Gas stations at night always oddly calmed you. The fluorescent lights with the hint of green, the whirr of the freezers on the wall, and the faint radio playing.
You walked through the aisles, trying to figure out which chip brand you felt like eating at the moment. Tonight, you had a motel room booked to stay in for fun with Hollis. It was between that and camping, which you said no to because the amount of bugs this year was atrocious.
Hollis was pacing outside talking to someone on the phone while putting gas into the car. Without even hearing it, you could tell he was talking to that girl you kept hearing him talk to over the last few weeks.
You and Hollis have separate jobs now. You both tried your hardest to get a new one together, but ultimately ended up getting a job at two different places. At first, you were really upset. You’ve admittedly gotten codependent with him, so the idea of working without him being there too was disappointing. Over time, you realized that maybe it would be good for Hollis to meet new people without you. And it was.
Hollis had met a group of people at work that were like him. You were so glad to see that he made friends without your help. But you quickly realized that one of the friends was a girl.
That’s who you think he kept talking to. It didn’t sound like his mom, you knew what his mom sounded like. It had to be a girl from his job. But every time you asked, he gave a different answer.
When he was done with his call, he waved to you from the outside, signaling that he was ready to go.
You grabbed a bag of Lays sour cream and onion chips, gummy worms, and went up to the register.
“Will that be all?”
“One pack of Marlboros and one pack of Newports too, please.” You pointed behind the cashier.
Hollis was waiting for you by the car when you walked back outside. “They didn’t have any Trolli gummy worms, so I just got you these knock off ones.” You held up the bag.
“That’s okay, I like those too. C’mon.”
You both got in the car, and drove away from the gas station. The way to the motel was pretty dark at this time of night. Nothing but flat land on both sides of the road, and the only light coming from the car’s headlights.
It was quiet for the first few minutes. Nothing but the sound of the car and Hollis’ music on the stereo.
“Hollis?”
“Yeah?”
“Who…who were you talking to? At the gas station?” You asked.
He clicked his tongue. “Eh, it was nobody. Work related.”
“You always say that. Aren’t we supposed to tell each other everything?”
“Look. It’s nothing. Why are you worried about that, and not the cool motel I’m about to take you to?” He tried to change the subject. “Reviews said it’s one of the nicest motels out there. No bedbugs, a hot tub, complimentary free drinks.”
You sighed. You weren’t gonna get an answer out of him. At least right now. And you were still excited to go. The whole thing just bothered you, it has for weeks.
You saw him look at you in the corner of your eye. “We’re almost there. Hang tight, I know you’re hungry.”
You turned up the volume on the stereo, staring out of the window and trying to move on from the conversation for now.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥
The motel’s sign was aggressively neon pink.
Both of your faces were covered in the light of it getting out of the car. It read ‘Motel of Love.’
Hollis and you walked into the lobby. It was already really nice, way nicer than any of the other motels you’ve been to.
“Hi, I have a room booked.” He walked up to the receptionist.
“What’s the name?” The receptionist was clearly tired. She was older, with a cigarette in the corner of her mouth, and a manicure nearly chipped off.
“Hollis.”
“Room number 130. Here’s your key, on the back of it is the Wi-Fi password and a QR code to the room service menu. We had to switch from physical menus to virtual since more than a few guests found it amusing to put their body fluids on them.”
“Oh.” Hollis laughed awkwardly, grabbing the key. “Let’s go.” He nodded his head towards you.
You walked with him to the room. “It’s really nice here, Hollis.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He smiled. “I was worried for a second there that you didn’t.”
“No, it’s great. Really fancy lookin’.”
“Just wait until you see the room.”
110…120…130. Hollis almost missed it. He stopped in front of the door, and got the key out.
“Ladies first.” He put his hand out in the doorway.
“Thank you.” You giggled. You looked around the room. There was one bed. The sheets were red, with white pillows. The bathroom was average, but pretty nice for a motel.
Hollis put his jacket on the back of the door. “I don’t know about you, but I really want to shower.”
“Oh, I’ll let you go first.”
“Alright, thanks. I was gonna let you go first if you wanted to but…well, yeah. Thank you!”
You snickered at his awkward speech. He was so endearing and adorable all the time.
That’s why you felt a bit bad for what you were about to do when he was in the shower. Your eyes glanced at his phone near his suitcase.
Since he wasn’t telling you, you were going to figure it out yourself. It was going to bother you for the whole night if you didn’t.
When you were certain he was in the shower, you grabbed the phone and unlocked it. You both had the password to each other’s phones, because you were that close.
Immediately, you clicked on the Phone app and went to the recent calls. And lo and behold, a female name was within the recent ones. Mandy. With ‘Work’ beside it.
And it wasn’t just one call, it was multiple. You remember some of these. All of the different answers, and it was the same girl every time. Your heart dropped. You were scared to open their text messages. You wanted to see what she looked like first.
You got out of the Phone app and went to his instagram. You clicked on his following and searched for a Mandy. You clicked on the only account that showed up. It was a girl with blonde hair, piercings, and eyeliner.
Each scroll through her profile sent sparks of anger up your spine. He was talking to this girl behind your back. And lying about it.
His face dropped coming out of the bathroom when he saw you standing up with his phone in your hand.
“(Y/n)—”
“Who is Mandy?” You spat immediately.
“Why are you going through my phone?”
“Answer me first. Why are you talking to a whole other girl behind my back?”
Hollis sighed and face-palmed. “It’s just a friend from work. I didn’t think it was that important.”
“Hollis, we tell each other everything. You’ve been lying about it. You said you were on the phone with so many different people, but it has always been this girl.”
Hollis wiped himself off with his towel and dropped it in front of you. He kneeled down to grab clean clothes from his suitcase. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d freak out and assume the worst.”
“How can I not freak out with how suspicious you’re moving about it?! I’m just confused why you didn’t tell me. I feel like you’re hiding a lot of stuff from me, and I just don’t want that. I don’t want to be with a man I don’t know.”
He scoffed. “I feel the same way.”
“What?”
He stood up, now fully in his pajamas. “You know how insane it is to find out that your girlfriend was hanging out with multiple men behind your back via an instagram post?”
Your face contorted in confusion, until you realized he meant the coworker from your new job’s party that you went to. “Hollis, that was nothing. It was for work.”
His eyebrows raised in disbelief. “You couldn’t have given me a heads up? You don’t think I'm that dumb, I can’t see the look in those men’s eyes when they talk to you? And you not only go to a party with them, but not tell me about it?”
“I…I just didn’t think it was that important. And come the fuck on, that is nothing compared to literally talking to someone one on one on multiple occasions. And lying about it!” You shouted, flailing your arms around in disbelief.
Hollis laughed coldly, not replying.
“You’re deflecting.” You teared up. You always did whenever you argued. “I just want you to tell me things…when I ask. Like you always used to. It seems like ever since we’ve gotten these new jobs, you haven’t been honest with me.”
“You know how I feel about you hanging out with other dudes like that. It’s already annoying that I couldn’t get the same job as you, now I have to hear the stories about how much the men there flirt with you from your coworkers Instagram’s on my recommended.” Hollis leaned on the wall. “Why couldn’t you tell me about that?”
“I just…” Your voice croaked. “Thought it would be better if you didn’t know about it.”
Hollis walked over, sitting next to you. “Guess we both feel the same.”
You felt bad. What was supposed to be a romantic night together, turned into this. Your mouth hung open, trying to find the right words to say, but nothing came out.
“Look. I’m gonna go smoke. The bathroom’s free.” He quickly put his jacket on, and left the room.
Tears fell from your face. The only sound in the room was your sniffles from you sobbing. After a while, you got up from the bed and went to bathe.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥
When you came out of the bathroom, he still wasn’t back. In another timeline, you would be telling him how nice the bathtub was and how nice the soap smelt.
Instead, you got dressed in your pajamas and sat on the bed alone. You turned the TV on to break the silence.
You scanned the QR code on the wall with the room service menu. You forgot about the free complimentary drinks, you contemplated taking them up on that offer.
When Hollis got back, you would apologize. You were the one to bring the whole thing up, and it spiraled into what it was. It seemed like both of you just wanted the other to be more honest and open.
After an hour of watching Family Guy reruns and looking at the room service menu still, you heard the door being unlocked.
It was Hollis. The silence was deafening, even with the TV on. He put his jacket on the door.
“I’m sorry.” You immediately blurted out. He looked at you, not saying a word yet. “I’m sorry for going through your phone, and I’m sorry for not telling you about the guys at work, I-I—”
He walked over and sat next to you on the bed. He grabbed your face and smushed your lips together. Your eyes were wide open. His mouth tasted like cigarettes. But you reciprocated it anyway.
It was almost scary. He was silent, but moving so quickly. He climbed on the bed and towered over you, kissing you roughly. You couldn’t tell if he was still mad or not.
His hand groped your breast through your shirt. You felt his crotch. He was rock hard already. He quickly pulled his shorts and boxers down and got his cock out.
You jerked him off with his tongue still in your mouth. His hands pulled your pajama bottoms down with your panties too. He pulled off of the kiss and wasted no time. He grabbed his dick, spread your legs and thrusted inside.
You moaned loudly at how quickly he stretched you. He started going at a fast pace as well.
He panted above you, thrusting away. You laid there and took all of it. Sex was a great stress reliever, it would probably do some good to fuck it out. You had no problem with testing that theory, it had been a few days since you both got the chance to do this.
He leaned in to give you a kiss on the cheek, that was actually meant for your lips. You giggled at that and grabbed his face, connecting your lips again.
The sex was so desperate. He was going so fast, just wanting to cum. The bed squeaked loudly. It seemed like it had been used in this way many times. You trailed your fingers down and rubbed yourself. The way he was acting right now was turning you on so much. It was like a whole different side of him. All of that anger was being put into how hard he was fucking you.
His moans got whinier and messier. He was about to cum, you could tell.
“You gonna cum?” You whispered, looking into his eyes.
“Yeah.” He answered breathlessly. He pulled out at the right time, and jerked himself off on your belly. “Fuck.” He groaned while rubbing himself. You watched all of his cum land on your stomach.
He noticed you didn’t cum yet. He quickly got in between your legs and put his mouth on your pussy. He made his tongue flat and licked up and down. Your hands played with his dirty blonde hair as he licked you to completion. Your face was burning looking at him between your legs.
He looked so focused on making you cum. His tongue swirled around your clit and darted in and out below. You moaned loud when he moved his tongue really fast.
Your head leaned back and your back arched. When he noticed you were about to cum, he went even faster, his eyes watching you the entire time. You gripped the sheets with your right hand as it wracked through your whole body.
You both laid on the bed afterwards, covered in sweat and both trying to catch your breath. The quickie did make you feel a lot better.
“I’m sorry too.” Hollis broke the silence. “I can’t stay mad at you.” He chuckled into a face palm. “I’m supposed to, but I can’t.”
You turned over to look at him.
“Listen. I’m sorry for lying to you. I should’ve just told you in the first place. But I swear to God (y/n), it is nothing like that. At all. She’s…”
You listened intently, resting your hand on your cheek on the pillow.
“She’s my friend. I mean it. And I’ve been meaning to introduce you to her and all the other friends I’ve made, but our schedules keep clashing.” He sighed, and turned over to look in your eyes. “I wish you were there too. But if you want me to stop talking to her, I will.”
“Can we just…promise to keep telling each other everything? No more secrets?” That was really the main issue.
“Yeah.” Hollis pulled you into a hug. “No more secrets.”
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥
For the rest of the night, things finally went as planned. You and Hollis ordered from the room service menu. The free drinks certainly tasted free. You clinked both of your drinks together as a toast on the bed.
“Blagh.” You stuck your tongue out after a sip. “Why does, like, every alcoholic drink kind of taste like shit?”
“I don’t think people drink it for the taste.” He chuckled. “This does suck, though. Probably why it was free.”
After having a drink, you followed Hollis to where the hot tub was. The hotel didn’t seem like it had a lot of residents tonight. Maybe they were all in their rooms.
The tub itself was outside by the pool. The lights inside of it were pink. You took your robe off. You both brought your swimsuits just to do this. You winced a bit, sticking a leg in. “It’s hot.”
“Kinda in the name, babe.” He smiled, taking his robe off too. Something about seeing him shirtless outside like this made you blush. You always forgot how built he was. He was skinny, but still had a bit of muscle. He got in the tub beside you and sighed happily, putting his arm around you. “Isn’t this nice?”
“Yeah.” You snuggled into him in the water. “Isn’t this motel a little eerie though? It feels like we’re the only ones here.”
“Yeah, I like it. Don’t you? Since when are you freaked out by scary places?” He smirked. “Man, we gotta start going out exploring again. We’re gettin’ rusty.”
“It’s our dang jobs taking up all the time. It is cool though. We’re all alone.” You said in a suggestive tone, nuzzled your face in his neck.
He let out a small laugh and leaned his head down, kissing you. “Don’t get any funny ideas, though. I feel like that lady at the front desk would kill us.”
“She looked dead inside.” You chortled. “What if she was, and we feel like we’re alone because all of the residents are ghosts?”
Hollis laughed. “That would be cool. Scary, but cool.”
Back at the hotel room, you changed back into your pajamas and laid in bed with Hollis once again. You were having so much fun, you both almost forgot about the argument from before.
Hollis promised to introduce you to his friends from work as soon as he could when you both got back home. You promised to not go to a party like that without telling him. Overall, you both promised to stop hiding things from each other entirely.
You dozed off in his arms, being lulled to sleep by his heartbeat right below you. The night at the motel went so quick, you thought about asking him to stay for longer in the morning.
Sunday church in a small town—the quiet scrutiny of a small life, dragged along without excitement—until you met Hollis. Salvation turned into damnation.
tags: 2hollis x fem!reader, strangers to lovers, road trip, smut, religious imagery, desecration, loss of virginity, p in v sex, oral sex (female receiving), mild violence, gun mention, religious themes
a/n: one more fic inspired by a movie yayyy!!! this time i took inspiration from badlands (1973), but without the icky age gap
w/c: 10.8k
taglist: @magegodmode, @2lilaclace
𓆰♱𓆪 ⛪︎
A good while had passed since you last watched him in deep sleep. Still naked, same as you, lying on his stomach the way he always did when you were out of his reach — when he couldn't hold you. God, he looked so peaceful. No sign of anger, happiness, jealousy, or lust. You liked to think that this was his real self, undressed from his ego and his antics. So different from what the two of you had been doing for the past few hours. What started with a simple, exhausted comment from you turned into mockery from him, which grew into a fight, and in no time you were screaming at him from the parking lot all the way to the motel room. The receptionist had even come to check if everything was alright. But just after he said those mean words to you, he was kissing you, pulling you into his arms — kissing, touching, gripping you as if you belonged to him. That was all you needed to ignore the aching pain of humiliation that he so easily planted in you.
As the first rays of sunlight squeezed through the gaps in the curtain, you glanced outside. The car keys were on the nightstand. The money was in his wallet. You could just take it and leave. You could go back to your parents' house and live whatever life they imposed on you. You could. You could. But then you felt his arms reaching for you, dragging you closer. You heard his sleepy voice humming as he squeezed you tight, and your heart filled with something you couldn't name.
"Get some sleep, honey," he murmured in a groggy voice.
You hid your face in his collar, smelling his perfume, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. So familiar now that you could barely remember a time when your days and nights were not filled by his disturbing presence.
Back when life had gone on so slowly you barely noticed it passing. That was what happened when you were stuck in an endless spiral of apathy. Small town in the middle of nowhere, same faces every day, same places to go, no perspective of future — that was pretty much what summed up your whole life. And it had been that way for as long as you could remember.
From eight to five, that was where you spent most of your days: reading, scrolling through your phone, petting Buddy, occasionally serving a customer — usually a truck driver passing by or an old farmer coming from the fields into the city — or playing with the stray dog that always showed up at your lunch break to share your meal. You just didn't have it in you to deny a chicken wing or half your beef to those gleaming puppy eyes. You called him "Buddy" because that was what you had called him the first time he appeared.
That was what you were used to. That is, until a random Thursday, when you were just squatting, petting Buddy, and a car pulled up outside. Not that you were really familiar with car models and brands, but that didn't look like the usual type of vehicle that showed up around here. When the driver stepped out, it only made you more certain he wasn't a local — not even from the big city nearby, maybe from outside the state. You spent too long staring at the long-haired guy walking your way, so that when you stood up, he was already stepping inside the store. He didn't even look at you. You rushed inside, back to your register. He wandered around, seemed aimless, his eyes wavering over the shelves, and that made you a bit nervous. A whole year you had worked here and you had never been robbed. It wouldn't be some city boy that would be your first, you hoped.
Thankfully, he finally found what he was looking for — a six-pack. He dropped it on the counter.
"Anything else?" you asked. Only then did you get a closer look at the guy. His mid-length honey-toned waves had already caught your attention at first, but his whole face was something else. Sharp features, plump lips, hazel eyes under a fair amount of eyelashes that would leave any woman jealous. And Lord, was he tall — maybe too tall. You bit your inner cheek. Clearly he wasn't from around here. You had never seen a man so beautiful.
"A Marlboro Red," he said. He wasn't looking at you, but when he glanced down, you felt your whole face burn. Thankfully, you had to turn to grab the cigarette pack and could escape his casual gaze.
It was simply that. He paid, thanked you before you could, and just left. And you really thought he would never show up again — just an outsider passing by, maybe the most exciting thing that had happened this whole time you had been working there, a good casual break from the routine.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀♱ ⠀
Days went by in that boredom's deep rhythm of Collinsville. By Sunday, you were stepping outside church with your mom when you saw that same car parked across the street. You immediately looked around, searching for its owner, but there was no sign of him. What were the odds that someone else had that exact same car around here?
"You okay, honey?" your mom caught your attention. "Good Lord, y/n, look at your dress."
She fixed the collar of your dress as you barely paid attention to her. Still too spaced out of your surroundings to care about your mom gossiping about the new fiancé of her friend's son.
"If you were a bit smarter, it could have been you. I'm sure Denise would be way happier with that, I tell you," she said on the drive home. She was still talking about it.
"Mom, the man's almost forty and still lives with his mom," you said, glancing out the window.
"That's 'cause he's her only son! He has a fine job at the Town Hall," she kept on. Her voice was already buzzing in your ear. "He could get you out of that convenience store."
You had to fight the urge to groan in annoyance. "I'm fine with my job. Unless you're telling me to be a homewrecker or something. Didn't we just get out of church, Miss Lainey?"
"Good Lord, y/n, what are you saying? I was just commenting on it." She seemed embarrassed enough, and you had to smile at that.
At least she left you alone with all that talk, drifting the topic to what she would be making for dinner.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀♱ ⠀
Sunday was bad enough already — having to go to church with your mom and listen to the preacher for a whole hour, then having to greet her friends and the sons and daughters of those said friends, and wear those long thick dresses that made you look like a Southern tragic stereotype. But the fact that the next day meant the start of a whole other week was even more discouraging.
The only thing that kept you going was a single ambition you had: getting out of this town, maybe moving to Tulsa — the nearest big city. A small goal, but anything that meant leaving this town was worthy — leaving the routine, your parents, and everything that had been following you miserably here. You had been saving money without telling anyone, and when you had enough, the plan was simply to vanish.
That car you had seen parked outside the church on Sunday wasn't a coincidence. He showed up the next day, and for days afterward — always buying a pack of Marlboro Red and something else: food or beer, sometimes both. The only words you exchanged were casualities like "Anything else?", "Thank you", "That's all."
By the end of the week, you were just about to finish your shift when you heard the bell above the door ring. It was him — his fifth time there. You counted. He had come every day. As usual, he went straight for the freezer. He placed the six-pack onto the counter and two packets of frozen lasagna.
"Marlboro Red?" you said before he could.
He smirked. "That's right."
You held back your smile before turning to grab his cigarettes.
He was just turning to leave after paying when he stopped. "Um, I almost forgot." He looked at you again. "Do you know any place around where I could get my car checked?"
"Oh," you said, caught off guard. "Yeah, I mean, there's pretty much only one mechanic in town," you chuckled.
"So..." He kept looking. "Do you have his number? Or address?"
"Yeah, I mean, I don't actually have it, 'cause I don't have a car, so I don't..." You messed up your words, a bit nervous.
"That's alright. I'll look around. Thanks, though..." He was turning again.
"But my dad has it!" you rushed to say, and he stopped. "I could ask him and tell you, if you... show up here again."
Only then did you realize how stupid your solution was. Still, he curved his lips into a smile, getting you flustered but a bit puzzled, too.
"Don't you have a number yourself?" He placed both hands on the counter, that smile still hanging from his lips in such a way that heat crawled from the back of your neck to your whole face. "That way you can ask your father and send it to me. What do you think?"
"Yeah... sure. That's easier, right?" you asked, and he nodded.
He reached for his phone in his back pocket and handed it to you, unlocked. "Put your number."
You grabbed the phone from his hand — a slight brush of fingers that left you electrified. You felt like a teenager. You typed in your number and saved it as "gas station cashier." Once he saw it, he chuckled.
"Don't I get a name?"
"Uh, yeah, but I mean, you don't know my name. How would you know it was me?" You frowned, and he laughed.
"Well, you could just tell me."
Dumb. Embarrassingly making a fool of yourself. "Right..." you laughed. "I'm y/n."
Another smile from him. "That's a beautiful name, y/n. Mine is Hollis."
It was simply that. A dumb interaction about a mechanic's number and your name that had you later giggling at yourself after he left.
As soon as you got home, you asked your father for the mechanic's number — making up some excuse about it being for your boss. It was easier to lie; to avoid questions. Your parents could be very invasive. You thought he would take longer to text you, but you were just getting out of the shower when you saw your phone light up.
Unknown number: cashier girl?
You: that'd be me. Hollis?
Unknown number: that's right. what u up to?
You: nothing much. you?
Hollis: beer, lasagna and football
You: you watch football?
Hollis: don't i look like the sports kind?
You: not really
Hollis: lol. well, you don't look like the kind to stay home on a Friday
You: what does that mean?
Hollis: no boyfriend?
Was he flirting with you?
You felt your belly freeze, a shiver running down your spine. A strange feeling you hadn't felt since you were in high school and met your first — and only — boyfriend. That was before your parents found out and threatened the boy's entire generation to stay away from you. The boy never spoke to you again.
You: not really
Hollis: no way. maybe a complicated ex?
You rolled your eyes at that but couldn't help the smile that hung from your lips. It wasn't that you were naive or inexperienced, but it had been so long since you had looked at a boy that it felt foreign even to be silly through texts.
You: sorta
Hollis: knew it. will he kill me if i keep talking to you? is he a redneck with a shotgun?
You: haha funny. you're safe, don't worry
Hollis: that mean i should keep talking to you?
You: if you want to
Hollis: ouch. ur a hard one
You: how's the game?
Hollis: we're losing :(
You: cowboys?
Hollis: fuck no. the bears
You: that's why you're losing then :p pick a better team
He was actually so entertaining that you almost forgot why you were talking to him in the first place. With time, you were giggling at your phone without even realizing it.
You: aren't you forgetting something?
Hollis: am i?
You: the number
Hollis: right. the number. you got me distracted
You: 🙄 [number]
Hollis: thanks. ur a life saver
You: it's just a number
Hollis: im being nice. be nice too
You: im nice. you're just silly
Hollis: silly??? we'll see about that
You: no we won't :p now you got your number. imma get some sleep. bye hollis
Hollis: do i get a good night?
You: good night silly goose
You didn't know where that came from but as soon as you sent it you just felt terribly stupid about it. A few instants and he replied.
Hollis: good night pretty girl
Reading that made your face instantly burn. What was that? You almost threw your phone away. Thankfully you were in your room, by yourself, because you couldn't fight the dumb smile playing on your lips, nor could you fight your heart stubbornly thumping in your chest.
For quite a while you tossed in bed, trying to calm down enough to finally get some sleep. It took a while, but when sleep finally won you over, you drifted off to the image of him: his tall frame, slightly leaning across the counter, that smirk he had given you when you stumbled over your words in front of him.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀♱ ⠀
Over the next couple of days, just the memory of that conversation left you flustered. You felt dumb and foolish, like you had embarrassed yourself. When you read through the texts again, you could only think: why were you being so weird? You were almost twenty. You shouldn't have gotten that nervous over something so trivial. You felt a mix of relief and anxiety that he hadn't texted you for the weekend.
But when Sunday arrived, you actually wished he had been texting you the whole time rather than seeing him while you were getting out of church. He was across the street — tank top, his messy long hair flying in the wind, just stepping out of his car — and you nearly hid behind your mom when he turned toward you. Maybe he wouldn't see you — you hoped — but your doubt vanished once you caught him staring right at you. His gaze was so intense, unwavering, and it burned through you enough to leave you feeling unsettled by it. No smile, no nod, nothing. He just kept looking at you. You pressed your lips together to avoid expressing anything and fixed your hair, brushing it behind your ear.
"...y/n? We're talking to you." Your mother's voice pulled you back.
"Oh, hi." You turned your back to him. It was some of your mom's friends — and their son. You smiled.
You played it cool, polite, gentle as always, but you felt like you were burning, from head to toe. Too exposed. Out of all places, you didn't want him to see you like that.
Monday arrived, and with it your whole system went on full alert. For the entirety of your shift, you felt like he might show up at any moment and make your whole face pop off your neck out of sheer embarrassment. But he didn't show up. Not on Monday, not on Tuesday, not on Wednesday. By Thursday, you weren't on edge anymore. Maybe that was it. He had checked his car and left town. He didn't seem to be around, and even though you never asked, he didn't seem like the type to stay. There was nothing good in this town worth staying for.
During the last few hours of your shift, you were fixing a shelf — or at least trying to. Your boss had asked you to do it since Monday, and only now did you feel calm enough to focus on that damn uneven shelf. He said it was just a loose screw, and you tried to tighten all of them, but it was still bending.
But that was exactly what you shouldn't have done. The moment you let your guard down was the perfect time to be surprised.
"What's going on here?" you heard a playful voice, and your heart missed a beat.
You nearly stumbled off the step stool you were on, grabbing the shelf — the first thing within reach — to stay upright. The old thing bent, and you would have fallen to the ground if rushed steps hadn't come up to you and held you by the waist. If your heart had missed a beat a second ago, it was pounding all of them now.
"Hey, careful," he said, still holding you. His fingers, even through the fabric of your shirt, felt like they were burning.
"Careful? You just—" You stepped down from the stool and escaped his grip, putting a few feet of safe distance between you. "Why did you... I almost... Fuc— I'm sorry."
You rushed to apologize, even though you shouldn't have. It was out of habit. Your parents didn't like curse words. A simple fuck or shit was enough to get on their nerves.
"It's alright," he smiled. He seemed confused by your reaction. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
"No, it's okay." You glanced away. Your whole body felt alert and feverish. "I was just distracted."
"What were you doing up there?" He looked at the shelf, then back at you.
"Fixing the shelf. It's uneven and loose." You reached for it, though you could barely poke at that height to show that it was moving.
"Um..." He looked closer. He stepped away, grabbed the shelf, and examined some spots. You just kept watching. "It's literally loose. It's missing a ton of screws."
"What? No, I just fastened them. All of them." You stepped closer and tiptoed to see what he was looking at.
"See? It's missing." He pointed. "Here, and here... and there."
He pointed them all out to you.
"He said it only needed fastening," you said, more to yourself than to him.
"Well, it does." He looked down at you. Only then did you notice how close you were. You stepped back. "Do you have any spare screws?"
"Back there, I—" You started to step away, then stopped. What were you doing? Leave the store with a stranger and go to the back room? "I'll do it later. Are you going to buy something?"
"I will. But I can help you."
"You don't have to. I can... put it myself."
"Put it?" He chuckled at your choice of words. "Let me help. Go get the screws. I'll stay right here."
You bit your inner cheek for a split second, but you ended up giving in. He actually helped you, with much more skill than you probably would have had. You felt like a perv as you watched — maybe with too much attention — as he furrowed his brows in concentration, arms flexing while he twisted the screwdriver. You had to actually look away before you started panting.
"All done," he said, looking at you after finishing the last one.
"Thank you," you smiled, a bit restrained. Shy.
"It's nothing." He smiled, too. He kept looking, and you kept looking, for at least a full minute. "Well..."
"Um, yeah, I'll — you can pick your things."
You turned before he could say anything else and walked in rushed steps back to the register.
A few minutes later, he was standing in front of you. No beer this time, but two bottles of what you thought was whiskey. You raised your eyebrows but said nothing, just turned and grabbed his Marlboro Red. When you looked back, he was grinning. There was something devilish about that grin that made you almost want to pray for your sins.
"What are you doing after this?" he asked while paying.
"Home," you said, looking at the cash desk with much more attention just not to look at him.
"Can I take you somewhere?"
A cold shiver ran through your whole body. You felt too numb to speak, too numb to even look at him. Maybe you panicked for too long, because you heard him say:
"Got it."
He grabbed the bottles and the cigarettes and stepped back.
Before he could turn away, you said, "Where?"
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀♱ ⠀
"So my car broke down and I kind of got stuck here."
Both of you were leaning on the hood of his car, which he had parked right in front of an abandoned building parallel to the main street of the town. He had driven a few blocks before giving up on finding a good spot to stop, and now he was telling you what he was doing in town.
"But you're... in your car," you said, looking back at his vehicle.
He chuckled. "'Cause it just got ready, silly."
"Oh." You opened your mouth, and you caught a hint of a smile on his lips. It got you flustered.
"So you've been here your whole life?" He looked down at you.
"Born and raised. Unfortunately never left." You also looked at him.
He just nodded and stayed quiet for a while.
"People here are weird. You're actually the nicest person who's talked to me ever since I got to town."
"If I'm the nicest, I can't imagine the worst," you said, lightly laughing at your own words.
"Well, at least you gave me a smile."
He kept looking at you for too long again, and there was something about his gaze that just kept you stunned, like you couldn't help but stare right back at him.
"And you, you're not from around here, right?" You finally glanced away, your nerves creeping in.
"What gave me away?" A faint smile played on his lips.
"Your car. The way you dress. And talk. The way you look."
He laughed. "All that?"
You nodded, lured by his smile into smiling back at him. "Where are you from?"
"Guess."
"Mhmm." You looked away, thinking. "Tulsa?"
"No... a bit further." He chuckled. Playful.
"Arkansas?" You frowned, puzzled.
"Fuck no. Kind of offended now."
You rolled your eyes. "Where, then?"
"Illinois. Chicago."
"And what on earth are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing. You don't seem pretty fond of this place."
You knew he was looking at you, but you were looking everywhere around just not to meet his gaze.
"Um, I don't know," you shrugged, keeping your thoughts to yourself. "I'm working on something, but it's sort of a senseless plan still."
"What do you mean?" His attention was fully yours. Those eyes seemed to reflect the night as he stared at you.
"It's dumb." You gazed at the old fabric building in front of you, just to avoid looking at him.
"Come on, you can tell me." He bumped his shoulder into yours, and you smiled faintly. "What's better than a stranger to share senseless thoughts with?"
"I just wanna get out of here. Maybe go to Tulsa. I don't know. Save some money and just leave."
"Well, that's not dumb, but you could aim for some better place."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, but there's more to life than the state of Oklahoma. Like California. I'm heading there."
"Are you inviting me?" you asked, playful, but he kept staring at you with a straight face. Then he furrowed his brows, as if he were figuring something out.
"If you want a lift, you wouldn't be such bad company." He shrugged, casual.
Your eyes widened a bit, but something weird rested on your chest at his strange invitation. As insane as it sounded, couldn't you just leave? What else did you have to lose when you were already lacking everything?
"Do you drink?" he asked.
You thought about telling the truth — you didn't drink — but as he extended the bottle in your direction, your only thought was: screw it, and you grabbed the bottle. One thing was not saying you weren't used to drinking; another thing was pretending to be used to the taste of that brown liquor. Your whole face twisted as soon as the very first sip of that thing slid down your throat.
"Jesus!" you murmured and heard a small laugh come from him.
"Don't drink. Dress up for church on Sunday. You're making me feel bad for bringing you here."
As soon as he mentioned church, your whole face went warm. You widened your eyes a bit, and that got him smiling at you.
"You looked really pretty on Sunday, though," he said, taking the bottle from your hands.
"Shut up." You stared at your feet, your whole face burning.
"No, I mean it." A pause while he drank. "All dolled up and shit. Couldn't stop staring at you."
Only then did you glance up. Of course he was looking straight at you. Your whole body was tense, but some weird feeling was twisting your lower belly, unsettling your entire system. He tilted his head, his eyes studying you for so long. He dropped his gaze to your mouth for a brief second — enough to get you anticipating something.
"Sometimes you can just say thank you, you know?" His hand came up to your face, pulling a strand of hair from your cheek back behind your ear. It gave you goosebumps.
"Thank you," you said, almost a whisper.
"That's better." He leaned down, his hand sliding from your face to your neck, your shoulders, all the way down your arm until it finally rested on your waist. Each place his fingers touched left your skin burning underneath.
When his face was close enough, you felt the tip of his nose brush against yours, his warm breath on your lips — so near but not touching. You closed your eyes out of instinct, and the grip on your waist grew tighter.
When he kissed you, you felt like exploding. His lips were impossibly soft, and he was so gentle it felt like he was being cautious, like he could scare you off at any given minute. And you knew why. For a few seconds, you were stiff under his touch, but when you felt his thumb brushing your waist, slightly lifting your shirt in a soft caress, you gave in. Your hands found their way up to his chest, his shoulders, until you were completely entangled with him.
Soon he was in front of you, easily lifting you up so you were fully sitting on the hood of the car. His other hand came to your thighs, squeezing you in a way that made you sigh against his mouth. You could feel him smiling on your lips, his body getting even closer, fitting in between your legs. That was more than enough to get you panting, to get your panties drenched by the minute, by every brush of his tongue that made your body grow frail, needy.
His fingers dug up under your shirt until he cupped one of your breasts, and you instantly sighed — a bit startled but honestly too turned on to deny how good his touch felt, squeezing you just enough, not leaving enough space for you to make any sound that wouldn't end up stifled by his mouth above yours.
"So sensitive," he whispered against your mouth.
His mouth only left yours to trail down your neck, kissing your skin, nibbling and softly sucking at it. You found your way to hold his hair as he went on. For a while, you got lost in how good he felt to be aware of your surroundings. But once you came back to your senses, you stiffened again.
"Hollis..." you said, but it came out as a whimper.
He kept going, kissing your skin, then pressing his body over yours. You were so hot you could almost feel yourself burning.
"Hollis," you finally spoke louder, also reaching for his wrist to stop him.
"What's wrong?" He looked up.
"We're in the middle of the street," you said, your face burning with embarrassment.
"That a problem?" He asked. He didn't seem mad. Actually, humor threaded through his face, making you feel even more embarrassed.
He leaned closer again, his hands going back to your waist, pulling you near as he bent over to kiss you. You could feel a smile on his lips as he kissed you again, and you just bluntly allowed him to. You couldn't help it — you kissed him with much more eagerness, holding onto him as if it could release a bit of how horny you were. So much that you ended up whimpering against his mouth.
"You're making it hard for me," he said against your lips.
"I'm sorry..." you whispered back.
Something like guilt and fear crawled up your spine. Suddenly it didn't feel right. You didn't feel safe. You placed your hands on his chest and looked around — too exposed. Any neighbor could see. Words could spread. It could reach your parents.
"Not here," you said, almost a whisper.
"Not here?" He arched his brow.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀♱ ⠀
He could have been a murderer. A serial killer. You didn't even know this guy, and there you were, in his car in the middle of nowhere, driving to the motel where he was staying. Were you that dumb? Probably. But it was so tempting to do something, to escape your boring routine, that maybe it wouldn't have been that bad even if he had the worst intentions. And most of all, your panties had been soaking wet ever since that kiss.
The place he was staying at was a typical roadside motel. The parking lot was barely lit, dark curtains covering each window as if they had something to hide — or maybe you were just imagining things because you were dead nervous. His room was on the second floor. It was nothing fancy, but very wide and comfortable — a type of flat: one room, a small kitchen, a wide bed, and a big TV. It smelled clean as well — thankfully. He let you step inside first and followed right after. He closed the door, locked it, and walked past you.
You watched him from a few feet away, still stuck in place ever since you had stepped into that room. He went up to the counter and poured himself a glass of that stuff you had tried earlier.
"Guess you don't want any more of this, do you?" You shook your head in response. He smiled. He walked up to the bed and only then glanced back at you. "Are you scared?"
"No..." you answered, and a smile grew on his lips.
"Come here, then." He said, and it took you a few seconds, but you walked up to him. He sipped his drink as you approached — a long sip, enough to finish almost the whole glass — then set it aside. "It's okay."
His hand came up to your face, his fingers brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. It made you shiver again.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he said, his voice low.
He stepped closer, and you stood still. Even if you had wanted to run away, you just felt stunned under his gaze. He moved to touch your waist but stopped.
"It's okay if I touch you?" he asked, and you just nodded. "Answer me."
"It's okay. You can touch me."
"Good girl." He grinned. That same devilish grin. "If I ask you something, I need you to answer me, alright?"
You nodded, numbed by his gaze. It took a few seconds for you to actually voice it, as he had asked. "Alright."
When you felt his hand on your waist, dragging you closer, you felt like crumbling under him. You had to fully lift your chin to look into his eyes, and when he leaned down, it made every single one of your muscles tense. He took his time, watching your face for a minute, then brushed his nose against yours. He kissed your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your lips, and you almost sighed at his grip tightening around your waist.
"Shhh," he whispered, and you felt his thumb caressing your waistline, slightly lifting the fabric of your shirt.
When his lips finally covered yours, you didn't instantly surrender to him. Your body felt too aware, too unsettled. But his fingers crept under your shirt, his lips fitted onto yours, and when his tongue slipped past the seam of your lips, you finally gave in. He tasted like alcohol, but he was so soft, so gentle, cautious even. In no time, you were responding to each of his movements, following his pace naturally.
He was almost intoxicating, in a way that left you easily magnetized by his every move. Everything he did, every touch, worked so smoothly through you. He undressed you from your shirt, and even though you felt uptight getting so exposed under his gaze, it was like he just knew how to get through to you.
His lips trailed down your body until he was kissing your chest. His mouth easily found its way to lick and suck at your nipple, and you no longer had it in you to stifle your loud sighs against him.
At the same time, so smoothly, he unzipped your jeans and slid them down your legs until you were standing in nothing but your panties in front of him. His eyes scanned your body, and you moved to cover yourself until his hands caught your wrists.
"Don't do that." You felt his touch on your hips. His coarse touch sent a shiver throughout your whole body, but it also made you press one leg against the other.
He kissed you again, ever so gently, so slowly, in a way that your mouths made wet sounds against one another — so lewd it had you almost whimpering. It seemed that growing so needy got you moving without shame. Your hands found the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. He smiled through the kiss and helped you get rid of his shirt — finally. Your fingers crawled across his skin, feeling him, lightly scratching with the tips of your nails.
Without breaking the kiss, his arm wrapped around your waist, and he easily walked you to the bed. He laid you down on the mattress. His body covered yours so easily as he fit himself between your legs.
It was pretty obvious where this was going, and although you had no experience whatsoever, you didn't feel like stopping. To be honest, you wanted more. And he gave you more. He went down your body in a trail of kisses — from your lips to your neck, your chest, your stomach, your lower belly — until he had his face between your thighs. When he first touched your panties, you bit into your lip. He rubbed you lightly with his thumb in circular motions, but it was enough to make you sigh.
"You're so fucking wet," he said, a grin on his lips.
Even with your cheeks burning, you just couldn't look away. When he took your panties off and buried his head between your legs, it made you instantly gasp. The first brush of his tongue on that sensitive nub of nerves had you whimpering. His lips eventually sucking on you felt different from anything you had ever felt. Nights when you had pleased yourself with only your fingers couldn't even compare. Soon you were whimpering, grabbing the sheets, then desperately holding onto his hair, making a mess of him as much as he made of your sensitive cunt.
By the time you felt his fingers at your entrance, it made you arch your back. Two of his fingers alone were enough to stuff you full, but when he thrust them hard and fast inside you, it turned you into nothing but a mess of needy noises that escaped from your lips without restraint.
When that fuzzy feeling began to crawl up your body — tingling your lower belly and making your whole body shaky — you helplessly tried to close your legs, which only made him go harder on you. Your pussy made loud, wet noises every time his fingers slid into you.
"God!" you pleaded, laying back as he won you over, spasming and trembling beneath him.
You were worn out, panting and numb, when he came up to you again. His body still fit against yours. When he kissed you again, you tasted yourself all over his mouth, and it would have embarrassed you if it hadn't made you feel so hot.
You got a bit puzzled when he leaned back, sitting straight, but as you watched him get rid of his pants and grab his own cock, you understood. You looked — really looked. He was big, big enough for his own hand. You bit your lower lip, apprehensive, as he grabbed a condom and slid it over his length. When he looked up at you and caught you staring, it drew another one of those knowing smiles from him.
He came up to you again, his forearm resting on the mattress beside your head, his body easily fitting against yours — but this time you felt him grinding on you, his dick sliding through your folds, slightly rubbing your overly sensitive clit. As you held your breath in anticipation, you also reached for his face. He smiled at that — not that grin or smirk, but a sweet smile.
"Relax," he whispered, leaning closer to your mouth. "Breathe."
He gave you a sloppy kiss, then another, and another. It helped you actually relax as you felt his tip pressing your entrance. You were wet enough for him to easily slide inside you, but once he did, you felt like it was tearing you apart. He did it slowly, and even so, it was too much.
"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned against your mouth.
You didn't know if he could tell, but you clenched around him and squeezed your eyes shut as he started moving inside you. It helped you get used to him, since he went so slow, but it also made you feel precisely every inch of him stretching you open. You didn't even try to hold back your crying moans. You just held him tight, wrapping your legs around him as much as your hands gripped onto his skin.
That strange pain remained, but as you felt him set a pace, it also turned into something oddly pleasing. You could feel and hear how his body reacted to yours. He would moan right against your mouth, and he touched your body with so much eagerness that it left you feeling needed.
At some point, he leaned back, sitting up as he kept fucking you. His eyes watching you with attention made you feel impossibly vulnerable, but you had no shame — not when his thumb came to your clit to rub you as he stroked your body repeatedly.
You were already sensitive enough, and in no time you were rolling your eyes again, gripping the sheets as he drove you to another orgasm. He was restless, so rough, but it left you shaking beneath him, almost begging for more if you could actually form a coherent sentence in that moment.
When he leaned over you again, he held you so tightly — a warm hug that you understood was due to his approaching edge. He moaned against your ear, his face hidden in your neck, as his hips began to move out of pace — faster. He finished, releasing his load into the condom inside you. He muttered something you couldn't understand, and for a while all he did was keep holding you. Both of you, out of breath, sweaty, holding onto each other for a minute long.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀♱ ⠀
"It was your first time, wasn't it?" he said after a long silence you had been sharing in bed. Your head rested on his chest, his hand caressing your back in invisible patterns he traced onto your skin.
"How did you know?" you said, raising your head to look at him.
He was exhaling the smoke from his cigarette and smirked at you. "Was it good?"
It took you a second to answer. His eyes and the smile on his face got you instantly flustered. "It was. Really good."
You felt his hand on top of your head, petting you. It did something to your chest, to your lower belly — butterflies all over. "Was it good for you?" you asked, a bit concerned.
"Yeah, you were fucking amazing," he said, playful, but it drew a smile from your lips.
After some time just lazily entangled and sharing a peaceful silence, you almost fell asleep in his arms. But an alarm went off in your head. You had work tomorrow, and you had parents who would probably kill you once you got home. You just couldn't hide your unsettled state, and Hollis quickly noticed. He said he would drive you to work tomorrow, but you just couldn't. If you took twenty-four hours to show up at home, your parents would most definitely kill you.
So at 2 AM, he was driving you home, still silent. Some old country song played low, and at that point you just couldn't even look at him — the only thing you said to him was the directions to your house. You heard him humming to the song, then a heavy sigh. When he parked in front of your house, you just wanted to get out of his car, but he didn't unlock it right away.
"You'll be fine?" he asked, and only then did you look at him.
"What do you mean? I'm fine," you tried smiling at him, but he tilted his head and stared at you a bit too deeply.
"Okay, then." He glanced at your house. The front porch was lit up, which meant your parents were awake. "I'll probably be out of town in the next couple of days, so if you need something until then, you can tell me."
"Oh..." you mumbled. Yeah. He would be leaving. "Thank you, Hollis."
You were about to turn and leave when his voice stopped you again.
"That thing I said — I mean it," he said. You froze.
"What?"
"About coming with me. If you need a ride, you can come with me."
You bit your lower lip, nerves rushing to the back of your neck. "I'll think about it."
"Until Monday," he said.
You just nodded and heard the door unlock. You did not look back. You got out as fast as you could and walked to the door with two things on your mind: what awful things your parents would scream at you for getting home this late, and the fact that the best night of your life might just be leaving for good.
As you thought, they were in the living room waiting for you and actually peeking through the window at the strange car that had just dropped you off. From then on, it was a full hour of obscenities shouted at you. Your father even threatened you physically, which — surprisingly — your mother stood up for you on that one. For people who didn't like to swear, you heard the words slut, bitch, whore come out of their mouths too smoothly — almost natural.
"Who was that?" Your father pointed outside.
"A friend! I just said it a million times!" You rolled your eyes.
"It was a man! Why are you in a man's car at 2 AM? Are you some kind of whore?" your mother added, as if your father's whole show hadn't been enough.
"Oh my God! Can't I have a life?"
"You can have a decent life!" your mother said, and you could see how enraged she was.
"Yeah, 'cause you two know so much about being decent, right?" You laughed without humor.
They went on a new entire rant about how disrespectful you were and how unmindful you were of all the sacrifices they had made for you. You were honestly too tired to stand up for yourself, so you just listened to the whole thing until you could get to your bedroom and get some rest.
Of course, the last thing you thought of was him, and the first thing in the morning was also him. Actually, through the whole day you thought of him — wondering if he would show up, if he would text you. By the end of that Friday, you were really just hoping you would see a glimpse of his car passing by. None of that. Maybe he was just gone.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀♱ ⠀
One of the few things you liked about church was listening to the choir. Usually you would ignore the preacher's sermon, tuning out his words and the Lord's words themselves, for you had already listened to those your entire life. But this time, for some reason, the preacher had been relentlessly talking about freedom, and for a split second you could have sworn he was speaking directly at you.
After quoting Matthew 25:41 — "Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels" — he went on, carrying a gentle tone through the church, steady, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.
"There's a kind of restlessness that settles in a person... makes 'em think there's somethin' waitin' just beyond where they are."
You kept your eyes forward, fixed somewhere past the pulpit, though you couldn't have said where. Your fingers pressed tighter against each other in your lap, the faint tremble barely noticeable.
Outside, a car passed slowly down the street. And you wondered, briefly, if it was his.
"And sometimes it feels so real, so right, you start believin' it must be meant for you."
Your jaw tightened. You swallowed, shifting slightly on the wooden pew as it creaked beneath you. Meant for you. The words lingered longer than they should have.
You thought of his voice from the night before — low, certain. You can come with me.
"But not every open door is placed there by the Lord. And not every path that feels easy is meant to be followed."
Your breath caught, shallow. You blinked, forcing your gaze back to the front, though everything felt distant now, like you were watching from somewhere else.
Easy. It hadn't felt easy. But it had felt like relief.
"Some things... they only look like answers. Freedom ain't always what it looks like."
Your hands loosened for a moment, then tightened again, nails pressing into your skin this time. Freedom. The word echoed differently in your chest — warmer, louder, harder to ignore.
You imagined it again despite yourself — getting in that car, not looking back.
"You can't take back the time you wasted."
The church felt smaller somehow. The air heavier. You shifted again, crossing and uncrossing your ankles, unable to settle.
What would you actually be leaving behind?
"Well. Some things don't wait for you to come back."
Your eyes flickered toward the stained glass, light spilling through in muted colors. For a second, you thought about your mother. The kitchen table. The same streets you had walked your whole life.
Then his face again — closer this time. Realer.
Your chest tightened.
You didn't know which thought scared you more: staying... or going.
For a while, you just sat there even after everything wrapped up and people were heading outside. By the time you realized, your mom was nowhere in sight, probably outside talking to someone like she always did. Not wanting to keep her waiting, you made your way toward the doors and were about to step outside when you felt someone grab your arm. You had no time to say anything or even turn to see who it was, because the next second a hand covered your mouth and you were easily being dragged to the back of the church. Despair caught you as you saw yourself being headed to a room at the back of the altar. The door closed behind you, and only then were you released. You were just about to scream when you saw him.
"What is wrong with you?!" you shouted, but he said nothing. "What are you doing here?"
The next minute, he was pressing you against the door, hands gripping your waist, locking you to his body. And if you had been scared to death a minute ago, now you were panting under his lips. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, his nape, his hair. His were a bit more eager than yours. He cupped your breasts over the fabric of your dress, then squeezed — a faint noise escaped your lips.
"What are you doing?" you asked between kisses, your cheeks burning just as much as your body.
"I wasn't even gonna talk to you," he said against your mouth, his hand sliding down your body until it reached between your legs — under your dress. You instantly held his wrist with both hands, not to stop him but to ground yourself, as he began to rub you over your panties. You bit your lips to keep from moaning. "But you look so fucking good in this dress."
"You're a pervert." Your voice came out frail, his fingers circling over your clit taking any strength out of you.
"Yet you're the one getting wet." He smirked, and you just hid your head in the crook of his neck in a desperate attempt to stifle your moans and hide your flushed face from his watchful gaze.
He pulled your panties aside, and you finally felt him skin to skin — his long fingers parting your folds, sliding down to your entrance. When you felt him slip one digit inside, a loud sigh escaped your lips.
"Shhh," you heard. His spare arm wrapped around your waist, grounding you somehow.
You kept your head resting on his shoulder as he fucked you with his fingers, wet noises every time they buried deep inside you. When he brought his thumb to rub your nub at the same time, you quickly found yourself rolling your eyes back. Small noises eventually escaped as you couldn't hold them in the closer you got to your edge.
"Please," you begged, not sure of what. But you felt flustered just thinking about where you were.
He stopped out of nowhere, leaving you dazed and confused, but as you watched him unzip his pants and pull out his dick, you quickly understood. You bit your lips seeing his full length once more. He stroked his already hardened cock. Hollis grabbed under one of your thighs, lifting it up around his hip as he had to lower his height to fit between your legs. You lightly chuckled at the difficulty due to your height difference, but when you felt him sliding inside you, your smile vanished. You gasped and held him tight. You still weren't used to it, and as he began to move, it only made it harder. Even when he was slowly fucking you, you could feel him stretching your insides, and you had to bite his shoulder to stay quiet.
"God, you feel so good..."
God. You glanced over his shoulder, and straight ahead was a picture of Jesus. If you weren't already gut-wrenching with nerves over what you were doing — and where you were doing it — you had Jesus staring at you. But you had no time to spiral into guilt. As if you weighed nothing, he grabbed you by your other thigh as well, and soon you were off the ground, being fucked in his arms. You felt like a doll, and as he quickened his moves, gripping you so roughly, your mind went completely blank. All you did was hold onto him and fight the urge to cry out his name.
A hint of courage took over you, and you leaned back to look at his face. He was so stunning — face flushed, out of breath just like you — and you could see in his tense jaw that he, too, fought the urge to moan. You bit your lower lip, and he smiled — a faint smile under that heavy breath.
"Fucking beautiful," he whispered against your mouth before kissing you.
The kiss was sloppy. Your saliva mingled into a mess of wet noises that you couldn't tell whether came from your mouths or from your pussy being repeatedly hit by him. All you knew was that every time he buried himself deep inside you, your body felt closer to burning.
First, you felt your lower belly tingle. Then a fuzzy feeling struck down your spine, and your entire body was consumed by spasms. A full blackout took over your mind as you felt your eyes roll back and your legs shake. At the time, you didn't know if it was the painting on the wall or if you had literally seen Jesus in your head. Thankfully, you were already in his arms; otherwise, you would have had no strength to stay on your feet. Your insides clenched around him, and that made Hollis go even harder, making you almost jump in his arms, bouncing on his cock over and over again.
"Fuck," you heard before he stopped.
He carefully put you on the ground again and slid out of you. You felt instantly hollow — but not for long. He turned you over, face to the door. You felt your dress being lifted up and your hips being gripped.
"Stick that ass up for me," he whispered, and you immediately did your best to follow his command with your numbed mind.
Hollis buried himself inside you again, and somehow it felt like he went deeper — so much deeper that you felt your legs almost give out. You had nothing to grab except the hard wooden door, which you placed your hands on for support as he thrust into your body mercilessly. At least his hands still gripped you tight, keeping you steady as he fucked you. It ached, how much he squeezed, but in the midst of how good your body felt at that moment, even the pain felt astonishingly good.
Just like that night, at some point, he lost his composure. He went faster, out of pace. A raw noise escaped his lips, and when he slid out of you, it took you a while to realize he had just come. Only when he leaned over you and kissed your shoulder, hugging you by the waist, did you understand.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice airy and deep.
You hummed, nodding. Until you remembered what he had asked you that night. "I'm okay."
You struggled to fix your posture and turn to him. He was doing the same — zipping up his pants, fixing his hair. When you tried to pull your dress down, you felt on your fingertips something wet, thick, and slimy on the fabric of the white dress. You looked at it on your hand, then looked at him. You weren't sure what came over you, but you brought your fingers to your mouth and licked them clean. It tasted strange, but the look on his face as you did it made you feel dazed.
He kissed you again, ever so intensely, and just like that, you were wrapped in his arms once more.
"I want to go with you," you said before thinking. He pulled back from the kiss and stared at you.
"What? For real?"
You nodded. "For real." A smile curved your lips as you repeated his words.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀♱ ⠀
It all happened so fast — from brooding over your options to making your decision to actually voicing it. You had to sneak out of that little room, pretending you weren't still flushed by his presence. Your mom didn't seem to notice; she just asked where you had been, and you said you were doing your prayers for a bit longer. She didn't suspect you had been inside the church after all.
The next day, you went to work as you usually did, but this time, you had clothes in your bag, your savings, and only half an hour into your shift, Hollis was parking outside. You watched him step inside with a contained smile, and he met you with his usual gaze — not cold, not sweet, just plain.
"Ready?"
"Ready." You got out from behind the counter, still smiling at him.
It was reckless at best, just leaving the store open and vanishing. He was just turning to leave when he stopped, looked around, then looked down at you.
"Since you're leaving for good," he said, "we can get some things for the trip, don't you think?"
Now he was grinning, and your smile had gone. You bit your lip, unsure, as you watched him grab a few things — a full pack of his Marlboro Reds from behind the counter, then a couple of six-packs.
An idea flickered through your mind, one you deliberated for little to nothing before sense caught up with you.
"There's a lockbox back there," you said, pointing to the storage room. "Do you think you can break into it?"
Hollis looked at you, and his smile grew wider. That was the first time you did something like that together, but you had no clue it wouldn't be the last. You emptied the lockbox of money — only a few grants — but it thrilled you with a mist of feelings, ranging from guilt to full adrenaline.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀♱ ⠀
The initial deal was that he would only take you out of the state and drop you wherever you wanted, but that never happened. In between roadside motels and inns, something quietly grew in your chest. You remembered the first stop you had after leaving Collinsville: he had asked for a double-bed room. Each of you slept on separate beds at the end of the night; he didn't make any move on you. You wondered if he just wasn't interested or if he was just tired — both reasons left you upset.
"Hollis?" you called out to him in the middle of the night. You had tried to sleep but just couldn't. It was the farthest you had ever been from home in your whole life.
"Mhm?" His voice was heavy, tired, since he had been driving for the past several hours.
"Are you sleeping?" you asked.
"Not anymore."
"I'm sorry," you whispered, curling into yourself.
Silence stretched for a couple of minutes until you heard a creak from his bed, then the mattress dipping behind you.
"Get some sleep. We leave early tomorrow," you heard him say as his arms wrapped around you. You felt his chest against your back, so warm, like his fingers caressing your waistline.
After that, you never slept in separate beds. After that, every bed you shared ended up with both of you entangled, sighs and whimpers mixing with the sound of heavy breaths and pleadings.
It was thrilling at first — everything exciting, so many new things you learned with him, so many new things you saw with him. Things began to shift once you got to know more about Hollis. He was twenty-two years old, three years older than you. He said he used to work at his father's company back in Chicago but had dropped everything to go on this road trip. The reasons, he never actually explained to you. He said it was something he had always wanted to do; then he said he was tired of the life he lived. But his answers were always so vague. He barely spoke about his past life if it wasn't for some childhood memory or some eccentric story about his teenage years and stupid shit he used to pull with his friends. But whenever the topic was family or personal, he would wave it off. Maybe he was just this reckless, unpredictable self. You couldn't blame him — it actually took you some time to open up to him, too. He would ask you things, and you would only answer plainly. But with time, you wanted to tell him things. You wanted him to know you beyond the physical. And it made you feel so good that he actually seemed interested in your stories — about your family, your parents, half-thoughts, the few hobbies you took interest in.
He was so surprising in many ways, for the good and for the bad.
At a gas stop, you were getting out of the convenience store. You had bought some snacks and his cigarettes when you saw him pushing a guy outside. The guy was shorter than him but much stronger. You rushed closer, worried, and the guy was coming his way again when Hollis lifted his shirt to show the grip of a pistol. Not only the guy but you were surprised at that. The guy backed off, but you had your eyes wide, stunned and slightly scared.
"Get in the car," he said to you. But you took too long to move. "Get in the fucking car."
And so you did. Later that day, after he fucked you under the shower in the bathroom of the motel you were staying at for the night, both of you were in bed, his head on your lap, something on TV that you couldn't pay attention to.
"Since when do you have a gun?" you finally asked.
"Since ever," he answered simply.
"Since when do you threaten people with a gun?"
It took him a bit longer to answer now, and you heard a tired sigh. "I was just defending myself. The guy was being a jerk."
He lifted his head to look at you, and you met his gaze. You couldn't hide how uncomfortable you felt about that.
"You don't have to worry. It won't be fired. It's just for defense, since I was traveling by myself." He leaned closer, his face nearing yours. "Plus, now I have to take care of you."
His voice, his gaze, his touch on your waist — it was all so convincing that it got you dumbly smiling at him. Your worries were swept away by his mouth over yours, his demanding touch gripping you tighter, his body taking over yours.
The gun wasn't a problem anymore. As a matter of fact, later he taught you how to properly shoot, and you became familiar with his weapon, practicing with him whenever you found a place where you could shoot without drawing attention. Maybe he thought you were so comfortable with it that he must have felt comfortable as well to go further. Just after you left Oklahoma, in a very small town at the southern edge of Colorado, Hollis insisted you were running short on money. You argued that you had money in the bank and could get some at the next 24-hour ATM — for some reason, he didn't like using cards. He refused. When you stopped by a convenience store, a small place in that tiny town that probably had little more than two hundred people living there, you saw a family house behind it, kids' toys scattered around, and a very old man as the cashier — probably a family business. Once you finished filling up the tank and got back to the car, Hollis stepped out and told you to stay in the car — he actually ordered you to. A few minutes later, he was stepping out of the store in rushed steps. He got back to the car, set his bag on your lap, and sped out of the parking lot. You were confused at first until you saw the gun in his hand, resting over the steering wheel. Then you opened his bag, and it was full of money.
"What did you just do?" you asked, almost screaming.
"Got us some money," he answered, staring ahead at the road. He had a smile on his face.
"I have money!" you screamed, eyes wide, your face already flushed.
"We're in the middle of fucking nowhere. The next ATM is probably gonna be miles away. You wanna sleep in the car?" He glanced at you briefly; you could see he was getting annoyed.
"I'd rather sleep in the car than rob a family store at gunpoint! Are you out of your damn mind?"
"Are you out of your damn mind?" He looked again. Thankfully, the road was empty. "I'm taking care of us, and this is how you thank me?"
"This is taking care of us?"
"This is how I'm taking care of us. You don't like it? You're free to go."
You were in complete disbelief, staring at him in dead silence. You just had no words, so you glanced away, curling into your seat after tossing the bag into the back.
"Baby," he called after some time, his voice softer, and you felt his hand on your upper thigh.
You didn't answer. You just shifted in your seat and stared out the window until sleep won you over. Hollis drove for more hours than he usually did that night — maybe he was trying to get as far as possible from that small town. You doubted the police would do much about a robbery in such a tiny place, but just in case. When you finally arrived at an inn, he barely showered before crawling into bed and completely succumbing to sleep.
That was the first night you watched him sleep while pondering whether to leave. And it was the first time he won without saying a single word. There was no one who could make your heart feel so tight in your chest even while just sleeping — his locks of hair falling across his face, his peaceful state. You recalled how, after the fight, he had backed off, how he had moved with care around you, using soft words: Are you hungry? Are you tired? We're almost there, baby. Maybe he was just taking care of you, in his own way. Maybe by the time you reached California, things would change. For better or worse. You found your place by his side in bed and finally fell asleep to his scent and the thought of a new place.
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