#Cement Filling Station

[rmxsolution]

Air Classifiers are essential for precise material separation and particle size control in Vertical Cement Silos, Fly Ash Silos, and Cement Storage Silos. They enhance the efficiency of Silo Feeding Systems and Bulk Storage Silos by ensuring optimal material quality. Widely used in Mobile Bulk Filling Stations, Cement Filling Stations, and Dry Mix Batching Plants, these classifiers support efficient and accurate material processing.

[chaotic-birds]

1-800-red-hoods-gas-station-attendant-service

Your boyfriend's not fond of you pumping your own gas at night, so he insists you don't do it alone.

🩹 G/AUs: fluff, est. relt. 🩹 TW: reader (f) is called beautiful, pretty, princess, baby, doll (i love nicknames okay leave me alone 😭), mentions of blood and fighting 🩹 WC: 1.5k 🩹 A/N: Inspired by this reel (sfw). Just a little fun and easy read 💗 enjoy!

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty! (ageless/minors/blanks blogs will be blocked)

masterlist

Ever since Jason caught a group of people trying to rob someone at the gas station a week ago, he’s insisted you not get gas alone—especially at night.

Your arguments fall on deaf ears. He’s put his foot down and covered it in cement. There’s nothing you can say to make Jason change his mind.

“Hey, beau”—grunts—”tiful. Need somethin’?” Jason asks after the fourth ring.

You can faintly hear the sound of fists hitting skin in the background.

“You busy, handsome?” you wonder, eyes glancing at the low fuel light glaring at you. You already know his answer and the real answer before he speaks.

“Nope,” he answers followed by more grunting. “You home from your ladies' night?”

Upon seeing a gas station in the distance, you signal to take the highway's exit ramp.

“Not yet. I called because I’m low on gas and need to get some to make it home. I figured calling you while I pumped—”

“Where are you?” he asks instead, voice slightly strained.

“Near upper west side.”

“Come to the diamond district, and I’ll meet you there.”

You pull into an empty pump station.

“I’m already at a gas station, Jay. Just—”

“It’s not safe.”

“You’re tracking my location and you can hear—”

“It’s not safe to use your phone while getting gas too,” he continues to interrupt.

You heave a sigh and lean back into your seat, unable to stop your eyes from checking your locks. Although you’ve always been weary of pumping gas at night, you try not to be too paranoid. You hate being on edge all the time.

“Please, doll?” he pleads, breathing heavier.

There are curses in the background that don’t sound like Jason. His attackers must not like him much.

“Alright, but hurry. My light’s on,” you say. You sit straighter and shift gears to leave.

“I’m on my way now. Hey, Red Ro—”

The line cuts off, but you figure Jason’s recruiting Tim to take care of his loose ends. You feel bad for taking Jason away from his work, but you don’t want him to be upset with you for getting gas by yourself. He’s not fun when he’s grumpy.

Jason’s sitting comfortably on his motorcycle when you turn into the station.

When he sees your car, he stands and waves. You know there’s a grin behind his helmet.

The gas station is empty except for the convenience store worker. He looks at the vigilante suspiciously from inside.

You park at the station he’s at, turn off the car, and pull the lever that opens the gas tank. You climb out and smile at him, holding your card in one hand.

“Hi there, cutie. You come here often?” you tease.

He chuckles and swiftly pays for the gas before you can. You give him a disapproving look that he ignores.

“Only for you, princess,” he replies.

You put your card away as he takes the pump and untwists the tank’s cap.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, feeling guilty again. You figured he’d come and watch the area, not actually pump your gas for you.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “You can sit back down and jus’ look pretty for me, baby.”

“That makes me sound like a spoiled brat,” you huff but do as you’re told, keeping the door open so you can converse.

Jason leans against your car as he fills your tank.

“Well, you’re only half right. You are spoiled, but that’s the way I like it.”

You shake your head at his reply, but there’s a smile on your face. Truthfully, it’s a little nice to not have to worry about anything—to just let Jason care for you.

Your eyes scan his tall form, taking in his armored-covered body and shiny helmet. You notice a few dark spots on his gloves and clothes that you figure are blood.

“It’s a little funny seeing the Red Hood pump my gas,” you quip as you grin at him.

“What can I say? I’m here to help the citizens of Gotham in any way,” he jokes.

“You have a busy night?” you ask, recalling the phone call from earlier.

“Nothin’ too extreme,” he replies.

When your tank is full, he returns the pump and twists the cap back on.

He moves in front of you, resting one hand on the car’s top while he leans down.

“If it weren’t for that goober watching us like a hawk, I’d give you a kiss,” he says.

“Only a kiss? I’d pull you in the back seat and have some fun,” you say with a flirty smile.

He laughs and lowers his head more. You’re so tempted to kiss him.

“We’ll have fun at home,” he says.

“You’re coming back with me?” you ask, eyes opening wider with hope.

He shakes his head. “Sorry, princess. I still need to go help Tim. I’ll be back soon though.”

“Define soon,” you reply with a slight pout.

Jason drops in a squat so he can take your hands; the act is hidden by your door.

“An hour or two?” he says. “But don’t wait up. It could be longer.”

You nod solemnly.

Jason squeezes your hands, thumbs rubbing your skin tenderly.

“Text me when you get home, ‘kay?” he asks.

“Okay,” you say.

Jason releases your hands to rub your thighs.

“Thank you for calling me,” he adds.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want my boyfriend upset with me,” you huff halfheartedly.

Jason squeezes your legs.

“Just want ya safe, doll.”

“I know,” you sigh and place your hands over his.

“I better get going,” he says and reluctantly begins to pull away.

You grab his hands to hold him close.

“Ya know, you might as well just kiss me. I think the worker knows you’re not just here to pump a random Gothamite’s gas.”

Jason chuckles and takes a peek at the window. The worker still looks on, but now with a confused face. When he notices Jason staring, he averts his gaze. Though, Jason knows it won’t last long.

“Fine,” he relents and leans down.

You grin, reaching out to cup his helmet as you kiss the cool material. Of course, it’s not the same as feeling his lips on yours, but the sentiment is felt.

“Love you,” you murmur as you pull away and drop your hands.

Jason sighs longingly. “Love you too, beautiful. See you at home.”

“See you,” you reply.

Jason ends up following you for a while for extra precaution before heading back to his patrol shift. He doesn’t come home for another three hours.

When he does, you’re on the brink of sleep. Still, you turn in his arms so you can snuggle your face against his chest.

“Missed you,” you mumble.

His chest vibrates as he laughs. “You saw me a few hours ago.”

“And what ‘bout it, Todd?” you huff.

He pulls you even closer and rests his head against yours. His body feels so nice. You wish you could stay in his arms for days.

“Nothin’, doll. I missed ya too,” he says in a deep, tired voice.

“Hmph! Thought so,” you reply and carefully lift your head to give him a triumphant smile.

Jason releases an amused puff of air.

“Get some sleep, silly,” he says.

“Kiss first,” you demand, puckering your lips dramatically.

Jason grins and angles his face to give you a tender smooch.

Your lips spread in a grin upon feeling him directly.

When he goes to pull away, you whine in protest and chase after him. You capture his mouth again before he can get too far.

Jason laughs into the kiss, pulling you on top of him. His hands trail up your sides to cup your face. His warmth spreads from your cheeks to your heart.

There’s a dopey, sleepy smile on your face when you pull away.

“God, I love you,” Jason says with the utmost sincerity that squeezes your heart.

“Not as much as I love you,” you sing-song, leaning down to peck his lips.

“Yeah, right,” he chuckles and moves his hands back to your sides. He slides them under your shirt to feel you directly.

Instead of arguing, you lean down to kiss him once more.

“You’re comfy,” you mumble.

He can’t stop the happiness that shows on his face at your words. He gently eases you down by pressing lightly on your upper back and says, “Good. I like you like this.” 

He adjusts his head against his pillow and closes his eyes, arms holding your body to his like a teddy bear.

“I like being here,” you reply and lay your head on his chest. You love hearing the rhythm of his heart.

You feel him give your head a kiss before he gets settled. It’s not long before his breathing gets steadier, and his arms lax slightly around your body. As you join him in dreamland, you realize you’ll never feel safer than in his arms. 

A/N: I have this for my other blog, so I wanted to share it here too: For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[minhosimthings]

Lucifer|| Prolouge

Synopsis: After you found your husband cheating on you, you found a different kind of comfort in his devilishly handsome colleagues.

Pairings: detective 02z × fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive, minors please do not interact, catcalling, mention of alcohol, reader is cheated on by Heeseung, cheating (which I do not condone in real life)

A/N: Prologue for my 02z short series everyone! I abandoned everything else after Enha dropped Memorabilia just to write this BECAUSE I CAN. I will try to put out the oneshots as early as possible and I hope all of you will enjoy it! Au revoir!

Taglist: Open

Series Masterlist

Crystalline tears filled your eyes as you walked under the dark azure sky. Your feet ached, your heart thumped hard against its prison and your mind spun and yet you kept walking. Walking somewhere, you didn't even bother to understand.

Adjusting your skirt, and moving your scarf down to reveal your bloodied lips from having bitten them too much, you tried to recall what had happened today that made you so miserable. Was it the broken coffee machine, or was it the recent murders in the newspaper? Or was it a person? Perhaps it was the latter.

Heeseung.

You loved Lee Heeseung. With all of your soul and all of your heart you loved him all the way through the bright Mays and the chilly Decembers. You loved him in a way only the setting sun could love the ocean, the way its rays danced with the water so gracefully.

And yet you caught him in your own bedroom, strong sinews of muscles handling another girl's lusty bones, as she merged her body with someone you thought belonged to you.

His apologies went deaf to your ears, you spent an hour or so packing up all your things and driving out the house without a second thought. You didn't even realise how much time you spent screaming your head off at him, trying hard to stop your tears from escaping their barrier as you shoved each and every gift he ever gave you into his arms and asked him to burn them to the ground. And yet you didn't know how to cope without them either.

Your mother never taught you how to handle grief without alcohol and your father's blood always seeped through your mouth in words of fire and fury everytime something went wrong. It was no wonder you had found comfort in Heeseung, a man who could handle all of your pain and all of your anger.

You had trusted him with your life, marrying him happily to escape your childhood home and entrusting in him your most beloved secrets, your love and dedication and your virginity as well. You thought that had been enough, staying home whilst Heeseung worked his ass off at the police station to provide you with everything you could ask for and more.

And when he came home, you were his toy, a plaything for him to release his stress on and yet you didn't budge. Why should you? When you were recieving all the pleasure you could ever want and giving all the pleasure back to your husband. Nevertheless, you stared at your empty ring finger now, hands shivering in the cold as you scolded yourself on not wearing mittens. Heeseung used to scold you too.

Lee Heeseung. What would you have done to absolutely irradicate Lee Heeseung?

You had parked your car at the nearby park where you knew it'd be safe, and had gone for a walk. Thoughts rushed to your mind. You had known about Heeseung's affair for some time now, but you wanted to catch him in the act, to prove to the world, to yourself, that your melancholic delusion could be justified. Here you were now, dragging your feet across the cemented pavement, knowing there's only one other place you could go to. The darkness was a bad place for a woman to be, at 10 pm but you didn't give a single fuck about anything as your prosaic body tried to get itself up. You swore you could have heard voices behind you.

"Hey, hey you!" You heard a voice shout behind you, "What's a pretty lady doin' in a place like this?"

You gulped in fear as your feet sped up. Stupid stupid girl, you thought to yourself, should have stayed in the goddamned car!

"Hey you ignorin' me?" The voice shouted again, and you could hear the gruff footsteps which followed you, getting closer by the moment, "Stop fucking runnin' away from me!"

Your heart pumped blood faster as you picked up your skirt and ran, at the fastest speed you could. This wouldn't have happened if Heeseung was here!, you thought, and though a part of your brain tried to scold you about still thinking about him, at the moment all you were focused on was getting somewhere safe.

The man's drunken voice could still be hear by your ears, and his harsh footsteps told you he was running behind you, chasing you as if you were a wild mongrel to be caught and leashed.

Only one place. Only one place you could go now.

Turning swift on your feet, you ran down the wide lane filled with shops on one side and the empty road on the other, being careful not to crash into the glowing streetlights, as your destination came into your visage.

The police station. Where you knew, your last hope would be standing.

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|

"Got the Samson case solved yet?" Sunghoon yawned and stretched his limbs above his head, like a prosaic cat, "Man I could do with a drink right now."

"It's 10 pm." Jake checked his pocketwatch, running his hand through his hair as he always did, "What bar is going to be open at this time?"

"Hey, should we steal Jay's stash?" Sunghoon glanced, with mischievous eyes at Jake, who mirrored an equally mischief filled smile back.

"Don't even think about touching my bourbon." A dark haired man, with eyes as black as kohl, walked in, equally black gloves decorating his hands, "Unless you want to be stuck on traffic duty all week."

"Who pissed in your cereal today?" Sunghoon snickered, leaning back in his chair, a crack of his bone could be heard as he lazily stretched, "Let me guess, Heeseung?"

"Is it about his wife again?" Jake groaned, hair tangled in his hand again, "Jay, just leave it man, they'll sort it out."

"Sort it out?" Jay looked at the long haired man with a quizzical look, "What kind of a man cheats on a beautiful woman and brags about it?"

"Most of them." Sunghoon broke out into his drawer, hands reaching for a eloquent wooden pipe, which he lit and transferred to his mouth, sighing out the smoke as he relaxed into his chair, "You're too righteous to understand that, Jongsoeng."

Jay wrinkled his nose, as Sunghoon blew a puff of cigarette smoke into the air. Settling into his own chair, Jay's eyes flickered towards Heeseung's desk, where files lay messily scattered. A solitary photo frame brightened up the lonely atmosphere of the desk. Lee Y/N, Jay thought, his wife, not yours.

"Jay, come on, stop sulking over your little crush," Jake scoffed, his hands busy with a sleek, brownish-yellow bottle in his hand, "Just have a drink and get your mind off it."

"First of all, how did you get into my bourbon cabinet." Jay snatched the glass from Jake's hand, and toyed with it protectively, "Second of all, I can't just get my mind of it. I mean, come on," He extended his glass out to Jake who poured the elysian liquid into Jay's glass, "Who the fuck would have the gall to cheat on such a pretty woman who loves him to bits?"

"Look, you like her right? And don't say no, we all know it Jongsoeng." Sunghoon leaned forward in his chair, "So when she finds out about everything, just offer to take her home and, you know, let her sob into your arms and then take her into your bedroom and-"

"Since when did you start reading romance?" Jake chuckled, pressing a glass of bourbon to his lips.

"Since lover boy here started crushing on..what's her name? Y/N wasn't it?" Sunghoon laughed, taking another piquant drag of his pipe, "I get it, she is really pretty."

'Really pretty' was one way to describe you, Jay thought, smiling into his glass of bourbon. Every inch of you called out to him, beckoned him closer and closer to your poisonous radius. It wasn't that he didn't try to fight it, lusting after another's wife, but it was that he found that hidden sadness in your eyes heartbreaking everytime he looked into them.

"Want to head home, fellas?" Jake briskly sat up straight in his chair, "Or are either of you going to stop at a brothel?"

"Don't have time for that." Sunghoon chuckled darkly, putting out his pipe, "Plus I've got a-"

Bang!

The door of the quite airy police station burst open with a loud bang, and it seemed as if a hurricane in the guise of a panicked woman had swept in, alarming the three detectives. The sudden action caused them to act on their reflexes, pulling out their revolvers faster than their eyes could comprehend the sight in fron them. Jake's eyes seemed to work the quickest.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" Jake called out, signalling the other two to lower their weapons. He stepped forward and turned a switch on, which caused the entire room to light up in bright light, contrasting to the soft yellow light that earlier shone from the desk lamps.

Jay's senses had seemed to ding up after the initial shock of the entire thing, as he walked forward with careful steps towards you, as Jake and Sunghoon whispered to each other, making out why you were here. Your eyes took a moment to register the man in front of you.

Jay Park, you thought, a man who was perfection incarnated.

"Y/N," Jay spoke softly, careful not to frighten you, "What are you doing here? Are you alright?" He looked you up and down to check for any disfigurements.

"I-" you spoke, your throat tightening by the moment, "Heeseung—he" you couldn't speak any more as his name uttered out your mouth. Bursting into tears, you buried your face in your hands as you felt your cheeks burn up with embarrassment. You really weren't crying in front of your (ex) husband's colleagues, men who you barely knew, apart from the usual condolences.

You felt warm, strong muscles pull you into their hold. It felt like a cozy cocoon, scented with the fragrance of pine and paper.

"Calm down, doll," Jay whispered into your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck, "take a breath for me."

Jay coached you through breathing in and out, which restored some of your consciousness. You had nearly been on the verge of fainting, with how much you had ran.

"Can I—May I sit down for a moment?" You asked, weary of the other two men's eyes watching you, "Please."

"Of course." Jay said, supporting your figure with his sinews as he led you over to his cubicle. You could see the other two hastily clearing out messy piles of papers. The shorter one, you assumed was Jake, from his drooped posture and lion-like hair. The taller one then, had to be Sunghoon, with porcelain skin and an ice cold gaze.

"Did-did you walk all the way from your house?" Jake questioned, offering you a seat, which you gratefully collapsed into.

"No, just the park nearby." You shot him a small smile through your croaky voice, which he returned, "My car's still parked there though. I drove from" you stopped in your words uncertain to say his name, "-from Heeseung's house."

You felt the tension in the room as you said those words. Heeseung's house, you thought, it had been home once. You felt Jay shift his position in the chair next to you, and Sunghoon transfer his weight to one foot, whilst leaning on the desk.

"If you want us to go beat him up, we'll gladly do it." Sunghoon offered, making you chuckle and shake your head.

"No it's fine, I mean she wasn't that pretty anyway, he's bound to lose interest in her some day or the other." You smiled, to no one but yourself. Humour had never been your strong suit.

"Aww man I really wanted to beat him up." Sunghoon feigned defeat, "Asshole deserves it for how much paperwork he gave me."

"That's the only reason you want to beat him up?" You raised a brow at the light skinned man, who raised one back.

"And for betraying a pretty lady of course." He winked at you, making you internally roll your eyes.

"Would-would you like some bourbon?" Jake awkwardly offered you a glass. You could see the embarrassment in his eyes the moment he asked the question, "Or water if you want-"

"I'll take the bourbon." You grabbed the glass from Jake, who, with his shocked eyes poured you a glass, which you downed immediately without flinching in front of the three startled detectives, "Can I have another?"

"Can we have some too?" Sunghoon smirked at you, grabbing his own glass and beckoning Jake to pour him a shot. Jay, admitting defeat, had grabbed a glass too, filled with the bubbly alcohol.

"Well," Sunghoon raised his glass in a toast, "to Heeseung hopefully getting bored of the other woman."

"Peculiar toast, Detective Park." You laughed, "I like it."

The moments that followed still felt like a fever dream to you. You had sat in a building, alone with three handsome men, talking down right shit about your husband, whilst drinking more bourbon than you ever had and although you had already defeated Jake in drinking (almost) half a pint, you still wanted more. This definetly was not on your itinerary for the evening, but did you care at this point? Absolutely not.

"Ugh fuck." You swore under your breath. You probably shouldn't have drank that much, but in all honestly, it would have helped to relieve some of the painful memories of the night.

"Woah steady there." Jay looked at you cautiously as you stirred in your chair. Jake was on the verge of passing out, having even taking his glasses off, while Sunghoon and Jay, who hadn't drank as much, looked as calm as the winds.

"You know what?" You started, not knowing the words coming out of your drunken mouth anymore, "Fuck Lee Heeseung, fuck that man." A sudden maniacal giggle from your mouth seemed to have amused Sunghoon.

"Fuck in what terms, Mrs Lee?" He asked, trying to hide his cunning smirk, whilst ignoring Jay's warning glares.

"Mrs Lee?" You questioned, feeling your senses come back, though you were still tipsy, "Who's Mrs Lee? Not me, no sir-ee." You laughed, "If I had the chance to chop off that asshole's dick right now, I would."

"But you wouldn't allow us to beat him up? Strange." Sunghoon whistled out in his usual cocky tone.

"It's getting late." Jay checked the grand clock in the corner of the room, his eyes wavered over the dried tears on your face, it was alarming to him how much a mere glass of bourbon had managed to get you giggling like a cuckoo, "Y/N I can drop you-"

"I'd rather fuck all of you in one night rather than see that idiot's face again." You chuckled again, this time, saying the sentence with full seriousness. Did you really mean it?, perhaps not, as you would have thought later on. But were you up for having sex with three extremely attractive men who happened to be the best friends of your ex-husband? That, was a definite yes.

"Oh really?" Sunghoon placed his forearms on the desk in front of him, leaning in closer to your face. Jay's hand clutched harder against the edge of the desk. "And what if I say yes to that proposal?"

"What are you implying, Detective Park?" You looked into his dark, devilish eyes, "That you'd have sex with someone pathetic enough to get cheated on?"

"Don't say that, you're not pathetic." Jay's eyes softened as he looked at you, but you merely scoffed, turning your face instead to look at Sunghoon, who was evidently smirking. You caught Jake's widened eyes from the corner of your eye, listening intently.

"How about this-" Sunghoon started, folding his arms, "You get a night of good sex, I get a night of good sex, you and I both get to rub that in Heeseung's face, and then we have breakfast in France."

"Are you married Detective Park?" You quizzed him with an amused face, his offer seemed at the very least, interesting to you.

"Not yet, no. I'm still young aren't I?", Sunghoon's mouth stretched like a cat's into a lazy smile, "Why do you ask? Are you....perhaps intrigued by my offer?"

There was something ironic about that sentence "I'm still young" that struck a chord within you, you were the same age as him and yet you were sitting there talking about your husband.

"Intrigued is one way to put it." You smiled back, hoping you looked anything like a vixen, matching the bastardous fox like energy of Sunghoon's, "But don't you think it's greedy of you, Detective Park? To want me all to yourself?"

"And what do you mean by that, Miss Y/N?" Jake smiled in his boyish manner, "Is Sunghoon here not enough for you?"

"I'm just saying." You held up your hands in mock defence, "wouldn't you both like to get a taste too?"

You glanced at Jay in the corner, who you had expected to be shaking his head in disapproval. But to your utter surprise, he had one of his gloves hands stroking his chin as if in deep thought. His eyes were dark even in the fluorescent light of the room, deep pools of cataclysmic waters floating around in his pupils. He looked vaguely interested.

"So just to recap," Jake started, clearing his throat, such that his Adam's apple was clearly visible, "You want us to bed you, so as to make your ex husband, our colleague and friend, someone's whose wife we definetly should not be sleeping with, jealous?"

"That's the blueprint." You said in a sweet honeyed voice, "How exactly you make him know that I'm not his anymore, you figure that out. If I even so as look at that man's face again, I will jump off a cliff."

"But the question is-" you put on a proud smile, eyes darting from one man to the next, "Who's going first?"

"Shouldn't you decide that sweetheart?" Jay's deep voice came like a rumble through the ground during an earthquake, slightly startling you. He hadn't said anything in the past few minutes, his sudden break of silence alarmed you.

"Alright then." You chuckled, not daring to meet Jay's eyes, you knew you'd melt as soon as you saw them, "How about the person who suggested this?" You turned your face towards a smirking Sunghoon, with his head held high like a peacock's, "Detective Park?"

"Shall I go with the lady's word boys?" Sunghoon asked Jake, who nodded his head, taking his glasses off the desk and outting them on again. The effect it had in him was quite handsome, according to you.

"Should we make a pact then?" Jake asked cheekily, glancing around for a piece of paper, finally picking one up from underneath the mountain of files lying on the wisened wood. Putting it down on the paper, he scribbled something down quickly, showing it off proudly to the others. You let out a laugh when you saw what he wrote.

"'The make Heeseung jealous organisation'?" You laughed, "I can't tell if you're serious or not."

"I'm dead serious." Jake looked at you with glossy eyes, he always was a funny one, you recalled, "Come on everyone, I need signatures."

He's serious about this, you thought, amused at Jake's comedic demeanor. You swiftly pressed the black ink to the paper, leaving off a flashy signature to decorate it. Jay signed off last, with an impeccable font.

Words couldn't have described that very evening. No sentence that could come out of your mouth could have ever even begun to explain to a complete stranger about how you had ended up in Sunghoon's car, driving to his house in silence. Shrugging off the moral doubts in the corner of your brain, you stared out the window into a dewy night.

Relax, you thought to yourself, there wasn't anything wrong with what you were doing.

Was there?

Taglist: Open! Send an ask or comment to be added.

[venus-haze]

Damned If You Do (Bo Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: You're almost certain Bo's getting tired of you. You're not so sure how much longer you can prevent the inevitable, but a slip of the tongue in a moment of desperation proves to be your salvation.

Note: Female reader but no other descriptors are used. I missed writing for Bo! I might be kinda rusty, but I hope y’all like it🖤 Please read the warnings before reading. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Canon typical violence. Prolonged captivity and isolation. Stockholm syndrome (some basement wife elements). Mentions of past torture. Extremely dubious consent. Sexually explicit content involving vaginal fingering, sadism, degradation, choking, knife play.

You were sure Ambrose was gonna kill you if he didn’t first. The damp, dead air permeated the basement walls, filtered in thick through the vent in the ceiling and filled your lungs with each breath. It would choke you once summer settled in, foul and unforgiving. Almost as unforgiving as him, whose presence inspired fear and loathing in you. Lately, however, the lack of it brought a foreboding sense of dread over you as your isolated mind raced to its logical conclusion.

Bo was getting tired of you.

One cursory glance at the state of your body made you panic—bruises fading, cuts and cigarette burns scarring over without fresh marks to replace them. For the first week or so you were there, every part of your body pulsed with pain. He found your limits with the efficacy of a bloodhound and brutally forced you past each one. 

All you felt then was dull aching, kinda hungry, too. Didn’t bode well for your long-term survival.

You shifted on the old, lumpy mattress on the floor, stained with blood, sweat, and cum that reeked with the breakdown of others’ bodily fluids. Probably the girls in the Polaroids all over the walls. He’d taken a few of you since you’d been down there. Hadn’t done that recently, either. Mostly came down there to feed you, take you upstairs to use the gas station bathroom, bring you back downstairs to throw you around a little and fuck you, and then leave. Shit. You were becoming a chore.

Bo had plenty of chores around Ambrose already. Would grumble about them to you, the closest he ever got to pillowtalk. The movie theater, the church, even the houses were his responsibility. You weren’t quite sure why, less able to clearly picture the town you’d driven into the longer you spent as Bo’s captive. There weren’t any immediate red flags that popped out at you. After all, you’d driven straight to the gas station on your blown out tire. Didn’t take the time to do any sight-seeing. He made sure of that. From what you’d gathered from Bo, the only living souls in town were he and Vincent, with the recent and temporary addition of yourself.

The floor creaked above you, and you pulled your knees to your chest, anticipating his arrival downstairs. It was almost impossible to tell what mood he’d be in whenever he’d pay you a visit. Tried listening for the sound of his footsteps, the way his boots pounded against the linoleum above to the cement stairs to where you waited for him, as if you could do much else. There was the TV, but the glimpse into the outside world left you feeling especially helpless when your own face flashed across the screen on the 6 o’clock news not long after you became captive in Ambrose. Then after a week or so, all mention of you stopped. Seven days for you to be rotated out of the news cycle. They’d gotten tired of you long before Bo did.

You screwed your eyes shut, as he ambled down the stairs, racking your brain for what to do. Opened them just as quickly to give him your undivided attention, just how he liked. Panicked and hopeless, you blurted out upon seeing his face, “You’re gonna kill me soon, aren’t you?”

He set the bottle of soda he’d undoubtedly brought down for you and smiled. Charming, disarming, like the one he first gave you when you naively drove into town on the roadkill guy’s advice—Lester. His name was Lester. Could he have known? Was he in on the whole thing? You hadn’t seen anyone but Bo for weeks, and he only made mention of Vincent, his brother, who you were certain had no interest in rescuing you from your plight.

“What makes you think that?” he asked.

‘Tire blew out,’ you had told Bo, feeling silly and self-conscious when he laughed. ‘I can see that.’ Threw a wink your way and assured you he’d have you back on the road before it got dark. You trusted him because he was handsome and laid on the compliments thick. Made you think maybe driving over that broken bottle in the road wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Within an hour he had you in that fucking basement.

“You—you’re bored of me,” you said. “You don’t come down here as often as you used to.”

“Aw, you miss me? Is that it?” he mocked.

Maybe. Maybe it was the security of knowing you were wanted, that the longer you kept his interest, the longer you’d be alive. Maybe even earn his trust enough to get a chance to escape back into the world that’d forgotten about you. But Bo wouldn’t forget. He’d keep you immortalized on those cinder block walls with all the others. Disgustingly sentimental. Part of you preferred being part of his shrine to his own depravity than a black and white photo people carelessly flipped past in the local paper.

“How are you gonna do it? Tell me,” you begged.

He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes at you as a grin spread across his face. “Well, I like to get that shit over with quick, but you might be worth slowing things down for.”

“Like—like how?”

As soon as he made his way toward you, regret filled your gut. You crawled backward on your hands, trying to put some distance between you until your back hit the wall. His hands were around your neck, his hungry eyes drinking in your distress.

“If you were most girls, I would just keep squeezing until you stop breathing,” he said, squeezing harder. “Pretty clean.” Black spots filled your vision as you fruitlessly tried clawing at his hands. “Makes it easier for Vincent to get to work on you that way.” He released your throat, and you fought through the coughing fit that burned in your chest as you gasped for air. Tears streamed down your face, and you wanted to smack the smug expression off of his.

“But that ain’t always fun,” he said.

Bo stood up and kicked your legs apart with his boots. Grabbed something from the nearby tool cart. The fucking knife. You swore he kept the blade dull on purpose just so it’d hurt more, leave nastier scars behind in its wake whenever he dug it into your skin, dragging it through your flesh with horrifying precision that only came from experience, because you never needed stitches.

“For you, I think I’d be a little more personal.”

He straddled you, sitting on your legs so you couldn’t possibly move them in an attempt to escape or defend yourself. You could feel his hard-on straining against his jeans, pressing into your bare pussy as he leaned over you, knife shining menacingly in the buzzing fluorescent light overhead. He made rags of your clothes not long after you became his and never offered any replacement.

The blade pressed against the middle of your chest, right between your breasts, making you shudder. He licked his lips. “I could shove this knife on in there, open you up all the way down to your cunt.” His fingers brushed your clit. “���Beauty’s only skin deep’, that’s what my mama used to say. But sluts like you all look the same on the inside. Crack open your ribcage, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you from all the rest.”

You whimpered as he dragged the blade down your abdomen with a deceptive gentleness, his fingers still working your clit, making it hard for you not to jerk your hips, risking a slip of the knife directly into your belly. 

When he lifted the knife, you couldn’t even let yourself feel relief as your eyes followed it to one of your wrists. 

“Could take it nice and slow. Let you bleed out,” he pressed it against your skin, dangerously close to a vein. “It’d take hours for you to die, then. Messy as hell, too, but we could get up to some fun, you and me. A good fuck for ol’ times’ sake, then I can sit back with some popcorn while I watch the lights go out in those pretty eyes of yours.”

You let out a shaky breath, fear and arousal mixing with your lingering lack of oxygen so you could only half-grasp what exactly he was saying, just that he had a knife to your wrist, and he was enough of a homicidal monster to kill you that way. He slid his fingers inside you, and you could feel your orgasm creeping up on you, your head heavy and fuzzy as he kept going. 

“But if we’re talking easy and personal, then I’d just—” He brought the blade up to your throat until you could feel your rapid pulse beating against it. 

Bo curled his fingers, pleasure tearing through you as you jolted in place, feeling the cool metal superficially pierce your skin. 

Your voice came out as a strangled sob. “Please, Bo. Please don’t—” 

He kissed you, an undertone of fondness in the gesture that filled you with relief and terror. “You won’t have to worry about any of that for a long while,” he said, his voice low, reverberating through your aching bones. “I’m not finished with you yet. Not even close.”

[vienssunshine]

Don’t know how to feel

pairing: Choso x fem-coded!reader nsfw: sub!Choso, oral sex choso receiving word count: 3k description: while attempting to escape the chaos in Shibuya station, you run into a man dressed in a strange Halloween costume

Your friends said Shibuya was the place to be for Halloween, that they would just die if you didn’t join them for the party tonight. You surrendered to their begging, it’s not like you had other plans, and put on a more-slutty-than-tasteful vampire costume to accompany them for the festivities in the square. It should be a good time, you thought, the perfect opportunity to get buzzed and maybe laid. But as the screams got louder and you realized that no, someone hadn’t slipped something into your drink and that yes, the stampede coming towards you was real, your only concern became staying alive.

You’re torn away from your friends, elbows jabbing your sides, hands pushing you to keep moving or be trampled under frenzied feet. When you look to the sky, fighting to stay upright, you see that some kind of boundary has fallen over the surrounding area, keeping you all trapped. Despite this, the crowd still searches for escape, lurching in directionless surges and crushing you with pounds of body weight every time the current turns. So when you get to the edge of the mob, you take the chance to break free and run to the first shelter you can see: Shibuya station. You hurry inside, trying to not let the blood coating the stairs leading underground deter you. If you can’t escape whatever’s going on, you’ll have to hide until it blows over.

The bottom of the stairs is covered in rubble, the gaping hole in the ceiling above it the clear perpetrator. You clamber over the loose rock and steel to land on the tile of the train station. Behind you, strange noises from the world above begin to bellow through the staircase. You don't know what could be causing such unnatural sounds, but it's clear it would be best to put distance between you and their origin.

Your feet hit the ground hard, and you’re panting as you whip your head around, looking for anything to use as cover. You spot a small divot in the wall—maybe there’s a tunnel out of here—but when you approach it, you find it filled with the crouched form of a man. He’s in a Halloween costume too—though you’re not sure what he’s dressed up as—and leaning on the cracked wall, eyes wide in a thousand yard stare. It’s clear he’s not taking the situation at hand well, but if he wants to have any chance of surviving, he can’t stay out in the open like this.

A loud roar and a flurry of screams from the ground above echos through the station.

“Hey,” you whisper-shout, “Come with me.”

Unaffected, he mumbles something.

You try again, the urgency in your voice unhidden, but are interrupted by footsteps rumbling down the steps of the train station—though it doesn't sound like a crowd of humans, rather a parade of zoo animals. You’ve got to go, now. Still, you reach down and grab his forearm, offering the poor man one more chance to come with you and save himself. He must've had a moment of clarity because because he allows you to get him to his feet and drag him behind you.

The stampede is reaching the bottom of the stairs when you turn the corner and pull the man through the first door you see, slamming it behind you. An emergency light overhead casts a dim, yellow haze over what you recognize as a closet, allowing you to spy a tall shelf of cleaning supplies—a janitor's closet.

“Help me move this in front of the door,” you command.

You get behind the shelf and begin pushing, digging your feet into the cement ground and pressing your weight against it. Fuck, it’s too heavy. The weird sounds are getting closer. You push even harder.

The shelf flies forward, causing you to stumble and steady yourself with the wall to your side. Though you wish it had been, it wasn't your strength that moved it.

You turn around to see that the man is right behind you, having joined in the effort to barricade the door, and from his extended arm, had only used one hand to do so.

He drops his arm down by his side and looks down at you. For the first time since you’ve met, he makes eye contact. There’s a horizontal line drawn across his face, just under his eyes, with what you assume is make-up, but you’re only able to study it up close for a second before his expression crumples. He backs up, pressing his back flat against the furthest wall—which doesn’t get him very far in such a cramped closet—while his eyes frantically dart over your tattered costume. Then he looks down, staring at the dirty floor beneath his feet. It doesn’t appear that his mental state has improved since you found him.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask softly, speaking as if you were trying to not spook a stray animal. His hands are gripping the sides of his pants. He must’ve seen something terrible in the commotion above ground.

You try something else. “What’s your name?” you whisper. Hopefully this question is easier to answer and you can work on calming the poor man down.

He doesn’t meet your gaze as he mutters once again.

“What was that?” you say, taking a minuscule step forward.

Thankfully, the movement doesn't startle him, but he stays curled into himself when he answers. “Choso Kamo,” he says.

You introduce yourself, and though he gives you a few quick looks, he can’t keep his eyes on you as you speak. He must be really freaked out. “I know this is a traumatic situation, Choso,” you say, “I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to make you feel better.”

Choso shifts his weight, keeping his eyes trained on the ground. “You’re making me feel weird,” he replies.

You furrow your brow. Out of the two of you, you’re definitely the one acting the most normal. “I’m sorry,” you say, folding your arms over your black corset—it's a miracle it stayed up after all that running. “We’ll only have to be here until everything dies down. Then you won’t have to see me again.”

“It’s not like that,” he says, fidgeting with the sleeve of his costume. He glances at you. His pale face is flushed pink. “The feeling feels…good.”

Now you’re puzzled. “…okay?”

“Can I…can I try something?” he asks.

Well, at least he’s talking now. And he seems to have calmed down, making him less likely to do something stupid and get both of you killed. It's a good idea to keep him this way, make sure he stays relaxed and reassured.

So you agree. “Um…sure,” you respond.

The yellow light flickers.

Choso takes a step forward, a step that crosses the entirety of the small closet, and lays a big hand on your shoulder. You lost the cape of your ‘sexy vampire costume’ in the commotion, so your shoulder is bare; it can directly feel the roughness and warmth of his hands.

“It feels good to…touch you,” he breathes. He turns his attention from your shoulder to your eyes, “and look at you, too.”

You shudder; his gaze is heavy. This…isn’t what you expected.

“I thought I was scaring you,” you say, looking down. There's a few bottles of cleaning supplies scattered on the floor.

“A little bit,” he says, working it out as he speaks, “I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s so intense.”

That’s when you notice how strong his grip on your shoulder is, not tight enough to bruise, but enough to communicate a possessiveness. A desire for more. You flick your eyes back up to him, evaluating. He is good-looking, and the expression he has on his face as he waits for your response—cheeks flushed and mouth slightly ajar in gentle pants—is stirring up something warm in your stomach.

You place your hand on his chest. Oh, how his heart is pounding. “You really don’t know what’s going on?” you ask.

He looks down at your hand, then back to you. “I-I don’t, just that…your hand feels so warm and nice.”

You smile a little, tilting your head. “It seems that you’re attracted to me.”

“I didn’t know that was possible–for me to be attracted to someone,” Choso responds. You laugh to yourself, is this guy an alien or something? Maybe that’s what his costume is. Alien or not, he’s still cute.

“Congrats on the revelation,” you say, dropping your hand.

Choso takes a moment to ponder, and you watch with amusement. This interaction doesn’t seem real. Well, this whole situation doesn’t seem real. You hope everything will blow over soon. You’re trying not to catastrophize, to think worse case scenario. And this—

“Are you…attracted to me?” Choso asks.

—is a good distraction.

“You’re handsome,” you say. “I don’t know you that well yet, but I think we are getting off to a good start.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, breathless. He’s trying not to, but his gaze is roaming what he can make out of your body in the dim light. There’s probably a lot to see due to how much your vampire costume already reveals and that parts of it were lost in the scramble for safety.

“Do you want me to keep touching you?” you ask, coy. His breath hitches at the idea.

“If…if it feels good for you too,” Choso responds.

“It does,” you say, taking the final step to have your chest pressing against his. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hovering your lips just a millimeter away from a kiss. “It feels really good to me.”

He leans forward, not able to bear another second without, but just before he can get that release, you lean back.

He voices his frustration wordlessly and you giggle. “So desperate, aren’t you?”

“You’re teasing me,” he says, a whine in his voice.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you say, bringing your lips to the side of his neck. Choso gasps, a sweet sound, and when you open your mouth, licking a stripe on his skin, his fingers squeeze your waist.

“Fuck,” he says, breath shaky. Enjoying his reactions, you begin to suck on his skin, earning another swear and no doubt leaving a mark. You push yourself into him, and his back hits the wall, his chin raised, exposing more of his neck to be kissed.

With your body flat against his, it’s easy to feel the hardness beneath his waist. He's so eager; you only kissed him a few times. You slide your hand past his collarbone, down his chest, slender but strong, down to just above his aching erection.

Choso is caught off guard. “What are you”—you palm it—“ngh…shit, that feels so…”

“You like it?” you ask, proud because you already know the answer. His eyes are pressed shut as he nods.

“Use your words,” you say, squeezing his erection—he winces—“and I’ll make you feel even better.”

You continue to rub your hand over the erection pushing through his robe in slow, circular strokes as he forces himself to speak. “Yes, I—ah—like it—a lot.”

“So good,” you tell him. The simple praise makes his dick twitch against your palm.

Your eyes flick down to his white pants, billowing in fabric. You tug at it, but it doesn’t move.

“It’s–uh–all one thing.” He blushes, the color prominent on his pale cheeks. “Do you want me to take it off?”

You nod, and he clumsily pulls off his purple and white robe. You still haven’t been able to place what he’s dressed up as, but you don’t offer that thought another second when Choso stands in front of you, naked and impatiently waiting for whatever it is you'll do to him next.

You don’t deprive him long, stepping forward and running your fingers over his bare chest. Yes, you were able to feel how strong he was when you had your body pressed against his, but being able to see the defined ridges of his torso makes his strength unquestionable. He shivers under your fingers, needing more, needing you to touch him lower than you are.

“Can you…?” He’s squirming against the wall, looking down at you with needy eyes. “Sorry, it just feels so,” he exhales, the breath uneven, “so good.”

“Yeah?” you say, wrapping your hand around his length. It’s hot and throbbing. “You want me to touch you here?”

“Yes,” he whimpers, “There. Please.”

You begin to move your hand up and down his erection in a loose fist, spreading the precum dripping from his tip down his length, and adding some of your spit to coat it completely. Choso’s head falls back against the wall and he meets your hand with shallow thrusts of his hips.

“You’re so sensitive,” you notice. He’s reacting so sweetly to your every movement, every soft swipe of your thumb over his tip, every kiss you press to his neck as you stroke him. “I like it.”

You like it enough to get on your knees on the cold, hard closet floor, and position his length in front of your mouth, just so you can get even more of a reaction from him.

“What?” Choso gasps, “What are you doing?”

“Making you feel good,” you coo, pumping him a few more times—which quickly stops the questions and starts the moans—and then take him into your mouth.

He spasms, hand tangling in your hair, unsure of whether he should pull you away or push you further down on him.

“You’re so warm…and wet,” Choso gets out.

You hum your response, something that only makes him tighten the strong fingers knotted into your hair, and keep going, working your mouth around his dick. You wrap your hands around the backs of his thighs, bracing yourself as you take him in deeper with every bob of your head. He fills your throat significantly, so you take a few breaks, kissing and sucking on his tip as you catch your breath.

Choso doesn’t seem to mind that it’s hard to take his full length, he’s too busy writhing from the sensation of your mouth on him. He's new to all this, not able to process or understand what you're doing and why it feels so fucking good. But explanations don't matter, not when the pretty girl in the outfit that made him hot just from looking at it is on her knees for him, dedicated to blessing him with a pleasure that doesn't belong to this universe.

“Fuck, please–ah–keep going, feels so good.”

Choso's moans are filling the closet and he’s holding onto you for dear life. His thighs are shaking enough to make you worry his legs will give out. “Feel like I’m gonna die,” he murmurs, lost in pleasure.

You’d smile in victory if you weren’t so focused on getting him there, and with the way he’s tensing up, he’s close. It’s funny, how he’s gonna cum already; he must’ve been worked up from the beginning.

You dig your fingers into the thick muscle of his thighs, holding on as he takes over, placing his hands on the side of your head to keep you still, and sloppily slipping his length in and out of your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, and it’s obvious that you’re taking him well because he’s choking on his own moans, incoherent as he slurs his words.

“I can’t–fuck–oh–please–please–”

A final thrust into your mouth and his hot cum is pouring down your throat. It’s salty, but you’re able to swallow it, coughing a little as he pulls himself out of you. Then his strong arms come down under your armpits and lift you to your feet as if you weighed nothing. He pulls you into his body, gasping and shuddering as he recovers from the orgasm. Poor thing.

You press gentle kisses on his collarbone, soothing him. “You’re okay, Choso. You did so good.”

“Really?” Choso responds, his face nuzzled in your shoulder. He presses a small kiss there.

“Mhmm,” you affirm, smoothing his tied-up hair.

A rumble shakes the ground beneath you.

You swear, taking a step back to see the makeshift barricade you set up come crashing to the ground. Someone enters the closet.

You hold Choso’s arm tight. Surely you're dead now. Who the fuck is this dude? He’s in a weird costume too, possibly a movie villain because he has stitches all along his skin, even all over his face.

“Ah, Choso! There you are!” The patch-faced man is indifferent to Choso’s lack of clothing. He regards you, his grin unsettling. “And you have a friend.”

Choso’s face darkens, “She’s mine.”

“So territorial!” The intruder leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t gonna do anything…not to a friend of yours.” His words are lined with a playful deceit. “I’ll find someone else to have fun with.”

He turns on his heel, but before he leaves he says, “One more thing! Does this mean you’re out of our little game? Occupied with”—his slimy gaze oozes over you—“something else?”

“You’re not to lay a hand on Yuji Itadori,” Choso states, narrowing his eyes.

“No way! Guess you'll have to stop me then!” the man jeers, grinning like a bratty child as he disappears from the doorframe.

Choso turns to you. “I need to go help my brother…but not before I get you somewhere safe,” he says. Choso dresses quickly as you watch in a dumbfounded silence. What the fuck is going on?

He wraps a heavy arm around you and leads you out of the closet into the destroyed Shibuya station.

“Trust me, I’ll take care of you.”

Unable to make sense of anything that’s going on, you have no choice but to believe him.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Wrong Start

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (with a twin)

Summary: You're arrested for a crime you didn't commit. After you point Officers Bradford and Chen in the right direction, Tim decides you got off on the wrong start and wants to make it up to you.

Warnings: fluff, brief angst, discussion of mass murder, estranged family

Word Count: 1.1k+ words

A knock on your door at midnight wakes you long before you hoped to, making you reach for your phone. Los Angeles is dangerous enough with a mass murderer still on the loose. Your neighbor has watched the story closely, and though you’re not overly interested in the reporters’ version of the crime, you know it pays to be vigilant. When you see two police officers standing at your front door, you grip the phone tighter and pull the door open.

“Good evening, officers,” you greet.

The male officer says your name, and you nod. You spare a glance at the woman beside him, and she grimaces nearly imperceptibly. It’s fast, but something in her eyes tells you this night will worsen.

“That’s me,” you tell him. “Is something wrong?”

“You’re under arrest,” he states. “Please step forward and turn to face the door. Slowly.”

Your brows furrow even as you step forward and begin to turn. “For what?”

“Murder,” the woman supplies. “Fourteen counts of felony murder, assault with a deadly weapon, and domestic terrorism.”

“Whoa, what?!” you exclaim, pulling away from the half-secured handcuffs.

“Don’t,” the man warns lowly, gripping your wrist and pulling you toward him. “Trust me, you don’t want to make this any worse than it already is.”

“But I didn’t kill anybody!” you argue. “You have the wrong person!”

“That’s not up to us to decide. You’ll get your day in court, but the warrant says you are the person we need to arrest, so stop resisting.”

You fall silent as the man reads you your Miranda rights, and for a brief moment, you’re struck with an unwelcome sense of attraction. The officer is undoubtedly handsome, but this is not the time to develop a crush. You haven’t killed anyone, and there is absolutely no reason they should be looking for anyone even remotely like you!

At that thought, you stop on the sidewalk less than three feet from the police car. The handsome officer nudges you forward, but you feel like your shoes have been filled with cement.

“You are under arrest; do you understand that?” he asks.

“Why me?” you question.

“What do you mean?” the other officer – whose name tag you now see says Chen – inquires.

“Did you find fingerprints at the scene?” Neither of them answers, so you say, “DNA then.”

“It’s on the warrant, might as well tell her,” Officer Handsome but Grumpy rumbles.

“Yes, we found DNA at the scene of the murder,” she explains. “Yours.”

You exhale slowly. “I… I have a twin. Estranged, but we have the same DNA. How did you even connect it to me?”

“Short answer, trash is public property once it’s on the curb,” Officer Bradford explains.

“Okay, okay,” you mumble. Speaking up, you say, “I’ll go with you. But please look for my twin, I-I know I didn’t do it, so if you found my DNA…”

“Blaming a twin,” Bradford muses. “That’s a new one.”

“Tim,” Officer Chen whispers, cutting her eyes toward yours.

He hesitates, watching your eyes as you fight tears and stare at a crack in the sidewalk. Then he places you in the back of his cruiser and drives you to booking.

“She claims she has an estranged twin who had to have done it,” Tim tells Angela. “I don’t buy it.”

“That kind of devastation is hard to fake,” Lucy argues. “She seemed genuinely distressed that her sibling could have done this.”

“Or she was distressed that you didn’t seem to believe her,” Nyla offers. “I’ll look into her family, see what I can find. If she actually has a twin…”

“Let us know,” Lucy requests.

“Timothy Bradford,” Angela greets as he and Lucy return to the station. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Pass,” Tim says.

“You can’t pass.”

“Pass.”

“Uh, Tim?” Lucy interrupts. “Who is that?”

“Looks like your murder suspect,” he tells Angela. “What changed?”

Lucy flinches as the handcuffed woman jerks back before attempting to kick a passing officer as she less-than-politely asks for his handcuff key.

“That,” Angela begins slowly, “is the twin.”

“I told you.”

Tim turns quickly, and his shoulders drop when he sees you standing behind him. You send him a small smile and wave with the folder in your hand.

“You did,” he concedes. “Sorry.”

You smile as Angela pulls Lucy away from Tim. “No hard feelings, you were just doing your job.”

Your twin begins yelling your name, and you pull your lower lip between your teeth as you look down. Tim lays his hand on your arm and directs you away from the bullpen. Out of your twin's sight, you laugh wetly and thank him.

“I guess this is better than being wrongly convicted, but it’s…” you begin before shrugging.

“It doesn’t make this part any easier,” Tim adds. “Finding out someone you love is responsible for something like this isn't easy. I’m sorry you had to get pulled into it.”

“You’re much nicer when you feel guilty,” you muse with a smile.

“You’re just as annoying,” he counters with a matching smile that lets you know he’s joking. Mostly.

“And to think, I was going to tell the jury that you were nice to me!”

“You don’t have to testify,” Tim reminds you. “You were estranged, you didn’t know.”

“No, but I’ve seen enough to believe it. It sucks, but it’s the least I can do. Family or not, justice needs to be served. Dozens of families have been changed forever because of one decision.”

“Well…” Tim looks around before he decides, “Never mind.”

“Well, what?” you press. “You already arrested me for fourteen murders, this isn’t the time to get nervous to talk to me.”

Tim’s eyes widen in surprise, and he says, “You don’t have to say yes.”

“I don’t know what I’m answering, though.”

“Will you go out with me?” he asks quickly.

You hesitate to answer, and Tim immediately begins backpedaling. You place your hand on his arm and shut him up immediately.

“I wasn’t going to say no, I just wasn’t expecting you to ask that. I thought I’d have to do it, and then get rejected,” you explain. “Are you serious?”

“As serious as I was when I arrested you.”

“That is not funny!” you exclaim with a laugh.

“Look, we got off to a really bad start-“

“The worst.”

“Sure, the worst start, but… you’re kind of great.”

“Kind of? I am amazing, and yes, I would love to go out with you.”

Tim nods, smiling as he offers his phone to give him your number.

“Promise not to arrest me again?” you request.

“Or?”

“I’m not going to threaten you, a few hours in a smelly cell was more than enough.”

“I’ll try to make it up to you.”

You smile and take several backward steps, then call, “First I’m arrested, then I’m annoying, and you’re expecting to make that up with one singular date night?”

“It’s a start.”

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

III. “the alley”

parts: previous / next

plot: chasing down your interview subject lands you in a sticky situation.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, almost sexual assault, noncon physical touch, violence

words: 2.5k

You could tell by the bright yellow caution tape surrounding the blocks nearby that you’d finally arrived. Officers were stationed around the tape with a crowd beginning to form. Masses shuffled out of nearby clubs to see the drama, muttering amongst themselves about what it could be. None of them were correct. Another shooting? A stabbing? A drug bust? You heard murmurs of Where is he? which you could only imagine was about the man of the hour, the Batman.

Snaking your way around the officers would be difficult, but not impossible. The onlookers guaranteed a degree of anonymity, so you slink between distracted groups of friends and wove through the crowd, ducking under the tape and into the alley. Once there, the darkness was protective. Blaring sirens deafened your ears, causing a shudder on your spine as you trekked through the blackened night. The only thing that gave you any idea of where you were was the brick you kept your palm on as you walked, dust collecting on your fingertips from untouched cement.

It was eerily quiet, which unnerved you. Gotham was never this quiet, always with a constant backdrop of cars, drunks, and blood-curdling screams. As you kept forward, the commotion began to leave your ears. It seemed to fade into the distance rather quickly—either that, or you were walking much faster than you anticipated. When would this alley end?

Almost as if you'd asked for it out loud, you started to hear wet, frantic footsteps splashing through puddles ahead. You squinted your eyes to try and cut through the shroud of darkness, but to no avail. Then, frantic yelling. You pressed your back to the brick as you saw a flashlight appear in front of a tall, stocky figure a few feet down the alley. "Hey," the voice, a man's, shouted at you. He shone the light right at your face and your vision went white, stinging your tired eyes. "What's a lady like you doing back here, huh?" His tone was conniving, setting off your body's alarm system.

You turned and started to run, but he removed the light source as soon as he noticed you were on the move. Not ten steps after, you fell flat on your chest, tripping over a wood block mid-step. Your hands protected your face, your palms taking blunt trauma rather than your nose. You felt the familiar, childhood sting of scraped hands and elbows as you heard his footsteps creep closer. Fuck. This was so stupid, fuck. You started babbling, anxious. "Please, I'm just trying to get home,"

"A girl like you doesn't live over here." You heard him spit somewhere, hopefully not on you. You felt a hard tug on your right shoulder and found yourself yanked over onto your back. He threw the lit flashlight down onto the ground and it made a strong clang. The rain stung your eyes and hands, thundering down and into your jacket and soaking your clothes underneath. You began scooting backward and scrambled to get up on your knees as you were shoved back onto the concrete, further grating your palms. You yelped out in pain as he pinned you face-down on the alley floor with a grunt. "Not my first choice of broad, but you'll have to do." He chuckled and you heard the rummaging of clothes. Oh my god. I’m about to get assaulted.

Your jaw dug into the ground as he palmed your ass over your pants, giving it a slap with the hand that wasn't pressed between your shoulder blades. Suddenly you felt a breeze on your lower back, through the rain hearing a tearing of fabric. You squeezed your eyes shut and let your body go limp as you felt the breeze extend down your ass, to your thigh, and then down to your calf. Hard rain pelted against newly exposed skin. A white noise filled your ears, stifled sobs stuck deep in your chest as he started unzipping. You balled your sore, bloody fists in preparation, begging it to be over quickly.

Except...you didn't feel anything. The man gasped and you heard a thud. Adrenaline rushing through your tired, cold limbs propelled you up and you quickly stood, yanking your jacket off and hastily wrapping it around your hips. More thuds, then an unintelligible shout. You couldn't tell what was happening, and started to hobble back the way you came. You heard another thud and clang, and noticed the alley was illuminated behind you. Nervously, you looked over your shoulder and saw him: the Batman, rain-soaked and angry. He was crouched over the man, his gaze rising. Your eyes connected for a moment and you froze.

You again. He didn't know what to make of you. You were difficult to read. You didn't look like the city; you looked too innocent, too kind. Yet you had this persistence that made you do such ridiculous—if not impressively tenacious—things such as wandering around a crime scene in Gotham City in the dead of night. He glanced down and noticed your pants were torn and shredded in a pool around your ankles. His jaw tightened, molars starting to grind together. He'd thought you were just getting mugged, not... this piece of shit... his fists pressed firmer into the perpetrator as the man began to gasp for breath, struggling against him. Who would do that to someone? What made someone think they had ownership over someone else's body like that? To take it at any time? He looked down and stared into the waning eyes of the criminal, rage burning in his throat.

You had never seen someone die before, and you started to panic. The vigilante was staring at the man and pressing harder, harder, harder into their chest until the dude sputtered. "Stop, stop!"

He immediately jumped back, panting. He'd never come that close to killing someone.

He shot a frazzled look at you. His knuckles clenched tight, bent to perfectly cup the criminal's neck to snapping. He tried to hide his shock at having momentarily lost control.

You stared back at him, nervous. He was just... sitting there. Would he hurt you? You had a peculiar, yet strong sense you were safe here, but was that real? No one truly knew much about Batman; what if he was just as bad as the criminals he fought?

Looking at you in the alley triggered something deep within him. His palms began to sweat and he suppressed images of his childhood, the sound of gunshots ringing in his ears rendering him unsteady. You peered at him, nervous, stuttering a few steps back. The criminal, still choking and gasping, struggled up to his knees.

Batman’s heart raced and pulse echoed in his ears; he refocused, grabbing the criminal by the shirt and tossing him behind you both. The stranger landed on his knees, scrambling up to bolt down the alley from whence he came. It was now just you and Batman, and he looked... nervous? And his eyes... somehow they shined through the dark night.

"Go home." His voice was gruff, yet somehow still piercing through the thundering rain, echoing thickly off the balmy brick. You instinctually followed his order as if he was some sort of supernatural force, but stopped before exiting his eyeline entirely. The interview.

He was still staring at you, motionless besides some flexing of his fists. "Wait." You gulped down fear, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, staring down the dripping, armored mountain before you. You were surprised the words slipped past your lips. "I want to interview you for GU—"

"Go home." He tried to make his voice menacing as flashbacks caused nightmares in his mind, pelting him with suppressed memories of gunpowder and screams. You didn’t move, and his jaw set.

You weren't backing down without a bit of a kick, desperate, hyperaware this was the last time you’d ever have this opportunity. "It's why I came out ton—" He interrupted you with a hissing shout, slipping through your fingers.

"Do I have to tell you again?" You were audacious, he'd give you that. He narrowed his gaze to a glare and straightened his back to help tower over you, even twenty feet away. He didn't have the capacity to monitor his tone, his throat becoming more swollen and constricted as the images and sounds screeched inside.

"Please?" He wasn't having a lick of it, you could tell. His eyes were narrowed, chest heaving, tone bitingly bitter. He had a miserly quality about him, as if he were acting as savior whilst resenting people for it.

"Being here alone is a stupid thing to do. Don't let me catch you out here again." With that, he disappeared up the brick to the roofs of Gotham, barely concealing his panting, rushed breaths as he tried to calm himself off the edge of a panic attack.

You managed to get home without a hitch, which was a miracle. The swarms of people on the main road due to the club evacuations allowed you to slip into a nobody, a faceless member of the horde. You showered off the chill and the sting of your scalp left you reeling, a manifestation of your frustration toward the Batman. He'd wanted nothing to do with the affair, and you tried not to brainstorm more topics that night, letting your mind off the hook to simply be thankful he had intervened at all... even if he'd kinda been an ass about it.

The day was much the same, holing yourself up to your apartment. You didn't have any other classes besides journalism, didn't have to work due to your scholarship, and had just enough money left to get you through the next two weeks until you graduated and left Gotham permanently. It was maddening being so close to the end of something yet having no clue how to finish it. A part of you wanted to walk to the corner store just to have some human interaction, but you were more tender to the reality of living downtown now. It wasn't safe here, not even being outside for a moment.

You awoke the next day feeling restless from 36 hours contained to your studio. You vacillated between being tormented by lack of inspiration and doing everything you could to distract and fill the time. Crocheting? Too mindless. Television? The same. That final paper clung to every passing thought like a wet napkin. It nearly sent you spiraling; you were without a single word on the page, with twenty of them to fill.

You'd drawn up a plan the rest of that day, figuring it would take you at least two days to write the paper to your specifications, which gave you just under five days to: find an interviewee, develop a thesis and ensuing questions, and gather the data. You cursed yourself for ever choosing a class as heavy in writing as journalism for your last term. At least a PE credit would have let you blow off steam.

By the time it hit seventy hours in your apartment you nearly threw yourself out the window to feel something other than the crushing weight of the deadline. Phone calls haunted your dreams where you had to admit to your parents you couldn't finish college because you couldn't stop something as simple as writer's block. It consumed you, both day and night, pulling the color out of your face and emphasizing the dark crescent moon under your eyes. With a solid "fuck it", you threw on some sweats and hunkered down to the corner store. Rai would be a pleasant sight. He'd ask about your classes as he always did, and maybe he'd even have some ideas.

The sky stung your eyes after essentially living in a cave for the better part of three days, though it was cloudy and dark as it ever was in the city. The infamous scent of chemical rain stung the lining of your nose, prickling every microscopic hair to annoyance. It beseeched you how difficult this assignment was; nothing, no assignment in all your years of academia, had stirred you as much as this one. It plucked at the edges of your skin with relentless animosity, gleeful as you spiraled deeper into what eerily resembled a depressive episode. The experience of this paper was rattling your bones, and you were close to calling up the school counselor.

Your palm shoved the slick handle of the store door open, the familiar ding and "Welcome in!" forcing you to hide your chagrin. A quick flit of your eyes to the register and you noticed Rai wasn't on shift. Ugh.

You walked toward the register to check out the deli. Rai always had delicious surprises, and offered you the 'student discount', which was really nonexistent—just kindness from the sweet acquaintance. Hell, at this point he was one of your closest friends. You could’ve laughed at how lonely you were, if it weren’t so fucking painful.

Except today, the deli was empty. You checked your phone with confusion, sure you’d gotten here before even the earliest time he’d closed it. Peering over at a young woman you'd never seen before, you asked if he was okay. Rai was as reliable as the rain in Gotham.

Sheepish, she cleared her throat lightly before perking up. "Actually um, our family was asked to cater at the city hall meeting tonight!" Visibly excited, she rambled on. "Rai is my brother, he's with our mother prepping the dishes."

"Oh, cool!" You drudged up the small amount of enthusiasm still left within you and mustered interest. "That'll be good for business, I'm sure."

The young woman nodded so quickly you feared her head might roll off. Her excitement became palpable and you couldn't help but grin as she prattled on. "Definitely! My mom was so happy when we got the invite, Mr. Wayne sent us a handwritten letter with a BONUS inside!"

And then it hit you like sharp, salty wind, and you bid a quick farewell to scurry back to your apartment. You dialed up Dr. Vry after pulling her number from the syllabus, praying she hadn't left the office early. On the last ring she answered, chewing on something on the other line. "Dr. Janay Vry speaking."

"Dr. Vry, hey! It’s Y/N. Would you be able to give me one of the department’s press passes for the event at city hall tonight?" The keys were chilled in your hand from the outside air and you put her on speaker as you rushed your clothes off.

"Well hello to you too, Ms. Y/L/N. I'm afraid I was just packing up."

"Please, I found someone to interview." You yanked off your socks and unclipped your bra. You needed to shower and be out the door as quickly as possible.

"And who could be so important as to call me on a Friday evening twenty minutes before I retire home?" She sounded aloof, not quite frustrated yet.

"Bruce Wayne.”

[whore-ibly-hot]

Outsider in.

Yandere!Cultist x Reader

Minors DNI

Warnings: Gender neutral reader, dark content, suggestive content, manipulation, mentions of violence, murder, general manhandling of reader, religious references, cult behavior.

(AN: Two posts in one night? Look at me go. I re-watched Children of the Corn recently, so that was the inspiration and vibe for this. Some obvious similarities will be seen.)

🔔🌱🔔🌱🔔🌱🔔🌱🔔🌱🔔🌱🔔🌱🔔🌱

It wasn't your fault when you crashed. You couldn't have known that the unmapped zone you were driving through had been scrubbed from the maps and records for a reason. You couldn't have known that the gas station attendant would cut your brakes while you were inside getting snacks, and you certainly couldn't have known what awaited you just beyond that gas station parking lot.

The smell of smoke and burning rubber fills your nostrils, causing your lungs to burn as they rise and fall rapidly. Your head pounds, vision blurry. Sat in the front seat of the now busted up car, you can see through the front of the car where a windshield once was, now shattered across the dashboard and floor. You see what looks like some sort of well, lodged up against the front of your car, the metal around it bending to fit around the rounded edge of the construction. You had left the gas station and began north down the mostly empty farm road, when a turn came up. You had attempted to slow the car to make the turn, but were unable. The cars steering wheel froze up, and the brakes jammed. You were unable to stop the vehicle and let out a cry as it continued forward, barreling through the rows of corn that had lined the road. The crops had actually been quite scenic just a few minutes ago, but now as they rushed past in a blur of yellows and greens, they were nothing but overstimulating. Suddenly, you had jolted forward as the car hit the well, glass shattering around you. As you now lay there, feeling your consciousness slip away with every labored breath. As your vision blurs, and finally fades to black, you see several dark, blurry forms emerge from the crops and surround the car. Then, all is quiet.

Yan!Cultist had been in the chapel, observing with watchful eyes as the younger followers listened to the leaders sermon. As the first convert, Yan!Culist, born under the name of Joseph, had been appointed as the leader's right hand, despite his not being the oldest in the commune. Joseph stood to the side of the worn wooden pulpit, hearing, yet not listening to Gabriel's sermon. On top of the pulpit had laid a worn leather journal, upon which the sigil of "The Children of His Divine Judgement " was carved. The book, of which only Gabriel and Joseph had copies, detailed how the incident, or as the group would refer to it, 'the salvation', came to fruition.

Gabriel had been the first to speak to him, their lord. He spoke only through Gabriel, cementing his word as law. It was Joseph, who had witnessed first-hand the divine power of the lord, who converted first. Knowing how stubborn and angry Joseph had been, his sudden allegiance to Gabriel had shocked the towns youths, and soon they came to listen, and even revere the sermons and orders Gabriel gave. It was then, several months after Josephs conversion, that another demonstration of the lords power took place, this time in front of all the converts. A drought had taken place, killing the crops and cutting the town off from both food and financial security. While the adults and elders of the town starved, their children miraculously stayed healthy. They thought of this as a miracle of the christian god, though the children knew this was rather a curse from their deity, one met to rid the county of non-believers. A small area behind the old chapel had been set aside and blessed by Gabriel. It was here a well was dug, and a garden planted. The garden bloomed even in drought, when all other crops had shriveled and died. Soon, as the non-believers began to die off, Joseph grew impatient. He had asked Gabriel if their lord would permit 'speeding up' the cleansing. While Gabriel had scolded him for daring to suggest something to him and their all-knowing deity, he returned to his room for a period of just a few hours, before returning and allowing the slaughter. All followers above the age of 13 years grabbed the available weapons, farming tools, and even sticks, and carried out the slaughter of any remaining adults and elders that the drought had not yet killed off. When the bloodbath ended, only children and youths from the ages of 2-18 remained. Several years have passed since then, and many of the once young converts have grown. As Joseph recalled all of this, one of the followers bursts through the door.

The boys explanation is fast-paced and loud, though both Joseph and Gabriel manage to understand. An outsider has been caught, after one of the children sabotaged their car on the outskirts of town, while out on a fuel run for the community. "They crashed into the well, we think they may still be alive. What would you have us do?" The boy asks. Gabriel furrows his brows. "Who damaged the vehicle?" He asks. His voice is cold, and Joseph recognizes the tone, for he knows it well. "Sermon is over, return to your homes, and do not leave until the outsider has been dealt with!" Joseph yells, causing the children to spill out from the pews and into the aisle of the church, rushing out the door.

"Mary cut the vehicles brakes, y-you had instructed we needed more creative ways to lure in outsiders..." The boy explains, now feeling meek under the shared judgmental gaze of the two leaders in front of him. The boy feels himself shrink before them. "I had ordered for more lures, this is true, but Mary has inadvertently caused the outsider to crash into the well. The first well, and the very one that our lord blessed in the first drought, in order to give us sustaining water. Now tell me, is this monument damaged?" The boy gulps, and Joseph can't help but suppress a smirk, the feeling of power, though he is not the one wielding it, is invigorating. "No, no that I am aware of. Mary, she, she had no control over where the car went, she just wanted to help. Please-" Gabriel raises a hand, silencing the boy. "Mary must face punishment for this mistake. Do not mistake that I understand her good intentions. In the end, she did bring us an outsider, and for this her punishment shall be minimal." The boy sighs, relieved for his friend. Gabriel smiles and nods, and Joshua can't help but feel an annoyance grow in his stomach at the 'holier-than-thou' attitude of the pious young man.

Joshua had initially been willing to listen and follow Gabriel's plans, as the boy had promised the lord would bless them with power and glory, placing them first in his holy order. However, though the lord had both protected them and shown them his fury, it often did not feel like enough. Watching the praise Gabriel received for being the lord's messengers angered him, and he had no doubts that Gabriel knew this. While Gabriel gave out his fair share of cruel orders and punishment, as his right hand man it was Joshua's task to carry them out. While Joshua had no problem with this, he knew it was only a duty given to him to further darken his reputation in the commune, and shed a more angelic light on Gabriel. While Gabriel was respected and feared, he was still a religious figure, and one that the people rallied behind. Joshua was just feared, both before the creation of the cult and after. He had been a bit of a bully before, but it became much worse once he had an outlet under the guise of Gabriel's orders. He also knew this duty was given to him and Gabriel saw himself as too good for the manual labor required to carry out the punishment. While Joshua ran all across the commune, delivering messages and orders, building houses with the others and working in the fields, Gabriel sat in his priestly chambers, 'conversing' with the lord, according to himself. Gabriel turns to him then, and he snaps out of it. "Joshua, go and collect the outsider. I trust it won't be too hard for you to handle, considering they are unconscious." Gabriel smirks. Joshua holds in a remark, and only nods, trudging out of the church.

Upon approaching the well, he sees the dilapidated car crumpled on the southern side of the well, the fire having been dealt with by the first converts to arrive on the scene. Joshua orders for a group of the strongest boys to begin deconstructing and salvaging any fuel from the car. No outside influence needs to enter the commune, Joshua and Gabriel know this well. A group of children are huddled around a figure. Joshua's anger flares, and he pushes into the crowd. "Move! Have I not instructed you to remain in your homes until this has been dealt with?" He shouts, and the group scatters. He grunts. He knows that only the young children in the church had heard his instruction, but he needs an outlet for the frustration caused by Gabriel. As he approaches your figure, he feels as though a force is halting him. His breath catches in his throat. A young outsider lays before him, certainly no older than 19. Though dirt and bruises litter your arms and shoulders, it does not distract Joshua from the sight of such an attractive person before him. You're dressed in the garb of outsiders, which reminds him greatly of the time before the lord came. Since the massacre of non-believers, all outside influence was placed in a locked area in Gabriel's home, and is occasionally brought out for sermons. Clothes were changed to ones that could be easily crafted, worn and worked in for years, then handed down and eventually reused for other purposes. According to your clothes, style in the outside world has changed much since then.

Joshua kneels on the earth beside you, his eyes focused intently on your calm face. He reaches out a hand, brushing your face with the back of his palm. He had intended to use his touch to jolt you awake, but found himself enraptured. Your soft skin contrasts heavily with the calloused rough skin of his hands, worn from hard labor around the commune. As his breathing becomes heavy and his face flushes, your eyes crinkle. You let out a soft groan, and he recoils his hand quickly, as if suddenly aware of the trance he was in. He shakes his head, his features returning to the bitter look he was so well known for. You flinch once more, before your eyes flutter open. You gasp slightly, as light floods your eyes. You attempt to sit up, but let out a hiss of pain at the feeling of your sore muscles. You lean forward as much as you can, and try to look around. You're laid on the ground, near your car. Memories of the crash flood back to you, and you jolt, ignoring your pain in order to go find help. Just as you do, a sudden sharp pressure lands on your wrist. You look over, and see a much taller boy in odd, old-fashioned garb gripping onto your wrist like a vice. While you should be glad to ask someone to help you, something about the boy is wrong. His eyes are filled with an unplaceable emotion, one that looks not unlike the gaze of a predator on the nature channel, about to pounce on small prey. This look only increases your fear, adrenaline from the crash still coursing through you. Your heart beats wildly, and your breathing rapidly increases as you stare at the wild boy. "W-who are you, where am I?" You ask, attempting to squirm away from him. His ignores this, not releasing you from his grip. He stares at you intently for a moment more, before opening his mouth to speak. Before he can, another male voice rings out.

"Joshua, display to me the outsider." The boy glares, before his hand moves to grab your free wrist and yank you up, causing you to whine once more at your sore body. Joshua, as you assume his name must be, holds your wrists behind your back. He keeps uncomfortably close, even for a captor. His chest presses against your back, and you feel hot breath on your neck, making you shiver. Before you, a shorter boy steps forward, a book in one hand. He is dressed in a similar old-fashioned manner to Joshua, though his garb is darker, and a little cleaner. It seems as though this boy may be of a higher standing than the boy restraining you. "Hello, outsider." The young boy before you coos, his eyes calm, yet his tone makes you cautious. He's a few years younger than both you and Joshua, but his attire and outfit suggests he's more than meets the eye. "You've certainly made an entrance, what brings you to our home?" He asks. You immediately shake your head and launch into an explanation, anxiety evident in your ramblings. "I didn't mean to intrude, or trespass on your land, I-" You catch your breath. "My car crashed, something went wrong with the brakes. I didn't mean to crash into your well, really. Maybe we can just call the police, I don't want any trouble. I'll pay for damages-" The boy puts a hand up, and squints his eyes at you, as if shushing you. You fall silent, a little offended at being hushed like a whiny child.

"Do not worry, we have taken no offence to your intrusion." He says. "My name is Gabriel, and you have stumbled onto our holy land." He explains. You tilt your head, you weren't aware anyone lived out here, and there certainly wasn't anything about a town on the map. "I didn't know anyone lived out here..." You say. Gabriel chuckles, a cold laugh. "We do our best to keep a low profile. Contact with the outside world is heavily limited." As he explains further, you look around and notice all of the buildings are outdated farm houses, barns, and a chapel. Their attire suggests they must be a very religious sect that lives out here. "I understand, sorry to have intruded. Let me just call a ride-" You try to reach into your back pocket, but your arms are still being held by Joshua. You see Gabriel grin as he shakes his head. "I'm sorry to repeat myself, outsider, but as I said we keep contact with the outside world limited. We've had to confiscate that phone of yours." That feeling of dread creeps back into you. "But, I really need to call someone, it won't take but a minute." You beg. Gabriel sighs. "Outsider, our lord commands that we cleanse those who are impure, and destroy what he approves not of. Our town was once full of the non-believers, but now, look around." He motions to the buildings, and you notice there are very few people. No cars exist in the town you can see down the way, and all the inhabitants seem rather young. "W-what do you mean 'cleanse the impure'?" You ask, feeling your knees weaken. "Most are too dirtied with the ways of the world, and obey gods other than our lord. They would corrupt and defile land and society with their impure ways. The elders, men and women were too far gone, to set in their ways. My lord sent me a message, and told me they would not see the light." He rants. He suddenly stops, and glances at you, a small gleam in his eyes. "What... what did you do to them?" You ask softly, fearing you know the answer. "They had to be killed." You let out a choked breath, your knees buckling below you. What had been a simple road trip had turned into a life-or-death situation. As you kneel, sobbing and shaking on the floor, Gabriel pouts, looking at you as if you were a scared child, his gaze patronizing.

"Joshua." Gabriel motions down at you, and Joshua grips your chin, softening his grip slightly when you inhale sharply. He feels tear drops falling from your cheeks and landing on the backs of his palms, rolling down his arm and staining his shirt. He stares at the wet patch for a moment, considering not washing that sleeve again. Gabriel leans in and coos. "Fear not, outsider. You are still young, and it is not yet too late for you. I wish to offer you mercy, as our lord granted us." You blink, a few more tears leaking out of your eyes as you wait for him to continue. "Join us, and offer yourself to our lord and our ways-" He pauses and looks towards the town with a thoughtful gaze. He then turns back to you and continues. "-or join the impure. The choice is yours." He leans back, rearing to stand over your kneeling form. Joshua's grip on your wrist tightens, not in annoyance, but rather excitement, and surprise. Gabriel rarely lets any outsider join, though he supposes he was just a little younger than you when he converted.

Scared, hungry, and tired, you figure you have no choice. Maybe, once you've regained your strength and healed, you could escape. For now, you know you must remain here. "O-okay, I'll join you. Just, please don't hurt me." You whimper. Gabriel smiles, and clasps his hands together. "Wonderful! You know, just a couple of days ago we had to inflict a rather severe punishment on one of our own, so we actually have a room available. I'm sure Joshua will help set you up." Gabriel and Joshua share a few words before Gabriel departs back to the chapel. Joshua roughly pulls you up, parading you to a nearby farmhouse. He heads upstairs, entering a quaint bedroom with a bed, floral wallpaper, and a wash-basin.

He closes the door behind him quickly, before rifling through the drawer of the wash-basin. From inside, he pulls out an outfit of similar simplicity to his own. The well folded fabric hits you lightly in the chest as he tosses it at you. "Clothes from the impure world are not allowed, Gabriel will want you to change into something more appropriate." He says. You only nod, and begin to unfold the fabric. As you examine the outfit, you notice Joshua is leaning against the wash-basin, not leaving. "Um... aren't you going to leave. You said I need to change." You say. "I did, and I'm not leaving so you can try to make a run for it." He snaps. "Can you please turn around then, this isn't very appropriate." He rolls his eyes. "Turn my back to an outsider and leave me vulnerable to an attack? Unlikely. Stop whining, and change!" He slams his hand onto the wash-basin, making you squeak in fear. He stops when he sees your fear, and huffs. He doesn't enjoy that seeing you afraid isn't pleasurable like it is when he torments the other followers. When he glances back up, he feels his face grow warm, face colored a deeper shade of red than it was the day he spilt the blood of the townsfolk. You've taken your shirt off, and are now attempting to undo the buttons on your pants, a task that proves difficult due to your trembling hands. Once you finally remove them, you step out, now exposed save for your undergarments. The stress of the day on top of the embarrassment of being bared before this boy sends you over the edge, and you refrain from redressing in the new clothes. Instead, you begin to sob once more, and cover yourself with your arms. Joshua's eyes widen. While he likes the sight of your exposed form, he doesn't enjoy the trembling person before him. Unfortunately, Joshua is not equipped to handle comforting someone, and approaches you in the only way he can think of that is mildly comforting.

"God, you outsiders can't do anything for yourselves, can you?" He pushes you back onto the nearby bed, forcing you to sit down. He grabs the lower garment of clothing, and begins to slide it up over your ankles, and onto your waist. His breathing grows unstable as he moves the fabric upwards, the thin cloth the only thing between him and your plush thighs. Before now, all marriages and courtships had been approved through Gabriel, and Joshua himself had had no time for impure thoughts and boyish crushes, much less a courtship. But now, as your weak, frightened self sits before him, almost entirely naked and alone, he feels a stirring in his pants, as a warmth builds. Much more, he feels a stirring in his heart. He grimaces, trying to shake off those thoughts as he finishes buttoning up the lower garment. He slips your arms into the sleeves of a shirt, and begins buttoning the front up. Just a few buttons from the top, he pauses, just under your chest. He stares, and you watch in fear, unsure what he's thinking as he stares intently at your chest. He doesn't stop himself as he slips a hand just into the fabric for a moment, allowing him to brush a hand against the left most part of your chest. His cold touch makes you gasp, and he removes his hand, finishing up with the buttons. "Why did you do that?" You ask. "I had to fix a crease. Gabriel prefers a neat follower." He coughs, standing back up. "Come, we need to get you to sermon. Gabriel will want you in the front row." He practically pushes you out of the door, and as you stumble, you don't notice he takes an extra minute in the room, slipping your previously discarded shirt into his overall pocket.

[alexusonfire]

Warmth of Your Doorways - Chapter Nine

Jane Murdstone x dressmaker!Reader

In collaboration with @daydream-cement and beta'd by our baby @tunarunes 🧡

Summary: Jane learns what it means to forgive.

Jane remained outside a cafe all afternoon. She nestled herself in a corner near the front window to wait for your nightly walk home from work. Unfortunately for her, this was another day in which you stayed late into the evening - resulting in her having to wait near the mouth of an alleyway when the establishment closed. Regardless of this, Jane Murdstone would not be deterred.

You finished up your work, eyes growing heavy through your last few stitches. You took your time in cleaning up your station and locking up the shop - the thought of your empty home keeping you moving at half the pace in which you normally would be working.

The walk home felt uneventful, but there was an uneasiness to it - almost as if you were being watched. You made your way up the stairs and the uneasiness being quelled by the feeling of your home nearby.

As you made your way inside, you quickly made yourself comfortable by shedding your outer skirts and corset. You draped them over a chair and left them behind to fix yourself something small for dinner, going about your business absentmindedly while softly humming to yourself as you cooked.

Little did you know that Jane was positioned outside your front door, wrestling with her anxieties about knocking and making her presence known. She was terrified that she would be met with rejection and vile words - the same that she had subjected you to not that long ago. With the clench of her fist, Jane raised a shaky hand and pushed herself to gently knock at your door - the possible reward of earning you back ultimately outweighing the potential rejection.

At first there was no sign of movement, the wooden store staring back at her, mocking her. She strained to hear any sounds of life, music, puttering, footsteps. The windows were barely lit, though surely you'd had time by now to turn a light on or two.

So she waited. Knocked softly again. Waited.

When the door finally creaked open, Jane felt an immediate rush of relief fill her. There you stood, pretty as ever, hair half piled up. Jane noted you looked a wee bit run down, and if your hours tonight were indicative of your usual work schedule, she couldn't fault you.

She also noted how you did not move, so still Jane had to focus briefly on your chest to see that you were indeed breathing.

"... Jane?"

It was so quiet, so broken that it took all of Jane's remaining strength to stay upright. The tears now flowing down your cheeks matched hers, and she tentatively took a step towards you.

"Yes, little violet. I'm here."

You sobbed and flung yourself into Jane, nearly toppling the two of you over. Aware of potential onlookers, Jane quickly pulled you indoors, shutting the door behind her with her foot as you clung to her. Though her chest was filled to the brim with apologies and explanations, she allowed herself a moment to simply comfort you, gently smoothing down your hair as her tears stained it.

"Jane… Jane, you're here… why… how?"

Wobbled and unsure, Jane attempted to tell you how Marjory had bought her tickets, to come find you, fight for you. The mention of Marjory seemed to stir something in you, as you pushed back from Jane and now held her an arms distance away. Jane felt her resolve crumble slightly as anger lit your pupils, and she braced herself for what she knew was coming; what she knew she deserved.

"And is that why you're here? To fight for me? After… after everything you did? Everything you said?"

Jane cringed and wrapped her hand around yours, hoping to keep you from drifting too far.

"Please, let me explain-"

"Explain?! Explain what exactly? Never in my life have I been called such nasty things, or been so thoroughly disrespected… and I… I thought you loved me Jane, I… I love you-"

You knew you were yelling, knew that perhaps your neighbors could be privy to your rage, but staring at the woman who had hurt you so badly…

Damn them all. And damn her too if her excuses weren't good enough.

Even if she looked as weary as you felt. Even if the guilt and pain were written clear as day on her features, rolling down her cheeks to meet her throat.

Damn her, damn her, damn her-

"I love you too, little violet. I swear it."

Spoken with such hushed sincerity, perhaps you could believe it.

"Please. Please just- let me explain. Let me speak. Let me… show you. Prove to you. That I am worth the love you hold for me."

Every atom in your body screamed for her, as they had since the moment you met her; her pleas echoed in your marrow, and you felt some of the anger melt away when you noted how hollow her cheeks had become.

"Fine. But do not think you can simply… walk back in here and everything will go back to normal. I can't- I couldn't handle this pain a second time. You need to mean it, Jane."

You hadn't thrown her out on the doorstep, and truly that's what she'd been expecting. She nodded, and even dared offer you a small smile.

She would do this, that she knew for certain. She'd spend the rest of her life proving her love to you, if that's what it took.

"You can start by telling me why you ever pushed me away to begin with."

Jane’s mouth gaped for a moment. She didn’t know where to begin. How could she explain a lifetime of pain and violence in a way that also allowed her to take ownership of her mistakes?

With a gentle tug of your hands, Jane drew you to sit on the edge of the bed next to her. There was a nervousness about Jane as she worked up the courage to open up about her trauma. Her dedication to winning you back pushed the words from her mouth. “Since my father died... my brother became the head of the house. When we were young, he learned of my... love of the fairer sex. This was something I was... ahem... routinely punished for...”

While this hadn’t fully explained Jane’s behavior, her words tugged at your heartstrings.

“I slowly became more callous... more of the shrew others told you I was. So much of that changed when I came to live with Marjory. I was so much happier, and so much more myself. And then you came along...” Jane paused briefly when she thought of how you changed her life irrevocably, a shy smile causing her to turn her gaze into her lap. “Edward came back... He found out we were together. He threatened to tell people... to ruin your career. I knew it was wrong to turn you away. It was wrong to hurt you the way I did...”

“I never meant any of it. I-I was scared... I was set to be married three days ago... and I would have. I fell into such despair when you left. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t journal... I just sat there thinking of that night you came to me in the rain.”

You sat in a stunned silence, overwhelmed by the story she had told you. All of the insults. All of the ways she hurt you could be attributed to her fear of her brother. So much of you wanted to remain angry. You wanted to scream and call her a coward, but as you observed her typically proud and rigid stature, you saw Jane wasn’t her normal self.

The dress she wore hung looser around her body. Her face displayed an uncommon exhaustion and ghostliness. It was then you saw the true extent of Jane’s heartbreak.

“What do you want from me now?” Your question wasn’t aimed to wound Jane, but you needed to know more about her intent on being there in your home. As much as it pained you, you wondered if this was all a sick joke.

“I want to love you... I want to apologize for all that I’ve put you through.”

“I... I forgive you...” Your response immediately made the ravenette perk up, but the way you finished your sentence made her face fall with a sad understanding. “But... I need more time to trust you again, Janey...”

"Of course dearest. Might I, at the risk of toeing over the line, ask to stay the night? I'm afraid in my haste I've forgotten to book a proper room. I can… I can stay on the couch-"

You shook your head, the thought of the statuesque woman cramped in your living area almost comical, and tentatively took Jane's hand. Neither of you commented how much you had missed the feeling as you led her towards the spare room, fetching an extra blanket to help keep out the night chill. There was an awkward tinge to the air as you bade her goodnight, the yearn on her face palpable, and for a brief moment, you thought she might ask you to stay.

You wished she had.

--

Sleep did not come easy, if at all, and after tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, you finally sighed and tossed the covers aside, padding quietly towards where Jane slept.

You stood in the doorway for a few moments, simply watching her. She looked ethereal in the moonlight, her long black hair spilling over the pillow beside her. It made your heart ache every time you looked at her, and in the peaceful thrum of the night, you allowed yourself to be drawn to her. Carefully, you pulled back the blanket and slipped beside Jane, your breath catching when her perfume hit your nostrils. You'd been so overwhelmed earlier you hadn't noticed it; now however, it consumed you. You brushed her hair off the pillow and lay fully next to her, hardly daring to breathe.

It was the best you'd slept in weeks.

Jane had awoken to your presence not long after you slipped into unconsciousness. Through half lidded eyes, she thought she was experiencing the same recurring dream she had since you left. A dream where you crawled into bed and she held you throughout the night, only to wake heartbroken when it had all been a figment of her imagination. As she always did, Jane embraced the fiction and looped an arm around you - not caring of the heartache to come. Only if she knew that for the first time in weeks, her wildest dreams were a reality.

--

Waking up was slow, easy. The first rays of sunlight were spilling into the room, and you felt warm… almost too warm. Your brow furrowed as you shifted slightly, the smells and sheets not at all familiar. Cracking your eyes open, you peered around you, your heart stuttering when you met Jane's piercing blue gaze.

".... good morning, sweeting."

You couldn't help the sleepy smile- you'd missed her so much. Missed waking up to her like this. Rather than let the moment pass, you simply curled under her chin and wrapped your arm around her, breathing her in for a few moments.

"Good morning Janey. Did- did you sleep well?"

Jane nodded, and dared to gently run her fingertips up and down your spine. You felt that familiar twang pull in your chest; you'd missed this too much, and it all came rushing back as to why.

"We should eat something. I have to be off to work soon."

Jane had noticed the way you'd stiffened in her arms, but stayed silent as she watched you rise for the day. You left for your room without so much as a glance back at her, and it made her throat feel tight.

She could do this. She would do this.

Breakfast was manageable, that awkward tinge back in the air as you moved around each other seamlessly, cooking eggs and laying plates and cutlery. Any attempt at small talk felt… odd. Stifled. For now quiet seemed best, and Jane opted to tidy the kitchen while you finished readying yourself for work. She met you at the front door, a small bag with lunch for you in her outstretched hand.

"I hope you have a good day today."

"Thank you. Will, um… will you still be here when I return this evening?"

You looked so small and unsure of yourself Jane wanted to scoop you in her arms and never let you go.

"If you'd like me to be."

Your shoulders relaxed, and you took the lunch from Jane, butterflies skittering in your chest as your hands brushed.

"I would."

Jane smiled, a real smile, and opened the door for you. Some long-lost remark of her gentlemanly nature was at the tip of your tongue, but playful banter still seemed too… raw. Much like everything else at the moment. You simply squeezed her hand on your way out, and wondered what it would once again be like to come home to Jane.

--

@weemssapphic @bitch-we-have-a-hulk @yourlocaldisneyvillain @renravens @thegoddamnfeels @dvrkhcld @blessmysouljessisonaroll @opheliauniverse @ahsfan05 @ness029 @carnivorousflowers @willowshadenox @mysaviorfalsegod @myzzjolanda @bigolgay @pluied-ete @h-doodles @pro-weems-places @kimiinou @vigelvictoria @pigeonbrewster @saturnnnnl @azu-zu

[waywardxrhea]

Part of Your World - George Weasley

Chapter 5

pairing: George Weasley x fem!Muggle!reader

installment list / previous chapter / next chapter

word count: 1,534

content: angst, dementor attack, mentions of death (non-main character), fluff.

dividers by: @firefly-graphics

One chilly November evening George was walking you home from the bus station after your classes and rehearsal at school. Things had started to get more dangerous on the warfront of the Wizarding side of things, so this was a habit he had gotten into for his own peace of mind as well as for your safety. As you two took a shortcut through the park, you pulled your scarf tighter around your neck and your coat closer to your body when the air around you suddenly got a lot colder than it had been moments before. “I can’t wait until the spring,” you commented with a shiver as the both of you quickened your pace. 

You only got about ten more metres at this pace before you slowed down to a stop. Your legs felt like they were cement and they refused to move as an overwhelming feeling of sadness and hopelessness washing over you suddenly. You placed a gloved hand over your mouth as tears began to run down your face and your mind flashed to the worst day of your life. 

One sunny June afternoon you and your parents were gathered around the hospital bed of Louise, better known as Gran - your dad’s mother. The room’s blinds were open and sun was streaming into the brightly decorated room. This would under normal circumstances be a very pretty room as it had been for the last few months, but today was not any ordinary day. Today was the day the family had been dreading for months, ever since Louise got diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. 

Louise’s condition had been deteriorating for weeks, but today seemed to be worse yet. A few minutes prior, the doctor had pulled your dad out into the hallway and informed him that she was showing signs of dying and that they would start giving her medicine to help make her departure comfortable. When he told you and your mum this, you finally broke down fully, grabbing Gran’s hand and holding on tightly. 

Gran squeezed your hand lightly and croaked out, “Remember what we decided?” 

“Yes, but, I- Gran, please, I just want to-” you tried.

“Please grant this old bag her dying wish,” she whispered with a quiet laugh. “This isn’t the last time you’ll see me, love. Just have a little faith and we’ll meet again.”

You nodded, taking the guitar that your dad was handing you that previously stood in the case that was propped against the wall. As your parents sat on the other side of the bed with your dad holding Gran’s right hand, you sat on her left side and Gran made sure to put a hand on your knee as you strummed the guitar to her favourite song: Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley. It was the song that her husband had played when he proposed to her and they had their first dance at their wedding to. She wanted it to be played as she went to see him again. 

You couldn’t bring your voice to work as tears ran down your cheeks, so your parents took over the vocals for the song, harmonising like only they could as bandmates and as husband and wife. The sound brought a smile to Gran’s face and death approached fast, taking her before the second chorus even ended. 

Meanwhile back out in the stinging cold in Regent’s Park, George turned to check on you when he no longer felt your presence beside him and saw a couple of Dementors circling around you! A sense of doom creeped into George’s mind and dread filled him at the sight. Before this feeling could overwhelm him though, George remembered his DA lessons with Harry. He pulled out his wand and summoned up a happy memory: the one of him and Fred leaving Hogwarts. He concentrated on the warm feeling in his chest and bellowed, “Expecto Patronum!” 

From the end of his wand flew his Patronus, a magpie, and it began to pelt away at the Dementors, making them fly away in haste, leaving you on your knees on the cold ground. George quickly made his way to your side and as he did, he heard you whispering, “Please don’t go, please!” into your gloved hands as they covered your face.

George joined you on the ground and wrapped you in an embrace as he whispered, “Hey, I’m here, it’s okay now.”

Upon hearing his voice, you seemed to snap out of the trance the Dementors had on you and you buried your face into George’s chest as you tried to control your breathing. After a few moments, you found your voice and whispered, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to freak out like that. I don’t know what got into me…”

“Don’t apologise, it wasn’t random. There were Dementors here. Muggles can’t see them. I had to cast the Patronus Charm to get them away,” George explained. “Those damn things get into your head and pull out your worst memories. I’m sorry you had to go through that, darling.”

George separated himself from you and got you both to your feet before looking around, seeing that you were near the shop where you had your first date at and said, “Here, let’s go to our usual spot. We’ll get you a hot chocolate and a chocolate croissant.” As you headed in that direction, George told you, “Harry swears by chocolate after a Dementor attack.”

You nodded and followed George into the shop, still numb from both the cold and the memories that resurfaced because of the wretched beings. It was only after a few sips of the warm drink that you said anything, telling George quietly, “Thank you for saving me back there.”

“Of course,” he replied warmly, worry still etched in his small smile. “You still seem pretty shaken, are you okay?” George asked, noticing the tremor in your hands and how you used both to hold the cup in order to not spill the drink. 

“I’ll be okay…” you said quietly. “I just…haven’t really thought about all that day since it happened…”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what memory did the Dementors bring out?” George asked tentatively. 

You took a long sip from your hot chocolate before responding, your voice filled with emotion as you did. “The day my gran died. She was in the hospital on hospice for about two months before her body finally gave up. Stage four lung cancer. The doctors said there wasn’t any way to treat it so we just had to let it happen…” You placed the cup roughly on the table before the shaking in your hands got too bad, adding, “She was my best friend and biggest supporter. Before she got sick she made sure to come watch every show I was in and brought me hydrangeas after every one of them. Mary was the first show she didn’t get to see.” Your voice broke at the last sentence and you wiped a tear that escaped your eye from your cheek.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you added, “We would sing together when she watched me when I was younger and she taught me how to play the piano. The day she died, I was playing one of her favourite songs when it happened and Dad made me keep playing all of her favourites even after she was gone because they say hearing is the last sense to go and he wanted her to be happy when she passed on.” A smile finally made its way onto your face as you giggled quietly and said, “We played Sweet Caroline last and the whole nursing staff was in there with us singing, it was beautiful.”

George took your hands in his and squeezed as he told you, “I’m so sorry for your loss… I can tell she meant a lot to you.”

“She meant the world,” you agreed with a sad smile on your lips. “You know how I’m always saying to have a little faith?”

George nodded, saying, “Your optimism is one of my favourite things about you.”

You couldn’t help the bashful smile that made its way onto your lips before you said, “Well I got that mantra from her. That was how she lived her life and how she taught me how to live mine. Abbie thinks I’m too optimistic for my own good, but…”

“If we aren’t optimistic about what the future holds, there isn’t a future worth living,” George said thoughtfully.

“Well said, Weasley,” you said, impressed by the sudden philosophical turn of your boyfriend. 

“I try,” he said with a chuckle. 

Once you were finished with the warm drink and pastry, George walked you to your house and rather than going back to the shop, he stayed with you as long as you needed. And although you couldn't shake the memories pelting your mind of that day, with George's comforting words and hold, it became bearable as you finally began to come to terms with Gran's death and how it changed you as a person since.

a/n: I swear the next part is happier (mostly)!

anyways! likes and comments are always appreciated! xo, brooke <3

taglist: @reidmarieprentiss @v1ckycheesue @superduckmilkshake

[rmxsolution]

The Centrifugal-High Impact Crusher Mill is designed for superior material crushing and size reduction, making it ideal for use in Vertical Cement Silos, Fly Ash Silos, and Cement Storage Silos. It supports efficient operations in Silo Feeding Systems and Bulk Storage Silos. Additionally, it is a valuable asset for Mobile Bulk Filling Stations, Cement Filling Stations, and Dry Mix Batching Plants, ensuring enhanced material processing and operational efficiency.

[sevensoulmates]

Spec on what Tommy's (possible) sexuality might be?

In relation to some spec I'm seeing going around about how Tommy identifies his sexuality, I'm so curious to see what that's gonna be and how he came to figure it out.

Here's what we know:

Tommy had a girlfriend in Chimney Begins because Captain Gerrard asked Tommy when his girlfriend was coming by the station to cook them all dinner. But then again he was kinda cagey in answering the Captain about her coming.

In Hen Begins, Sal insinuates that Tommy is "more of a Team Jacob kind of guy" aka Gay because Tommy finds Kristen Stewart "too broody". Tommy takes this in stride, sending Sal a joking air kiss, but it's by far the biggest hint we've gotten about Tommy possibly not being straight during the time he worked with the 118. However this line was likely originally intended to show casual workplace homophobia in order to make Hen uncomfortable, and not really to be like "oh hey Tommy's queer". But it ends up working out for the writers that they already had this tidbit in here.

In Bobby Begins Again Tommy tells Hen and Chim "I'm telling you, single is easier. Having the scars impresses women, getting 'em freaks 'em out." Which heavily implies dating/being attracted to women. In the same conversation, he later brings up a quote from Fight Club the movie, and in case anyone wasn't aware, has long been interpreted as a queer allegory due to large amounts of homoerotic material in the source material and film adaptations.

All of that being said, there are arguments for Tommy possibly being bisexual, or possibly being an in-the-closet gay man. Whichever direction they choose to take Tommy will be telling for the future of the plot for different reasons.

If Tommy ends up being bisexual like Buck, then more than likely they'll end up having a lot of parallels to experiences Buck has had in the past, further cementing to the audience that Buck has been bi this whole time but just didn't realize it. It could also parallel Buck's current situation (hiding him and Tommy from Eddie + the 118) and possibly the catalyst for Buck to come out to the rest of the 118.

But, if Tommy ends up being gay, and had to hide it and/or repress it for most of the time he had been with the 118, that could prove very interesting for the ways in which he strongly parallels Eddie.

7x04 spent a lot of time hammering home to the audience that Tommy is extremely similar to Eddie. I wouldn't be surprised if they take this a step further by having Tommy have a queer experience similar to how many of us believe Eddie's to be. That being growing up in a hypermasculine environment, filled with shame and plenty of reasons to repress and/or keep that information to himself. And only figuring out who he is later in life.

Personally, I would prefer it if they went this route with Tommy. Not only because I think it would strongly parallel a possible queer Eddie storyline, but it would also provide a contrast for Buck. By that I mean if Tommy says "well, my relationships with women never felt right, and I realized later it's because I wasn't attracted to them at all" then Buck can firmly place himself in the bisexual category in contrast by clarifying that he was and still is attracted to women, but now realizes he likes men too. And it doesn't hurt that it could be possible foreshadowing for Eddie, and/or parallels to Eddie's storyline with Marisol in the episode with something possibly not feeling right between them.

Either way, I'm excited to see to learn more about Tommy in 7x05. I'm also hoping for a bit more acknowledgment for how shitty he was to Hen and Chim in the beginning. It's a good way to show 10+ years of character development in one convo.

[utilitycaster]

1/2 I was thinking about the Creator Hammer its intended function, which feels way closer to Predathos than Ascension based on my understanding. Like TRQ erased the old god's name and face when she ascended, but there was still a role for her to fill. But Predathos (and the thing in Tengar if it's not just Predathos) more or less created a vacuum of divine domain until TRQ'S ascension. Even the old god didn't seem to absorb those domains? And we don't know what would happen without any gods left

2/2 And I feel like that distinction is kinda crucial - it's wild to see some people treat the hammer as 'just' killing the gods (which. already has huge implications) but actually getting rid of the domain entirely feels like a step even further, and if the gods didn't already have a right to freak out at the idea of being killed, I think this really cements a reason for them to be concerned, idk!!

----

Hey anon! So actually I've been wondering about some aspects of deity lore/cosmology and I hope we get more answers because, to be honest, I'm not sure what happens here.

It's implied that the nothingness that destroys Tengar is Predathos. We also know that Predathos does not seem to take memory and name when it destroys something; Aily and the other entities of light are still able to say Edun's name after he goes away, just as Ethedok and Vordo's names can still be said. This is in contrast to the Raven Queen, who in ascending did erase the prior god's symbol and name (and aspects from memory, though to varying degrees - Asmodeus does recall in EXU Calamity that he was a brother, but acknowledges the name is gone). I think her rites of ascension likely added that aspect, especially since we know her mortal name was forgotten and made impossible to read. Finally, we know new domains can be created as Vecna ascended without eliminating another god, and simply added himself.

So with that information I think the distinction the gods are making between Aeor and the Raven Queen isn't necessarily one of preservation of domains but rather intention. The Raven Queen was not trying to kill a god out of spite or fear or hate, but out of a sense of obligation towards the station. Which does translate to the preservation of domains in this case but I think the point is that Aeor seems to be killing for the sake of killing and not for some higher goal.

Perhaps this isn't correct to bring in Worlds Beyond Number, particularly since Brennan is working, with I'm sure plenty of leeway and freedom, within Matt's worldbuilding here, but I do feel like the way he talks about the witches and their domains [note: haven't listened to the latest episode no spoilers please] is worth mentioning. The witches are proposing killing one of their number (Erika's PC, Ame), and when Ame brings up her domain, they note that if she dies, her domain doesn't disappear; it simply isn't tended to.

I go back and forth on how much the domains of the gods of Exandria matter because we know there is overlap - Nature is a very big thing that encompasses aspects of Death, Storms, Sun, and Moon. Corellon and Moradin and Erathis all share parts of the creative process and it's implied Pelor does too. Agriculture is part of civilization.

If all the gods were killed? Perhaps it would destroy the world, but if some were I think they would simply lose that overlap. I don't know if there is a tipping point - and I do believe there is one (and it's indicated some Exandrians who might know, such as Keyleth, believe this too) but it's also possible that the domain still exists, but the magic and potential within it is gone. If both Melora and The Raven Queen are killed, for example, perhaps there is no longer an afterlife for anyone, but death will still exist.

When Asha says that Aeor will destroy everything I don't think it's a domain thing - I think it's just her noting that Aeor is already consuming a huge number of the planet's currently limited resources. The apples are going to Aeor and not to the starving beggars nor the animals. I think it's just a statement, in terms that a hungry nature goddess would use, that this is an exploitative empire taking advantage of their position of power amid war and natural disaster and that it will eventually exhaust the natural resources Exandria has to offer and die out itself: "This thing, this will be rock and nothing else. Three generations, four, they're going to end it for everything." Taliesin out of character in Cooldown then says Asha/Melora is speaking on behalf of life on Exandria, generally. I don't think it's that nature or storms or death or dawn will cease to exist overall, per se; I just think that they believe that if the only power left on Exandria is Aeor, all life will starve and die out not long after.

[contlis12]

Cole felt ready to die from the short walk from Ronnie’s ground level town house to his car and was almost in tears by the time he heaved himself into his car. Every muscle in his legs ached and felt like they were filled with cement when he finally swung his cellulite packed calves ass past the door and it safely and harshly plopped into Ronnie’s passenger side seat the beat buckle digging painfully into his massive hips. Ronnie had brought Cole all the way to the door in his wheel chair before suddenly stopping “get up all by yourself piggy, I want you to feel how helpless you have become how fat and out of shape you’ve gotten. Just how bad you’ve let this get” Ronnie teased kissing Coles neck as he locked the wheels in place “after all you aren’t going to get many more chances to do this piggy, it won’t be long before you get so huge I won’t be able to get you out of bed and into your wheelchair baby. Then the real feeding is going to start honey”

Ronnie had mixed feelings watching his feedee waddle weakly to his car. After multiple pitiful attempts and being completely unable to stand out of the chair of his own power Ronnie finally helped heft Cole up which he barley was able to do. His face was already beet red and dripping sweat but Ronnie was determined that he would at least walk to the car himself. Watching his feedee struggle with each step turned on Ronnie to no end. Every time Cole managed to push one leg past the other it sent the ocean of ass fat swaying left and right jiggling like crazy and pouring out of his undersized sweat shorts. Multiple inches of ass crack and stretch mark covered fat pillowy love handles showing made Ronnie simultaneously hornier than he could believe and filled with rage. On one hand looking at the complete destruction of this young hogs body drove him crazy, only a few years together and he had taken him to an over fed lazy geek almost pushing 300 pounds to a human cow. A walking heart attack so fat and weak a short 40 foot walk from the front door to the driveway was nearly impossible. On the other hand Ronnie was beyond pissed this fat ass could even still walk. He needed him to grow faster. Ronnie’s head swam with day dreams of him strapping Cole to the bed and force lard down his throat. Pumping him up with fat until his eyes swelled shut, his face so bloated with fat he couldn’t even speak, just able to suck gainer shake from his tube and grow bigger. Grow more rolls for Ronnie to fuck.

Ronnie snapped to as Cole whined out weakly for him “Ronnie please *huff gasp* I can’t *huff huff* can’t” he had managed to plop his huge ass in Ronnie’s station wagon but his huge bloated legs were still sticking out. Ronnie walked over grinning at the absolute mess before him. “Can you really not piggy? You barley walked twenty feet honey? Are you really that lazy?” Ronnie teased his pants tenting up more. Ronnie grinned as he rubbed Coles bloated aching legs “well baby I just can’t keep enabling this behavior” Ronnie’s hands ventured up to Coles huge knees and he wiggled the thick saggy roll of cellulite behind his knees “if you are going to be a lazy helpless hog I think I need to start treating you like one” Ronnie lifted Coles legs into the station wagon as he gave his belly a meaty smack and shutting the door. Hoping in the drivers seat Ronnie pulls out his phone and opens the first of many fast food apps and starts loading up the cart for his feedee his cock throbbing with every button press as he triple sizes every burger and adds extra sauce or supersizes anything with the option. He’d put a special request for an extra large cup of fryer grease on the McDonalds order if they’d let him but he will have to settle for two large milkshakes with extra whipped cream instead.

[doahaesunshine]

Chapter 7

Chapter WC: 2573

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You know it’s killing you right? This sadness.”

Seungcheol wasn’t judging his friend, and it was never his intention either, but he couldn’t help feeling like trash for trying to force himself into his friend's thoughts. He just wished he could go into their mind and pluck away at all the bad memories. 

A loud scoff resonated through the room, forcing Seungcheol back into reality.

“Cheolie. I’m fine.” 

Their words came out weak and a piercing silence followed after their sentence. 

“Seriously, don’t worry about me. I’m still truckin’ along.” 

The words were hollow. Just silly noises to distract Seungcheol from his concerns. The worst thing was that it almost worked.

Seungcheol wanted so badly to believe his friend, he really did. The desperation for things to be good threatened to overwrite any rational thought. If he needed to pretend, so be it. He would be happy to oblige.

But when he saw the too-dark under eyes and the terrifyingly prominent lines of cheekbones, he knew make-believe was impossible. His friend was eroding and if he didn’t intervene it was going to eat them alive.

“You need to listen to me. Sooner or later this isn’t going to be something you can joke about. You stopped going to therapy into the first year of grieving. You gave yourself no time to heal. It was straight to business, class, work, responsibilities.”

He regretted it. The words came out too harsh and Seungcheol felt like an asshole. The only response he received was silence. His friend avoided eye contact and remained silent. 

“I-uh.” They stuttered over their words as they stood. “I gotta go-”

This was it, this was the moment his childhood friend realized they didn’t want him around anymore.

“Y/N, wait!” 

December 29

Seungcheol’s phone blared through his bedroom. For the past four days he was waking up to his ringtone and a list of missed call notifications. Rolling over, he ignored the phone as he pressed his face into his pillow. After finding the bag in the river he shut himself in his room.

He used the excuse of needing to think so that he could stay awake late at night, hoping that his friend would call or text. It was a fantasy that he knew he had to throw away, but he didn’t have the willpower to bring himself back to reality. 

His phone rang again and with a groan he swiped it off his nightstand and answered.

“Hello?” His voice was rough and in desperate need of water.

“Hi. May I speak to Seungcheol Choi?” The voice was feminine and unfamiliar.

“This is he.” He replied.

“My name is Gywnn Harris, I’m a detective working with the local police department.” Her tone was polite and calm. “I’m calling to inform you that I am leading the investigation of the disappearance of your friend, Y/N L/N. If you’re able I would appreciate it if you could give me any information before their disappearance.”

Seungcheol sat up in his bed and leaned against the headboard. “I’d be more than happy to give anything that would help with the investigation. Should I see you at the station?”

“That would be ideal, anytime before noon is best.”

“Alright, I’ll be there shortly.” Seungcheol stood from his bed and hung up the call after exchanging goodbyes.

There was a moment of hesitation as he turned his attention to a water damaged, leather, messenger bag. After his brother found it in the river, Seungcheol took it upon himself to deliver it to the police. But upon seeing its contents he decided against it.

He unlatched the flap of the messenger bag and fished out a small sketchbook. The pages were filled with sketches of nature: trees, flowers, and animals, specifically birds. Among the drawings were entries, poems and short stories. 

Memories. 

Seungcheol flipped to a random page and read one of the poems.

My shoes feel like they are made of cement. Every step is heavy and slow. One misplaced step and I’ll sink Into the undertow

Both of the friends he lost had an interest in the arts, a painter and photographer, but the one art they had in common was poetry. Seungcheol could never bring himself to pick up a pen to draw or write and he only took pictures of food and his family. He was always more of an observer. He read his friends poems, studied the paintings and admired the photos. Now that both of them were gone there was no more creativity. 

The world was growing gray around him and it was suffocating. 

Seungcheol closed the journal and tucked it back into the bag. 

“This is ridiculous.” He muttered to himself as he hid the evidence under his bed.

The police department wasn’t far from his family’s residence, just a short drive into town. Life had returned to the buildings as Christmas had ended, no reason for the shops to be closed anymore. Thankfully the police station wasn’t busy. 

As Seungcheol entered the station, he observed his surroundings. Everyone was working at a steady pace, mingling or organizing stray papers. He wasn’t surprised, a stolen bike or simple vandalism was the most exciting thing these small town cops were offered. Even then, those incidents only happen once every few months. 

He approached the front desk where an older woman with mousy brown hair and wire framed glasses sat, looking over some papers in her hand. She perked up when he noticed him before her.

“Good morning. I’m looking for Detective Harris?” Seungcheol kept his tone friendly.

The woman took note of Seungcheol’s question and after filing away a paper, she stood, pointing to the back of the room.

“Detective Harris is usually at her desk, it’ll be on the left side of the room, dear.” Her voice was pleasant but raspy with age.

Seungcheol gently smiled and nodded as he thanked the woman. He swiftly made his way in the direction of Detective Harris’s desk, not wanting to waste any time. As he scanned the name plates of the desks he stopped at one that read: Det. G. Harris

The woman sitting at the desk had her nose nearly pressed to the monitor, a blue glow reflecting off of her skin. Her black hair was choppy and tied back in a messy bun, a few pieces sticking out and obscuring her face. She looked up from her screen as Seungcheol approached. A smile spread on her lips as she stood.

She held out her hand. “You must be Seungcheol Choi, nice to meet you!” There was a brassy quality to her voice that the phone wasn’t able to pick up, she sounded older than she looked.

Seungcheol reciprocated the handshake. “Please, just Seungcheol. Cheol if it’s too hard to pronounce.”

“Nonsense! My grandmother is Korean, I’m familiar with the language.” She pointed to a chair behind Seungcheol. “Pull up a seat. This will just be a few questions, shouldn’t take too long.”

Seungcheol did as he was told and obediently dragged a chair toward Detective Harris’s desk.

“Alright.” She started to say as she pulled out a notebook and pen. “We’ll start simple. When was the last time you saw your friend?”

“Christmas Eve. I spent most of the afternoon with them. I’d say it was around four in the evening when I last saw them.” Seungcheol was detailed in his response. “We didn’t talk after that, I sent a text at midnight, but they didn’t even open it.”

When Seungcheol’s speaking faded into silence the only thing that was heard was the scribbling of pen on paper. After another moment of writing Detective Harris met Seungcheol’s gaze again.

“Did they say anything odd when you two were hanging out?”

Seungcheol had to think about his answer. It was the usual banter and Christmas Eve isn’t usually a happy time for the two of them so anything would appear bleak.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” It was a half truth. His friend was usually on the gloomier side, but nothing they said alerted him to anything dangerous.

“Okay.” Harris responded as she continued writing. “Was there anyone in Y/N’s life that had a want to harm them?”

The question took Seungcheol off guard. He thought about the people that surrounded his friend’s life. There were coworkers, but not many friends and the only family they had was their father.

“They uh- didn’t have many friends. It was really only me and their father. A few people they worked with at the local cafe, but other than that, there weren’t many people they talked to.”

More scribbling followed by a moment of stillness. Detective Harris took a breath before she spoke.

“I spoke with Y/N’s father yesterday. He said his child struggled with depression, did you know this?”

Seungcheol sighed and pinched his nose bridge as he felt a dull ache in his forehead. “Yeah- Yes, I knew about that. I spoke with them about it often.”

He was hoping to keep his friend’s mental health hidden from the detective, but daddy dearest soiled that plan. 

“Were they contemplating their life?”

Seungcheol snapped his eyes back to Detective Harris, his expression must have been a sight to behold because even the detective appeared as though she regretted the question. 

“No.” He spoke in an even tone, voice low. “They may have had their ups and downs, but they were never suicidal.”

Another lie, but Seungcheol didn’t care. He wanted to make sure that the police would search for his friend, not a corpse.

The new year brought no new evidence and no closure to Seungcheol. Every day passed with more anxiety and less sleep. Detective Harris had no new leads and each conversation between himself and her had the continuous connotation that his friend committed suicide. 

 He took each day with a grain of salt and a heavy heart. Working behind the counter of his family’s hardware shop became mundane, he had no enthusiasm or energy to help his father and brother with any in-home repairs that needed to be done. His friend’s father hasn’t been much help either. Seungcheol had been visiting, bringing food his mother made over to feed the man but the conversations were bland and many things were left unsaid. 

Sitting at the dinner table, nearly two weeks since losing them, his family ate in relative silence aside from utensils hitting the plates. Though his family could be loud during dinner, bringing up old stories or things they heard around town, these days it was hollow. Most times as of recently Seungcheol brought his food to his room, eating as he read over their journal night after night. 

There was no way his friend would have killed themself, he had no doubt that they didn’t. They had only lost their spark, lost in the grief that they didn’t let themself process and instead pushed it aside to busy their mind and body. 

His mother had turned on the TV to fill the void tonight, letting the local news play without much thought. 

“ Tonight, we tell you with heavy hearts that evidence regarding the missing person’s case for Y/N L/N has surfaced.” 

His heart stopped. His family visibly paused hearing the broadcaster’s words. 

As he raised his head, tired eyes locking on the screen, he watched the scene change to Detective Harris standing along the river, much further down than he was with his brother those two weeks ago. 

“Hello everyone, this is Detective Gwynn Harris. I have been the lead investigator regarding the L/N case and tonight I bring not so great news. At 6:30 tonight, the department received an anonymous call stating that they found a bag belonging to the victim with an empty bottle of prescription painkillers and a series of poems that it seems they wrote themselves. Upon further investigation when the team arrived, there were pictures folded within the pages of Seokmin Lee who was a close friend to the victim.” Harris sighed, her face clearly showing despair yet she held it together. A second camera was zooming in on the bag in question. Seungchoel had seen it days prior on the floor of their room.

 “ The department and I will be taking this evidence and releasing it back to the family once everything is collected. With this new evidence, we are ruling this missing person’s case a suicide. I send my condolences to their family, friends and loved ones, thank you.” 

The scene changed once more, the news reporter sitting up straighter and reading off the papers before her. “ Two years ago we reported on the missing person Seokmin Lee. The case was a town tragedy seeing he was said to be a sunshine to everyone he met. No body was recovered however a vigil was held for him and tonight we heard from Detective Harris where the circumstances were similar. That is all we have for-” 

He couldn’t hear it any longer, his blood was boiling. He needed to see their father. 

“Cheol wait-” His mother’s words fell on deaf ears, barely getting his shoes on before grabbing his keys and wallet. 

Speeding was the least of his concern when he reached his friend’s childhood home. The lights in the living room were on, he had half a mind to bust the door down and demand to know what was going on. He had been at their house that week and went through some of their things. He knew that bag was kicked under their desk since the strap had snapped over time and it couldn’t be worn outside anymore. 

Seungcheol marched up to the door and banged his fist against it, jaw tense, muscles rigid. When the door opened, his friend’s father was shocked to see him, words barely seeming to sputter out. 

“Oh- Cheol. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just got the call-” 

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Venom laced his words, chest raising and falling in deep breaths to keep the anger within him at bay. “What did you do?” 

Bewildered, the older gentleman took a step back, “I don’t know what you are talking about, Seungcheol.” 

“I asked; what did you do?” He repeated, staring daggers into the other. “You and I both know they haven’t used that bag in years, even before Seokmin- Even before everything happened. It was tossed aside in their room and I even pointed it out to you in some sorry attempt at a joke that they never threw it away.” 

Seungcheol was outraged, so much so that he was calm. Deadly calm. 

He stepped inside and shut the door behind himself, watching as their father stepped back. 

“Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you think I would just believe that crap that Harris spouted about on TV?” His nostrils flared in anger. “What are you trying to play at?! What kind of parent purposefully makes it look like their child killed themselves?!”

The yell caught the other man off guard. He held up his hands in defense. The facade he put up faltered. 

“Cheol, you don’t understand it all, it's complicated.” 

“Complicated? Complicated?! That you are faking their death?! You planted that and called it in yourself! Don’t even try to lie to me!” 

“You don’t understand the forces at play, Cheol! I didn’t have a choice!”

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[hoffmanxfurthermore]

Complete Collapse

(Kenny Lacos x reader)

Collab w someone.

Word count: 3.4k

Content: dubious consent, bondage, teasing, toys, squirting, car sex, the usual crap.

As you slip through the door of a store catered to just adults and their bedroom hobbies, your heart beats a little faster, not from fear, but from the thrill of what you're about to do. The aisles stretch out before you, filled with vibrators, dildos, plugs, various flavors and types of lube, cock rings, strap ons- anything anyone might need, was there. 

You move with purpose, your eyes scanning the shelves for items that call out to you. You look around to ensure no employee is watching you, or that there aren’t any security cameras around to capture your thievery. 

Each piece you select is slipped discretely into your bag, the weight of your burgeoning collection a tangible reminder of your daring. There's a rush in this act of rebellion, a feeling of power in taking what you've been told to leave untouched.

But as you prepare to walk out the front doors, you’re met with the sudden flash of blue and red lights through the store's windows. 

The sound of officers entering the store, their voices authoritative and stern, freezes you in your tracks. They're here for you. You've been caught. The handcuffs click around your wrists, a cold, hard confirmation of your actions.

Yet, in this moment of capture, your mind races. You're not ready to give up, not ready to face the consequences of your actions. As the officers are momentarily distracted while speaking to the general manager, you see your chance. With a heart pounding in your chest, you make a split-second decision to run.

Your escape is a blur of adrenaline and desperation. The city streets become a maze, one you navigate with the single-minded goal of evading the officers behind you. The handcuffs, still secured around your wrists, are a constant reminder of the stakes. You dart through alleys, your breaths coming in sharp gasps, your legs pushing you further into the night.

Just as you think you've made a clean escape, the night takes another turn. Out of the shadows, a young officer named Kenny Lacos emerges, his determination mirrored in the set of his jaw and the focus in his eyes. You barely have a moment to react before he tackles you from the side, taking you down with a precision that speaks of his training and a resolve that's all his own.

The ground rushes up to meet you, the impact knocking the wind out of your chest. Kenny's grip is firm, his presence a solid weight that pins you to the pavement. The adrenaline that fueled your flight now mixes with a rush of fear and frustration. You're caught, truly caught, with no room left to run.

Kenny alerts dispatch that you’ve been caught, and he will take you down to the station. The young officer grabs you by your shoulders and pulls you to the ground, holding you by your wrists. Kenny reads you your Miranda Rights as he escorts you to his patrol car, the lights still flash. 

You’re too embarrassed to respond, you merely nod at Kenny. You hold back tears from shame, and pain from landing on the cement, your face and arms are scraped and dirty. 

The back door to Kenny’s patrol car was already opened, he guides you into the seat but he’s not gentle - you land against the seat with a thud.

You lift your legs in, feeling defeated, knowing there's no way out now. He slams the door shut, grabs your bag off the ground, and chucks it to the floor of the passenger side as he climbs in. 

You wince in pain as the handcuffs securing your wrists together dig into your back. The hard plastic back seat of the patrol car is not very comfortable either. No matter how you tried to wiggle around and adjust yourself, something always hurt. Kenny glances back at you, a slight smirk resting upon his face.

"Is someone stuck?" Kenny asked teasingly, to which you respond by nodding and whimpering. Unbeknownst to you, when Kenny tossed your bag down, some of the items had fallen out. Biting his lip, Kenny knew just then what his plans were for you.

In the attempts to wiggle around and get comfortable, the black skirt that covers your thighs is hitched up just a little bit. A stinging pain covers the parts of your skin that made contact with the ground, only adding to your distress. The car takes a sharp, bumpy turn, and you look out the window to find you're in an empty lot. 

He parks in the middle of the empty lot and sits silently, staring out the window. The seconds stretch to minutes as you grow more tense, wondering why you're in the middle of an empty lot. 

"Umm, why are we stopped here?" You ask after about 3 minutes of growing silence. Slowly, he turns to face you, removing his seat belt as to move easier. 

"Well, I have to think about making the punishment fit the crime.." he says, making eye contact with you, making it feel as though his blue orbs are staring into your soul.

"What do you mean?! Am I under arrest?"

"That depends. Would you rather have a theft charge on your record? Or work this out between us right now?"

"What do you mean?" You ask. 

"Well, usually people steal things because they have a need, so I can only assume you need some kind of release."

"I... uhh...." Your eyes dart nervously from side to side, and you sigh because you can't deny that he's right. 

Kenny can read you like a book. A sly grin spread across his face, looking at you in the backseat, helpless. He can sense your nervousness, and he takes it to his advantage. You're trapped there, your hands cuffed behind your back, your seat belt keeping you in place. Reaching his hand out, Kenny softly touches your thigh, causing you to gasp, his fingertips like magic on your smooth skin, suddenly sparking something inside you. 

"Do you need a release?" He whispers, his fingertips dipping underneath the soft material of the garment that barely covers your thighs. Already feeling intoxicated just from his touch alone, you just stare at him and nod.

“Y-Yes.”

As the words escape your lips, admitting your desperate need for release, Kenny's eyes light up with eager anticipation. Kenny’s quick to reach for the bag of stolen items that had fallen to the floor of the car, and the grin spreads across his face as he rummages through its contents.

He sorts through the various sex toys nestled within the bag, each one a tantalizing promise of pleasure and satisfaction. After some moments of scanning the items, deciding what he wanted to use on you, Kenny selects a sleek vibrator from the array of items, its smooth surface cool to the touch as he holds it up for you to see. The toy he selected was average in length but very thick, dressed in blue silicone. 

"Well, well, well," Kenny tuts, admiring the toy in his hand. "Looks like you came prepared for a little fun, didn't you?"

You can only nod in response. Your cheeks flush crimson with embarrassment. But despite your apprehension, there's a surge of excitement that courses through you. He exits the vehicle, only to join you in the back seat so he has easier access to you. 

Kenny switches on the vibrator, its gentle hum filling the air of the car as he presses it against your throbbing clit. You gasp in pleasure as the vibrations send waves of ecstasy coursing through your body, your hips bucking instinctively against the toy. 

Kenny leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "You like that, don't you?“

You can barely nod as the pleasure courses through your body, the fact that you're handcuffed and held back by the seat belt only adding to your arousal. Unable to move, you can only sit there as Kenny presses the button, turning the power up another notch. 

Gasping, you pull your hips up, increasing the pressure of the toy against your clit, a wet spot beginning to form on the front of your black panties. Your eyes are closed, and you're completely lost in the feeling as your legs begin to tremble. You're barely able to focus, the sound of your moaning and whimpering filling the air. 

Sensing your approaching climax, Kenny chuckles as he withdraws the buzzing toy, much to your dismay. 

"You thought I would let you get off that easy?" He says, switching the toy off and dropping it to the seat next to you.

"Please..." You beg, your eyes wide, squirming and writhing, pushing towards him with the desire for more pleasure.

He pushes on your chest right between your breasts and then moves his hand over to squeeze your left nipple hard over your shirt, which causes you to gasp. 

"You're going to have to earn it, sweetheart," he purrs, his hand traveling down your body. His fingers slip under the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs, leaving you bare and exposed. Just how he wants you. 

"That's better," he whispers in your ear, his thick fingers grazing the inside of your bare thigh. You look over at him, still struggling against your restraints.

He picks up the toy and, without turning it on, slowly runs it up your thigh to your sopping opening. You're desperate to feel it inside you. As you slightly raise your hips up, he pulls it away from you. 

"Be good," he asserts, "and I'll give you what you want."

Holding still, you gasp as he teases you with the tip for a few seconds. It's almost impossible to hold yourself still. 

"Good girl..." he slowly slides it inside you, "hold still for me...." You look at him, your lip quivering, begging with your eyes.

You moan as the girth of the toy stretches you out. It's been a while since you've done anything. You feel fuller than you've felt in a fat minute. But he doesn't move it, just keeps still. The toy is deep, resting snug against your cervix.

Holding the thick toy deep inside you, Kenny hits the button, turning on the vibrations and sending shockwaves through your body. You squeal and try to move around, desperate for more. You need it so bad. But he doesn't budge. He just holds it inside you as it vibrates your core. 

"Gah, fuck!" You moan loudly, throwing your head back. Kenny's free hand grips the soft flesh of your thigh hard, his fingernails leaving indents, preventing you from moving around as he relishes the site of you having to take whatever he gives you... You whine loudly, desperately needing some stimulation to your clit, but Kenny isn't giving in.

As Kenny pulls the toy out of you, you can't help but let out an aggravated groan of frustration. You feel so empty, desperate for more. 

Kenny just watches you, relishing the power he holds over your pleasure. He knows exactly what he's doing, and he's enjoying every moment of it.

"Please, Kenny," you sob. "I need more. I need to cum so badly."

But Kenny only teasingly trails his fingers along your thigh as he savors the sight of you squirming beneath him. 

"Not yet," He shakes his head, "You'll get to cum when I say so, and not a moment sooner."

With that, he reaches for the vibrator once again, but this time, he doesn't hold back. With a flick of his wrist, he turns it on to its highest setting, the intense vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. With his free hand, he teasingly dances over the sensitive skin of your clit with his fingers.

An almost sadistic looking smile spreads across his face as he watches your body shake. He is loving every bit of teasing you, of your reactions, and it shows. 

"Fuck you!" You cry as he pulls the buzzing vibrator away once again.

Kenny chuckles as he sets the toy down and reaches over to unbuckle your seat belt. The back of the police car is surprisingly roomy, so it's quite easy for him to rotate you on the seat and position himself between your legs. Your wrists are still cuffed behind your back, but he moves you with ease. His fingertips on one hand slowly graze your thigh as his other hand works to undo his pants. 

"Do you want to cum?" He asks as he removes his stiff cock from the confines of his pants. You bite your lip at the sight of it. You can see it throbbing as he tightly grips the shaft. Your pussy twitches just looking at his thick cock, begging to feel it.

"Yes," you whimper, "I need it, please..."

Teasing your wet opening with the tip, he bites his lip as you raise your hips up, ready to take every throbbing inch of him.

"Be good," he says, his voice dripping with desire and passion, "and do what I say." He slides his length inside of you, making you gasp. It was a lot girthier than the toy.

"Fuck yourself on my cock," he purrs, holding his hips still. You roll your hips up and down, taking his entire length inside your dripping cunt. High pitched moans escape your throat as the tip hits that sweet spot perfectly every time.

"Good girl," Kenny groans, "fuck, so good...."

Kenny picks up the vibrator, turning it to a medium setting and places it against the sensitive bud. Crying out in pleasure, you move your hips faster, and he thrusts inside you to match your movements.

"Stop moving," he demands as he places his hand on your lower stomach, firmly holding you down to the seat as he begins to fuck you hard and fast. You feel your climax approaching, and you look at him with pleading eyes. He looks into your eyes as he turns the vibration to the highest setting, making you squeal loudly.

"Can i... can I cum?" You gasp, your legs shaking, your breathing shaky, your nipples so hard you feel like they could cut glass.

"You can cum," he whispers in your ear, "cum for me..." 

The second he says that, you come unraveled, your body trembling violently. But he doesn't stop or even slow down, still fucking you deep and hard as he holds the vibrating toy firmly against your throbbing clit. His other hand presses down on your lower stomach, preventing you from moving around.

Kenny doesn't seem the slightest bit tired as he continues to pound into you. Your head is spinning, and it's as though you've lost control of your body. You gasp for breath as the toy continues to vibrate your super sensitive clit, his thick cock moving like a piston inside you.

Without warning, another orgasm rips through your body. Your eyes roll back into your skull, your body convulses as Kenny's hand keeps your hips pinned down. Overstimulation hits you like a train. It feels like a fires been ignited between your legs, and you try desperately to break away from his grip.

"Please..." You beg, "i.. I can't..." You can't even finish your sentence. 

"You wanted to cum," Kenny growls, "so you're gonna cum."

For some reason, you wanting him to stop, and him not stopping, just makes you want more. The sensation is like electricity coursing through your veins, but you can't get enough of it. Your body falls limp, your mouth hanging open, barely able to form any sounds. A sheet of sweat collects on both of your bodies. The metal handcuffs are sure to have cut into your skin by now, but you pay it no attention.

The slickness of your arousal makes it difficult to hold the toy still on your throbbing clit, so the movement of it only adds to your sensitivity. Kenny intensifies his movements, his thick cock driving into you with even more force as he continues to stimulate your sensitive clit with the vibrating toy. The dual sensation pushes you over the edge once again, and you're powerless to resist as another mind-shattering orgasm rips through your body.

Your back arches off the seat of the patrol car, your nails digging into your palms as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your cries of pleasure fill the air, echoing off the walls of the car.

“That’s a good girl,” Kenny kisses your neck softly, your skin salty from sweat. He stills his hips for just a moment and moves the vibrator to the side, giving you a moment of relief.

“I think I can get one more out of you, huh? Think you can cum again for me?”

"I don't... think.... I can..." You gasp, catching your breath. Your head is spinning, body twitching, like a bug that's just been stepped on. Black streaks of mascara stain your cheeks, your hair a mess. You're not sure how much more you can take. But being pushed further than that is what excites you the most.

"Aww, come on," Kenny teases, trailing the vibrater slowly up your thigh, "one more."

Without waiting for an answer, Kenny swiftly moved the toy between your legs once again, turning it back to the highest setting. He snaps his hips forward, fucking you deep, the tip of his cock punching your cervix repeatedly, sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure shooting through your body.

Your throat and mouth are dry and sore from screaming. You just lie there with your mouth hanging open as Kenny has his way with you. This is the most used you've ever felt before, but you're absolutely in love with the sensation. Knowing you're going to be sore, unable to walk for days after this.

A high-pitched yet hoarse squeel emits from your throat as a fourth orgasm quickly approaches. He pounds into you relentlessly, each thrust sending you closer and closer to the edge. Your walls clench around him, and a sudden rush of fluid comes out of you, catching both you and Kenny by surprise.

"Oh my god," you shriek, the immense pleasure you feel outweighing any embarrassment or shock over what just happened. Kenny doesn't seem to mind that you soaked the front of his clothes as his breathing gets heavier.

Kenny groans loudly and quickly withdraws his cock as he cums, the hot, white fluid shooting out towards you, landing in your hair and all over the front of your shirt. Kenny falls back against the door of the vehicle, panting, catching his breath. As your breathing slowly returns to normal, you look up at him as he's zipping his pants back up.

"You really made a mess on me," he chuckles, looking down at his shirt, soaked with your fluids. Your cheeks turn a crimson colour with embarrassment because that's never happened to you before.

"Nobody's ever made me do that before," you say shyly, looking up at Kenny. He smiles at you, reaching for the key to your handcuffs.

"Let's get you out of this." You lean into his chest as he undoes the cuffs. Your shoulders and elbows are sore as you pull your arms in front of you, your wrists bloody from the handcuffs digging into your skin.

Kenny reaches in the front for a first aid kit. You watch as he slowly dresses your wounds, a small hint of regret in his eyes as he wraps bandages around your sore limbs.

"So what does this mean? Am I free to go?" You ask nervously. He looks at you with a smirk on his face.

The sky is dark by this point as he drives you home, the ride filled with silence. Kenny lets you ride shotgun as opposed to the hard plastic back seat. As the patrol car rolls up in front of your house, Kenny picks up the bag of goodies and places it in your lap.

"Keep it," he says, opening the glove box and producing a business card, "and call me if you need another release." He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.

Smiling back and biting your lip, you take the bag into your hands and drop the card inside. Your legs are still trembling, but you manage to reach your front door. Just before slipping inside, you turn back to him.

He winks at you before driving off.