#[knocks back a shot] fuck it let's polish this thing up

[mylordshesacactus]

Rihannsu starships ran colder than their Klingon or Federation counterparts. Starfleet vessels aimed, in all things, for a kind of pleasant neutrality. Their climate controls were mild; not too cool for their short sleeves and light fabric, not too warm for long pants and multi-layered uniforms. KDF ships historically placed far more engineering emphasis on weapons than anything else; their environmental systems were perpetually fighting a doomed but honorable battle against tight quarters, naturally high Klingon body temperatures, and thick leather armor. No such issue on the Ecurai. The warbirds of the Republic were kept cool—not cold, but not quite warm. You wouldn’t get a chill in shirtsleeves, but you’d certainly be more comfortable if you put on a light coat. Which meant that Satra Valel registered the absence of a warm body in her bunk almost before she was fully awake.

No real context or prior knowledge needed for this piece--this is just a sweet, tender ficlet about a pair of incredibly married Romulans that I think y'all will appreciate.

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

day three: hate sex (unedited)| NSFW MDNI 18+

"Are you always this fucking loud?" Logan gritted through his clenched teeth as his large calloused hand forcefully wrapped around your jaw. His sandpaper-like palm pushed up against your mouth, sealing your lips shu. His violent grip made you instinctively whimper, as the side of your face pressed further into the cool marble of the kitchen island. Your now-flushed skin began to stick to the polished countertop from the weight of his hold on you. The brackets of the island creaked from the impact of each of Logan's thrusts as he pounded into you. 

Giving him the satisfaction of a moan was the last thing you wanted to do.

 Logan Howlett was an arrogant, selfish, washed-up, pathetic excuse of a man who drank away all his problems and refused to listen to anyone but himself. The two of you had gotten into another late-night drunken argument in the kitchen, this time the outcome was a little different than usual. You had thrown a petty jab at him, something along the lines of how terrible of a lay he must be since Jean chose Summers over him. The room had fallen silent for a moment and It was only a matter of seconds before he had you pinned against the wall with his fist around your neck. 

Veins bulged from his forearms as his fingers tightened around your throat. His breaths came out in sharp, angry bursts through his nose, each exhale harsh and forceful as his rage barely stayed contained. The weathered skin of his face grew slightly red from a mixture of the rye and your snide comment.

Your heart stammered in your chest, a dizzying rush washing over you as his thumb pressed firmly against your airway.

"You wouldn't know good dick if it fucked you right up the ass," he grumbled lowly, only inches away from your face. You could smell the spice of his whiskey on his hot breath, making your face scrunch in response.

You used the little air left in your lungs to let out a sly, "If you're volunteering for the job, old man, It's take a hard pass."

 "You're acting like you've got options here, darlin'. " He said as his eyes grew dark, and a faint trace of a grin danced on his lips.

"Oh please, as if I'd ever choose you. Bet you can't even get hard anymor-" You spat, trying to squirm out of his tightening grip but suddenly stopped as your feet lifted up from the ground. Logan threw you over the kitchen island, your chest making forceful contact with the solid stone, knocking the air out of your lungs with a huff noise. 

"Don't think I can get it up, huh? You're in for a surprise." 

You felt as he pressed his firm erection against your backside. Your face turned hot against the white marble as you realized he got this worked up from just arguing with you. 

"Congratulations, your dick still works. Still doesn't mean you know how to use it though." You shot back over your shoulder.

His hands snapped down to your hips and you could feel the thin material of your pyjama shorts being yanked down your legs, revealing your blue heart-patterned thong. "Logan!" You tried to push up off the island but he forced you back down with one hand.

"Nice panties, Y/N," he snickered, tugging at the elastic band of your underwear before letting it snap back against your skin. "Betcha' all the guys are lining up to see those in action." 

"Fuck off, short dick." You barked back. His free hand came down hard on your ass, a stinging sensation jolting you forward. 

"Watch your mouth," He warned you, pulling down your panties as well. Your entire backside was now out and exposed in the communal space. You writhed underneath him, attempting to escape his barricade. Your stomach knotted as you felt his fingers ghost your folds. You froze, bracing for the impact of his touch but were only met with the sound of his breath hitching, behind you.

A taunting grin spread across your lips as you arched your back, lifting your hips higher to expose yourself more to him.

« Knew you were all talk, knew you couldn’t handle this tight young pu- » You were cut off by Logan’s finger entering you. Your hands clawed at the smooth surface, trying to find something to hold onto.

«My dick is definitely too big for ya, that’s for sure. » He growled, pumping his two digits deeper.

Your thighs pressed together, trying to suppress the growing pleasure that was slowly forming between your legs. His fingers curled inside of you skillfully, finding your sensitive spot right away.

Your chest expanded as you tried to control your breathing, you were not going to give into Logan’s antics.

“Is this supposed to impress me? I’ve had better from a virgin.” You delivered carefully.

With a click of his tongue, he retrieved his slick-coated fingers from you. You sighed in relief from their absence but quickly found them shoved deep into your mouth.

“Already dripping wet from a few fucking fingers, you’re a joke. Clean up your mess, slut.” You gaged around his fingers as they reached the back of your throat making tears roll down your cheeks.

“That’s it, just like that. Didn’t think you could actually follow orders,” He came up close behind your ear, his hot breath tickling the skin on the nape of your neck.

Anger pooled in your lower stomach as you sucked in a sharp breath through your nose and sank your teeth down on him.

Logan jutted out a hasty “Fucking bitch!” and brought his hand back frantically. A slight taste of iron lingered on your tongue.

“Time to teach you a lesson, princess.” He grunted, using his free hand to unbuckle his pants and push them down. His belt buckle hit the ground with a loud CLANK.

Logan’s veiny cock sprung out of his boxers, hard and eager to fuck you. He collected some of your slick from your pussy with his nicked fingers and coated his swollen tip in it. After a few strokes, he positioned himself at your entrance.

“You in? You’re so small I can’t even feel yoOU-” You cried out as he pushed his girth past your tight entrance. His hips got closed in on you as his cock glided further down your tunnel, filling you up more with every inch of his shaft.

You focused on your breathing as the pressure in your lower area increased. Your body tensed up as you withstood the first-encounter pain of Logan’s size, your arms and legs locking in place.

When he reached your wall, he snickered behind you.

“Told ya it was too big.” He said as he pushed in a little further making you gasp in shock.

“You’re not too big, I’m just too small. Try not to cum in 2 minutes, would really be a waste of my time if you couldn’t even last,” You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure as you stretched around him.

Logan suddenly began to thrust in and out of you rhythmically. It started soft, almost as though he was avoiding hurting you, but as you began to adjust and relax around him his pace intensified greatly.

The pain dissolved as your augmenting slick helped his cock rub up your sweet spot inside you. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to contain any sound that may escape you.

His hands pushed down on your lower back, giving himself the leeway to thrust mercilessly into you. The sound of skin slapping on skin echoed through the industrial kitchenette. Logan’s breathing was quick and short from working himself inside you, his heartbeat now practically pounding out of his chest.

You twitched around him as his thick tip nudged against your G-spot over and over. With each pump, your walls began to clench around him harder. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your mind clouded from the pure ecstasy of his cock.

Continuously he edged you closer to orgasm. Your senses are heightened and diluted simultaneously, losing awareness of your surroundings. You gave in and let yourself go as some moans slipped from your lips; you were getting dangerously close to your sweet release.

“Ah fuck- Logan,” You pleaded between breaths. "Are you always this fucking loud?" Logan gritted through his clenched teeth as his large calloused hand forcefully wrapped around your jaw. His sandpaper-like palm pushed up against your mouth, sealing your lips shu. His violent grip made you instinctively whimper, as the side of your face pressed further into the cool marble of the kitchen island. Your now-flushed skin began to stick to the polished countertop from the weight of his hold on you. The brackets on the island creaked from the impact of each of Logan's thrusts as he pounded into you.

You whined through your nose as his thrusts became insanely hard that your ass stung from the impact. You tightened around him, squeezing for the heightened sensation to tip off your orgasm. Logan’s nails dug into your backside, sending you and him over the edge simultaneously. You both fell into a shamble of moans and whimpers. He bucked his hips into you as he pumped his hot thick seed deep inside. Your knees shook from the adrenaline of the release. His movements became jagged as his orgasm faded. The both of you took a moment to catch your breath.

Logan pulled out and let go of you. You mustered all of your remaining strength and got up, your chest feeling tender from lying on it for so long.

You both silently got dressed again, lost in thought, your brain too fuzzy to make conversation. You shimmied your shorts back up your body, using a free hand to wipe the sweat off your forehead.

When Logan was dressed he simply leaned against the wall where he had you pinned and crossed his arms. He wore a smug grin, as he watched you look for your underwear. You caught onto his gaze and raised an eyebrow.

“The fuck are you looking at?” You blurted, blush forming on your cheeks.

“Nothing. Just making sure you remember who got you looking like that.” He flashed a cocky grin, twirling your thong around his index finger.

“Fuck off,Howlett.”

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[princessbellecerise]

Your Daddy Did It Better

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | James Barnes Jr, or JJ as the world calls him, doesn’t quite know how to treat a woman. Luckily for you though, his daddy sure does

warnings | smut, age gap (reader is in her 20's), riding, couch sex, light drinking, billionaire!bucky, oral (f. receiving), bucky gives the reader a facial if you know what i mean, 18+ ONLY

this fic is eighteen plus. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

James Steven Barnes was a fucking asshole.

You suspect that he may have gotten that trait from his father, Bucky; but even in the few times you had met the billionaire, he had never acted quite as douchy as his son did.

The Bucky Barnes that you knew and grew up seeing in tabloids was at least respectful after he got done with women, and at least had the decency to tell them that it was over to their face before he moved on.

Unfortunately though, it seemed somewhere along the lines he forgot to pass that trait onto his son, which was precisely the reason you were fuming and stopping your way through Barnes Tower, fists nearly ripping the paper of the magazine due to your death grip.

Anger coursed through your veins as you thought about the front page, which showed your supposed ‘boyfriend’ front and center at a Knick’s game with some model that was way too old for him. But, there was no doubt that she was beautiful.

You couldn’t lie; that was part of the reason you were salty. But the other part was because you had just seen JJ two days ago, and he made no mention to tell you that whatever you guys had was over. Nor that he was already back on the market.

He didn’t even have the decency to send you a text, so, after staring at the picture for a while and slightly crying your eyes out, anger began to replace your sadness and you came up with a plan.

Sure it wasn’t the best of plans, and sure you may be a little out of your mind, barging into the most elite building in New York. But you need to confront him, face-to-face. And since you still had your keycard JJ had given you since he was too lazy to come to your apartment, you marched right on in the tower like it was your own home.

The elevator dinged and your high heels clicked against the polished tiles, your eyes blazing as you made your way across the floor.

The fancy decor that you usually marveled at was the last thing on your mind. You were on a mission, and nothing was going to stop you. Nothing was going to get in the way of you laying into JJ, or possibly throwing the magazine at his head. You were going to make him pay and not even security was going to get in your way, if he called them.

You would only leave this building kicking and screaming, you decided. And if JJ tried to kick you out, well then—

“Oof!”

Your whirlwind of thoughts were suddenly cut off when a figure smacked into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs and almost knocking you over until hands reached out to grab you. They wrapped around your figure and pulled you close so that you wouldn’t hit the floor. Shocked, a gasp left your lips, and you quickly held onto whoever it was, your fingers digging into the expensive material of their suit.

For a moment, you thought that it was JJ that caught you and anger bubbled in your stomach. After all, the tufts of dark-haired you saw were exactly the same shade, and his build felt roughly the same.

But when the person set you back on your feet, it only took you a second to realize that it was not JJ that caught you.

It was his dad.

“Bucky!”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, as did his while you both stared at each other. Not really sure what to do, Bucky let go of you, and he awkwardly cleared his throat while you shuffled back.

“Y/N,” He said, equally shocked. “I wasn’t…expecting you today. Is everything alright?”

His light blue eyes glanced you over and while you didn’t seemed to be dressed in any kind of date attire, he was under the assumption that you were there for JJ. He knew that your relationship with his son was mostly physical, but Bucky still hoped he raised him well enough to at least treat you to a date every once in a while.

“No, no everything is not okay,” Is what you wanted to tell him. “Your son is an absolute asshole.”

The words were so close from falling from your lips, but you held back, pressing them together so you wouldn’t say something you’d regret. It was already bad enough that JJ probably didn’t want you there, you didn’t need his dad trying to kick you out too. So you held it together and tried to make it look like you weren’t crying just a few minutes before, tilting your head away from Bucky and focusing your eyes on the floor as you spoke.

“Everything’s fine,” You said, your voice a little weak but normal nevertheless. “I was just…I was just looking for JJ. Have you seen him?”

Bucky reeled back in surprise once again. “JJ?” He repeated your question and answered before you could even confirm what you said. “No honey, I’m afraid JJ isn’t here. I think he went to see a basketball game or something. I would’ve thought…I did think you were going with him.”

So he didn’t know.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying not to start crying again as you slowly shook your head.

“We broke up,” You said, unfortunately having to break the news to him. Bucky’s eyes widened. “He…He went to that basketball game with some other chick, and I came here to hopefully confront him. I…”

Wordlessly, you held out the magazine for Bucky to grab, and he did. His blue eyes scanned the paper, eyebrows furrowing together until eventually, anger settled on his face.

He looked at the cover of the magazine and noted that the girl was not, in fact, you. Bucky had never seen her in his life. As a matter of fact, he was pretty sure JJ had never met her either, which made the situation even worse.

He sighed, lowering the magazine to look at you. When he did, that’s when Bucky finally realized that you had started crying, even though you tried your best to hide it from him.

“Oh doll.”

“I’m sorry,” You instinctively tried to move away from him as he reached out, attempting to comfort you. But you just thought he was trying to pity you, shame festering inside of you as you sobbed quietly.

You didn’t want to cry, but seeing how his own father reacted made you think that JJ really was an asshole.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry it’s just—”

“Hey,” Bucky reached out to gently tug you towards him, and somehow you found yourself crying in his arms as he shook his head and wrapped you in his embrace. Your tears stained his Tom Ford suit, your mascara no doubt ruining the expensive fabric. But Bucky didn’t seem to mind as he awkwardly held you close, letting you cry into his chest like many other young ladies had before you. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I know.”

“It’s just that,” You sniffle, pulling away with tears still your cheeks, “It’s just that we were together only just two days ago and I can’t believe he—I can’t believe he just ditched me like that. Like what the fuck man? Who raised you?”

Bucky slightly chuckled as you shook your head, disbelief settling on your face. You wiped your tears, your hands coming back stained but at the moment you didn’t care.

You were heartbroken, and you hated to admit it but you really did like JJ. Despite knowing the type of guy he was rumored to be, you thought you’d just give him a chance. You thought you’d give him an opportunity to prove that everyone was wrong about him. JJ wasn’t an asshole. He was just a typical rich kid that had everything at his disposal. Sure he went through girls quick, but you never once thought he’d dispose of you.

Not like this. Not to the point where you were crying in front of his father as Bucky looked at you sympathetically.

“Welp, not my proudest parenting moment,” He admitted, “But the kid does have his way of charming people. I honestly thought he would use it for good as he got older. You know for like business and stuff? But it seems the more he grows up, the more broken hearts he leaves in his trail.”

“Huh. Well I guess that makes him just like his father then,” You chuckled bitterly through your sniffles, causing Bucky to laugh little bit. The sound took you by surprise, not expecting him to laugh over your dig. But you liked the way it sounded: soft, but mature. Everything that a man should’ve been. Everything that his son should’ve been.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Bucky shrugged. “But believe me—I never once raised him to act like this. I wanted him to be better, you know? But I guess eventually, everyone goes down their own path.”

“You should cut him off then,” You quickly suggested, before you could even stop the words coming from your mouth. “If you cut him off, he can’t charm girls anymore and he most certainly won’t be sitting courtside with anymore models.”

You were dead serious, but this—this was what caused Bucky to double over in laughter, clutching his stomach and letting out a hearty, genuine laugh. He shook his head at you, pointing his index finger, and you couldn’t lie, you laughed too. After all, who just goes around telling rich dads to cut off their entitled sons? Not enough people apparently, because there were still a plethora of entitled sons out there.

Bucky may have thought JJ was one, but after losing his mother, he was all he had. You suppose you understood why Bucky kept enabling him in that way, but it still made you no less salty that he got to live the good life while everybody else around him got left in the dust.

“You,” Amusement danced in Bucky’s eyes as he chuckled some more before finally sobering up, pressing his lips. “You’re funny.” He said like it was a compliment. “You…you’ve got a sense a humor, I’ll tell you that sweetheart. Not a lot of girls my son brings home actually have a decent personality.”

“What can I say? It’s probably the reason he ditched me,” You said.

“Probably,” Bucky agreed. “Unfortunately, he doesn’t do well with actual conversation. As a father, it’s a little embarrassing when your son goes for beauty instead of brains and beauty.”

“Oh, is that what you think I have?” You teased him slightly, your mood beginning to pick up a little. Bucky nodded. “Well, you’d think if I was smart, I wouldn’t go after somebody with an obvious track record.”

“Well we can all be dazzled by the charm,” Bucky said, staring intensely. “But you gotta know that eventually, all of that stuff goes away and in a few years time he’ll realize how stupid he was to let you go. Trust me, beauty fades fast and when that’s all you have in common with someone, most relationships tend to not to last long.”

“So what you’re saying is JJ’s gonna break up with the model?” You questioned.

“…Eventually,” Bucky hesitated to say, “But for now, she’s young. So he’s gonna be all over her like white on rice.”

“Bucky! What the fuck— you are not helping!”

Instinctively, you reached out to shove his shoulder which caused Bucky to be even more surprised. But he could see the smile tugging at your lips, hear the playfulness in your voice as you said this, so he laughed even harder.

He appreciated someone joking around with him without being all cautious about his titles. Bucky didn’t know what it was, but something about the way you seemed to just relax around him made him happy. It made him inch forward, taking a cautious step while you watched him.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged quietly, and you never took your eyes off of him as he stepped as close as he could. “Well then do tell me Miss L/N,” Bucky copied your playfulness, “What would help you get over my son?”

The tone of his voice made you shiver slightly, as did the closeness of his body. You just now realized it, but Bucky’s eyes were awfully brown, so dark that you found yourself almost getting lost in them. You felt like your world was swirling as you looked inside of those mischievous brown eyes, but yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to look away.

Daring to be bold, you stepped closer, and Bucky was nearly on the floor when suddenly you crained your head up, put your lips straight to his ear and whispered,

“How about a drink, Mr. Barnes?”

“And then I said: I thought you were smaller!”

You laugh loudly as Bucky very proudly told you the story of how he reunited with his best friend Steve, the man JJ had also been named after. It was sort of a sad story, but you didn’t know that because Bucky left out all the bad parts. He just wanted to make you laugh and was just glad to see that you were entertained nonetheless.

It was a stark contrast to the way you had shown up on his doorstep only an hour ago. Now, your tears were replaced by laughter, your frown with a large grin, and there were no longer any traces of anger on your face. You were only content as you sipped on your drink, playing into all the jokes and shenanigans Bucky had presented you with.

Honestly, hanging out with him had been pretty fun and you had no fucking clue how it all started but you weren’t complaining as you downed your drink. This was your first one, so you weren’t even tipsy, just relaxed enough to have a good time. It also helped push away the feeling that maybe hanging out with your ex’s father wasn’t such a good idea.

Nonsense though, your brain had told you multiple times, because Bucky was funny, charming and most importantly: he was nothing like his son.

As he entertained you, you began to see less and less how JJ could even be related to a man like this. A man so confident and hilarious, and just so sure of himself. It was like every move Bucky made, he made with a purpose. He did it because he knew exactly the reaction he would get from someone. He was so perceptive, and he picked up that you needed cheering up, so he kept making a fool out of himself just to make you laugh.

And honestly, you were beginning to question why you ever wasted your time on JJ in the first place. When clearly, you had chosen the wrong Barnes.

The thought had struck you several times in the last hour, but you never once entertained it, refusing to give your brain that satisfaction. You told yourself that Bucky was just being nice inviting you for a drink. That he just felt bad and didn’t want you stumbling home angry and sad.

You told yourself that it was better for him that you didn’t come looking for his son again. But…a part of you wanted to believe there were other reasons.

It only made heart your pound faster as he began to speak again.

“Man. I swear I can never get enough of telling that story,” He said cheekily, leaning back on his fancy sofa. The suit that he was wearing crinkled, and the scotch in his hand swirled before he took a sip of it.

You admired him.

You admired anybody that could drink straight liquor, because Lord knows you couldn’t. Lord knows not even his own son could, which made you snort at the thought.

“Well, it is a wonderful story Mr. Barnes,” You told him, swirling your own drink. “I’m sure it was even better to witness all those years ago.”

“Oh, come on now darling. Don’t make it seem like I’m a fossil,” Bucky waved you off, and you couldn’t deny the way your stomach fluttered at the nickname. It made you feel something that you hadn’t felt before; an emotion that you desperately wanted to push down but was rising the more time you spent with Bucky.

Desire was beginning to creep into your veins, and it didn’t help that you had certainly took notice of just how handsome Mr. Barnes was, and just how good that three-piece suit clung to his body. You began to wonder things that you should most definitely not be wondering. But still, it was like your brain produced the thoughts on its own and you couldn’t help but think that Bucky looked sexy all relaxed like that.

You curled your lips, and you knew you were beginning to get yourself into trouble. You sipped your drink once again.

“Oh, trust me. The last thing I’m calling you is old Mr. Barnes,” You retorted kindly. Bucky looked up as a smirk began to form on your cheeks. “In fact, you’re probably one of the youngest people I know in spirit, most definitely. It seems that even though the years have passed, they haven’t yet caught up with you. And well, you’re pretty spry for an older fella.”

You batted your lashes at him, causing Bucky to sputter a little bit. A mischievous look grew in your eyes, and when you winked at him something began to stir inside of him.

Perhaps it was your humor, or the way you knew just when to be sarcastic and when to be genuine, just like him. Maybe it was that that drew him towards you, making Bucky sit up a little bit as he studied you.

With blue eyes observing everything, Bucky noted that you were young, yes, but you certainly weren’t new to the world, nor ignorant of it. From what you had told him, you were in grad school and had experienced heartbreak and failure. And though you weren’t nearly as old or mature as he was, Bucky could sense that you definitely were years above your own peers.

Years above his own son, which Bucky began to question if he really was his son, if he had passed up a woman like this.

A woman so easy to get along with that he didn’t even notice it was beginning to approach two hours since you had been there.

“Spry?” Bucky rose an eyebrow and chose to ignore the thought that you might need to go home soon. Nodding your head, Bucky laughed at your words.

“Oh very spry indeed Mr. Barnes. In fact, I bet you could run me and outlive me,” You giggled.

“Well…” Bucky pretended to be in thought before carefully shoving off his blazer, flexing his biceps which made the most unholy of thoughts come into your mind. “I suppose I do lift a little on the side. Mostly when I’m not busy with meetings, but I mean the biceps speak for themselves, don’t they?”

“I suppose they do.” You sipped on your wine so that Bucky couldn’t see how bothered you had gotten. Your legs crossed, your body language beginning to change. Something stirred in the pit of your stomach, causing you to shift slightly.

You could still see his biceps peeking out from under his shirt even with him not flexing. It made your mouth just the tiniest bit dry as Bucky looked at you.

He didn’t want you to go home, but he knew that it was entering the odd hours of the morning and the last thing he needed was paparazzi photographing a young woman leaving his tower this late. Not to mention a young woman that had been seen with this son. Oh, Bucky realized the scandal it would cause and decided he was way past those days.

So, a plan began to form in his mind.

Maybe you didn’t have to leave, he told himself. Maybe…maybe you could stay after all. He thought about this, and then before he could stop himself, Bucky began to speak.

“You know…it’s getting kind of late.” He tried to sound as casual as possible without his words sounding rehearsed. Immediately, you perked up, worrying that he may kick you out. But luckily, it was just the opposite. “I know JJ once told me you lived a little ways out of town. A far walk I imagine; and getting an Uber probably won’t be easy. I’m sure you know this by now, but this tower has a lot of rooms. Why don’t you take one for the night and rest up here? You can leave first thing in the morning but I’d just hate to see a young lady be out on the streets of New York by herself.”

At this, you couldn’t stop the smile that made its way over your face, nor the laugh of delight as you found yourself eagerly accepting Bucky’s proposal.

“Yes. I think that sounds fair. Thank you, Mr. Barnes. For being so kind.”

“Yeah.”

Was that what it was? Bucky truly being kind, or was he only letting you stay for his own selfish intentions?

Probably both honestly. But truly, Bucky knew he wasn’t a bad enough person to expect you to do anything for him in return. His thoughts may have been running wild, but he wasn’t so bad as to bribe a young girl like that. Not that he had to, because you were already halfway on that road before you even stood up.

When you did though, you were suddenly reminded of how long it had been since you had drank and you couldn’t stop the woozy feeling in your head as you set the glass down. Bucky caught you once again before you hit the floor, your nausea causing you to trip over the expensive carpet. You landed in his arms almost like a fairytale. Your eyes met his, and you could see the worry that spread in them.

“Are you all right?” He asked.

It was a simple question. So, so simple that you should’ve just been able to answer with ‘yes’ and been done with it. You should’ve been, but somehow you just couldn’t. Somehow all the decency and all the warning bells that told you this was not a good idea suddenly left your mind. All of a sudden, you were lucid but you didn’t even feel like it as you leaned up and did something you never in a million years thought you would’ve done.

You kissed Bucky.

You don’t know what the hell got into you. Truly, you didn’t. You didn’t know whether it was the alcohol, sheer stupidity, or just a fuck-this-I’m-going-for-it mentality. But whatever it was, it had you kissing Bucky Barnes like it was your last day on this earth, your head spinning from how hard you pressed your lips to his.

Your lips were on his, and honestly it took Bucky more time than he’d like to admit to do something about it. At first, he just stood there a little bit confused. He didn’t register that you were kissing him until you tried to move your mouth and he just…stood still. He didn’t register that you…that you wanted him until you suddenly pulled away with slight panic on your face.

“Oh my God,” You said in realization, “Bucky I’m so—”

Bucky didn’t even let you finish the sentence, because the fuck-it mentality embraced him too and suddenly you were both carefree as you swapped spit.

Bucky had his mouth on yours, and you were kissing him with so much passion and oh my God you were so young and this was so wrong but the man couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

Despite everything in his brain telling him that this was a bad idea, his body simply would not allow him to listen, too engrossed by the feeling of your soft lips.

Cherry Chapstick—that’s what you had been wearing. But Bucky was sure that by the time he was done with you, that taste would be nothing but a fleeting memory. He pressed his tongue out to try to get some more of it, and that’s when his tongue started to slip into your mouth. Gasping, you let him in and that’s when your bodies began to fall back onto the couch.

Bucky landed first with a small grunt, and with this new sitting position you were able to straddle his lap and hook your legs on either side of him.

Bucky’s arms then came to wrap around your waist, wasting no time to explore your body—regrettably through your clothes. You had been wearing a simple skirt and top, but even that felt like too much as Bucky suddenly became desperate to get underneath them.

A hot desire developed over you both, and you couldn’t stop yourself from suddenly breaking the kiss, putting your hands on his nice blazer, and tearing it off with ease. You threw it somewhere in the corner that you didn’t quite care about, looking at Bucky for only a second before devouring his lips once again.

He tasted like scotch and cigars, the pinnacle of maturity in your opinion. He was so experienced and the thought of all the things he could show you, all the ways he could make you feel suddenly made you groan and start to grind on his lap.

Bucky panted into your mouth as he felt your warm heat moving against him, the perfectly tailored pants suddenly feeling too tight as his erection grew bigger.

You were greedy as you drank him in, like Bucky was the sweetest nectar you had ever tasted. And now that you had gotten a sample, you couldn’t get enough.

You were insatiable as you eventually managed to get his button down shirt off, feeling him slip his own hands under your clothes.

He felt your soft, hot skin and squeezed, liking the way you jumped in his arms. He never once broke the kiss, liking the taste of your mouth far too much. But that didn’t mean Bucky couldn’t explore other areas with his hands, and before you knew it, he had his hands touching all over your body and leaving fire in its wake.

You wiggled a little bit as Bucky traveled lower and lower, eventually jumping again when he made contact with your cotton panties.

Bucky smiled into your mouth, satisfaction flooding his veins when he noticed your arousal had already dampened them.

Slowly, you began to grind a little bit on his hand and Bucky groaned as the sensation of it all made him feel like he was burning up. He felt like if he didn’t do something now, he would literally burst into flames. So, as much as he loved the taste of your mouth, he decided he needed something more than that.

Pulling away from you, a trail of spit dribbled down your chin and coated the frown that you were now sporting. You didn’t wanna pull away from him, but Bucky reassured you with his eyes that what he had planned was much better.

He tapped on your thighs and pushed on your chest a little bit, letting you know that he wanted you to lay down.

Excitement flooded your veins as your back suddenly hit the couch, your shirt pulled almost all the way up and your skirt flipped.

Bucky could see nothing but your stomach and your cotton covered pussy, choosing these two things to focus on as he got on his knees on the couch.

He hovered over you, and at first, you thought he was going to kiss you again until suddenly, his head dipped down. You moaned as his hands begin to massage your breasts, the feeling of his touch driving you crazy. Even though it was only through your clothes, you began to squirm; pushing down on his hips with your foot so that Bucky quickly got the message.

“Wow. Eager are we?” He smirked, and the whine that you let out went away as quickly as it came, when Bucky suddenly yanked your bra down.

You were sure that the front straps had broken, but that was the last thing you cared about. You were only focused on his plump lips that were headed towards your breast. And sure enough, Bucky finally made the first contact with your body when he wrapped his lips around your sensitive bud. Th action caused you to moan out, quickly running your fingers through his hair as he licked, sucked, circled the bud with his tongue.

Skilled he was, because you swore you had never gotten this much pleasure from a man sucking on your tits. Sure many had tried, but it never felt like this. It never felt like actual pleasure until now, Bucky’s tongue working miracles.

Honestly, it made you wonder just what else he could do. And as if he could read your mind, Bucky suddenly abandoned your nipples and trailed his mouth further down your body. At first, you wanted to protest at the lack of stimulation. But the feeling was quickly replaced when Bucky got rid of your panties in one swift pull. He looked you in the eye, and you could see his smirk as he took in your pouty lips, the way your chest heaved and the way your eyes got wide. He took in how fucking gorgeous you looked but man — he bet you sounded even better.

It was this thought that lead Bucky to finally dip his head where you needed him to be; you letting out the sweetest of moans as his lips attached to your clit.

Bucky pleasured you in a way that most boys your age refused to even consider. They never seemed to consider what women actually wanted, but Bucky knew. And damn, did he know it well.

He took your clit in between his teeth and gently grazed over it, teasing you and enjoying the way your hips bucked against him. He had to hold you down before he really got started on you, and when he did, and there was nobody on this earth that could convince Bucky that what the two of you were doing was wrong.

So what if you had dated his son. His son was stupid; even Bucky could see that now.

JJ was beyond stupid to pass up this gorgeous woman, who tasted just as sweet as she looked. Who tasted so fucking good that Bucky lapped and sucked up every little dribble of arousal that you had. He sucked on your clit and even began to use his fingers, absolutely determined to taste you and your entirety. Nothing in life had ever enticed Bucky more, except for maybe the sounds that you were making.

Man, did you sound absolutely gorgeous as you wiggled and thrashed, but never quite fully pulled away from his pleasure. Man, did you look so sexy with your head thrown back, eyes closed, and lips parted. Bucky swore he never saw a better site in his life, which egged him to pump his fingers even faster. He was determined, determined to make you cum on his tongue and determined to show you that this was how a real man pleasured a woman. A real man always put her satisfaction before his, which was why Bucky wasn’t even gonna fuck you until you had came at least once.

And fuck—did you.

You swear you had never screamed louder in your life, your body shaking as you came all over Bucky’s expensive suit and couch. You were crying out from the almost abusive pleasure, but not once did Bucky remove his mouth from your pussy. Not until he was sure he had gotten every last drop.

He wanted to taste everything that he could. Every little part of you; and when he succeeded at that he then wanted you to taste yourself.

He wanted for you to know how sweet and absolutely incredible you were.

He brought his mouth back up to latch his lips on yours, and it wasn’t long before your tongue was tangled with his. Bucky got what he wanted when you suddenly squeaked, surprised at how you tasted. It was indeed sweet—thanks to you prioritizing fruit in your diet. Bucky almost chuckled at the way your eyes flew open, but he was too busy breaking the quick kiss to pull down the last bit of clothing that separated the two of you.

It seemed like he couldn’t get those damn panties off fast enough—you giggling and offering to help when he cursed more than enough times.

Bucky leaned over you and, while you worked on your underwear, he began to focus on his own. He unbuckled his belt, yanked down his pants, and freed himself from the torture that was that damn suit.

Now that you were both naked, you eyed his erection deliciously as you both suddenly set up.

It wasn’t like you were a virgin, so you both silently agreed there was no need to take it easy in missionary. So, you got on top of Bucky and hooked your legs over his once again.

A silent glance was shared between the two of you just moments before you sank down on Bucky’s cock, pressing your hips until there was nothing left out except his balls. They pressed against your ass and reminded you of how deep he truly was, how absolutely delicious it felt to have him sheathed inside of you.

Bucky let out a sigh of content, and it wasn’t long before you had him moaning, standing on your toes and lightly bouncing yourself on his cock.

Fuck—you sure did know how to make a man come quick, seeing as you were currently squeezing the dear life out of Bucky. He could barely keep it together as your walls sucked him in, it having been a while since he fucked somebody this tight.

But tight you were, and young—though he’d never guess it by the way you rode him like a pro. You swirled your hips, placing your hand on his chest to steady yourself and then kept bouncing. Up and down your tits went, mesmerizing Bucky almost as much as your pussy did.

You yourself were just enticing, if there ever was a word for it.

Bucky wasn’t quite sure how he’d let you go after this, or if he even wanted to. The feeling of you wrapped around him was definitely something he could get used to, so he tried not to think about that and focused on the present.

He focused on the way you moaned and clenched around him. On the way your pussy squelched every time you bounced yourself up on your feet. He focused on your eyes, staring at him intensely, and then your lips as he leaned in to capture them.

Due to his swift kiss, you had lost your pace, but that was all right because Bucky decided to take over then. He held you close, and then he bucked his hips upwards, fucking into you at a rapid pace. You moaned into his mouth, and Bucky could feel your ass jiggling, your tits bouncing as he pounded into you. He could feel the way your stomach was beginning to clench again, a telling sign of yet another orgasm.

He smirked, satisfied when you started to grip him for dear life. Not even a few seconds later, you did, in fact, cream all over him with a small cry.

The mess on his couch and on his thighs was inevitable, but as Bucky reached his own high, he thought it best not to dirty up his furniture anymore.

Instead, as the pit in his stomach finally grew to its peak, he suddenly pulled out of you and got you on your knees, cumming on your face right as you opened your mouth.

Eagerly, you let the hot ropes paint your face and even swallowed some with a grin on your lips. You couldn’t open your eyes to see the pleasure that you had caused Bucky, but you could hear him groaning, the sound of him jacking off invading your ears until there was nothing else left to decorate your face.

He smiled in satisfaction, loving the way that you had been the one to bring him to his wits end and it wasn’t long before you could see Bucky again.

He retrieved his extremely expensive shirt and used it to wipe off your face, you giving him a giggle as your vision became clearer. You stuck out your tongue, showing him evidence that you had swallowed the bit of cum that had gotten on your lips.

Bucky chuckled, and it was at that moment he realized that yes, his son was an idiot for letting you go.

He’d be damned if he made the same mistake.

BONUS

You made your way into your chemistry class, not even bothered by JJ’s presence as you passed him. In fact, the last thing you were thinking of was that Barnes, seeing as the remnants of his father still lingered just underneath your shirt.

Had it been any more see-through, you would’ve had a reason to be extremely smug as JJ made his way over to you with his friends snickering in the background.

You knew they were talking about you, but you barely paid attention to any of them until suddenly, the youngest Barnes was standing beside you with his arms crossed.

“Yes?”

You looked up at him, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say he was annoyed by your lack of reaction. Your indifference towards him and the model situation clearly bothered him, which made you wanna smirk but you didn’t.

“Well you certainly don’t look bothered,” He commented, casually leaning against your desk. You rolled your eyes, but you weren’t too irritated until he began tapping his pencil on your table.

“Well that’s because I had a pretty good weekend — besides the fact that you ditched me,” You snapped, trying to push him away.

But JJ didn’t budge.

It was then that you remembered he was every bit as stubborn as his father was, despite being less than half the man Bucky was.

“Oops,” A sarcastic smile ghosted on JJ’s face. The bastard didn’t even have the decency to be ashamed of what he did. “I just got caught up you know; business and such.”

“Business.” You pondered on this word before you slowly turned to look at him, confidently being able to stare into his brown eyes. After all, you had found yourself growing fonder and fonder of that shade, just not on him. “That’s interesting. I didn’t know business meant going on a date with a model.”

“Super model,” He made sure to correct you, “And well, you know how it is these days. I’m a Rolling Stone; just like my daddy I hear.”

God bless him, he sounded so proud and it took everything in you not to tell him right then and there. It took every particle of self-restraint you had not to scream out to the entire university that you had fucked his dad, cause you were no longer in the mood for JJ’s childish games.

But instead — thinking of Bucky — you restrained yourself and simply offered JJ a smile.

“Well, the way I hear it, your daddy did it better,” You winked at him, and suddenly nothing in the world could seemed to bother you anymore. Knowing that you had completed the ultimate form of revenge and gained yourself a new suitor in the process put you at peace.

But unfortunately for JJ, you were just getting started.

Just you wait, asswipe. I’ll be your step mama soon enough, you thought devilishly, your phone buzzing just as the boy made his way back to his seat.

Bucky Barnes

Hey honey, you free tonight?

[magicdustsworld]

Redemption

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: For you, freedom comes in the form of college life. However, soon you come to realize that tethering liberating steps for way too long will get you to situations you don't want to be in.

Tropes: Professor/Student, explicit smut

Warnings: profanity, age gap (Reader is in early 20s, Levi is in his early to mid 30s), drug abuse, smoking, alcoholism, implied nudity and blackmail, body shot, toxic college life, toxic friendship dynamics, college/modern AU, no mentions if y/n.

Word count: 3.6k

Event: submission for levievent under the prompt of day 10 - age differences.

A/N: after a lot of contemplation, I have decided to let it be a two-shot series. The next part will contain filthy smut, hopefully updated by tomorrow and pls excuse any mistakes on this part, my laptop broke down so I had to type it on my phone. Hope you enjoy!

Divider credits - @cafekitsune

|NEXT|

This isn't supposed to be happening.

You aren't supposed to be bend over your professor's desk, skirt raised up and have your cunt pulsating over his cock like a damn virgin.

He clicks his tongue, "Filthy brat," tightening his hold over your binded wrists as his pelvis smacks against yours in a uniform rhythm. "Don’t tell me you're cumming so soon. We haven't even started yet."

Your cheek rests on the hard mahogany desk, polished and clean as your eyes roll back from the way his cock just hits your g-spot with every thrust. The drool runs down your lips, too lust drunk to care and too traversed beyond reality to give him a verbal answer as he continues to assault your puffy folds with his shaft. Slick runs down your thighs, dripping on the floor as the room reeks with the combined juices of your arousal. He reaches down, pressing his thumb on your swollen bud and you're sent over the edge.

Shit!

How did this happen?

.

You have been caged your whole life.

Therefore, when freedom came knocking at your door, you didn't have any second thoughts from breaking free of the chains that binded you to a gilded cage. For you, freedom came in the form of college life.

If anyone from your highschool years saw you now, they wouldn't be able to recognize you with the 180 degree turn in personality, makeover and peer choices. A complete change. The most significant change could be your schedule. While you were living under the stern gaze of your parents, you had a timetable to maintain which prescribed when and how you should be present at particular places. That timetable was taken, crumbled up and thrown in the trashcan as soon as you got the gist of dormitory life. Besides, with your peers indulging in situations they shouldn't be, why should you hold back? (Like c'mon, you need to live your life as well)

Previously, you'd spend Friday nights in the confines of your bedroom while blasting your favourite playlist in your earphones and doing your homework. Now, the same music would boom but you are swaying your hips to it, bopping yourself and getting lost in the game of dance under the neon lights of the frat house. Red cups and beer pongs would escalate, which you readily partook in with the addition of forgettable one night stands. You told yourself that you liked the air of random hook ups while you were high, for it left you guessing that which brother of the fraternity you had fucked or not. While vodka and a night of reprieve was one thing, you looked forward to the coke. The very coke which once inhaled, made the euphoria burst in your system while ecstasy took over and you'd find yourself falling under the spell of intoxication.

Mind blank as a canvas and too high on serotonin levels, the fog of inebriation would cloud your eyes and you'd get lost in another midnight rhapsody. Can you blame yourself? College is meant for trying out all the pleasures of life, right? A hub for fuck boys and girls seeking validation from each other by fucking their daylights out. The minority who inclined themselves to academics were clearly missing out on all the joys life had to offer.

However, you didn't know that your favourite coke would be the reason of your downfall.

Maybe, you should have known better.

No– of course, you should have known better.

What were you thinking?

You should have stayed inside that night instead of going out to the same frat house, when you had an important physical chemistry exam the next day.

As far as you can remember, you were paired with a jock of the football team for flip cup. Although, hazed memories you noted the strawberry blond hair styled back and amber eyes. Maybe his name was John? Or Jean? Whatever, you only remember winning the game and getting your hands on the coke. Sooner than anyone had the time to comprehend, you were lining the powder on your finger edge and inhaling it generously.

Did it not raise a series of ooh's and aah's from the onlookers?

Like all the previous nights, your eyes were open wide with the crimson tint staining your sclera as you got lost in the ebullient maelstrom. Combined with the alcohol already running in your system, it didn't take long for the waves to crash ove. In this reverie you didn't realize when you were situated on the table, with grains of salt being sprinkled over your navel by your partner. He dipped his head down– mouth filled with tequila– swirling and lapping the warm muscle over your skin, feasting on the granules and you didn't even care with all your senses falling numb.

Anyone can guess what would be the outcome of attending an exam when the after effects of the powder fails to cease. With a pounding headache and being unaware of most of the answers, you can't say you were surprised to see your grade.

The capital F beside your name stares back at you from the mark list.

.

"Can't be that bad."

"It is."

"Not so," Your friend giggles, raking her fingers through her ash-blond hair. "It's only one exam, cheer up."

You bit your inner cheek, heaving a deep sigh. "This exam marks forty percect of my overall grade, Hitch. And with the way, my marks have gone down the drain, I don't think I'll even be able to pass this year."

That's an honest concern on your part because the final report would be sent to your parents as well and if they ever saw you failing one class, you don't know what hell they'll raise. Besides, the excuses of sickness and tougher lessons can only be used so far. (Plus, your heart thumped in your chest with the thought if they ever find out about this new lifestyle of yours... let's not think about it).

"You know," Hitch muses, leaning back on her Chair as she blows a strawberry bubblegum in her mouth. " You can ask for extra credit."

"Yeah sure," You don't bother to hide sarcastic tone, rolling your eyes and choosing to rest your chin on top of your palm. "There's no chance."

She raises an eyebrow, "Why not?"

"It's professor Ackerman," That almost comes out as a whine. "He is ruthless as he is, always with the poker look on his face and I can swear he won't even smile at a clown." 

A sheepish smile curls up her lips but before she can speak, you start again.

"Plus, I am already on his bad books. Do you think he'll be all unicorns and rainbows when I ask for credits?" You fold your hand over your chest, gritting your teeth as if the cause of your predicament is the man in question; he isn't but you need something to get off your vexation. "That's straight up walking in a lion's den and I am sure he will come for my head."

"Oh, girl..." She sighs, interlocking her fingers together and perching them over the tabletop. "But why would he even do that when you will give him a show?"

That catches your interest, "a show?"

"A show," She nods, the upper pair of her teeth is revealed as she smiles, waving her finger in a circular motion in the air. "Just follow my advice."

.

You have never heard an advice as bad as that.

Correction:

You have never found yourself following an advice as bad as that.

Still, you find yourself here. Outside your professor's office, gazing at the ivory sign engraved with the obsidian lettering – Levi Ackerman, while you contemplate on how much this plan can go wrong. (In your opinion, 100%).

However, you are desperate and your desperation has brought you here. So why not...?

You knock on the door. Once. Twice. Stating your name as you suck in a deep breath, squaring your shoulders.

Please don't let it be long.

A deep voice reverberates from inside, "State your business."

"I would... like to discuss about my grades. May I come in, sir?"

"Yes."

You breath in, the knob turns and you set a foot inside.

"Remember," Hitch says, crossing one of her leg over the another. "You gotta look desperate." The tilt of your head and parting of your lips, garners her to explain more. "The first two," She snaps her fingers to the collar of your shirt, "Unbuttoned."

"What?!" On instinct, you fold your hand over your chest, twisting your torso in the opposite direction. "Are you out of your mind?"

"You want to increase your grades or not?"

"I do but–"

"No buts," The girl shushes you with a finger over your lips. "You want to get your way through college, you follow me. Got that?"

Left with no choice, you find yourself nodding.

The clicks of your heel seems to echo in the vast expanse of his office. It's almost afternoon and the orange glow of the setting sun pours into the space marring it with the similar hues. Late classes are adjourned for the day as the marks were announced. On top of that, its Friday. Therefore, regular classes would be starting after the weekend. The campus is almosy empty except a few staff and students lurking around the corners; a perfect opportunity to follow the plan.

Your find your professor to be seated across his desk, engrossed in reading a file while a pen is nestled between his thumb and pointer. As soon as he is aware of your presence, he looks up at you.

Instead of halting, a good distance away from his desk, you are walking up to it. Letting yourself stop within a meter of his proximity.

"What do you need to discuss?"

Prompt and straight to the point—as expected.

Lips breaking into a grin, you spin a strand of your open hair around your fingers. Leaning forward–it's apparent, what you're aiming at–you speak, "I was wondering... if I could get some extra credit in your class, sir?"

"He is your professor, that's your minus," She states with a lilt of her mouth. "But you're his student, that's his minus."

Levi raises an eyebrow, "Extra credit, you say?"

"He is a man, after all. And all men are perverts, give them a show of your assets and they'll be dancing on your drums."

He continues with a twitch of his lip, "And why would I do that?" 

"Give him all the performance he needs," Her eyes darts south, she tugs on the fabric of your skirt."The shorter this is, the higher your grades will be."

"You seem to know all about their psyches." You comment, pinching your lips and smoothening the material over your knees.

That evokes a laugh,"Babe, how do you think I keep my grades up?"

By following the same advice she has given you.

In accordance to her, a face full of makeup with tits on show and the skirt raised enough to give a generous view of legs—one can make the professor's their very own puppets. So, once the same advice and opportunity is presented to you, why should you back down?

"Well," You start, plopping yourself on the chair across him, crossing your legs one over the other–hiking up your (already)shortened skirt. "I am sure we can work something out like..." arching your elbow on the table, you let your manicured fingers drum against your cheek; a seductive approach. This should work. "You don't want one of your students to be held back now, do you, sir?"

He stares at you for a solid minute. A blink of his eyes follow.

You shift in your position—offering him a rather salacious view of your cleavage. Come on. Your visage holds innocence akin to a child learning the first steps of the world.

One thing about Professor Ackerman that enthralls you is just how attarctive he could be despite his age. Probably a decade older than you but he certainly carries the enigma of a young man charmed with the maturity of someone his age. Gray eyes, dark bangs in an undercut and he just dresses so much better than all of the male peers you have encountered. And a lot better than all of your filthy hookups.

Even then, he is a man. Just look at it. The silence is stretching for a minute too long and dare you say, its almost suffocating.

While Levi's eyes are on you—something which you do want—he rather seems to be scrutinizing your behaviour than satisfy his inner perverse attitude.

Maybe he keeps this face even while jerking off.

That thought alone raises a cinch of chuckle to escape your mouth. His eyebrows furrow. At last, he speaks. "How long have you been in my class?"

Seriously? Is he so keen on continuing this game of back and forth. Shouldn't he be asking you how much grades you require by now?

"Patince is the key."

Hitch's words ring in your mind and you follow her again. "Since the start to second year?"

He crosses his arm over his chest, muscles flexing under his dress shirt as he leans back on his chair. You mark how there's a gleam in his eyes before he continues, "And how many exams have you taken until now?"

"Three? Why are you... asking that?"

"You'll know soon enough," he pauses, letting a string of tension to seep in through his body language. And as much as you don't want it to bother you, it is bothering you. "In which of those exams have you got a grade over sixty percent?"

"Um, uh sir–" You fumble over your words, raking your brain for any suitable response and while your grades is actually being discussed—a pang of exposure swirls in with the way you are dressed. "I don't remember..."

"Never."

"O-oh," Unease ripples through you, crumbling the calm veneer you are trying to maintain.

His gaze hardens, a tick of jaw and the creases on his forehead just shows he isn't in the mood for your performance. "Why?"

Only a low chuckle is released, attempting to depress the palpable tension."My bad... ah– you see, I don't have a good memory and that's why my grades are... well, you know."

"When have you ever cosulted me with the problem regarding your memory?" He cocks his head to the side, inverting the hourglass on his table. Shifting his attention back to you, he asks, "Besides, have you ever truly followed through my lesson in class? Ever tried to do your assignments by yourself?"

"Of course, I did," a clear cut lie but he doesn't have to know that. "But they are too difficult. You can't blame me, college is tough on its own and I have so many subjects to study–"

You wish to continue with your rant but the terse call of your name stops you on your tracks. His lips are curled down and he looks at you with utter disdain as if you were a bug. "If you have even paid a bit of attention in my class then you should know that I mark half of your grades by your attentiveness and student conduct. Something–" You swallow a lump in your throat, slumping your shoulders and hiding your chest from his gaze. "–you clearly lack and with the absolute shit you write on your answer sheets, you should know better than to expose your body in the name of discussion."

Blank.

You are completely blanked out.

What is there to say even?"

You chew on your lower lip, eyes flickering to anywhere but him. Clutching the mesh of your skirt in your hold. This meeting isn't unfolding like anything Hitch said about. You manage to exhale a breath, trying to hide your with your hairs, "Sir... I guess, I should take– I should leave now."

Only slightly you raise yourself from the chair, Levi speaks again, "So soon?" You sheepishly nod, giving way that this encounter wouldn't be to your favour. "We were just getting started. Besides, there's something more I need to discuss with you."

You look at him from beneath your lashes. It's funny how timid you are now. "Like what?"

"I've heard rumors of students getting their hands on question sheets by– let's say, means," He opens his drawer, pulling out a folder. "So... I played a little game with y'all. Changing the question paper, last minute was tedious- but doable." He twists his lips, picking out a A5 sized paper with contents hidden from you. He keeps his eyes on it while speaking again, "Humorously, you seem to answer only those questions perfectly which were leaked–"

"Excuse me?" You intervene, quickly. "I have no connection with this paper leak mess."

"Then how do you explain your tardiness with the paper, this time?" Steel eyes have shifted to you, "As much of a bratty student you can be, you aren't the type to completely fail unless–"

"You're just accusing me or something, I haven't done. When I say I have no connections with paper leak, I mean it."

"Then how do you explain your–"

"I don't fucking know. Just a coincidence or– whatever!"

"Coincidence? You really expect me to believe that?"

"It's not on me if you believe me or not. I have gave you my statement and you should know better than to accuse me of something just because you hate me."

"Very well, then" He tilts his head, shrugging his shoulders. "I will just have the dean rusticate you–"

"You can't do that. I didn't even know about all this."

"You want to tell me that you weren't cursing out loud while writing the paper? Don't try to lie, Zacharius told me about your indency in exam hall."

"That was because I was high on coke not— no, I–" Your eyes widen as soon as you realize your fumbling. Lips parted, you are more apprehended as the blood drains from your cheeks. "No, I- uh... I didn’t mean that, j-just a slip of tongue."

As for Levi, he merely stares back at you and... is that a smirk on his lips? It sure is. A triumphant ghost of a smirk directed at you while you began to drown in the whirlpool of despair. "At least, you remember that."

He flips both the paper to you and if your heart wasn't beating with a 10x speed before, it sure is now. Your jaw hangs open, shoulders becoming rigid and the air knocked off your lungs like you've been punches to the gut.

Pictures.

They are pictures, yes and it would have been fine of it was just that but it isn't. In the very pictures, you find yourself. One with a cigarette between your lips and from the background it is starkly evident that it's the college campus. The second is more precarious for you're clicked with some of your pals but it's shot in a way that only your face is visible while the group blows on a pot of Marijuana.

You wrestled with a deep-sated fear, eyes thoroughly scrutinizing each speck and corner of the photos—something, anything to prove that it isn't you. That it's framed, that all of it is a big misunderstanding. The dread of facing your professor overshadows all the protests stringing on your mouth; they won't even be let out if you try.

"It's a shame really," His voice echoes, the screeching of the chair is heard before he is sauntering over to the other end of the room. "I had better expectations from you."

You don't register the mocking call of your name, physically unable to. The adrenaline surges through your veins, goosebumps arising on your body with each passing second.

You need to leave. Run. Soon. Now.

You find yourself frozen in your place.

"I wonder what your parents would have to say–"

"No, sir." Instantly you crane your neck over to him, nails digging on the armrests of your chair. Your shoulders rise and fall as the hypertension settles in you. Your heart is thumping in your ears, fingers are trembling with anticipation and to add insult to the injury, darkness has started to commence. "Not my parents, please sir. Th-they– I don't know what they'll do to me. Plesse sir, j-just not that."

He leans against the door of his office, gazing at you with mere casualty, "You think you are in the position to make requests?" His irises flicks to the corner of the room. "You've made your bed. Now lie on it."

"Sir, please–" You are on the verge where you wouldn't have a second thought before begging on your knees. Something's pooling in your eyes and it stings as bad as your nails on the wooden armrests. "Anything but that. I will complete all of your assignments and I'll personally improve my grades without anyone's help. Sir, just one chance, please."

He huffs, twisting his lips as if a mirthful play is being presented to him. "Why should I believe you? Have you ever given me a reason to know you're reliable?"

"Sir, I have to try." Instantly, you stand up, marching over to him. "And– and I know I've been indecent–"

"Irresponsible and obnoxious, as well."

"Yes," It's painful but you have no other choice. "I know and I am sorry. Really sorry, just give me another chance."

He tips his head towards you, narrowing his eyes, "You think, you're redeemable?"

"Yes, sir. Of course, I am ready to do anything to prove it to you."

His eyes sparkles with something you can't decipher, "very well," He straightens up, taking a singular step towards you—only now, you're aware of how limited proximity but before you can contemplate, he speaks, "Let's start your first lesson on redemption."

[patchiko]

HIII

if you're taking requests, could you write about reader trying to get off on those long pillows (a bolster) and jason/dick comes and helps out? tysmm (no pressure)

i would love to write for Dick but i need to read his comics. Luckily i have Nightwing 2021, just needa read it. so maybe expect dick content soon lol (maybe if im autistic enough for him idk though.)

Comic!Jason Todd x GN!Reader NSFW (ANON RQ)

thigh riding to dick riding (unprotected, hair pulling ((both ways)) praise, cum !! ermmm yeah.)

nicknames jason uses: hun, love, doll, doll-face, honey, sweetheart, darling, baby (JASON ‘GIVING PRAISE GETS ME HORNY’ TODD) (THAT GOES BOTH WAYS)

THE thin fabric of the pillow wasn’t enough. You’d gotten nowhere close to a fuckin’ orgasm, hole felt so god-damn empty, it left you a panting frustrated mess, head tilted back, sweat pooling at your poplit.

(THE BACK OF UR KNEE CALMMM DOOWWNN)

You jumped at the sound of the window promptly sliding open. Damn it. The whole reason you were using this thing, you wanted to get off before Jason came back. One, you needed to walk tomorrow, two, you didn’t wanna keep him up. Of course he could stay up for weeks on end, but that doesn’t mean he has to.

He slipped through the window and almost didn’t notice you. Jason reached down to start taking off his boots then his head shot up to look at you. Skin polished with sweat, heaving breaths, puffy eye bags, that pillow. Oh, he’ll throw that damn thing out if this is what it did to you.

“Darling?” He asked lowly.

You mumbled a string of words that loosely formed few sentences of how you didn’t wanna bother him, how you just wanted to get off— and oh, welcome back!

You know, he could’ve sworn he heard something about needing to walk but he’s not totally sure or anything so…

“Bother me?—“ He began stepping toward you while taking off his helmet. “— and have I done something to inflict you with such a ghastly thought?” he playfully tantalized you. But you could only whimper out a response. Jason cupped your face in his palms, he looked at your drowsy doe eyes and glossy lips, he pressed his mouth on yours tenderly. The little noise you let out made intoxicated him. Jason placed his hands on your hips and started pulling you off that damn pillow and closer to the side of the bed. He pressed sloppy open mouth kisses down to your neck, soft moans leaving his lips with each one.

He could’ve sworn he heard you say you needed to walk tomorrow in between puffy gasps, but, he wasn’t exactly sure. Jason pulls you up against his body while kissing you, his hand snaking to your back, tugging at your shirt. You pull the shirt off and Jason sits back onto the bed, only his legs touching the floor.

He guides you on-top of him while he hushes promises and dapples kisses over every part of your skin he wants ,

‘I’ll take care of you hun.’

‘You’ll neva’ need that thing again love.’

He pressed his thigh against your hole, you quickly started rocking yourself against him, ’ uh-huh, back n’ forth doll.’ His firm thigh muscle and the texture of this combat pants gave you everything that fucking pillow didn’t. Jason was barely jerking his leg up and down, but those little movements were knocking you over your edge. ‘Just like that? Yeah I know..’ Jason touched himself through his pants at the same pace as you fucked yourself on his thigh, precum eventually leaving its mark on the cloth. Every motion of your hips made your head tilt back a little further; mewling while grabbing at Jasons hair. Jason praising you throughout it, both hands following your thighs, ‘Thats it love, better then that—“ you pulled at his hair.” “ah— fuckin’ pillow huh?’ The vendetta he had against that pillow was crazy. Your grinding became more sharp, every jolt of his hips had your jaw dropping. Your hips trembled, back arching, sputtering out moans and gasps as you melted on his thighs. Jason kept rutting his hips for a few moments until you came down from your pleasure high. He took your fingertips and kissed them, then led your hand down to the wet spot on his thigh. ‘Made a pretty little mess out of yourself all f’me?”

He squeezed your face in his palms, holding your head still and watching you pant. He skimmed his bottom lip on yours, teasing you, seeing if you’ll bite. You did, hotly pressing your lips on his. Sucking on his bottom lip, biting at it. When you pulled off Jason slipped his tounge into your mouth. He barely got to huff out his sentence, being cut out by his own impulsive kisses,’Need—mmh—more doll?’

You pleaded for him, whining in his ear about how you needed him. He noted that you didn’t say you needed to walk tomorrow so. He pulled your hips up for a moment so he could unbuckle his pants and pulled down his boxers, his cock popping out of his pants. The cold steel of his belt skimmed at the back of your plush skin. He reached over to your nightstand grabbing the lube and quickly pumping his cock, even if for just a few moments the sound was obscene. He pushed two fingers into your hole, ‘Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good..’ he panted as he lubed your core, stretching you out as much as he can with his calloused hands. Jason popped his fingers back out and guided your hips onto him, slowly pushing into you. You couldn’t even be gritty about the slow stretch of his dick, he knew every part of him felt fucking good and of course he was gonna use it. Once you were fully on, he grabbed your plush hips, choked out sobs leaving your mouth while Jason talked filth as he started grinding his cock into your wet hole. He grabbed your hair and directed your head to look at him ‘Thas’ it, let me see how good im doin baby.’

Once Jason was sure you were all stretched from the fucked out eyes you were giving him and the way he effortlessly pushed through you, he trailed your hips up and down his dick. You started moaning for him to go faster, oh who would he be to deny you? Jason started pumping his cock into you while purring how ‘he’s got you,’ and to ’let him handle it will you?’ and fuck he did. Rhythmically pounding all those spots that he had memorized while sucking hickies into your neck, he had you seeing stars. The metal of his belt chiming with every motion of you two, coldness slapping against your soft skin. Your body melting against his while he thrust into you, hips jolting as he started grabbing at your ass. Cries leaving your lips with every feverish bounce of his cock. You shuddered as your walls spasmed all over him, letting your body go limp as you spilled on his dick. He continued fucking you through orgasms until the only thing you could feel in between your thighs was his pulsating cock and the wet mixture of sweat and cum.

His grip on your waist tightened, sure to leave little crescents of his nail marks. Louder grunts and curses choked out of his mouth as he rutted into you. ‘M’ making you feel good right? Better then that pillow right?’ You took notice on how his voice was getting more whiny. He wrapped his arm around your waist as he buried his face into your neck . ‘Jason let me see you’ you whimpered out. He didn’t move, still focused on that feeling of his cock as you pulsed around him and the slick noises of your twos bodies. You took your hand and harshly pulled at his black locs so he’d look at you. He let out a pornish moan when you rocked his head backwards, eyelashes fluttering as he frantically bucked his hips up while cumming. His eyes rolling to the back of his head, grip tightening with every pulse of pleasure that rolled down his spine. He looked up at you, cursing weakly as he stared at you with tired pleasure filled eyes. Breathless gasps leaving both of your mouth as he comes down from his high, he slowly grinds his hips into you while you both fall limply into each others necks. He rubs circles into your skin, only having the energy to murmur ‘I love you’s’ while weakly pressing kisses onto you.

fuck that pillow (jason thinks about humping it)

this was fun to write it just took me way to fucking long, i had like four ideas for this shit man.

[spicy-dragon]

I love all your headcanons and opinions and art about Zoro and Sanji's sex life!! Do you have any smut you've written?

Thank you!!!!

I don’t have anything that’s finished, but as per usual I have about a million wips

So here’s a part of a wip I’ve been writing where Zoro gets turned into a woman and zosan end up in a fucked up situationship 👇

“You need to get laid.”

Sanji hurled the wooden spoon at his head. Zoro reached up and caught it from the air before it made contact, bringing it to his mouth to drag his tongue through the sauce coating the end. It was perfect, of course. That didn’t stop him from eyeing the cook as he licked his lips and offering,

“Tastes a little sweet.” —just to watch the way the other man bristled at the jab.

“Maybe to someone with the taste buds of a mutated sea cucumber!” He snarled, slamming the lid back into the pot with a loud clang and turning down the flame. “And what I do in private is none of your business, so back off unless you want me to knock you through that wall.”

The threat was as empty as they came. Sanji had already made it abundantly clear where Zoro currently fell on his inane fighting spectrum. Despite the strong words, he’d no more raise a polished shoe to Zoro right now than he would roundhouse kick Nami for asking the time of day—a thought that pricked up Zoro’s spine in an uncomfortable way. It had only been a few days, but he was already itching for the normality of their fights. A day spent without Sanji trying to cave his skull in was a day he spent bored. He needed the thrum of a good fight, the exertion that came only from being pitted against someone who matched your strength. That brief moment in time where Sanji’s head was filled with nothing but him. If the cook wouldn’t fight him, he’d have to get his fill another way. Zoro’s determination returned two-fold, and the words were leaving his mouth before he could reconsider what a bad idea this was.

“I’ll fuck you,” Zoro said, downing the last mouthful of sake from the bottle. “Probably be the first time you’ve ever actually touched a woman.”

Sanji whipped around, cigarette crunched between his teeth as he bristled.

“Listen you stupid Neanderthal, I—” The rest of the insult was choked off as Sanji’s mouth clamped shut, eyes going comically wide as he registered Zoro’s proposition for what it was. “What?”

“I said I’ll fuck you.” The empty sake bottle clinked as Zoro set it down, pushing his seat back to stand from the table. “Or more accurately, I’ll let you fuck me.”

“WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WANT TO FUCK YOU?” The screech of Sanji’s voice shot so loud Zoro was almost worried the others would hear it from wherever they were on the island. It was laughable, the way Sanji shook with barely contained rage, as though Zoro hadn’t felt the burning gaze on him any time his back was turned. As though Sanji hadn’t made it painfully obvious he no longer knew where to look when Zoro was in the room.

“Everything about how you’ve been acting the past days makes me think that.”

Sanji dropped his gaze to the floor under the pretense of glaring at the wood, but Zoro could see the embarrassment flickering through his expression. He wrapped his hand around Kitetsu, sliding the sword free from its holster, still sheathed in its saya, and angled the blade beneath the cook’s chin. Sanji jolted at the touch, gaze darting back up to Zoro as he continued,

“You can’t look at me because you’re attracted to me.”

Sanji opened his mouth as if to deny it, but no words escaped. He clamped his jaw back down around silence that was as good as a confession. The furrow between his eyebrows deepened, but his eyes flickered down Zoro once, and he took the expression for what it was. Interest. Zoro smirked.

“Here’s the thing, Cook.” He pressed forward with Kitetsu, tilting Sanji’s head further up so he was looking down his nose to keep his gaze. The easy compliance was new, and it gave Zoro a little thrill to have Sanji at the end of his sword, obeying the minute pressure without so much as a protest. “I’m not gonna be a woman forever.” He tilted his head to the side, giving the cook’s chin a gentle tap with the tip of his blade. “You still gonna be able to look me in the eye after you’ve been inside me?”

Sanji blushed. It was immensely gratifying to watch the bright red color flood his cheeks to the tips of his ears, even as his face pulled into an irritated scowl. However he didn’t respond, and as the silence lapsed the answer became clear, even if it wasn’t the one Zoro wanted to hear.

He began drawing Kitetsu back. Not worth it if Sanji was going to freak out the moment he was back to normal. Not worth it if it would only make things weird for the crew. Not worth it no matter how much disappointment curled like a dying plant in Zoro’s chest. Before he could withdraw the sword entirely, Sanji’s hand shot up to wrap around it, gritting his teeth as he met Zoro’s gaze with a stubborn glare.

“I can look you in the eye. Now, and later,” he hissed.

Fire ignited in Zoro’s chest like someone had struck a match and dropped it in there. He grinned, wide and feral as he yanked Kitetsu back, dragging the cook with it into his space. He slid the blade back into place alongside the other two and curled his free hand into Sanji’s tie to pull him in even closer.

“Big talk, Curly. You want to put your money where your mouth is?”

Sanji glared at him for just a moment longer, face still flushed red, before he flicked his cigarette to the side and crushed their mouths together.

Zoro grabbed a fistful of his suit jacket, pulling him even closer as Sanji’s hands slid up his neck and into his hair. His mouth tasted like ash and the bordelaise sauce he’d been making for dinner, the scent of cigarette smoke and cologne invaded Zoro’s senses as Sanji kissed him again and again. It was everything Zoro had never let himself imagine.

Sanji pushed him until his back hit the edge of the table and Zoro allowed himself to be lifted onto it, spreading his legs so Sanji could slip in between them. He fisted a hand through blonde hair as the cook broke away from his mouth to press a hot kiss against his jaw, then his ear, working down to his neck. Pleasure struck electric all the way down to his toes as Sanji opened his mouth to suck hard on his skin.

“You gonna fuck me right here in your precious kitchen?” He goaded.

“Of course not.” Sanji hissed, pulling back away from his skin. “First of all, we eat here, that's disgusting. Second of all, I’m a gentleman. I would never bed a woman somewhere so uncomfortable.”

Zoro clenched his grip in Sanji’s hair, tugging sharply at the roots to earn a wince.

“I’m not a woman, Curly.”

Sanji hissed, wrapping his hand around Zoro’s to relieve the pressure on his scalp.

“You are in all but name right now,” he spat. “Isn’t that the point of this?”

Zoro ignored the prick of pain in his chest, pushed it back and away behind the part of him that was aching for more of Sanji’s touch. To have this man willing and wanting beneath his fingers.

“Fair enough,” he hooked one leg around Sanji’s waist pulling their bodies flush together so he could watch the way the cook’s expression crumbled at the unexpected friction. “Romance me then, Gentleman.”

“You’re such a fucking brute.” Sanji seethed, but he surged forward for another kiss, licking into Zoro’s mouth as he cupped his face to tip it back.

Zoro’s whole body was on fire, the arousal pooling low in his stomach felt different than he was used to. Not entirely alien, but unfamiliar enough that it made him dizzy. He hooked his other leg around the cook’s waist, rolling his hips to explore the sensation. Sanji broke the kiss with a gasp, grinding back against him, and the burst of pleasure had Zoro pitching forward to press his forehead to the cook’s shoulder.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Sanji groaned. “Come on.”

The second he shifted like he was going to pull away Zoro clamped down his grip, stubbornly dragging him back in. The thought of separating from Sanji long enough to leave the galley, cross the deck, and reach the men’s cabin wasn’t appealing in the slightest. He tipped his head up, leaning in so he could press his lips against Sanji’s ear and speak low into it.

“Let’s just do it here.”

Pressed together as they were, it was impossible for Sanji to hide the shiver that ran up his spine and when he spoke again it was through clenched teeth.

“God, you’re so lazy.” His weight shifted forward against Zoro, and for a second he thought the cook was giving up. Instead, he slid his hands under Zoro’s thighs to hoist him up. Zoro startled, barely biting back a very unmanly yelp. He braced his hands on Sanji’s shoulders to keep his balance as he leaned back. At this angle, he was looking down on Sanji, disheveled hair falling across his face as he smirked in a way that felt downright sinful. “I’ll just do all the work, shall I?”

There was a sarcastic lilt to his voice, but he moved towards the door of the galley. Maybe under different circumstances Zoro would have objected to the manhandling, but it kept the cook close and freed him up to taste the milky white skin he’d dreamt about one too many times.

“If you’re offering.”

He leaned in to kiss the soft skin just below Sanji’s ear, opening his mouth to suck and nibble along his neck. He was only vaguely aware of the change in scenery as the cook kicked the door open and they made it outside, the cool sea air caressing his overheated skin.

“No marks,” Sanji growled, and Zoro released the patch of skin from between his teeth.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want anyone asking questions or making assumptions.”

Zoro hummed, sliding his fingers into the knot of Sanji’s tie to work it loose, a sly smile making its way onto his face.

“So it’s okay if it’s somewhere no one will see?” He asked, popping open the first few buttons of Sanji’s dress shirt and slipping his hand beneath the fabric to expose the beginning of his collar bone. He was pleased to see the red of his flush making its way all the way down his chest.

“I didn’t say that,” he hissed, but carrying Zoro as he was, he was in no position to stop it as Zoro leaned in to nip at his clavicle, running his tongue along the skin there before latching onto a spot at the base of his neck with a hard suck.

“Zoro,” the cook warned, but the hitch in his breath and the way his steps faltered only urged him on. He grazed his teeth against the spot, testing his limits before continuing to suck on his skin.

“Zoro,” he tried again, growling it through clenched teeth. Zoro released the spot, only to pull his shirt further askew and mouth his way down to a new patch of skin.

Sanji slammed him against the door to the men’s cabin, fisting a hand in his hair to tear his head back and kiss him fiercly.

“You are absolutely infuriating,” he hissed in between kisses.

Zoro grinned into the kiss, catching the cook’s bottom lip between his teeth to give it a sharp nip. He reached back, groping for the handle, the door swung open and they stumbled inside.

Sanji only stopped kissing him long enough to set him back on his feet before raising both hands to catch his face and pull him back in.

Zoro popped open the buttons of his suit jacket, sliding his hands up to push the heavy material off his shoulders. Sanji’s hands left his face to tear it the rest of the way off without breaking the kiss, before gripping the bottom of his shirt. His hands twitched, making an aborted move upward only to release his shirt and settle back on his hips to tug him closer. Zoro felt a bubble of amusement rise in his chest as he recognized the hesitation for what it was. The love-cook, afraid to go to second base. Zoro broke the kiss with a low chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Sanji murmured.

“Aren’t you being too much of a gentleman right now?” Zoro asked.

“Huh?” He asked dumbly, and Zoro tapped a finger against the hand pressed unmoving against his waist.

“Your hands haven’t left the safe zones.”

Sanji froze, a startlingly flustered look crossing his face that made Zoro want to laugh out loud just to piss him off. Instead, he placed a hand on Sanji’s chest, pushing him back enough that they were no longer touching. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head in one fluid movement. Sanji gaped at him as he tossed the shirt carelessly to the side, planting his hands on his hips.

“We’re gonna have sex, Cook. You’re allowed to touch me.”

Sanji sighed, covering his beet red face with his hands.

“This isn’t fucking fair.”

Zoro chuckled, stepping towards him and Sanji startled, snapping his head up as his eyes flicked comically from Zoro’s face down to his bare chest and back again. When he was close enough, he reached out a hand to press it flat against Sanji’s chest, leaning in just enough to watch how his eyes flickered with anticipation. Then Zoro hooked his foot around the back of the cook’s ankle to pull his leg out from under him and shoved him back. Sanji flailed, tripping on the edge of the depression in the floor and falling hard onto the couch behind him.

“Fucking hell!” He shouted, scrambling up onto his elbows to spit at him like an angry cat. “What was that for?!”

Zoro stepped forward, pressing his boot against the front of Sanji’s pants. The cook jolted, tipping his head forward to try and hide the full body shiver that ran through him.

“You’re so easy to manipulate like this,” Zoro taunted, shifting forward to put more pressure against Sanji’s groin. “It’s amazing no one’s taken advantage of you yet.”

“Fuck you,” Sanji hissed, the venom of it lessened by the audible tremor in his voice.

“I already said you could,” he teased, drawing his foot away from Sanji’s crotch.

He sat down on the edge of the couch area, lifting one leg so he could work his boot off, then the other, dropping them both to the floor with a heavy thunk. Sanji watched him with dark eyes as he slid to the couch, reaching out to grab the loose knot of his tie and pulled it the rest of the way off. He fumbled with the tiny buttons of Sanji’s dress shirt, revealing more skin at an absolutely infuriating pace. He was tempted to just rip the thing open, if only to see how much the cook would let him get away with. However, woman or not that move was likely to piss him off and Zoro wasn’t risking this. Not when he was burning beneath his skin and Sanji’s fingers deftly joined his own to hastily finish opening his shirt so Zoro could drag it off him.

[burntsaltsblog]

tw: nsfw, mdni

Chapter Six

A knock sounded rapidly on the door of our hotel room, pulling me from a deep sleep. Butcher and I both shot up in bed before looking at each other, me wearing a far more panicked expression than him.

"Who the hell is that?" I mouthed, not wanting the most likely threatening guest on the other side of the door to hear.

Butcher shook his head as he drew a calloused digit up to rest on his closed lips, signaling me to stay silent as he grabbed his newly polished handheld from the bedside table. Quietly, he stood and walked on the balls of his bare feet towards the door in nothing but a pair of black boxers. I would've enjoyed the view more had I not been reaching for my trusty pocket knife, which I had stashed under my pillow the night before.

The blade effortlessly flicked out, gleaming under the light from the bedside table I had switched on. I rose onto my knees, ready to be Butcher's backup if need be as he grasped the shiny doorknob and turned it slowly, opening the door no more than an inch.

Butcher's shoulders visibly relaxed as an overly cheery greeting flowed from his mouth. "Top of the mornin’ to ya’, governor."

When Ed's voice came from out in the hall, I blew a breath through my mouth and flopped back down on the bed, dropping my knife on the nightstand closest to me.

"Oh, good morning. Mr. Butcher, sir. I usually don't make a habit of checking up on my guests unannounced, but you didn't answer the courtesy wake-up call this morning, and I wanted to make sure you folks were alright."

"No worries, mate," Butcher assured the elderly innkeeper as he discreetly slid his gun into the waistband of his boxers, letting the pistol rest against his lower back.

"The misses and I had quite a late night, with it being our honeymoon n’ all. My wife was so insatiable, I swear I had to paw her off me when it chimed three."

My mouth opened in horror, and I didn't hesitate to hurl Butcher's pillow at his back, causing him to stumble forward in surprise.

"Bloody hell, there she is again. I'd love to stay and have a chin wag, but my husbandly duty calls.”

Ed chuckled from behind the door, but I never caught his response as Butcher closed said door and turned back to face me.

"Well, nothin’ like a little mornin’ fright to get the day started. I swear, plannin’ a whole fight in my head sure does get the blood pumpin’, ya’ know what I mean?"

I ignored Butcher's words as I scowled up at him. "I am not insatiable."

"Really? Coulda fooled me," he shrugged, earning him another pillow to his face this time. But it did nothing to get my point across as he laughed at total volume, throwing his head back before retrieving both of our pillows that now rested on the baby blue carpet.

"I swear, love, you're easier to wind up than the little toys me mum used to buy me as a wee boy."

"That’s funny because wind-up toys were invented in the 15th century, but I suppose that makes sense considering your age."

Butcher froze, pillows still in hand, as he raised a dark brow. "Interestin’. I thought I fucked all the attitude outta ya’ last night."

"Well, it's not my fault you weren't very thorough," I quipped back."

"S’that so? Well. Don't make any plans today, sweetheart, because when I'm done with you, ya’ won't even remember how to walk, eh?"

"What plans? God knows I'm stuck here with you for the forseeable future."

Butcher tossed the pillows beside my head and crawled up the length of my body. He looked down at me, smirking before I felt his hand begin to fumble with the hem of his Hawaiian shirt I'd stolen last night.

I noticed the absence of his usual chain with his wedding band dangling in my face, and for that, I was grateful. The last thing I wanted while having sex was a constant reminder of the love of Butcher's life and of the fact that if she weren't dead, Butcher and I wouldn't even be together. He'd be drinking wine somewhere in a suburb, and I'd still be on the streets, counting pennies for my next meal.

"If I had it my way, you'd wear nothin’ but my shirts all day, with your perfect pussy peekin’ out every time ya’ bent over," Butcher whispered filthily as he began raking the thin material up my body.

"I think that can be arranged," I breathed, anticipating Butcher's next move. But it never came due to something catching his attention.

"What's the matter," I asked, concerned, as he stayed frozen, staring down at my stomach. It wasn't until I followed his line of sight that I saw what he was fixated on.

There, just below my last right rib, were the stitches MM had resewn only a few days before. Last night, it had been dark except for the few rays of moonlight peeking in through the window. Now, the reminisce of my injury basked under the bedroom lamp light, clear as day for Butcher to see.

"They're supposed to dissolve in a couple of weeks MM said."

Butcher softly ran his finger around the row of stitches, being careful not to touch the actual closed wound.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not so much."

"Shoulda never fuckin’ happened." Butcher's eyes darkened as his mouth settled into a firm line. "S’all my fault."

"Butcher, this was in no way your fault," I said, quick to halt the bullshit he was spewing. "It was some invisible freak who shot me; how was any of us supposed to see that coming?"

"Doesn't fuckin’ matter!" Butcher bellowed, startling me as he slammed his fist down on the mattress beside me, making the headboard shake. "I put you in that invisible cunt's path because I was too bleedin’ obsessed with getting a meetin’ with Rayner.”

"Butcher, we all wanted that meeting with Rayner. So, don't be a fucking martyr and take the blame for something that is not even remotely your fault."

Butcher, who was stubbornly resigned to his own version of the truth, stood from the bed and kept his head down as he headed for the bathroom. "I'm gonna wash up. We can grab some grub after," he informed me curtly.

"C'mon, Butcher, don't be like this," I begged, hopping up from the bed to stop him from hiding in the bathroom to wallow in self-hatred.

His hand rested on the bathroom door, and I ran my hand up his back, watching as goosebumps rose on his freckled skin.

"I chose to be there that day," I gently reminded him. "When I decided to join this team, I knew I was putting myself at risk of getting hurt, and I made my peace with that.”

"Sometimes I wonder," Butcher whispered, leaning more of his weight on the door. I couldn't tell if it was to evade my touch or if the subject weighed so heavily on his shoulders, that he needed physical support to stay upright. "If I shoulda left ya’ there with Hugo that day."

My stomach sank at Butcher's confession, and he finally turned to face me, looking down regretfully.

"What- what are you talking about?" I stuttered. "You honestly wish you would have left me in that fucking hole?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly compare the basement of the pawnshop to the Four Seasons. At least with Hugo, you were safe and didn't have psycho supes running after ya’."

I only stared at Butcher with disappointment as he continued.

"What the fuck was I thinkin’? Bringin’ a sweet thing like you into the trenches of hell with me," Butcher murmured more to himself than me, but I answered him anyway.

"You were saving me."

Butcher scoffed, "Don't be a daft cunt. I fucked up your life."

I shook my head in firm disagreement. "Stop talking like this, and come back to bed."

I stepped back and slipped in between the sheets, hoping he would follow me. Instead, Butcher regarded me as if I were a puppy he had just kicked. So much guilt riddled into one man.

"Butcher, I am my own person," I huffed. "So how about you let me take responsibility for my own actions that got me shot that day. You were the one telling us all to get back to the van, yet I was moronic enough to pull out my own gun as if I was going to fight the unseeable son of a bitch. If I had followed your orders, I would've gotten to cover quicker and never would've been shot. Now, goddamnit, come back to bed."

Butcher swallowed as he processed my words before finally shuffling back to the bed.

"If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it my way," he whispered as he mirrored his earlier position over me, dragging up my shirt up once again.

I gave him a confused look, but he disregarded it as he began littering my body with kisses, soft and warm. His lips traced every inch of skin that was revealed by his shirt, wrapped around me, until he reached my scar and stopped for a second time, taking extra care to worship that specific area.

Butcher dragged his lips around the sensitive flesh, mumbling, "Never again. Never again will I let somethin’ happen to ya’."

My head rested against the bed as I relished in the tenderness Butcher was displaying.

"No one is ever gonna touch my girl again."

My girl.

To that, my head snapped up as I gazed at Butcher, stunned.

It's possible he was too lost in the moment and had a slip of his tongue, but the softer side of me, which was hidden deep below many layers of intense insecurity and genuine self-hatred, hoped that the term was intentional.

Butcher seemed to notice my rigid stature, and he looked up into my face, displaying all of the thoughts running through my head.

"That's what ya’ are, right?" He asked, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind my cheek.

"I don’t know. Am I?." My nerves had caused my voice to grow weak.

"Ain’t that how it usually works? A bloke finds a pretty lady and asks her to be his."

I took a shallow breath before daring to speak.

"Well, please forgive me, but I don't recall you ever asking me."

Butcher took on a look of mock confusion as he ran a finger under his chin, pretending to think.

"Have I not asked ya’ yet? I swear it's on me to-do list."

I giggled at his playfulness before Butcher leaned forward and cupped my face with both his hands.

"Josephine, will you please be my girl?"

Any traces of teasing had vanished as Butcher gazed at me earnestly, holding his breath as he waited for my answer.

"Yeah, ok," I smiled shyly, experiencing bashfulness for the first time in my life.

Butcher all but tackled me, pulling me into his arms and covering my head and neck with kisses. My laughter bounced off the walls, and I wrapped my arms around him, saying a silent prayer of thanks that after so much misery and consternation, he was finally and officially mine.

Our lips met in a feverish kiss before I pulled back, much to Butcher's dismay.

"I am more than happy to be your girlfriend, but I won't hesitate to break up with you if you ever call me Josephine again."

"Yes, ma'am," Butcher smirked before he wasted no time to draw me in for another kiss. Our tongues clashed as we stole the dominant role from each other multiple times.

Soon enough, our clothes were abandoned, and Butcher was quick to sink his thick length into my entrance, which was dripping just for him.

"S’only been a few bloody hours since I was inside ya’, yet you're still so fucking tight. God, what a perfect whore you are for me."

I preened under his praise that was sprinkled with the perfect hint of degradation.

"Move, please," I begged as I helplessly clenched around him, threatening to make him finish much earlier than he wanted to.”

Giving in to my pleas, Butcher pulled all the way out before forcefully thrusting back in. He began to fuck me urgently, and my walls excepted him every time he entered me with ease, thanks to my slick that was now coating my thighs and his heavy balls.

I drifted in and out of the ability to communicate, soon coming to the point where my only answer to Butcher's dirty phrases was a small cry of "Daddy" as hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I had already orgasmed several times, but Butcher seemed determined to completely ruin me to the point where I really couldn't remember how to walk.

"Poor thing. Just needed Daddy's cock, huh?"

Another strangled moan exited my throat, but any attempt at an actual reply was hijacked by Butcher's phone ringing.

Both of our heads shot to where the device sat on the bedside table, and the name "MM" blinked brightly on the screen.

"You should get it," I encouraged, momentarily distracted from the way Butcher was roughly pounding into me.

"I'll call him back," Butcher replied sharply as he gripped my hips in his big hands, bringing my body to meet his thrusts.

"But, what if Hughie and him are in trouble?" I asked, throwing my head back as Butcher hit a particular spot against my gummy walls that always had me coming in moments.

"They could be fuckin’ dyin’ right now, and that still wouldn't be enough to drag me away from this cunt. Besides, MM texted last night sayin’ they were safe n’ sound."

I had no real chance of winning the argument as soon as Butcher's thumb touched my aching clit, whispering praises in my ear.

"You can do it, doll. Come for Daddy one more time. Give him a nice and big one."

I was seconds away from coming like Butcher had told me to when his phone buzzed again with another incoming call, causing my head to snap sideways and study the device as MM's name popped up once again.

"Mm, Butcher, you need to answer. There must be a problem if he’s calling you again," I tried to reason as I mourned my ruined orgasm thanks to MM's persistent attempt at making contact.

Butcher grunted in frustration as he slowed his thrusts but didn't stop completely, letting his fat cock continue to stretch me open.

"Be a good girl and stay quiet, yeah?" Butcher instructed as he kept a firm grip on one of my hips and used his other hand to hold his phone, bringing it to his ear.

"Oi, what the fuck do ya’ twats want?" He yelled gruffly into his phone.

Even though MM couldn't see us, just knowing that even a tiny sound from me would give away what we were doing made my face heat with embarrassment. It was entirely humiliating, but I knew Butcher was betting on the fact that it would get me off, and I was ashamed to admit that he was right. But he had already received confirmation by the way I pulsed around him, and he sent a smirk my way before answering MM.

"Yeah? Well, just be careful, and tell Hughie to pull his head outta his bum and look where he's bloody walkin’."

Butcher was quiet as MM's muffled voice sounded from the other side of the call, and I slapped a hand over my mouth as Butcher's length grazed my cervix, causing my lashes to wet with tears.

"Oh, us? Yeah, we're alright. Jo? Yup, she's doing just fine. Cool as cucumber she is.”

Butcher rolled his eyes as his hips momentarily slowed before immediately speeding up to rival his previous pace.

"Yes, I am being a perfect gentleman, MM. What? You don't believe me? Well, why don't ya’ ask her yourself?"

My eyes bugged out in alarm as Butcher tried to hand me the phone, but I slammed it against his chest and shook my head, silently begging for him to have mercy on me.

Butcher snickered, thoroughly entertained, as he brought his cell phone back up to his ear.

"Oi, sorry, but Jo seems to be sleepin’. Yep, she had a very tirin’ night last night. What can I say? The poor girl is knackered."

By this point, I was completely out of it, and all it took was a single brush of Butcher's thumb over my swollen clit again before I was coming.

I wasn't even aware that Butcher had hung up or orgasmed himself as my vision blacked and I lost feeling in my limbs.

"You ok, doll?" Butcher asked softly, drawing me back to consciousness.

I could only whine in response, and I felt Butcher spread my legs before a warm towel caressed my skin, cleaning me up. I moaned my thanks through a horse throat.

Finally, I peeled my eyes open as Butcher gently sat me up to pull his shirt back over my body.

"You just rest here, yeah? And I'll go scrounge about downstairs for somethin’ for us to nip on. That sound good, darlin?”

I nodded with a blissed-out smile on my face, enjoying the feeling that I was floating on clouds rather than lying on a simple mattress.

But just as Butcher opened the door to leave, I stopped him.

"What did MM want? Are he and Hughie ok?"

Butcher did little to suppress his laughter as he ran a hand down his face.

"MM just wanted to let me know that Hughie had apparently fallen and hit his head. The gash was so deep that MM thought it would be best if he took the lad to the hospital. He was lettin’ me know in case they were spotted."

"Hughie fell? Did he trip over something?"

"Yup. His own two feet."

I snorted loudly as I ducked my head into my pillow and listened as the door clicked shut behind Butcher as he exited the room.

With my eyes now closed again, I blindly reached my hands out, searching for the covers. Upon finding them, I pulled them over my head and curled up on my side, deciding to take a cat nap as I waited for Butcher to return with breakfast.

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[thetrashbinseries]

— Fahrenheit Part Two ( bangchan x reader )

rated - mature | minors dni

parts - one, two, three

warnings - idol universe, name changed idols, mature themes, drug use, alcohol use, sexual themes, mentions of mental illness, slight angst, explicit smut, 'daddy' and 'babygirl' petnames, light spanking, heated physical domestic argument

x x x

Jake shot me a text as soon as he touched down in his hotel, leaving me to navigate the aftermath of our little gathering solo. I silently cleaned up the traces of the night, letting my thoughts swirl in the quiet aftermath. Shouldn't I be on cloud nine? Chris, I assumed, had already landed by now, maybe snagging his stuff from the baggage claim. Why the resistance to me picking him up? Couldn't he save some cash and avoid those Uber headaches? As I mulled over Jake's words from our earlier chat, a wave of guilt washed over me. If someone messed with my career, I'd probably cut ties too. 

But did it have to be face-to-face? 

Suddenly, two knocks jarred me, throwing my dogs into their usual frenzy of barks. Now? It felt too soon, like breaking a speed record from airport to doorstep, factoring in landing, baggage, and Uber waits. My motion light, unnoticed until now, flickered on as I was lost in thought. My palms got a little clammy as I fished out my phone, checking for messages from a friend dropping by. But all my friends were back in my hometown. 

Unscheduled visits are a rarity out here, that’s part of the reason why I picked such an isolated home. 

Scrolling through my phone, the doorbell rang out, setting my pets into a louder commotion. Activating the security camera app, I saw Chris on the screen—dark hoodie, black beanie, and chill gray sweats. Hands in his pockets, a visible exhale, like he'd been holding his breath. Just one piece of luggage, small enough to be a carryon. Skipping baggage claim altogether, I guessed. 

Maybe he didn't want to risk airport paparazzi, but at this hour, it'd be a ghost town anyway. 

I unlocked the door, slower than planned, giving it a cautious swing open. Stepping back, I left room for him to enter, the question of how to react buzzing in my head. Hug him? Kiss him? Do a little happy dance? God this is awkward. Chris sniffed, a hint of red on his nose, and began shedding his shoes and beanie, shaking out his curly hair. He looked wiped, but it had been ages since I'd seen him without the makeup mask.    His eyes told the tale of tiredness, the faint shadow under barely-there brows, and the shifts in his skin tone—all untouched by the glam squad. Even a touch of facial hair peeked through, a secret sign of the real guy behind the polished pretty boy image, something he religiously stayed on top of. All the things that make him very human.  The things not many people get to see. 

"What changed?" I threw the question at him, arms crossed in the entryway. Our eyes connected for the first time since he rolled in. I caught a flicker in his right eye, a giveaway of stress and insomnia. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips, a nervous move, just enough to reveal a hint of his dimple near his mouth's corner. 

Undeterred, I pressed on, "Channie—" 

His eyebrows pulled together instinctively, a tough look in his eyes. "Don't call me that," he shot back, a stern expression etched on his face. 

Frustration bubbled up, my voice amped up involuntarily, control slipping away. 

"What the fuck is your problem? What? Did you catch a red-eye just to come argue with me?" 

"Yes! I caught a red-eye fucking flight to—"    Chris cut himself off mid-sentence, sucking in air sharply through his teeth, muttering something under his breath in Korean. He ran his hand down his face, eyes closed, releasing a breath before locking eyes with me again. The anger lingered, but it was transforming into something I couldn't quite put my finger on. 

I could feel hot tears threatening, but I held them back, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, refusing to show any weakness. Was this the end? 

"Of course, I hopped on a flight to have it out with you. Isn't that what you wanted?"    “Don’t you gaslight me Christopher Bang, I’m not your little fucking fans–” 

He looked exasperated, hands out, "What do my fans have to do with this?! You said it's simple, am I coming or not? I'm here, just like you wanted, because it's all about you, isn't it?" 

I turned away, striding off, the red haze building within me. I wanted to lay into him for talking out the side of his neck like this, but I wouldn't stoop to that level. His voice echoed down the hall. 

"Yeah, walk away. It's your specialty—running away." 

I halted, closing my eyes, back turned to him, grappling with the urge. I fought it hard; he was on the brink of hitting below the belt. Logic eluded me at this moment. 

"I'm going to smoke before I physically violate you." 

Attempting to walk away again, his footsteps echoed behind me. Chris wasn't the type to follow for an argument—that was typically my role. I expected him to detour to the kitchen for a drink or something, anything other than what he actually did. His hand seized my forearm, yanking me hard enough to turn me three-quarters around. I saw red, wind knocked out of me as my back slammed into the wall, caged between his big, loud hands thudding against the wall beside my head. A flinch—a moment of confusion. Had he struck me? 

Quickly assessing, no parts of my body ached except between my shoulder blades from the impact. 

Breathing heavier than anticipated, Chris mirrored the sentiment. 

"Physically violate me, then," he uttered, his voice dangerously low, just above a whisper. My body was confused, my brain a tangled mess. His intense gaze bore into my face, forcing me to look away. He tilted his head, compelling eye contact once more. 

"It's not rocket science, Y/N." 

The phrase echoed from our earlier phone argument, reigniting my hostility. I raised my head, meeting his eyes with a narrowed gaze. "I hate you," I snarled, trying to slip underneath his arm to free myself. Chris wasn't having it; he gripped my wrist behind my back, pressing my chest against the wall. His muscular frame kept me in place, his chest against my back. I twisted my wrist, but he tightened his hold. His breath grazed my shoulder, his words so close to my ear it felt like he was feeding them straight into my brain. 

"I hate you too, baby," he murmured. His free hand ghosted the tendrils of hair that had escaped my messy ponytail, tender and gentle unlike the firm grip on my wrist. As his fingers swept the hair away, soft lips pressed against my skin, eliciting a sigh from my lips. Each kiss left thorns of heat, moving along my neck, down to my shoulder. 

"I hate you," I repeated, losing my edge. 

"Mmm, shut up—I know," Chris replied.    Finally, he releases me, his hands finding their way to my waist beneath my baggy sweatshirt. Despite being in my home for a few minutes, his touch is still cold against my warmed skin. I feel a shiver as my nipples harden, and he seems to sense it, cupping them, squeezing. My knees almost buckle as I lean back, my head perfectly resting on his shoulder. Our bodies intertwine, fitting together like a perfect puzzle piece. His fingers pinch the pebbled flesh, drawing a moan from me and an audible sigh from him. 

He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer, and I can feel his hardness against my backside. It's not a gradual thing; he's already rock stiff, hips grinding into me as his hands explore my body with a passionate messiness. 

What were we arguing about again?    Lust swirls, making me dizzy with how good my body feels. My eyes lose focus and regain it with every recovery breath as he squeezes at the extra padding on my hips and waist. No part of my body goes untouched, and I try to shake off my reservations.     No, that was a hang-up of mine.    Christopher Bang is here to touch, lick, and squeeze every inch that belongs to him. 

A tap on my hip brings me back to reality—a gentle reminder between us whenever things heat up in unconventional places. 

Against-the-wall activities are actually pretty uncomfortable in real life. 

Who knew? 

He takes my hand, and I follow him like an excited puppy, almost stumbling over myself to reach his body once we get to the couch. It's my turn now; my hands have a mind of their own too, you know. 

Such a soft face without makeup, I'd almost forgotten the hardness of his body—had it become even more solid? My hands run over his abdomen, feeling something different—less lean, more meaty. Usually, I go straight for what's mine, but now I'm curious. Gripping the bottom of his hoodie, I can sense the muscle shirt underneath, so I yank them both off, the scent of his body wash, cologne, and deodorant hitting me all at once, etching the experience into my mind on nearly every sensory level, except for... 

Taste. 

As his clothes drop to the floor with a muffled thud on the carpet, he turns to face me. His skin is less milky, more sandy tan, and wheat-colored under my warm lights, unlike the artificial ones he's usually bathed in. He must've soaked up the sun in LA, and I can still see it reddening in the places where blood has surged the quickest. 

He's completely under the spell of carnal sensuality—deep in the well, unable to see anything around him, becoming the parts of himself he wouldn't dare confront in the daylight. I notice because I pay attention to things like that—I see the way he looks at me, as if I'm his most treasured plaything. His mannerisms change, slower, with certainty in every touch. He says things you wouldn't dare repeat once he's back to his Earth self, lest he deny, deny, deny, laughing loudly overtop of you, or cringing away from embarrassment. 

Yes, as I drop slowly to my knees, watching him, I see the way he stands in his masculinity, divine, a god in his own right. Just when I think the moment can't get any hotter or I might combust, I hear him—a puff of air through his nose, a lazy, almost entertained, but not quite—chuckle. His lip quirks ever so slightly upwards. 

"You hate me?" 

Heat radiates from my body; I'm certain I'm letting off steam at this point. I feel it, especially in my face, fingers wrapped in the waistband of his sweatpants, hanging loosely as I look down, unable to maintain eye contact, feeling regret building up in me. I can tell by the way he says it that he never believed it—but still... 

"I didn't think so," Chris' voice answers the unspoken questions in my head. His fingers graze the bottom of my chin, urging me to look at him. "Look at me while you do it." 

My engine roars to life without hesitation. I tighten my grip on his sweats, yanking them down with determination. He kicks them off, backing up to sit on the couch, but I'm not waiting. I take the caramel-colored, thick head of his dick between my lips, halting his retreat. The sweetness of his precum floods my mouth, turning bitter as it reaches the back of my tongue and throat. Flattening my tongue against the bottom of his girthy shaft, I open my mouth, letting him rub his sensitive, unsheathed tip against the warm, back wall of my throat. 

Obediently watching him. 

He likes that, making it clear by placing his hand on the back of my head, urging me to stay while he thrusts further, pulling out just a centimeter to plunge into my throat. Small gasps escape his lips every time my gag reflex spasms around him. I run out of breath, choking backward, and he lifts his hand, allowing me to right myself. 

"C'mon, babygirl—thaaaat's it—fuck." Chris grips what's left of my ponytail, guiding me back onto his dick, all the way to the back, with no true mercy. A few more tiny thrusts, and I'm coughing again, my mouth and jaw drenched with slippery saliva mixed with the constant ooze of his precum. He glances behind him, ensuring his seating, then lets himself fall back onto the couch, hand tangled in my thick hair as I wrap both hands around his cock—a pretty, deep brown, a stark contrast to his body tone. 

When I start focusing on stroking his sensitive tip, he drops his head back, emitting the most delicious groan. Pulling back on his sheath, dribbling spit onto his tip, I begin jerking him again, taking advantage of the smoothness the extra skin provides. I follow with my mouth, taking in whatever my hands can't reach, and when I start with the suction, another groan escapes him—this time, broken, his hips rising a little off the couch, encouraging me to keep going. 

"Oh God—that feels fucking—incredible; don't you—fucking stop."    His chest moves with each gasp as I twirl my hand a certain way. I try to stay consistent, but it's been a while, and my neck strains from the bobbing, lips growing numb. But fuck, he's so hot; I don't wanna stop. 

I engage in a slow rhythm, savoring the silky feeling of his dickhead against my swollen mouth and eager lips, pressing loud, wet kisses against it. He's lifted his gaze to watch, and I seize the opportunity to run my tongue along his length, exploring the prominent ridge beneath. 

"Oh my God—" His head drops back, words and vowels drawn out in ecstasy. 

I lean back on my heels, hands taking charge, a twist here, a firm grasp there. When I lean forward and start slurping again, with all intentions of taking this man’s soul—his hips withdraw, and he halts me with a breathless, "Fuck," sounding like he just finished a sprint. "You almost made me cum," He taps my shoulder twice, a signal we both understand, prompting another switch in our silent dance. 

I’m more than happy to obey, feeling how wet I’ve become when he pulls my sweats off as I climb onto the couch on my knees, my arms resting on the head of it that rests against the wall.   I can feel his hands, now warm, even hot almost against my ass as he spreads me open.  I curl my fingers into the couch with anticipation, and then comes the feeling of both of his fingers entering me first.  I let out an eager moan, reveling in the relief and satisfaction of being touched by someone so skillfully.  He’s curling two fingers, stroking my spot, I can feel his pinky and index splayed against my juicy, wet pussy lips.  The filthy sounds amplify as he increases the pressure, prompting me to move against his touch, the base of his hand firmly against my asshole. 

“Mmm, baby, you know how much daddy loves to eat this pretty little cunt—but the way you’re clenching around my fingers, fuck I—I gotta feel you.”  Chris slows down, he speaks again, reminding me of his proposition, “Is that alright babygirl? Hm? Can daddy fuck you now?” 

“Mhm, Mhm!” I can’t think straight, why was he asking? Of course he could fuck me ten ways from Tuesday in a handstand for all I care!  Just— 

“Fuck me.” I beg, unsure if I meant to finish that thought out loud. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, you know that?” The weight of his knee presses onto my leg, his foot securing his position against my other thigh, his thumb against my asshole as I begin to feel his dick stretching me open, eliciting the weirdest, downright feral sound from deep within my gut. He’s raw, and I swore I could feel every vein, every ridge, and his head passing through every sensitive quadrant of my pussy until his balls tickled the lips covering my entrance.  It was then that my walls squeeze around him, desperate to feel him move.  I could almost make myself cum just like that—I begin moving against him, caught in the intensity of the moment, like a cat in heat, and he’s so deep, I feel him in places that make my eyes flutter. 

Thumb leaving my sensitive hole, Chris takes firm hold of the sides of my tummy, rutting into my heat, sending a shiver through my spine that puts me into an arch. He seizes the chance to hold the front of my neck, adjusting me for a slower, more profound connection, exploring every inch of me.  It takes a lot of stamina in the legs for this—of course he’s got that.  I rest my hand on his thigh beside me, feeling the firmness, digging my nails in as I grit my teeth together, the pleasure overwhelming me as our bodies, beginning to get slick with the fluids between us, rock desperately against one another. 

I'm released, and I lurch forward, barely snagging myself on the top of the couch. Just then, I sense it against my left hip— 

 tap tap 

My vision snaps back into focus as I hear him breathing as heavily as I am, flopping down onto the couch. I take the lead, hovering over him. We both gaze as his dick is swallowed up by my pussy, inch by beautiful inch.    I let out an incoherent sound, a mix of a grunt and a moan, my arm draped over his shoulder, fingers entwined in the curls at the nape of his neck as he thrusts. My touch shifts from gentle exploration to grabbing fistfuls of his thick, silky, curly hair at the base of his skull. Using my knees for stability, I sync with his rhythm, adding those addictive hip circles that set every part of me ablaze like a pinball machine. The alarms blare, the lights flash – this, right here, is my favorite way to connect with Chris, where we're on an equal playing field. 

As we delve deeper into each other's gaze, the intensity heightens, but there's always a moment when one of us surrenders, head lolling back, eyes rolling together. His hands work my hips in rhythmic circles, like a baker kneading dough on a board. Yet, I sense when he's had his fill as he takes back control, lifting me up and snapping his hips into me at speeds that defy reality. My cries become a constant stream, shameless screams of his name, erratic and desperate. 

"Yeah, thaat's it—"    I can feel my walls softening as my body begins to literally feel like it's filling up with water that’s threatening to consume me any second now.  I’m gasping, trying to form the words to tell him I’m almost there, that he can’t stop, or even slow up, he’s got to keep going, I’m certain if I don’t get there, I’m going to die. 

“D-Daddy, don’t—” I can’t say anything else, I can only hope he gets it. 

And he does. 

Chris always gets it. 

“Gonna stop---all your bitching, hm?”  He’s holding my waist to allow me the freedom to focus on my impending orgasm. “Gonna let me do my fucking job from now on, yeah?”    “Mm--yeah!”      “Say it,”    “Chris!” I whimper in protest, “I’mma s-stop fucking---bitching!” 

“That’s my girl.”    He slaps my ass, sending a shock through my body, but before I can recover, he strikes again, and again, and my body becomes quickly hyperstimulated. I start letting go, my breath held hostage in my chest as Chris lets out a stream of curses, hitting his peak and spilling inside of me.  I can feel it, it’s carrying my climax out even further, and when I finally collapse, with him still inside, I can feel my entire body buzzing, and I’m muttering something that doesn’t make sense to myself or him. 

We're both catching our breath, heart rates settling down, but Chris finds joy in this aftermath. He chuckles, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my lower back, exploring the dimples above my tailbone.    "What are you saying?" he asks. 

"I love you. I love you, and I never want us to breakup. Ever," I say, more composed now, my cheek resting on his shoulder, eyes closed, the pull of sleep threatening to take over like it always did after a proper orgasm. His arms wrap around me, securing them with a grasp on his own wrist. I feel a sense of security. 

"I love you too. I didn't come all this way to break up with you," he reassures me. I lift my head, likely with my hair wild and untamed. 

"Really, Channie?" 

He laughs.  The nickname is cleared for use again. He kisses my lips.

"Of course not. Why would I cross the country just to break up with someone? That seems like a lot of...effort," Chris continues. He tilts his head back to gaze at me, tucking his chin in. Once he sees my focused attention, he looks ahead as he talks. "I want to be with you, or I wouldn't have made you my girl—" 

"You didn't," I interrupt, sitting up. I pull away from his lap, wrapping the knitted throw over myself as I nestle into the couch beside him. 

He looks puzzled, "I didn't? Really?" He shrugs, raising his brows. "I always thought you were." 

The relief floods in. 

So, we were on the same page. 

Curiosity takes over, and I inquire, "When did you start thinking of me as your girlfriend?" 

"Mm." Chris looks up in thought before locking eyes with me again. "The first time we had sex." 

I'm taken aback by the memory. It wasn't a smooth ride, ended up in a heated argument. "When I got caught outside the building after our studio session? Chris, you almost jeopardized your whole career after that." 

Chris tugs at the blanket's end, and I hand it over. As he slides underneath, he takes my foot into his lap, rubbing circles into the center. "That's not how it works—don't get me wrong, it was... difficult. It still is, which is why I couldn't just decide to show up when you asked. I've been allowed, by contract, to date for a few years now." 

"Then why are we sneaking around like you're ashamed of me or something?" I hug the blanket tighter, feeling exposed. 

Chris seems thrown by this revelation. "Ashamed of you for what? You're beautiful, talented. I don't—did I give you that impression, babygirl?" He shakes his head. "I'm protecting you. You've just been signed to a major label, and we've got a good thing going, yeah? Why mess it up now when we can wait for things to level out for the both of us?" 

He makes some valid points. It's reassuring to hear he's not ashamed of me. I start to feel the familiar peace his presence brings. It's been four months since we were last in the same country, let alone the same city. I grew impatient after he came in on business and then left again, making excuses not to see me. That's why this time, I escalated it and added pressure. 

"Level out, what does that mean?" I ask. Chris sits back, mindlessly running his thumb over the pads of my toes while looking at the coffee table's candle. 

"I think we'll know once we both get there." He looks up to me. "I'm sorry, babygirl. I wish I had a better answer for you right now." He sounds sincere enough. I believe him. He's given me no reason not to trust him before, right? His fingers stop on my soles, and he tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if trying to see something better. He leans forward, picking up the knitted beanie near the ashtray. 

My heart drops when I realize what it is. 

But why? I didn't do anything wrong.    RIght? 

"This new?" He turns it around on his hand. "Where'd you get it? I like it." 

Caught in the moment, I blurt, "A gift." I reach forward, taking it before he can spot any stray hair that doesn't match mine. He's not checking that closely, at least not yet. I turn it over in my hands. "I've been keeping it cold in the house, so it helps keep me warm," I say, tossing it onto the beanbag chair. I turn to him, nudging his shoulder as I scoot closer. 

"Sooo, how was KCON?"  - fin

[storiesofsvu]

A Dangerous Game Ch 16

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, hurt, angst, minor arguments, bad coping mechanisms. the usual bau type case work. i apologize in advance and will be taking invoices for therapy bills. know that i made myself cry too, we're suffering together.

Emily was genuinely surprised to see your car in the parking lot the next morning, she’d been fully expecting you to use a sick day, or at the very least that you would be late. A jolt shot through her and she was suddenly nervous about going inside the office and having to face you like absolutely nothing had changed.

“Morning.” Derek’s voice came from just behind her as he fell into step with her and she glanced up, mustering a smile.

“Morning.” She paused, pressing the button for the elevator, speaking again when the doors slid open, “hey, thanks for getting that system installed at Wilson’s”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He grumbled, running a hand over his face, “damn thing kept glitching. I was on the phone with the company for over an hour trying to reboot it but nothing wanted to work.”

“Can they send someone?”

“Yeah but they’re backlogged and understaffed, won’t be for nearly two weeks at the least.”

“Shit…”

“I wouldn’t worry too much, she lives in a nice area, neighbour nosy as hell too.”

“Hmm.” Emily nodded as the doors swooshed open and the two of them went their separate ways, Derek beelining for the breakroom for a fresh coffee and she disappeared into her office.

It was a slow day, which was making it even more intolerable, menial paperwork, and piles of it to get through. At least for Emily that just meant it was a quick read through to make sure her team had completed what they needed correctly, signing off on a couple of them before submitting them to the higher ups. She was spending the rest of the time looking through potential cases, begging to find one that would take the team out of town. She figured that was her best bet for when it came to keeping Dewald away from you, on the off chance the bug was broken or he didn’t think the fight was legit.

After lunch Penelope had the dire need for human interaction, bringing her laptop into Emily’s office with the hope for some girl talk or gossip. JJ had come to drop off her stack of paperwork completed with the hopes that she would be able to take a half day, lingering to chat for a little bit as Emily approved her papers. She had just reached the last one in the pile when there was a small knock on the doorframe and Emily glanced up to see you.

“Sorry to interrupt.” You huffed, keeping your gaze anywhere but on Emily, “statements from the Davis case, extraction summary for Randall, and the write up you asked for.” You dropped them into the inbox on her desk.

“Thanks.” She smiled softly in your direction, trying not to let the frown take over her face instead when she really got a look at you. You looked exhausted, the bags under your eyes puffy no doubt from crying most of the night and guilt surged through her. She could tell you’d been letting your anxiety win, your usually perfectly manicured nails were picked at, ripped apart, the polish peeling off a few of them. You turned to leave the awkward space and Emily stumbled over her thoughts right before speaking, “good work, if you want to call it a half day and head out, you can.”

“You sure?” You turned back to her, this time actually looking at her with a raised brow and the melancholy had left your eyes, a spite fire in them now, “what if there’s a case and I’m off galivanting across DC?” You didn’t wait for an answer, if she wanted to send you home she could do it later, you didn’t need a half day to go sulk by yourself at home, at least here you were semi distracted.

You were gone from the office before Emily even had a chance to comment on your response. Instead she let out a groan, hands rubbing circles at her temples,

“God… she fucking hates me….”

“You kicked her off a case, she’ll get over it.” JJ laughed, picking up her coffee mug and leaving the office, eager to get out of work for the day.

“I wish it was that simple.” Emily muttered, trying to keep her own emotions at bay. Silence over took the room for a moment as the wheels started spinning in Penelope’s head, surveying the other woman. There was frustration behind her eyes but also sadness as she fought back the slight shimmering of tears, ducking her gaze from the blonde.

“Wait….”

“What?” She glanced up, catching Penelope studying her and the guilt washed over her again.

“You and Wilson had something, didn’t you? Something that meant something…”

“We were friends Penelope.” She laughed, putting the mask back on the best she could, “and I don’t like burning bridges with friends, especially ones that are on this team. We’re supposed to be a family here and now there’s all this tension. It’s not supposed to be like this…”

“Well… families fight sometimes.” She leant forward, squeezing at Emily’s hand across her desk, “and you know what else? They eventually come around and forgive too.”

“I’m really not sure there is a coming back from this…” Sighing, she dumped the pile of your paperwork into her outbox, turning to the pile of files beside her she handed Penelope a stack, “help me find a case?”

“Yeah.” The blonde gave her a bright smile, she knew there was more going on than Emily was letting onto, but she wasn’t about to push it, she’d simply be there to help her with whatever she needed.

A few hours later Emily glanced up to find your desk empty, though your laptop was still sitting on it, your blazer strewn across the chair. Her eyes swept through the room to find Derek missing too and she figured you’d gone upstairs to the gym to try and work off some of the frustration.

By the end of the day she hadn’t managed to find a viable case, even with Penelope’s help. There were a few calls into some local ones, but she desperately wanted one out of state. She needed you out of your house and it wasn’t exactly like she could just get you at her place anymore. She thanked the other woman for her help, dismissing her for the day and packed up her things, making her way out of the office.

Sergio greeted her at the door when she got home, meowing as he wound around her ankles. She gave him a little scratch, pouring some food into his bowl but he ignored it, sitting in the entry way staring at the door for a full half hour after she got home. He let out a loud meow, looking over his shoulder at her at the forty five minute mark and she let out a huff,

“Forget it. She’s not coming over anymore.”

Emily had a pint of ice cream for dinner that night.

*

Back at the BAU you certainly had been at the gym, though you’d stayed on the treadmill and extra hour after Derek had left. By the time you’d gotten back downstairs to grab your stuff, the room was empty and Emily’s office was dark, you’d at least managed to avoid another run in.

Getting home you took the worlds longest shower, trying to scrub away the past couple of days in the steaming hot water before changing into warm pyjamas. Your appetite was nonexistent, so you simply stared into the fridge for ten minutes before opening the freezer to do the same thing. Nothing was jumping out at you so you closed both, grabbing the bottle of bourbon from the liquor rack and a glass before you dropped onto the couch.

You thought the mind numbing sitcom that you’d seen a million times before would be enough to distract you from thinking about Emily. Then the two main characters started their romantic arc and you couldn’t help the tears in your eyes, or the way they started to roll down your cheeks. Feeling sorry for yourself, and angry at Emily, you turned off the tv, chucking the remote to the other side of the couch and headed upstairs.

Sleep managed to evade you for hours, you’d done laundry but the scent of Emily’s perfume still lingered in your sheets. Tears stained your pillows and when you finally managed to cry yourself out, exhausted and fall asleep, your dreams were plagued with memories of her, waking you up with a whole new surge of sadness and tears.

She wanted nothing to do with you anymore and you had never felt so broken.

**

The next three days Emily’s anxiety was skyrocketing each morning she pulled into the parking lot until she found your car. Despite having cut ties with you she was still worried that Dewald would continue to go after you, she was desperate for a case to take the team out of state. She’d already reached out to local PD, appointing Will lead on finding Dewald now that he was in the DMV area, knowing that he would treat the matter with the right severity. The faster the bastard was behind bars, the faster she could come clean and pray that you’d accept whatever feeble apology she could give.

For those same three days your chest was tight each morning you pulled up to the BAU, expecting that one day your access badge simply wouldn’t work, that there would be transfer paperwork sitting on your desk when you got in. You were starting to feel Emily didn’t want you on the team anymore, while other members got to leave the office to go into the field locally, you were always told to remain here, holding down the fort, working with Penelope or Reid. You understood this was potentially part of the reprimand but underneath it all you were doubting yourself more and more each day, feeling like you didn’t deserve to be on such an exclusive team any longer. And that certainly wasn’t helping you sleep at night or your stress levels.

Emily watched from her office as you slunk through the bullpen to your desk, dropping down into your chair and your head sunk into your hands. A moment later Derek walked passed, placing a warm mug of coffee on your desk, squeezing at your shoulder. You glanced up toward him, giving the best smile you could before picking up the coffee. He lingered for a bit and she wished she could hear what the two of you were saying, you nodded, then shook your head with a shrug and Derek squeezed your shoulder again before moving to his own desk. You took a heavy breath, wiping at your make up less face before cracking open your lap top.

She was more than well aware now that she wasn’t the only one laying awake at night and all she wanted was to be able to wrap you in her arms, telling you it would all be okay, leaving a soft kiss on the top of your head while you drifted off. She craved your touch, she missed your smile, the sparkle in your eye, hearing your laugh drift through the air, the way you would nuzzle closer to her even in your sleep. The way that you made her feel safe, cared for and appreciated in a way no one else ever had. She could feel the tears misting into her eyes as she watched you, wanting nothing more than to call you into her office and explain the whole thing. A tear was just about to escape out of the corner of her eye when her phone rang, jolting her from her thoughts.

Normally, you would have been able to feel her eyes on you, a smirk on your cheeks as you guessed what she was thinking as she stared. But today you were so utterly exhausted you didn’t feel anything. You were numb.

*

That phone call had been the saving grace Emily had been waiting for. They weren’t requesting the whole team, just a couple of agents to get further clearance and the experience of profilers. She worked her way through the team mentally as to who would be best suited and landed on Derek, figuring it couldn’t hurt that the two of you were pretty good friends and she knew he would keep an eye on you too. She managed to catch him in the break room, handing over a file and giving him a brief run down before she crossed back through the bull pen,

“Wilson? You got a minute?” She called, trying not to frown when you tensed at the sound of her voice, letting out a heavy sigh as you pushed back from her desk, following her into her office, closing the door behind yourself.

“What’s up?” You asked, lingering near the doorway while she took a seat behind her desk.

“Wheels up in thirty.”

“And the rest of the team?” You raised a brow, feeling the annoyance surging through your veins already, exhaustion not helping the situation, “or are you shipping me off to boarding school for me to work on my manners now?”

“Does everything have to be a fight with you?” She grumbled, huffing, “you and Morgan have a case, they don’t want the whole team, just some insight.” She held up a folder for you to take and reluctantly, you stepped forward and took it from her.

“Seattle? Seriously?” You asked and she nodded, you let out a sigh, doing your best not to roll your eyes, trying to keep your behaviour in check, “listen, I know I made a mistake and broke protocol but how long is this punishment crap going to last?”

“Excuse me?” She raised a brow and you took a deep breath.

“You booted me off a case that I was lead on five years ago, one that Jacksonville called me specifically to run point on. I seem to remember landing in Florida hearing you say, ‘this is your case, I’m just along for the ride’, what happened to that?”

“I think I’ve already given you a pretty good explanation for that.”

“Oh whatever.” You rolled your eyes, “just come out and say you hate me already. You break up with me, if you can even call it that considering we weren’t even together.” You choked on your words, the tears building in your eyes and you weren’t even sure if they were painful ones, frustrated tears or simply just your body aching for some actual sleep, “And now you’re shipping me off across the country so you don’t have to deal with me? So you don’t have to see me on a daily basis? Or is it because you don’t think I can handle seeing you every day?”

Emily could see just how much you were breaking in front of her and it was with every power she had that she was keeping the mask on, her stomach was churning, bile creeping up her throat when her lips moved.

“Agent Wilson, if you would like to keep this job, you’ll go get your bag and meet Morgan at the jet in thirty. And watch your tone, I don’t need you making the BAU look bad over there.” You took a shaky breath, eyeing her for a moment but you knew you were pushing you luck already, you didn’t want to lose this job.

“Yes ma’am.” You turned from her, taking a step toward the door before you suddenly turned back, “it really had to be Seattle? You could’ve shipped me off anywhere in the country…”

“They asked for you specifically.” She replied, it wasn’t fully a lie. She’d mentioned she had an agent who used to live and work out there and they said they’d appreciate being sent them; it would help if you already knew the city.

“Bullshit.” You shook your head, “if you want me transferred out so badly just fucking do it.”

You were gone from her office before she had a chance to say anything else. God she really had dug the knife in deep, maybe even deeper than she’d meant to. She could chalk up your attitude to exhaustion, she’d excuse that for a week at the very least. Hopefully a trip out of state, getting somewhere different might help you sleep. At the very least she wouldn’t have to worry about Dewald having access to where you were.

She took a shaky breath, trying to hold it in but the disdain in your eyes when you looked at her now was a stab to the gut and she felt like she hated herself as much as she was sure you hated her. Tears welled up in her eyes again and this time she let them slip down her cheeks, the bullpen was empty and she was too tired of fighting it.

“You okay?” Penelope’s extremely soft voice came from the doorway and Emily quickly sniffled, wiping at her cheeks.

“Yeah, just… exhausted.”

“Anything I can do to help?” She asked, taking a few steps into the office and Emily took a couple of breaths, straightening out her shirt as she shifted in her chair.

“Uh, call Will. See if he has any leads on Dewald, names, addresses, links, anything. And you do whatever magic it is that you do to try and track the bastard down, check traffic cams in Alexandria. Cross streets of Mt Vernon Trail and Canal Center.”

“Any specific dates your thinking?” The blonde raised a brow slightly.

“Last Sunday night, say ten pm until eight the next morning.” She made a rough guess, knowing the cat had to have been placed sometime in that range. There was a small pause in the room before Penelope spoke, her voice quiet again.

“Wilson’s his main target isn’t she?”

“What?” Emily glanced up, trying to mask it, her brows furrowing but she knew it was too late, sighing, “are you gunning for a promotion or something?”

“No.” Garcia chuckled softly, “it’s just standard procedure to take an Agent off a case when they’re the main target. You know if you told her that maybe she wouldn’t be such a bitch to you.”

“I can’t tell her.” She started to defend her decision and Penelope cut in,

“Because she shares that same suicidal tendency you have? And she’ll immediately use herself as bait, going to him on her own to bring him out of the shadows?”

“And we both know how that ended last time…” Emily deadpanned, “keep this on the downlow please? I don’t need the whole team knowing.”

“Of course sunshine.” She stepped forward, squeezing Emily’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “and don’t worry, Derek’ll keep an eye on her.”

*

You climbed onto the jet, tossing your bag down into a spare chair and dropped into one beside the window. You were in the midst of pulling out your headphones when Derek came wandering back from the cock pit, tossing a hoodie to you.

“Why?” You asked with a slight grumble.

“You always sleep better curled up in a hoodie, and you look downright exhausted.”

“Thanks I guess.” You mumbled, but admitted defeat, pulling the sweater over your head and curling up around yourself. Much to your dismay, he settled into the seat diagonally across from you, case file on his lap. After a few minutes of reading through it, the plane started it’s ascent and he turned to you with a smirk on his lips.

“You ever join the mile high club Wilson?”

“You have a girlfriend and I don’t swing that way Morgan.” You grumbled back, rolling your eyes as you adjusted in your seat.

“Hey.” He nudged at your foot with his own, “I’m just tryin to light the mood. You seem pretty down in the dumps this week.”

“Can you just let me be down in the dumps in peace then?” You asked and he could see the shimmer of tears in your eyes through the reflection in the window.

“Alright.” He dug through his bag for a second, pulling out a jar of gummy melatonin, “here, take one of these. Help you sleep but you won’t be too groggy when we land.”

You turned back to him, swiping at the corner of your eye with the stolen hoodie before picking up the jar and popping one out, “thanks.” You mustered up the best smile you could and he squeezed at your foot while you readjusted in the seat, pulling your legs up into your usual jet sleeping position.

______________________

 @mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @melindawarnersgf @itisdoctortoyousir @emilyprentiss4life @somethingimaginative17 @temilyrights @alexxavicry  @anya-casablanca @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @aliensaurusrex @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @thegrantwater @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @m00nkn1ghts @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @msvenablesbitch @its-soph-xx  @going-gray @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess  @kdaghay @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @awolfcsworld @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @midnight-sapphic @scorpsik @thisisraes @prentiss-theorem @unsubologyy @strongsassysexysloane @svushots  @overtrred28 @hbkswife @happenstnces  @sapphicprentiss @baubeautyandthegeek

[starandcloud]

Leon Kenndy Drabble

It was late and all Leon wanted to do was go to bed, closing his laptop he rubbed his temple and sighed. His shirt and sweatpants were loose and he was so deprived of sleep he barely noticed you walking into the living room until you plopped down onto the couch and dropped your head onto his lap.

"Leeeeeeeeeeeeon? Are you going to bed?"

You asked, making him look down at you. His tired eyes looking into your deprived ones, sighing quietly he sat back against the couch.

"Depends on why you're asking."

His tired voice bounced off the walls of your shared apartment making you giggle, which let him know your answer.

"I'm in an episode" "Fuck..."

Hours later Leon was actively falling asleep at the kitchen table, it had to be about three in the morning and you were just jabbering away as you painted his nails. He was so tired, his body was shutting down as he nodded tiredly. His eyes fluttered shut as he hummed in response to something you said

"Mhm... That's nice honey..."

He slurred out his words making you stop. The sudden silence made him open his eyes, hoping you had fallen asleep. He was expecting to see you passed out on the table or slumped against the chair, the one thing he wasn't expecting was you to be staring at him with your sleep cheated eyes. He actually jumped before letting his head drop back against the wooden chair behind him.

"Fucking hell babe, what're you staring for?" "Go to sleep."

Your words made his face crinkle into a look crossed between disbelief and offence.

"Hell no. I'm staying awake with you." "You're tired."

You shot back making him sit up straight and pull you into his lap, he glanced down at his fingernails and held back a groan. The pretty pink polish littered his fingers making his head hurt, he wasn't going to hear the end of this Monday.

"But Baby... My nails aren't done."

Leon said as he held up his half painted hand, your eyes anxiously flicked between his hand and his sleepy face. You bit your lip and scowled.

"Batard! I'll finish your nails then you're sleeping pretty boy!"

You angerly grabbed the pink polish making him chuckle, your outburst made him smile and take a calming breath. Hopefully this episode wouldn't last to long and you would be sleeping in his arms soon enough.

He hoped...

When nine-o'-clock that night rolled around you were still bouncing off the walls, going twenty-four hours without sleep didn't seem to faze you but... Leon couldn't keep his eyes open, he was hitting thirty-six hours and no matter what you said he wouldn't lay down and sleep. He always had an excuse. "My nails aren't done", "The bed isn't made", "But our favorite show is on", "But Honey... You didn't give me a kiss when I got home" Leon always had a reason to stay up, knowing any small task would burn your energy and push you close to an energy crash. Which you needed to hit before he went on another mission because... if you crashed when he wasn't here... You could get hurt, and he'd never forgive himself for that. Sitting on the couch Leon held you in his lap, your legs straddling his lap as you applied mascara to his lashed and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"You look so- so pretty"

A yawn broke your sentence making him sit up quickly and almost knock you out of his lap, you jumped and clung to him. The mascara wand wiping on his shirt, leaving a black smear there.

"Leon! You're gonna drop me!"

You yelled and up at him. The look in his eyes took you back, despite being exhausted there was some sort of... energy within them. One that wasn't there before.

"Hey baby? Can you do me the biggest favor?"

Leon asked, making you perk up and tilt your head slightly.

"Yeah? What is it?"

Rushing around the apartment Leon picked up what messes he could identify in his tired state. He had sent you for a run down to the corner store for some of your favorite snacks. If you yawned you were getting tired and walking to the store was a twenty minute walk, to get there and back, not counting the time it took to shop. So you'd be spent by the time you got back, and if Leon was right you should be back so- A crash by the door let him know you were back. Putting your makeup in the bathroom he stepped out and pulled you into his chest.

"Hey there lovely, you okay?"

You didn't answer and gripped the back of his shirt as you yawned again, a low chuckle came from Leon as he picked you up; earning him a whine of protect.

"Leon... 'm tired..." "I know baby, I know. Why don't we go lay in bed and cuddle?"

Leon asked as he tucked some hair from your face, your tired eyes stared into his as you nodded.

"Mhm... I wanna cuddle..."

You mumbled out as Leon turned lights off and carried you towards your shared bedroom. Keeping the light off he pulled back the covers and placed you between the blankets before laying next to you. Tucking you under his chin he held you tight and yawned.

"Let's go to sleep baby..."

Leon mumbled out, and your lack of response made him look down. Seeing you fast asleep he smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead before slipping into slumber as well.

[roadkillremi]

The New Freak Episode 1

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings : Mentions Death, Language

Summary : A Goth/Rock girl(she's 18), her dad, and Stepmom move to Hawkins. She easily becomes friends with the local metalhead

Part 2

The clock ticking in the front of the classroom was the only thing keeping it from silent. Eddie was busy not paying attention to the book he was supposed to be reading in English 4. He kept zoning out daydreaming about his new D&D campaign.

Knock knock

Everyone's eyes shot up at the door, Mrs.O'Donald got up swiftly opening the door. One of the secretaries was whispering with someone else beside them.

A new student.

Mrs.O'Donald went to the side to let her in. Her teased up hair held together by hairspray. A cut down plaid skirt that probably was used for Catholic schools, before she cut them shorter. Fishnets stuck to her legs as if it was her skin. A beaten up Megadeath shirt fitting a little baggy. Eddie was amazed, he never seen a another person, let alone a girl be so.. different. Eddie was stuck in a trance not hearing kids snicker around him.

"Class we have a new student! What about you tell us about yourself?"

She stood there glancing around the room. One hand fiddling with her necklace another feeling the fabric of her skirt.

"I moved here last week from New York." She said blankly.

"wow, New York!"

Eddie could tell she was slightly annoyed by O'Donald asking questions and gushing.

"what do your parents do?"

"Uh, well my dad was in a band in the 70's he was the drummer-"

"what type of band?"

She staired darts into her face for interrupting, "a rock band" she continued.

"oh" she sadly exclaimed. She nodded, "my step mom got a job at the bank so". O'Donald smiled at that, "oh! Your name?"

"Y/N Gaia Torrid"

"what unique middle name!"

"it's Greek, based off Gaia the goddess known as mother earth."

"Nerd" someone snickered out to loud. She just grinned, "it's called Common Knowledge.". Mrs.O'Donald cleared her throat, "You Can sit by.."

The only seats open were around Eddie. He glanced up at her once more, she did a small smile.

"Eddie." O'Donald said sternly pointing to him. She just nodded and sat beside him. No hesitation, Eddie somehow felt more human than before.

-----------

2 hours before

"Y/N!! First day of school get your ass up!" You sat up sloppy, "yeah yeah". You slumped out of bed shuffling to the kitchen.

"what's for breakfast?" You groaned.

"Toast. Since Angie had to get this damn house so bad."

"I don't understand why you married her, dad. She's a psycho." You spoke softly as you got bread.

"she's not psycho. We're in love believe or not." He sighs sipping coffee. You grab jam and orange juice from the fridge. "She's a bitch."

"whoa! Watch your fucking language." He joked. You gave a small smile going back to making your breakfast. Your dad was pretty loose, since you were the same as him when he was a kid. You stood by the counter eating your toast slowly.

"God! She's not ready yet!" Angie said slipping her high heels on from the kitchen doorway.

"I let her sleep in on her first day." Your dad defended you quickly. Angie groaned, "well I'm not taking her to school, I'll be late for work.".

"I get it, I'll take her." Your dad smiled and kisses her forehead. You just stood there in discuss, Angie smiled at you softly.

"have a good and try to make friends.. I don't want a repeat of last year." She pointed at you with her nicely polished finger. You nodded, "Good luck at work, Angie.". She smiled a bit, probably thinking she's getting better at being a step mom.

She wasn't.

Once breakfast was finished you went to your room. Piles of clothes on the floor and spilling out of boxes.

"shit"

You staired down at the clothes, your dad leaned on the doorway pearing in. He chuckled "told you to clean this pig pin.". You rolled your eyes picking up a skirt Angie passed down.

"think she'll bitch at me if I cut it?" You glanced at your dad. He shrugged, "Not to short. I know how guys are.". You took scissors from your desk, it'd been overused from Opening boxes. You marked where to cut it and went to work. Small threads clinged for life on the ends, it was perfect.

You admired it in the mirror, there was no point being something your not again. So why not go to the extreme?

Your slid on roughed up fishnets and a Megadeath shirt that used to be your father's. You put on your Doc Martens and some jewelry. Next you teased the crap out of your hair. You knew it was perfect when you heard, "I CAN SMELL YOUR DAMN HAIRSPRAY!". Once your makeup was done you were ready.

Your beaten up back up thrown over your shoulder. Your dad grabbed the keys, "you know what you're getting yourself into dressed like that?". You knew he was just looking out for you.

"Yeah. I gotta good feeling this time."

------------

When the bell ring Eddie was quick to introduce himself. He stood up and took a step closer to you. You looked up at him once you got your bag.

"Eddie, I'm guessing?" You smiled, he gave a smile in return.

"Yeah. I uh, like your shirt" he nodded towards you. You smiled, "thanks, it's not as cool as your vest though." You circled him a bit to get the full view.

"pretty metal." You continued, you started walking towards the door. Eddie trotted up to you, "is lunch your next period?". You looked down at the wrinkled schedule.

"Yes, it is. Why? Wanna protect me from the bullies?" You laughed. He just kept admiring you, "Heh, I think I might need to protect them from you." You glanced up at him, "oh, really?".

His doe eyes were trying to consume all of you. You smiled up at him, following the crowd to the cafeteria.

"where do you sit?" You disrupted the silence. Eddie blinked realize he was busy staring.

"oh, over there, I'll take you. We can put our bags there. " You followed him dropping your bag to the right of his seat. He took the end seat slamming his lunch box down on it. The cling rung in your ears, he looked at you.

"Odd you're getting lunch but you have a lunch box." You smirked walking towards the line. Eddie smiled bashfully scratching the back of his neck.

"long story."

You leaned in closer to him, Eddie stopped breathing.

'did i brush my teeth? Shit I don't think I did' Eddies mind ran wild. You smiled up at him, "lucky for you I got all the time in the world." You backed away, Eddie blankly stared.

There was no way you were real. Eddie was in awe, you weren't the cheerleaders that said they needed a change. They'd claim jocks were dumb and give him a blow job but then left. Girls at the hideout being too drunk to care or remember. You weren't trying to be something you're not. You waited in line patiently, he cleared his throat.

"Why Hawkins?-"

"Who the hell knows? Cheaper I guess.. How about you? Born here?"

"I guess you could say that.."

You nodded grabbing a pizza slice with a side of fruit. He walked right beside you to the table. Where some teenage boys were staring at your backpack. You sighed waiting for Eddie to sit first as some sort of pass to go. He sighed seeing the situation, "don't worry they're asshats but they'll love you.". You smiled at him as he went to sit in his seat.

"Eddie! Whose fucking bag-"

"AHEM" you smiled sweetly, they all looked at you shocked.

"hi guys! Eddie invited me, that alright? I can go eat somewhere else I don't mind."

"No, please sit" One curly headed boy said nodding to the seat. You smiled at them and then at Eddie. You sat down knowing they were watching.

"If you're watch me at least tell me your name." You said blankly.

"uh, I'm Jeff" the curly headed boy did a small wave. You waved back, you looked around the table. One boy in a baseball hat with a phrase. Thinking Cap, you snickered "Nice hat, it's a clever".

"thanks! I'm Dustin!" He smiled widely. "I'm Y/N", all the guys stared bullets at Dustin. How could that nerd get a girls attention.

"Does she even play D&D?" Another guy asked. He looked pissed, Eddie shrugged looking at you.

"Ya play?" He asked food still in his mouth. You looked at your food, "No, but my mom did. She painted a bunch of Minifigures! I have them in the garage along with a old handbook. So I can read it if it means I can sit here."

It went silent, "How the hell are your parents so cool?!" Eddie boomed. You chuckled, "I mean, I guess."

"can your mom join the club?"

You went silent, "she uh died in a car accident.". Eddie stared at the boy who asked, "I'm sorry about that." Eddie said.

"don't be. Death happens. Just gotta keep going I guess." You smiled softly at him. The table was silent, " but my dad was in a band! He uh was the drummer, He taught me how to play. We have a drum set in the garage too?"

"No way!" One guy pitched in, "Eddie we gotta tell her about the band." Jeff added in.

"You have a band?" You smiled at Eddie.

"Yeah, we play at the hideout."

"What's the name?" You leaned in closer to him.

"Corrid Coffin" Eddie said with pride. He never seen someone so impressed by his band. "Well, one day you have to give me a performance."

"Gonna give us a gig?" One guy said.

"Gareth" Eddie said blankly.

"No. I will! I can set up the garage and buy pizza! We can all hang out! If you need a drummer-"

"I'm the drummer, Missy" Jeff said proudly. You smiled, "forgive me then. Got excited.". You all started planning this so called gig. Eddie smiled at the fact someone cared. You beamed with joy talking about it, the cassettes you own. The concerts you've been to, you quickly stood up.

"it's official. One Saturday. My house I wanna full concert! The whole neighborhood will be amazed at the sound rock. Before they become your rock zombies of hell" you said in a spooky voice.

Eddie was definitely in love. The bell rung to single the time. You quickly looked at Eddie, "I can give my house number to call you about the gig.". Eddie slightly blushed and smiled, "Yeah!". You dug into your bookbag pulling out a blue pen. You gently grabbed his hand.

The soft skin against his rough hand from play guitar. He didn't move staying completely still. You pulled up his jacket to his elbow. You wrote the number stopping see his tattoo. You gently touched it with your finger.

"That's sick.." you grinned. Eddie smiled, "You like bats?". You nodded, "Totally. I mean look at them they're like puppies but everyone fears them. Plus they sleep upside down and that's kinda cool.". You touched his tattoo one last time before pushing the sleeve back down.

"See you around, Mr.Munson" you teased walking away.

------------

"How was school?" Angie asked as you opened the car door. You tossed your stuff in the back, "Honestly, good!". Angie was shocked she smiled, "Really?".

"Yeah! I made friends! They're in a band and have a club! They're real nice, dad would love em." You exclaimed. Angie smiled, you were surprised she wasn't disappointed in the fact they weren't normal.

"I'm glad they understand your interests.. I know we worried about that." You went silent at this. She cared.. weirdly enough.

Once you got inside your dad was writing in his music journal. "Hey! How was it?" He glanced up at you. You dropped your bag by the door.

"good. I made some friends, they have their own band!"

He looked up, glasses sliding off his nose. He smiled brightly, "What kind?".

"Rock! And I was wondering this weekend if they could play in the garage.." it fell silent.

"uh, no" Angie shook her head and placed her keys on the counter.

"Dad." You looked at him for help. He sighed, "Honey, she made friends.. and I'll keep an eye out in case it gets insane.". You smiled at him and then looked at Angie pleadingly.

"Fine.." she huffed, you high faces your dad. You smiled brightly, "Thank you! Also if we get a call from Eddie Munson, it's for me!". Your dad nodded going back to his work.

Hours passed, it was 8pm. You tried to be patient, you unpacked your room some more stalling. The phone rung, you reached to your phone on your night stand. (Recently installed, it was a gift from your Uncle).

"Hello, Torrid Residence!"

"Hi this is Eddie."

You smiled, "Hi Eddie! I got great news Saturday works for me if it works for you guys!".

"That's great! I'm pretty sure we're not busy. Also I was wondering if you'd want to join Hellfire Thursday night. And I can drive you home afterwords."

"I can play D&D though"

"you can always watch"

You fiddled with the cord, "I would love to. Maybe you can stay over and teach me about D&D."

Eddie choked on the other side of the line.

"Eddie?! You alright?"

"Yeah sorry i.. had to sneeze."

You smiled so wide, " I'll see you tomorrow Eddie. Sleep well Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Y/N"

As you got ready for bed this feel in your chest grew. This giddy feeling kept you up all night. You picked out what to wear hoping it'd make you tired. Even fantasized the whole day while laying in bed. Then thinking of Eddie, his long curls and giant brown eyes. You tried to shrug this feeling off attempting to sleep.

----------

[blueberrysauce54]

The Game She Plays- Chapter 7

Previous Chapter

-Days After- Athena walked into the gym, her sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. She'd seen Caitlyn earlier, laughing with her friends in the hallway, and something about the way she looked today made Athena's chest tighten. She had to see her—talk to her. After the coldness between them, she knew it was time to make an attempt to break through that wall she'd built up.

Caitlyn was sitting on a bench near the free weights, casually scrolling through her phone when Athena approached. There was a shift in the air, a subtle tension that Athena couldn't ignore.

"Hey," Athena started, her voice tentative.

Caitlyn looked up, cold.  "Hey, Athena. What's up?"

"Um," Athena hesitated, suddenly unsure of herself. She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to find the right words. "I was wondering... if you could join me for a workout session today."

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp. She didn't respond immediately, but the silence felt heavy, like she was weighing something. After a long pause, she put her phone down, folding her arms.

"Are you serious?" Caitlyn asked, "After you didn't even acknowledge me at Mel's party, and skipped our tutoring session?."

Athena's jaw tightened. She hadn't expected Caitlyn to be so blunt, but she wasn't exactly surprised. She'd been pushing her away for so long that it wasn't easy to just waltz back in.

"Im sorry, Caitlyn. Its not about you." Athena shot back, her voice more defensive than she intended. "I've been working on some things, and I messed up and I fucked some guy at the party. I just... want to hangout with you. For once."

Caitlyn shook her head, almost laughing, but there was something bitter in her smile. "Yeah, I bet you do. You know, you're playing this game with me. You pretend to want me around, then you act like I'm invisible. Why don't you just admit it?"

Athena's heart hammered in her chest. She hated the way Caitlyn saw her sometimes—like she was nothing but a game to be played, a mystery to be solved. But she wasn't going to back down now. Not after everything.

"I'm not playing games with you, Caitlyn," Athena said, her voice a little softer this time. "I'm just trying to be... real. With you."

Caitlyn met her gaze for a beat, the intensity between them palpable. She stared at Athena for a long moment before standing up and picking up her water bottle.

"Fine," Caitlyn said, her voice still edged with something Athena couldn't quite place. "Let's see how long that lasts."

Athena's heart skipped. She'd just agreed to let her guard down. This was a small victory, and she wasn't about to screw it up.

*****

As they moved to the treadmill section, Athena found herself drifting into a memory from a year ago

the first time she'd ever really noticed Caitlyn in a way that was different from the others.

It had been a warm autumn afternoon, and the volleyball team had just wrapped up a practice. The usual crowd of students had been gathered by the lockers, laughing and talking, with some heading off to hang out and others just going home. Athena had finished up early and was on her way out when she saw Caitlyn, talking animatedly to Mel near the locker room entrance. She couldn't help but notice how stunning Caitlyn looked in that moment—her hair perfectly framing her face, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

A stray volleyball, soared directly toward Caitlyn's bag, knocking it off the bench and spilling the contents across the floor. Athena's heart stopped for a moment. The ball had been her fault, and Caitlyn was right there. Caitlyn blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard, before looking up at Athena, who was standing frozen in place.

Athena rushed over, her face heating with embarrassment. "Shit, sorry," she muttered, picking up the bag and trying to shove the contents back inside. "I didn't mean to—"

Caitlyn just laughed, her voice light and unbothered. "It's fine. Don't worry about it." Her smile was genuine, the kind that always made Athena's stomach flutter. Caitlyn had a way of making everything seem effortless, and in that moment, Athena realized she wanted to know her more. Much more.

Athena had stayed in the background after that, watching Caitlyn from afar, wondering if she'd ever be able to get close enough to break down the walls that Caitlyn had around her heart. But then, things had gotten messy. Athena had pushed everyone away, including Caitlyn, until now.

Back in the present, Caitlyn said firmly. "You've been avoiding me. Ignoring me. What happened to the girl I thought I was getting to know?"

Athena's jaw tightened, and she finally met Caitlyn's gaze, her expression guarded and unreadable. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for you to care about me."

"I don't care what you think you need or want, Athena," Caitlyn snapped, her frustration mounting. "But you're not going to just push me away without an explanation. You owe me that much."

The silence between them was deafening. Athena stood up, but there was no escape. She couldn't walk away from this. Caitlyn wasn't letting her.

Athena opened her mouth, but no words came out at first. Then, with a heavy sigh, she sat back down, rubbing her temples. "You're right," she said quietly. "I've been a fucking asshole to you. I know that."

Caitlyn waited, her heartbeat in her throat. She didn't know if she was ready for whatever Athena was about to say, but she needed to hear it.

Athena hesitated, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. "I've never been good at this... being real with people. I guess I just thought if I kept things surface-level, kept everyone at a distance, I'd be okay." She swallowed hard, as if the words hurt coming out. "But I'm not, Cait. I'm not okay. I... I haven't been okay in a long time."

Caitlyn didn't interrupt, just let Athena continue, the weight of her words heavy in the air.

Athena's voice cracked on the last part, and Caitlyn could see the tears threatening to spill over. It was the first crack in her armour, the first time Athena had ever shown just how deeply she had been hurt. 

"I never wanted to be weak again," Athena continued, voice barely above a whisper. "So I built these walls, and I... I never let anyone in. Not after Vanessa. Not after everything I've lost. I didn't want to care. Didn't want to get hurt again."

Caitlyn's chest ached. She wanted to know more about this Vanessa, maybe she was one of her best friends? Everything Athena had been hiding, the reason for her walls, suddenly made so much sense. Athena had never been the tough, unbothered girl she let everyone believe. She had been broken, left to pick up the pieces of herself and had no idea how to let anyone in.

Caitlyn kneeled in front of Athena, gently placing a hand on her knee. "Athena, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going anywhere. I just... I need you to be honest with me. I can't keep guessing, and I don't want to be a part of your game anymore."

Athena's eyes flickered to Caitlyn's face, and for the first time, Caitlyn saw the vulnerability in her gaze. "I don't know how to be real with you," Athena admitted, voice raw. "I don't know how to let you in."

Caitlyn's heart thudded in her chest, and she leaned closer, her voice steady. "Then let me help. Let me in. I want to understand you, Athena. I want to be there for you, if you'll let me."

Athena bit her lip, her face flushed, and for a moment, there was nothing but the soft hum of the gym's lights. Then, without warning, Athena reached up and cupped Caitlyn's face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. Caitlyn held her breath, heart racing, as Athena leaned in slowly, her lips barely grazing Caitlyn's ear.

"I'm scared, Cait," Athena whispered.

Caitlyn leaned into her, but suddenly Athena got up.

"Cait, I don't want to hurt you. Please." Athena said defeatedly.

Caitlyn was shocked by the deflection of the moment that was about to occur, but she understood. She nodded, "I understand Athena."

____

Chapter List

[saint-viscera]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫

𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟏

When Amma was in the seventh grade, shauna’s older sister got practically hitched to this metal loon named Cash. He dressed like a devil worshipper, was what her dad said anytime they came back up from church. She told him that was rude to say and he told her if she ever dressed like that she was getting out out. Amma never talked about him at home again.

Cash moved into Mary-Dell𝗌 apartment within two months of their dating and hadn't left since. Shauna said it was cause he paid more than half the bills. But you could tell Mary was sweet on him. Even , though he had a kid half her age. She knew he was from the Ozarks too, a real secluded town called Serotha.

Cash definitely couldn't stand her sister or Amma. Anytime he came home and saw her sitting on their sofa, she could see the annoyance gassing up to ask why she wouldn't leave their place till late.

Her parents gave away at asking where she snuck off to at this age. An older boy had been looking her way and they couldn't stop her from running off to go looking for Jimmy. He smelled like sour strawberries and ash. They shot at shit together in a corn field. With a gun he was given by his daddy. He was always looking down at her. Grabbing her chin a bit too harshly. Making her feel small. But she wouldn’t quit on going back to him. He understood her more than anyone did. And Jimmy wouldn’t have let her leave if she tried

She had a whole lot of freedom, no kid shouldve ever had. Amma wasn’t sure to know whether to be glad or sad about it. All she knew was that Cash saw something in her whenever she came around Shauna. It was sad too. But he never gave her pity. Good, because she didn’t need it no matter what.

Like this one day, she messed up the carpet at her place when sleeping over. He acted like she tore a damn hole in the wall with a hammer....

“Okay, Someone's ass is getting kicked tonight. Who went and spilled sum damn nail polish on the new carpet.” Cash kissed his teeth as he entered the living room of his girlfriend's apartment like he always does when one of the kids went and pissed him off. “We’re not returning this thing when it was just bought. Who spilled it or everyone's going to bed right the fuck now.”

Amma and his girlfriend's little sister, Shauna avoided his gaze, pretending not to care about his sudden mood change. She heard a giggle and pinched her friend while the 24-year-old man looked at the rude preteens, bored.

He was the babysitter of the sleepover since his girlfriend was knocked out at only 8 pm. He had a bag of s'mores materials they were planning to make. Usually, they got to tag along to head to the store this late and pester him about buying extra snacks but he told them to stay put.

Cash could be nice and mean. Didn't matter if Mary was awake or asleep. If they acted out he made sure to tell em.

“Can you keep your voice down? You're scaring us”. Amma fake pouted while Shauna collapsed into giggles and tried to hide behind her where they sat on the sofa.

“I don't know how you've always done things at your home, but even you should know how to have respect.” He said, narrowing his eyes at the two of them like he was gearing to grab a wooden spoon. Amma had been threatened by him before. Said he'd tape two spoons together and whack the girls on their heads but she always taunted him evilly cause he wouldn't actually do anything.

Shauna pointed at her.” I told her not to let it dry”. She threw her under the bus all the time.

“No one likes a snitch.” Cash looked unimpressed with her honesty then turned to her friend.

”Go Clean it up Amity .”

He used her first name when he was annoyed, which her mothers did when she was being picked up from detention twice a week now. And it worked because it stung. He didn't know that.

At this, Amma knew she could easily get up and leave their apartment. Tell him to get out her face, stomp off, and never come back. She watched Cash stare her down with his tattooed arms crossed and she stared him down like they were two goats rearing to butt horns and one of the two would end up with a huge knot on their forehead. Hers first, since he's built like a great Dane.

Amma never wanted to leave. If she could trade a brother he'd be first in line, she thought wistfully. Her face must be given away to looking sullen because Cash gave up his usual frown for a second as he watched her. Like he could read her damn mind.

“Fine” Amma shoved past Shauna to go grab a washcloth from the kitchen. “Mary should really find a new boyfriend soon. You're the worst”.

“Get it cleaned. Without the attitude”. Amma stomped on his pinky toe, she hurried in stride. She met with a harsh flick to the ear.

Shauna’s older sister, Mary-Dell was slumped over yellow tax papers with Cash’s daughter poking at her back. Cash glared at Amma before picking up his child who obliged to being whisked away to get ready for bed

She spent half an hour scrubbing at the carpet, cursing under her breath. Hearing the occasional “ I heard that” from the kitchen as the smell of burnt sugar, melted marshmallows, and chocolate wafted from the oven, as he finally picked up an entire tray with his BARE hands.

Cash set it down and walked over to check on the carpet. She'd scrubbed it bare and clean. Spickety span, without any trace of pink glitter paint.

She looked up to see him give her a small smile, then he nodded over to the kitchen table where everyone was now digging in

“You're off the hook.” Cash tried to sound stern, but she caught the hint of a grin he couldn’t quite hide.

Amma cracked up at him, failing to stay mad at her and Cash rolled his eyes, kissing his teeth again.

Even still, he always opened the door for her.

That’s why Amma ran to go find him again.

He was mad when he saw her , banging on the glass of a bar he apparently owned. Serotha was small enough to ask around about a tallish guy with gauges and the meanest scowl to ever walk the earth.

Call her childish, but when he stormed up to tell her to quiet down and stopped in his tracks. She almost started crying then and there.

......

“Cash, I need help…” She pressed her head against the headrest, shivering a little. He was closing up shop, so he told her to sit in the truck. Cash was staring at her weirdly. Amma’s hair had grown out past the bob she used tob carry it in. She looked five years older. Jimmy liked that. She didn’t.

“You’re the only person who can still help me out. I can’t go back home. I...just neef to to help me figure this out and then’ll I be outta yer hait. I promise.“ She started rumbling till he put a hand up.

She's feeling brave with telling him the truth now, and that's enough to make her wanna run out his truck and never look back.

Mindlessly, Cash furrowed his eyebrows at her shivering. He flicked the heater knob, letting the low hum fill the silence as he tried to process what she said.

“What’s you being knocked up got to do with me?” He asked in a low voice. But his hardened featured were softening.“Amma, I been outta prison for a year. If you aren’t getting rid if it then I can’t take this kid for you.“

That had crossed her mind more than she could count. She’d thought of doing it herself, too. Pain didn’t scare her anymore. Being trapped did. But..she kept holding her breath and sticking it out. This thing didn’t deserve to not get a chance with someone who could actually love it.

“No, I’m saying. All I need is a job or some cash to go get a room at the 6. Whatever you got, I’ll be grateful for. Just don’t turn me away. Please.” Amma swallowed. She doesn’t look at him, and he hears her holding her breath.Her eyes are kept on the work leather on the dashboard. There's a lazy cat running across ice in front of them. She’s shivering, so he grabs a blanket from the back seat and hands it to her.

She draped it over her shoulders as he lets out a tired sigh.

“

“Still don’t what you want me,” Cash said, playing with the heater dial. But he couldn’t look away or shake the wonder. “Spotting you some money ain’t a problem. But I’m not your saint. You’re better off asking the idiot that got you knocked up for help not me.” He let out a breath of air, it sounds like a shocked laugh.

She doesn’t laugh with him. “I’m serious about this.”

“I am too.”

“If I’d done my job as some good role model, then when I told you and Shauna to keep your head in the books and stay away from ugly ass boys looking to mess around… did you listen to me then?”

“Barely,” she mumbled.

“Cause you’ still act like a kid and you’re pregnant .… what went on when I got locked up. What happened to you before you got to town?”

She couldn’t help making a face at him being rude again. But without a word, she pulled a knee up to her chest, shifting so her sweatpants unfolded and revealed the nasty scar on her calf.

“You asked me why the dad ain’t here to help me out with this shit.” Cash stared at the scar, like he’s about to get angry. He braced a hand over his mustache, muttering “Jesus Christ” under his breath.

She’s never seen him cry, but he looked pretty close to it right now. He wouldn’t, though. Cash wouldn’t be selfish enough to take this moment away from her while she could still speak without feeling gross about it. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d fought in some war, nothing shakes him. Amma couldn’t help but feel both jealousy and a strange pride that didn’t belong to her.

“Is the… the guy dead”.

She looked out the window, her knee pulled up on his chair, dirtying the car with her ratty tennis shoes like he used to yell at her not to do. “Just drive, Cash.”

“I don’t blame you if he’s dead.” Cash brushed a hand over the back of his hair. “Judge me for thinking that, but anyone who does that to a girl should be shot dead.” His words were slow, as if he was trying to make sure she understood he wasn’t pointing a finger.

She doesn't know what to say to that. The fact she knows he's speaking as low as he can as if she's gonna run off.

“We’ll figure this out.” He gestured to what she was covering up with the hoodie he bought her because the one she had in her backpack had a hole in its pocket. Amma didn’t want to talk about it. “I can find a contact that needs another mouth to feed. Just let me handle things, okay?” Seven more months left to go. Seven more months before she’d have to get lost, as he put it.

“Yknow what forget what I said,” she shrugged, grasping for normalcy. “Can we go get waffles ? I’m hungry.”

He looks at very, steely like he's searching for something and then finally sighs. Maybe he didn't find a what he was looking for.

Cash sighed, turning the key in the ignition. “Sure. But don’t ask to get off my plate. When we get there, I’m ordering three full plates of waffles. Two for you, so don’t ask for none of mine..” He scolded her.

“Fine.” She huffed.

Despite, being sadly put off by his bitchy attitude upon seeing a familiar face. She liked sitting in this truck, driving with him around like he was about to take her to school with her best friend, when he still had a car seat in the back. Like the old days. It’s like she was a kid again.

He drove them to a green diner that was packed because it was Sunday morning, because neither of them goes to church.

And when the waiter asks for their order, she tells him two, then takes half the stack from his plate.

[wilsonthemoose]

Death of Convenience

It should have been easy. Wendigos are no joke but daylight slows them. The weather's been unpredictable though and perfect, idyllic hunts don't exactly stay that way where they're concerned.

Or Sam has one card to play and never stops to think that Dean would care if he killed himself.

Implied/Referenced Suicide, Infant Death, Temporary Character Death, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Head Injury, Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 05, POV Dean Winchester

Let's blame it on the tunnel vision. The impending end of the world. The wendigo on the loose, the missing persons reports piling up. Blame it on anything you like. Hell, blame it on the glare coming off Baby's polished hood. He never saw the warning signs.

And there's Sam across from him, frowning like he hadn't considered that Dean would care.

Dean's reeling, nauseated, light-headed, crashing from blood loss, alcohol snatched out of Sam's hand as he was cleaning the wounds on Dean's face, and then the world turning inside out. His world, anyway.

But the thing is, you don't see this sort of thing coming. When your father is leaning down to whisper what can only be his last words in your ear, you don't understand, and when your brother is explaining he is Lucifer's vessel, you are busy regretting you have nothing stronger than beer.

"I guess I'm a little numb to the earth-shattering revelations at this point," he'd said.

Funny how fucking frequently you can be wrong.

 

He'd picked the case for a chance to get away from the cities, get back to the basics. Put a bandaid over the fracture, turn the music up just loud enough to forestall any attempts at conversation, drive a little too fast on winding roads, and pretend everything is fine until it is or until there's no pretending.

They were checked into a fishing lodge. Montana with the summer petering out into autumn, idyllic. Mountains, lakes, dark roads, critters, a world away where you could almost pretend nothing really was wrong.

And at night, footwork complete, witnesses consoled, doors knocked for information, and maps acquired, he went to sleep and dreamt again of his father telling him he had to save Sam or kill him and he dreamt of Sam screaming under Bobby's house and he dreamt of himself tripping seven stairs down and Sam's head hitting the wall harder than it should have and how his father wouldn't clean the blood off Sammy's hair thinking it was his mother's.

When he woke up, Sam was field-stripping the weapons.

 

They walked close together, kept mostly to the trail, shotguns cradled, duffles slung, and a flame-thrower each.

It should have been easy. Wendigos are no joke but daylight slows them. They left early enough in the morning to find and kill the thing by afternoon and be back at the hunters' cabin they'd scoped out by evening.

The weather's been unpredictable though and perfect, idyllic hunts don't exactly stay that way where they're concerned. Darkness descended, casting the bright morning into shades of unreal grey-green half-light.

Dean cursed under his breath, then quietened as they started hearing the wendigo. Human screams imitated, a woman in hysterics, twigs snapping, to their north one moment, south the next. They closed in, shot into the dense trees, and retreated by inches. Screwed six ways from sunday before the freak even struck.

And when it came, it came soundless and out of nowhere, caught Dean's ear with its long claws before Dean even realized it was there. Sam managed a pretty good shot that would have slowed anything else down but only pissed off the wendigo. Ears ringing, legs buckling under him, and eyes filling with blood, Dean reached into his duffle for the flame thrower, fumbling hands too slow as the wendigo went at Sam, claws bared.

Dean saw Sam stumble back, he saw the wendigo lunge, and he saw Sam go down as the claws ripped through half the muscle of his leg. There was a spray of blood from what could only be the femoral artery, and Dean's hand had fallen limp by his side before the wendigo even turned towards him.

 

He hazed in and out of consciousness, bleary-eyed and dizzy, strung up by his arms and feeling like the world was floating. He struggled toward lucidity on instinct, but each time he got close, the pain in the side of his head registered and he lost his grasp on time and space again.

And there was his father leaning in to whisper that Dean might need to kill his brother.

And there was Lucifer in Sam's body, there was his white shoe on Dean's throat. There were the rose petals on the ground, the vine-choked world, the fragrant air.

And Bobby in his wheelchair. Bobby turning the knife around and stabbing himself. Bobby in the hospital bed.

Dean's head lolled to the side, sharp spikes of pain shooting through his face as the torn skin pulled. He struggled to hold his head up and tried to blink the vertigo away.

And there was his brother, shaking him, voice panicked and echoing off the walls of what Dean assumed was a cave. Sam, not limping, not bleeding to death somewhere out there, but here, with him, cutting him down, leaning him against the wall of the cave to look at his ear, wiping blood out of Dean's eyes, hauling him out of the cave with Dean's arm wrapped around his neck.

And there were the smouldering remains of the wendigo at the mouth of the cave. And here, under the relief, panic.

 

"You should be bleeding out somewhere," Dean said, trying to distract himself from the icy-chill sting of the wind. Or maybe trying to let the icy-chill wind distract him from the conversation. He needs to ask these questions and he needs answers, and maybe if they do this right now while Sam is half carrying him through the woods, while Dean's brain is still groggy and lagging two paces behind, then maybe they can both come out of this conversation unscathed. Nothing said between them that shouldn't be.

Or maybe it's a bad idea inviting Sam to pull the rug out from under his feet when he's one unsteady step away from emptying his stomach on the ground.

Sam laughs. "Sorry to disappoint you."

He looks down at Sam's legs, stumbling only as much as they would with most of Dean's weight thrown over his shoulder, and the jeans are torn through in two long gashes along the left leg, stained red-brown with blood.

He looks up at Sam's shoulders and collar, stained similarly, and if he looks too close at his hair—

He doesn't.

He keeps his mouth shut and focuses on walking.

 

"I saw you go down, okay. No way you're on your feet right now."

Sam's shaking a little, takes a swig of the bottle before cleaning Dean's wound with the stuff. Usual light touch a fraction heavier as he pushes the needle through his skin, Dean feels a little jab here and a tug there as Sam stitches the wound.

He doesn't answer.

 

Let's blame it on the blood loss, blame it on everything happening so fast, and the eerie darkness. Blame it on the head injury.

He's wrong. He's got to be wrong.

Sam could have torn the jeans a hundred different ways: when he was running after him, when he was killing the wendigo, when he was running through the cave. The blood could be Dean's own— head wounds are notorious for how much they bleed.

Let's let this one lie.

Count it a win, call in the locals to go get the bodies, sleep off the hunt and hit the road.

 

Pushing is what Dean does, and lately, breaking is what Sam does.

"You—" Dean blinks, "You killed yourself?" he asks haltingly and grips the back of the chair like it might keep him steady.

Sam runs his hands down his thighs and grips his knees. Hunched over like this, scruffy and bloodstained, he makes Dean want to reach out to him and promise him everything's going to be alright like he's still a child and they don't both have the weight of an apocalypse on their shoulders.

But they do and they have the weight of a hundred things said in anger between them.

"Sit down, Dean," he says, "You look like you're gonna fall over." His voice is soft and tired.

He watches Dean pull out a chair and sit, then says, placating and calm, "Look, I was down. Couldn't hunt Bambi on that leg, much less a wendigo." He shrugs almost casually. "Lucifer said he'd keep bringing me back if I killed myself—"

"Sam, why would—"

"To get out of being his vessel."

 

Dean had washed Sam's hair himself when three days later his father still hadn't done it, one ear trained on the sound of him snoring away on the couch. And when he woke up to Sam's hair damp and clean and Dean looking guilty, he'd turned away, shoulders shaking.

Dean had refused to think about it, and after the blood was gone, it was easy.

In his mind for all this time though, unrealized, the thought has always lingered. He'd tripped on the stairs running, and Sam's head had hit the wall.

He's seen Jessica burn on the ceiling, years later, and there were mere drops of blood falling from her corpse. His mother would have burned no differently and all that blood running into the motel sink as Sammy babbled and splashed and cooed— it could not have been hers.

 

The room's spinning, his head is heavy.

Sam's concerned and oh so practical about it all.

"Dean, you okay?" his voice sounds from across a badly tuned radio, under the buzzing.

He thought of it before. Threatened the devil with his suicide and committed it at the drop of a hat out of practicality. Because they got hurt on a hunt. Because Dean froze when he saw Sam go down. Because he'd kill himself to make up for his mistakes, and he'd never say a thing until Dean pushed him. And he'd look confused there, across from him like he didn't think Dean would care so much. Like he could just put a pistol to his head, blow out his brains, and Dean would call it a day.

"Have you done this before, Sam?" Dean asks. This is his pistol pointed at his head, this question, this stupid question that will get them nowhere is his suicide.

Sam looks away. Hunched over, hair in his face, breathing shallow and deliberately steady. Would it kill him to lie?

Dean buries his head in his hands and doesn't look up when Sam puts a hand on his knee.

 

He'd been frankly disturbed. He'd never seen an adult cry before. If his father had cried in the days preceding, he'd done it out of sight of his children.

Dean had gathered Sam up in his arms, allowed to hold him unsupervised now, and he'd tucked them both into the corner, between the headrest of the bed and the wall, smelling cheap soap in Sam's hair. He hadn't been able to reach the shampoo and this thought finally had made him cry too.

 

Dean looks up eventually. "So, Lucifer." Sam tries to pass off a flinch as a casual movement and leans back again. "What was he like?" Dean asks.

Sam's looking straight at him, but it's like a curtain's come over his eyes. He's not there anymore.

"Calm," he says eventually. "Still."

And Dean's watching Sam, sink-washed hair lank around his face, hands clasped and motion-less. Statuesque except that he's breathing. Dean tears his eyes away.

"I couldn't look at him straight on, you know, because he was so bright." His voice is steady, almost a whisper but it's clear. "So he cloaked himself until I could look." And now he starts to shiver.

"He said he wanted me to see him as he is, without vessels or—"

Dean feels himself shudder, clamps his hands firmly on the armrests of his chair. He doesn't want to know so he asks, "What else did he say?" before Sam can go on.

Sam pushes off the sofa in one swift motion and turns toward the window. And there it is again, the uninjured leg, and them both off balance again.

"His sales pitch," he says.

It's all one big joke. Like Lucifer's wearing you to the prom.

"His sales pitch," Dean repeats, another flat note in their disconnected symphony.

In front of the window that can show him nothing besides his own dusty reflection, hands in his pockets, Sam tilts his head. "Justice," he says, almost like he's musing over it, then he clarifies, "For himself." And because he just can't leave it well enough alone now that Dean's asked, he says, "For me." His voice this time is something more than detached.

Dean wants to get up and leave.

"Peace," Sam says. "Balance in the world."

"Sam you know he was just trying to—"

"Yes," Sam says, snaps, and Dean kicks himself, tries to get enough stale, damp air into his lungs but it lingers somewhere in his throat instead.

Whatever Sam might have said next, he doesn't.

Dean wonders what it must be like, being dead with the devil in his true form asking for your vessel.

"Sam?" Dean asks but he's gone quiet now and doesn't turn away from the window. He's still shivering.

Dean eventually gets up from the chair and steps toward him, almost reaches a hand toward his shoulder then doesn't.

 

They leave the cabin the next morning, get in the car and drive off. They don't talk about it again until they've crossed into the next state, where Dean asks Sam not to kill himself again and Sam asks why he shouldn't. That stops Dean short and he wants to say something, needs to say something before Sam reads too much into his silence but this line of argument never crossed his mind.

"We wouldn't even be having this conversation if I hadn't," Sam says. Then, whether to soften the blow or to point out Dean's hypocrisy, he says "You would have done the same thing."

They don't talk about it for weeks.

It's Dean who picks up the thread again, trying to stop thinking about Anna's plan of scattering Sam's remains over the planet, trying very very hard to stop thinking about how eager Sam was for that.

"Sam?"

He looks up, sighs as he interprets Dean's expression, and says, "Can we just stop talking about this?"

"I just need to know, Sam, why did you— why did you think I wouldn't care?"

He doesn't say anything for a long while, fingers drumming a staccato beat on the table between them, eyes averted. Dean's starting to think he doesn't want the answer all that much anyway, and there's no one answer, there's a dozen.

There's a closed panic-room door between them, and no amulet around Dean's neck.

"I guess I can't think why you would," Sam says.

Dean wants to stop talking about it all, wishes he'd never brought it up, wishes like hell it hadn't happened, and resolves, from this moment on, to always let sleeping dogs lie.

"Hey, I— I care, Sam," he tells the tablecloth between them then dares to look up. "I know things aren't great right now. And I know I've said some things that hurt you," his hand strays toward the phantom string still tied around his neck, "But I don't want you to think,  ever,  that I don't care."

Sam's looking at him, earnest and aching and Dean wants him to stop. He knocks his knuckles on the table as he stands, tosses a twenty for the meal. "Coming?" he asks because Sam's still sitting there and he's reminding Dean of the lukewarm insignificance of what he's just said in the face of Sam thinking he can kill himself and Dean wouldn't give a flying fuck. He pushes the door open, steps out of the diner, and gets in the car.

He picks a case, puts a bandaid over the fracture, turns the music up just loud enough that he can forget there's someone else in the car, drives a little too fast, and resolves on pretending everything is fine until it is or until there's no pretending.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

Day of Anger (1967) is still a tragedy after the credits stop bc there are LITERALLY no good options for Scott Mary. look. a movie with an ambiguous ending is a good thing, the movie ends there bc it's done telling its story at that point, and i think it's a good stopping point. however, im not going to shut up about it bc we so rarely get a spaghetti western that is an overt tragedy with a protagonist with a real character arc

i cannot imagine he'd stay in Clifton, even if the brothel madam Vivian Skill asks him to? he owes her so much. twenty years of being one of three people in Clifton who looked out for him, and she and the girls nursed him back to health after he got shot. it is fascinating that this is such a clean polished town, but it still has a brothel.

what does he do with Talby's saloon, the 45? burning it down would be such a lovely fuck-you to the town, unless he sells it to Vivian? i CANNOT imagine the judge (who survives) would let Scott get away with claiming the saloon without a real will, and i can't imagine Talby actually leaving Scott anything OR having a will.

so what the fuck is even an option for Scott? these are the options for Type of Guy in Clifton and they are all ill-fitting:

indigent, like Blind Bill and Murph

sheriff/deputy (both Nigel and Murph try to enact a specific and personally directed version of justice, and die. the deputies also try to kill him)

real piece of work gunslinger like Talby/Talby's men, or Wild Jack/Wild Jack's men, or Owen White the hired gun

regular townsperson (also pieces of work)

property owner/honorable professional like the judge and banker (submit him to twenty years of abuse, the rancher outside Clifton tries to kill him and Talby with a posse, the judge/banker coalition try to use him as a pawn and shuffle him off safely into a political marriage to the judge's daughter, and when that doesn't take they try to kill him)

storekeeper (the saloonkeeper and barber also submit him to twenty years of abuse, the general store clerk nearly kills him)

doctor (the most neutral townsperson, still has his hands tied within the power structure of Clifton, really isn't thrilled about treating him or Talby, i think there's a reading to be made that the doctor deliberately cut the muscle in his arm or at least told him he did)

we're ignoring the stagecoach/mail coach bc they're outside the power structure of the town, and the citizens of Bowie who he simply doesn't ever interact with.

interestingly, the only business owners who don't try to kill him are Vivian Skill the brothel madam and the unnamed tequila distiller in Bowie.

being a regular guy isn't even a possibility for Scott (at least not in Clifton). he made a name for himself as Talby's right hand, and even though he does throw the pistol away at the end, Talby formed him in his own image and kind of ruined him for any other job. killing Talby is going to haunt him forever, both by tales of his skill and speed in killing such a famous gunslinger and like, the CPTSD.

Scott is a victim of a nasty cycle of betrayal/greed and abuse/capitalism perpetuated by the town of Clifton AND Talby/Talby's rules of being a gunslinger, and these cycles and rules are their downfall as Scott shouts Talby's rules out while gunning down Talby's men. this is not a subtle movie.

even if you knock off the five richest guys in town, that doesn't break the cycle bc almost everyone in Clifton is still such a goddamn piece of work. and even though Scott throws away the gun at the end, i don't know if he can break that cycle for himself or the town either. nothing changes except for Scott, who now in theory has the backbone/freedom to go "fuck you", steal a horse, and leave for good.

does Scott go off and start a saloon/brothel/distillery somewhere that is not Clifton? what does this man become??? again, i think the fact that there are no good options for him is part of the tragedy-- losing his two father figures and his hometown in the span of like half an hour is brutal.

rotating this movie in my brain forever.

[jimothy-hopkins]

Meddling Kids VII

WARNING! This work/series contains mentions of slut shaming, EDs, gore, implied torture, implied SA, SH, violence, and many other things that can trigger some viewers. I will also mention that this work does NOT intend to glorify, romanticize, normalize, or promote ANY of these behaviors or ideas. That is not who I am and that is not what I stand for. Please do not take that message away when you read this.

This is a Manhunt/Bully crossover. So expect the usual non family friendly shenanigans.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Edward seethed through gritted teeth.

“Well, it’s not like we can be a couple of girl scouts, Edward.” Sighed Jimmy as he fixed his tie.

Dressing up as a Mormon wasn’t on Jimmy’s to-do list. But here he was, in a stupid ass button-down with some ugly dress slacks cut much too high, exposing his socks underneath. For god’s sake, Pete even made him polish the top of his head. Jimmy swore it was brighter than his future. He turned over to Gary, who held a bible in hand.

“Mormons don’t even read the bible, dumbass,” Jimmy told him.

“Well, I’m not going out buying a Book of Mormon on my dad’s credit card,” Gary shot back, abruptly shutting the heavy book.

Jimmy rolled his eyes, looking over to Pete, who was busy trimming up the sides of his hair to make it nice and neat.

“Remember when we got in trouble for opening that barber shop in the bathroom?” Jimmy reminisced.

“Yeah, I caught you red-handed. Giving Casey Harris a mullet.” Edward scoffed.

“Oh, yeah, that was fun,” Chuckling, Pete stepped back, “are you guys ready to go?”

The group collectively agreed to head out, but only through the back entrance while everyone was attending class to save the embarrassment. Jimmy learned that lesson the hard way when he’d worn a pair of booty shorts and got clowned by at least ten people walking out of gym class. Never again, he thought.

Their journey first started in small suburbia. Gary took the lead of knocking on the first door, a cheery smile plastered on his cheeks like a demented Ken doll.

“Oh, hello, how may I help you?” The homeowner asked as she peered out from her house.

“Hello, ma’am! I’m here to offer you a few suggestions. We’ve heard that the community in Bullworth is tainted with sin and violence, and we’d like to change that!” Gary greeted.

She nodded along, Gary continuing his act.

“Here, I’d like to introduce you to some of my friends,” he nodded, “this young man here used to be violent. He enjoyed disrespecting his parents and playing vile video games. But by the power of God and restoration of his faith, he is now a perfect, well-rounded citizen!” Gary gloated as he pushed Pete forwards

Pete waved, a sheepish grin on his face.

“And these two young men used to suffer from homosexual thoughts and tendencies. But now they are picture-perfect real men!” Gary expressed with open arms.

Jimmy clenched his jaw, his fists in a tight white-knuckle grasp.

“Oh, dear, that is very good. But I don’t have any children. I’m quite fine.” The woman laughed before she closed the door.

A sigh left Gary as he turned, walking off the porch.

As soon as Gary came within range, Jimmy reeled his hand back and landed it hard on the back of the taller’s neck.

“OW! Watch it, Hopkins!”

“Take your advice,” Jimmy grumbled.

They continued their journey through the vast neighborhood of Bullworth. The dress shoes began to cause Jimmy pain. His toes had become bruised from continuously trekking around in dress shoes. Everyone else seemed equally as miserable, Gary growing more agitated as they passed home after home. Pete did his best to observe the interiors of the houses as lowkey as possible. Edward did his best to hide back in shame of their current situation, while Jimmy himself just stood and nodded like a daisy in the wind.

Everything was boring until Gary had the balls to approach a home with a very large ‘NO SOLICITING’ sign.

“Fuck does soliciting mean?” Jimmy turned his head to the side.

“I don’t know. Let’s find out,” Gary smirked as he pounded on the door.

The man who opened the door didn’t even give Gary a chance to speak before he started to scream.

Pete was the first to book it, then came Ed, and after followed Jimmy and Gary. Their shoes pounded against the sidewalk, almost racing like ill-bodied thoroughbreds at the Kentucky Derby. Fire crawled into Jimmy’s lungs and throat, forcing him to slow down. Not long after, Edward completely halted into a fit of asthmatic breathing and coughs. The other two joined them to catch their breath as well.

“Son of a bitch...” Edward wheezed after administering his inhaler.

“Watch your fucking language. We’re Mormons now..” Gary huffed humorously.

“Shut up..” The prefect grumbled, lifting his head.

After a short recovery, they aimlessly wandered New Coventry, shivering from the cold weather. How did missionaries do this all day? Jimmy sort of had a newfound respect for those morons. This shit was unbearable, especially in the winter weather of Bullworth, New York.

Instead of a new neighborhood, something else caught the group’s attention.

“Fuck you, Davis!” A sharp female voice yelled.

“Oh really? So that’s what you’re gonna say to me now? You can’t even give me a good reason!” A male tone bellowed.

The quartet crept closer to where the screaming match was. Peering into an alleyway, Silena Mariani and Davis White were busy biting each other’s heads off for what was probably the fifth time that day.

“I can’t sit here and listen to you talk shit bout my friends Davis! Those guys are like my family!” Silena defended.

“Family? Are you kidding me, Silena? Those guys are nothing but trouble!” Davis argued with his arms thrown in the air.

“Oh, like you’re a saint! You’re just as bad as them! I see the way you treat those freshmen, you dipshit!”

“And do you do anything about it? No! No, you fucking don’t!” Davis screamed, getting in the girl’s face.

“Get outta my face!’ she’d scream, stepping forward to make Davis step back.

“Then get outta the clique Silena!”

“No! They’re good people! They’re good friends!”

“Good people don’t go to jail Silena!’ Davis screamed over her.

The girl fell silent before she lunged and snatched her boyfriend by the throat in a rage.

Jimmy and Edward quickly ran out from where they hid, prying the couple away from each other.

“Woah! Chill out! Chill out!’ Jimmy demanded, dragging Silena a few feet away from Davis and Edward.

“You take it back!” Silena screamed, hitting Jimmy as he restrained her.

“What is this even about?” Edward asked.

‘What’s this about? Oh, I’ll tell ya! Her deadbeat side piece Johnny got arrested!” Davis yelled.

“He is NOT-” Silena started.

“Wait, Johnny got arrested?” Jimmy asked.

“Yeah, last night.” Davis nodded.

“Do you know why?”

“Pft, I couldn’t care less. Why don’t you ask Peanut? I’m sure he knows all about it.” Davis droned, wrestling out of Edward’s grasp and walking off.

Well, at least they knew who to look for.

Jimmy let Silena go, walking over to the other two who had spectated the altercation.

“That was intense,” Pete stated, following Jimmy as he went on a mentally mapped route.

“You tell me, she throttled him like a ragdoll,” Gary laughed wickedly.

“How are abusive relationships funny to you?” Edward asked.

“How is doing coke and throwing up all you eat good for your health” Gary retorted.

Edward didn't say anything else after that.

After tons more walking, they were where they needed to be, the tenements. And, of course, lo and behind, Peanut Romano was outside bawling his little eyes out. As Jimmy approached, he noticed just how messy the greaser looked. His hair was stringy and dry, his shoes were scuffed, and his jacket carelessly sat on his shoulders. Jimmy had never seen any of the greasers in such a state. Well, besides Ricky when he was howling over his ex-girlfriend.

“Oh, what do you want, Jimmy?..” Wailed Peanut as he lifted his head to reveal a red, puffy face.

“Look, I’m not here to laugh at you. I just wanna know, did Johnny get arrested last night?” The ginger asked.

“Yes!” The greaser sobbed out.

“Woah, hey, it’s alright. Do you know what happened?”

“N-no, I don’t. All I knew was that Johnny and Norton were goin’ out to get us all some dinner for the night, and Lola got a call late last night from the county jail.” He explained through sniffles and pitiful cries.

“Alright, hey Edward?’ Jimmy turned his head.

“Yes?’ The prefect answered.

“Can you go talk to Lola for me?”

Edward nodded, stepping away to go down to the Vale. It wasn’t a secret that Lola and Pinky were seeing one another, for him at least. It was like a clear shower curtain almost. Edward could tell when two people had some serious chemistry. The perk of being in way too many relationships and flirtationships.

He shivered and sighed. A car or a jacket would be a lifesaver against this harsh and brutal weather. This whole missionary idea was humiliating and stupid. No wonder those boys were called the Trouble Trio. That’s all they seemed to get into lately. These little adventures wouldn’t have a good outcome in the future if anything could stain his permanent record.

With a polite knock at the Gauthier estate, Edward was allowed inside.

The tall male trailed up the stairs, politely stopping at a pink door.

“Pinky, Lola. I know you’re there. We need to talk.” Edward said.

Footsteps shuffled behind the door, and Pinky herself opened it. Lola was seated on the large, ornately decorated bed in the center of the room.

“It’s about Johnny,”

“Oh, you heard?” The redhead perked up.

“Yes. What happened?”

“Well, Johnny said he was going out to get some pizza with Norton. And when they were making their way back, a bunch of psychos jumped them. When the cops rolled by, the crackheads dipped. And they got arrested instead.” Lola explained while she painted her nails.

“Ok, thank you, That’s all I needed to know. Have a nice day.” Edward nodded, exiting the doorway and going down the hall to a landline.

He quickly dialed Jimmy’s number, and within two rings, he picked up.

“Pinky?”

“No, it’s me, Edward.”

“What are you doing over there?”

“I know things.”

“Ok? Well, did you get anything?”

“Yeah, they were getting food down by that pizza parlor. You may want to check that out,” Edward suggested.

“Noted, cya.”

“Bye.”

Edward hung up, sighing as he started to travel back on foot.

Nothing came of the pizza parlor search, which disappointed the group. Had they all run around looking like a bunch of Mormons in tit-freezing weather for nothing?

Well, sort of.

Pete had come up with the idea to ask Max, as he would know about arrests. The guy was obsessed with law and order. Although, this idea was once again much to Edward’s dismay. The former prep whined as they again walked to where they could find Max, where he stood guard near the gymnasium.

“Max!” Pete called.

The brunette snapped his head over and immediately marched in their direction. Ed bit his tongue as the other prefect came to a robotic halt.

“Yes sir?”

“We need your help. Do you know anything about how Johnny and Norton got arrested?”

“Negative, sir.” Max lied. Edward could tell.

It pissed him off.

“Quit lying, MacTavish.” Edward seethed.

“Excuse me?” Max turned.

“You’re lying right to his face. I can see it!”

“I’m not lying! I have no reason to lie!”

“Oh really? Cause every time something doesn't add up you always bite your lip.”

“What are you on? Drugs?! You know you can go around accusing anyone all day, but it’s never going to change the fact that you’re a manwhore.” Max sneered.

“Again, with the slut-shaming! You can barely talk, Max! When was the last time you had a girlfriend? Oh, right, never. Because you’re always someone’s little bitch waiting to take orders!” Edward snapped.

“Fuck off!”

“Gladly!”

The trio sat, blinking as both prefects stormed off.

Back to the drawing board.” Gary sighed.