#and its got tommy tits. or one tommy tit. life is good

[shivroy]

very stupid tomgreg posting later today [thubs up]

[tremendum]

i've got headaches and bad luck but they couldn't touch you

[not my gif. title from song Of All the Gin Joints in All the World] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)    

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)      

word count: 4.6k  requested: Could you write something (literally anything really) like mean Joel x feisty Reader but based on the ancient Fall Out Boys song "Of All the Gin Joints in All the World" pretty please? 🥺🥹 I was just listening and I thought the lyrics were perfect for your writing ❤️But as always no pressure and no problem at all if you don't like the idea or anything else. Lots of love! P.S. smut is very welcome btw hihihi summary: “Joel's not one for feelings anymore, but you seem to pull them out of him like it's your goddamn job." warnings: established previous hookups, use of girl/babygirl, established age gap (unspecified but addressed openly), brief mention of oral m!receiving, brief mention of reader and joel’s canon-typical scars. choking, mean!Joel & brat tamer!Joel, brat!reader lol, dirty talk (its joel), degradation, use of the word slut, slight dumbification, spitting, rough sex, unprotected PiV, cum eating, nipple play, slapping (tits, ass). think that's it!

notes: okay finally another mean!Joel for the soul!!! this is super unedited also. tysm for the request, obv inspired by the song Of All The Gin Joints in All the World by FOB. :) this was fun and i hope yall love it! dont b afraid to request anything yall wanna read at all and as always pls comment or reblog :) love u xoxo  

[other Joel fics: mr. miller series fever landmines  ]

★  

Joel Miller isn't sure exactly when all this bullshit started. 

one day, he was introduced to you fleetingly in the cafeteria while you and Maria had an intense conversation - he’s not sure if you spoke for more than ten seconds; but months later and Joel happens to know exactly what your sweaty skin tastes like on the sharpness of his tongue and could probably list his favorite pairs of underwear you own. 

it's nothing, really. 

you patrol together often, and Joel guesses that out of all the insufferable people he's had to deal with, you're definitely not the worst. perhaps your handiness with a trigger - not nearly as inept as his own but definitely a close second - helps; or maybe it's the way your mouth feels wrapped around his cock. 

and he's not stupid; he knows exactly what Tommy was doing when he signed Joel with you for patrol - the same shit he'd been pulling since they were thirty years younger and Joel was fresh out of the relationship with Sarah's mom. but it's different now, because life is not the same - nothing is the same. 

Joel's not one for feelings anymore, but you seem to pull them out of him like it's your goddamn job. 

you are one talkative motherfucker; usually, that'd drive Joel up a wall, but after repeated and incessant exposure to Ellie for such an extended period, his patience has surprisingly grown.

and unlike others, you never acted nervous or scared by him. irritated, maybe, but it's not like he cares much if you get irritated by his attitude; you're worse than he can be.

at first, he thought you were just fucking him because you just didn't know who he really was yet. but months into whatever this shit is, and you're still - for whatever fucking reason - hanging around him, even after everything. he likes it, though, that you fight fire with fire.

and maybe that's why Tommy stuck you two together, because in some ways it was inevitable - maybe it was a good thing, Joel thinks. 

but this morning, as Joel's mind slams against his body, jolting him awake, his aching head makes him double-guess that.

it's weird how different it all is now - before you, Joel was tortured through nights plagued with sweats and memories. blood, pain, loss. he used to dream restlessly of life and all of its unforgiving horrors; but now, to his shock, he finds himself plagued with dreams of you. 

he gasps awake - he's not sure he'll ever stop that. 

but this time, you're next to him in the bed. his skin feels warm as the light filters through the blinds that stay constantly pulled down this time of year to retain the cool air and Joel lets out a shuttered sigh, his head aching.

it's only the second time you've stayed the night. he's never stayed at yours, god forbid - but a small part of him aches this morning when you slide out of his heavy, sleep-addled muscles. in the absence of your heat there is still bliss for a moment, until he's roused fully by your voice. 

"these sheets are dirty." the sound carries into his ears, melodic and fiery. he cracks one eye open, hand raising to rub over his face - a deep, tired sigh. 

"g'mornin' to you too." he snarks, sighing as he pulls himself on aching muscles to blink his eyes open; you stand over the bed, on the side that usually remains cold an empty while Joel thrashes in fits of restless sleep. there's not a single scrap of clothing on your body.  

he feels himself stir at the sight of you, naked, neck painted in a splattering of beautiful marks that'd been pulled forth in moments of ecstasy the night before.

you send him a half smirk, shrugging as you tug on a shirt - his, fuck, his stomach swirls at the sight of you wrapped in him. something primal crawls in his chest as you smile at him, legs almost glowing in their bareness as they knock against the side of the mattress. your fingers brush the fabric to the left of his head. 

"there's stains on the pillows." you shake your head, your face alluring in its tease. he feels himself roll his eyes as he grunts, "you're actin' like it ain't your makeup stainin' it?" 

he stares at the marks on the pillowcase; black, from that shit you sometimes put on your eyes which just makes them all the more beautiful, wide, and alluring. the makeup that's surely expired after all this time but still is something you like to do to, as you'd mentioned once, 'reclaim your humanity.' whatever.

Joel would never admit it to you, but he hadn't even really tried to wash out those stains; something about them gives him a warmth in his chest every morning that he wakes up in this cold bed. 

but when his eyes fall back to you in your silence, you smirk and it hits him: you're fucking teasing him.

he glares at you as your lips curl in a huff of a laugh, shaking your head. "if you keep complainin' about every damn thing, might as well just fuck you on the floor." he mutters, mostly to himself-  but also to see the way your thighs shift, eyes widening slightly as color washes your cheeks. you're squirming at his words, just like that - oh, he's got you pinned.

you'd like that, you dirty little thing.

but you regain your composure quicker than lightning, ready to snap back; yet another tally to add on the list of things he admires about you.

"you're such a gentleman, Miller." you snide, fanning yourself sardonically with one hand as you roll your eyes, searching for your underwear. 

he remembers the first time you'd said that to him -

"why so shy?" you'd purred. the memory of your voice curls around his ears as he huffs, watching you bend over and give him a complete view of your ass as you fetch your panties from the floor.  "c'mon, Joel, you don't need to be such a gentleman. 's nothing you haven't seen before." you'd stripped yourself of your shirt, your pert nipples pebbling in the cold breeze as he'd sat, cleaning his rifle. "the hell's the matter with you?" he'd grumbled; but it didn't stop either of you. you'd been pressed between him and the splitting backseat of the broken down crashed car within seconds, anyways. 

his eyes meet yours as you stand again. 

he snarks, "well you’re givin' me a headache, an' I've only been up for two minutes." he glares at you, swinging to pull his boxers over his hips, standing up to find his shirt. he pointedly ignores the glare you send him at his grumpiness. 

"you're the one acting dumb," you mutter, "acting like I'm the one who gives you headaches." you retort, a teasing glint in your eye; he knows that look. Joel knows you'd never get a headache from him - as much as he pisses you off, he knows you're too fiery, too lucky to get caught up in whatever miserable puddle he's drowning in. 

because Joel's bad luck curls around his fists wherever he goes; the talons reaching out, crawling through every hallway and seeping through every door. you, on the other hand, are like a goddamn firecracker. Joel hates the idea, but you're... somehow gifted in that way.

he's convinced his bad luck couldn't touch you if it tried. 

no matter the dumb shit you pull - forgetting a flashlight, not flipping off your safety that one moment when the clicker had stumbled out of the brush; all of that, and you escape unscathed, nothing but a giggle and a half-shrug from you before you move on to the next stupid thing. 

if you weren't such a goddamn brat, it'd be charming. 

his eyes snap to yours as your words fall from your lips; a burning in his chest at your tone. he watches your legs carry you into his bathroom, and he can't help it when his follow yours.

you haven't even flipped on the lights before he shuts the door behind him - you're already wearing that snarky fucking smile on your face, and he's straining already against his boxers.

he stares down at you, crowding you slowly into the wall. "what the fuck did you just say to me?" he hisses, mouth close to yours. as you turn your chin up towards his face, he can tell that you try your hardest to control your smirk, playing into the tense energy that's emanating from his chest. 

"I said you're acting dumb."

you repeat, tilting your head slightly as you drink in the darkness in his eyes. lord, you'd let that darkness swallow you in a fucking heartbeat. 

speaking of; your own heartbeat thunders in your chest, anticipating. you know what's coming, you can nearly taste it on your tongue. 

"oh, 's that right?" Joel asks, tilting his head to stare down at you. you swallow as you stare back into those deep irises, the small bit of golden light that shines through the small bathroom window illuminating in an ominously heavenly ray.

his hand settles on the crook of your shoulder and neck, sliding gently upwards as you nod your head defiantly, pushing as far as you can to see when he'll snap. his eyes glisten in temptation; daring you to act up more. 

raising your brows, you try to play like it's obvious, "waking up and complaining about your headaches, old man?" you tut gently, shaking your head innocently. "I don't think it's my fault that you fucked me twice, immediately passed out and now your head hurts when you've woken up the next morning. you know better than to push yourself in your old age, Joel. that's stupid." you add coyly, knowing it'll push him over the edge - he loves it when you act like a brat, no matter how much he denies it. 

his response is immediate and exactly what you'd hoped for. 

he's on you in a split second - hand sliding from your shoulder to grip your throat, pushing you back onto the wall of the bathroom. the towel bar digs into your middle-back slightly and you gasp in arousal at the force of his body on yours. you can feel his cock, hard and straining in his boxers, as it presses into your lower stomach. 

"y'wanna play like that, baby?" he growls, "why you fuckin' around with an old man like me, then?" he asks.

your face heats up, arousal flooding your core, your cunt slowly wetting itself at the purr of his voice - the meaner the words, the larger the flame. 

"hm?" he gently pushes, raising his brows as his hand squeezes gently on your throat, nudging you against the wall further; your gasp is slightly rasped under the pressure, your whole body screaming with desire. this is what you love - mean, angry, hungry Joel Miller. "'s it because nobody fucks you like I do, is that it?"

his knee slides between yours, wedging himself high up, rubbing suddenly against your aching pussy, the material of your cotton already soaked with a damp spot that rubs against his thick thigh. 

"Joel, fuck-" you groan, already willing to just do what you can to get him to touch you. his hand on your throat tightens at your word, thigh rutting up to slide against your needy clit, your hips bucking at the feeling. "-'s because nobody else is so easy." your fiery mouth betrays your body; the snarky comment snaps his eyes to yours, a dark breath leaving his lips. 

"that's ironic," he snaps, "comin' from someone who begged me to fuck them for hours." 

your face burns at the memory of the first time you and Joel'd hooked up; your desperate voice hoarse from pleading him to fuck you - out in the middle of the woods, a sleeping bag that, by the end, had rips on it from rocks and twigs and the force of his thrusts; the shyness gone from either of you as your touches made up for all the silence between you.

he hums lowly, watching you as you swallow at the memory, his thigh rutting up again and pulling a yelp of pleasure from your lips. "y'don't feel so high 'n mighty when I fuck you stupid, right baby?" he asks, voice dripping with condescendence as he nods gently, encouraging you to answer him. your core throbs at his words, your mouth going dry. 

his hand leaves your throat; you swallow a gulp of air, staring with wide eyes as he grasps your jaw roughly. "answer me." 

"n-no, I don't." you mutter, voice sounding small; the arousal that pulses through your veins begs your mouth to be smart, do what Joel says so he'll give in to what you want. 

he smirks, hands roughly grabbing the thick of your hips and flipping you around to press you against the counter, your hips bending as he shoves himself just behind you. your eyes meet yourself and his own hawkish gaze in the mirror in front of you; your heated breath fogs up the mirror in the faint morning light. 

his fingers thread through your hair, tugging you back again as he tilts your head back. his upside down face, smirking down at you, has your thighs clenching - "open." he orders, voice stern. 

your tongue sticks out and he wastes no time spitting roughly onto your tongue, moving your head back to stare into the mirror; his eyes meet yours as his spit slides over your tongue and his furrowed brows twitch with a slight smirk. "look at you, doin' what I tell you. now swallow it and say thank you." 

your core flutters at his words deliciously as you do as you're told; swallowing, you take a breath and mutter, "thank you," - though it's more breathless than you expected, Joel seems to approve. he hums, "there are those manners," he mutters into your ear, cock pressing against the swell of your ass. "almost seemed like you'd forgotten you had them." 

"didn't forget." you mutter, face heating up as your pussy aches, fluttering around nothing and desiring for his fingers, his cock - anything. 

one rough palm slides his shirt up your torso, exposing your bare tits to both of you through the mirror. with his face stooped down near your neck, a short inhale of your hair before his hand reaches it's destination - your throat. 

"then why're you actin' up?" he rasps, teeth grazing your shoulder. he squeezes his hand again and your eyes roll back in pleasure, arousal soon slicking your thighs as you think you may die from all the teasing. "you don't wanna cum?" 

your eyes widen, breath halting as you shake your head, "wh- no- no!" you hiss, "I do want to cum, please." 

his other hand raises, slapping your breast harsh and quick; your gasp of shock tapers off into a whine of pleasure, your nipples hard in arousal as his palm comes to soothe over the sting. 

"then why're you acting like this?" he asks again, shaking his head. another slap, this time to your other breast. his eyes follow the skin of your chest; the way you gasp, your whines at the slight stinging and the pleasure that follows. fingers pinch your nipples, teasing in circles before another sharp slap echoes through the room. "just a little brat, y'can't help yourself." he decides, biting on your neck lightly. 

you can feel him rut against you hard, grinding his hips as he lets out a short groan. you let out a low moan, whining slightly when he smacks your tits again, skin glowing with the impact. his eyes meet yours in the mirror. "quit the whinin'," he grunts, rutting his hard cock against your ass, "you'll be stuffed full of me soon enough." he grunts, "then we'll see who's dumb." 

your shaky moan sounds more like a groan, elbows falling to steady yourself as Joel releases your throat, tossing you forward to grab your hips instead. he pulls you back, grinding into you as his head tilts back in how own small groan of pleasure. "this ass." Joel grunts to himself as he palms the curve of your ass in both large hands, one falling to smack harsh onto the left. 

you're dripping down the inside of your thighs as he ruts against you twice more; thick fingers soon slide to thumb at the slick wet of your panties. his fingers tease the wet material that's glued to your pussy with need, tracing over your lips lightly over the fabric. "pretty pussy, just for me." he mutters; you nod, looking up at him through the mirror, "all for you, Joel." you affirm, voice shaking with anticipation. 

"you gonna be good when I fill you up, baby?" he lifts his brow, stern look as he palms himself. fuck, he's so sexy behind you like this, his thumb slowly dragging the material of your panties to the side and exposing your weeping cunt; you nod, "yes, I'll do anything-" 

you're cut off by a sharp gasp as the stretch of his cock's head cuts off your brain. he eases in gently at first which you're more than grateful for - no matter how many times Joel fucks you, his size is always something you have to adjust to; especially after your rounds last night left you barely able to walk straight. 

he lets out a breath, "there y'go, baby, take me." he says it surprisingly gently, easing in inch by inch as you breathe deeply, your soaked pussy easing his cock through your channels. his cock is heavy and aching as he slides into you, sheathing you fully within another few seconds - Joel's hands grip so hard on your ass, splaying you open for him, that you think his fingers will remain there for days. 

he's still only for a moment, letting you accommodate to his size before he's leaning forward to press his chest to your back, "gonna fuck you stupid, baby." 

"please, Joel," you groan, cunt fluttering, begging him to move. "do it." 

it's all that he needs before he's setting a pace that has you whining under him, your breath choking as you brace yourself agains the counter of the sink. 

it's bliss. his hips are sharp, the reach of his cock pressing against the spongy spot inside you, dragging against your pulsing walls. "fuck, so deep-" you hiss, eyes closing in pleasure as he presses himself against you, hips surely going to bruise against the thrusts that shove you into the countertop. 

one hand sneaks over your front, grasping at your tits as his cock reaches up into you deeply. he lets out a grunt, "fuckin'- christ, you're s-so tight," he grunts, "even after fuckin' you all night." 

you moan, the quick bout of his praise causing you to squeeze around him, trapping him in your aching desire. the both of you moan at the feeling and suddenly one hand presses on your spine until you're low to the counter. his hands grab your shoulders, fingers curling around the base of your throat as he changes his pace to hard and rough, the sound of your ass against his hips nearly hitting your ears over your cries of pleasure. 

the noises of your arousal swallowing his cock echo around the room in a familiar, comforting chorus as you both let out shuttering moans; his strong arms pull you back until you're once again pressed against his broad chest. his breath fans over your neck and you whine slightly when his thrusts press you up onto your tip-toes. his lips find your ear, "how's that feel?" your hole flutters from the deepness in his voice - he groans at the feeling. 

your response is a whine of ecstasy as you claw at his forearms, head tilting back until you can almost feel his erratic heartbeat. his chest rumbles with a light chuckle, "look, barely took ya any time to get fucked out on my cock," he praises, hand petting your wild hair, "knew you'd be good for me. always take what I give you, right?" 

you nod, desperate to reach the climax that's easily built within you from the stretch of him deep in you and his voice in your ear. your clit aches from being ignored and your hand snakes down to rub light circles on it; your hips jolt as you gasp raggedly, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. 

"no." he growls, hand grabbing your jaw sternly as he pounds into you, "when I'm fuckin' you, you keep your eyes on me." he snaps, squeezing your cheeks. "'s that clear?"

you nod in the mirror, whines getting louder as his name falls nearly incoherently from your lips- you see his lips ghost over your neck, the smirk that spreads over his pink lips as you finally get out a strangled, "Joelpleaseplease- s'close-" 

he knows what you need; you and Joel are each other's best escape. he pistons into you hard, chasing your high as he feels it spasming close around him. "easy, huh?" he snarls, hips just as harsh as his words, eyes sharp on yours. "who's easy, baby - me, or the one beggin' like a slut to cum on my cock?" 

for someone so quiet and closed off, Joel Miller has never shied away from using his goddamn words when he's fucking you, that's for sure. his words, his accent - they push you towards the edge and it almost distracts you from his question. his eyebrows raise in the silence as you gasp for words, moans choked  as his fingers slide down from your jaw to squeeze your throat. 

"look at'cha, can't even speak for me," he groans, his hand suddenly snaking down to smack your away from your clit; two larger, calloused fingers replace your shaky ones and you wail at the stimulation, almost too much.

you blink up at him through the mirror, unable to speak, unable to think as you feel the crest of something incredibly blissful growing; you let out a whine of ecstasy. "I'm- I'm easy," you concede, finally able to spit your words out, your voice higher than normal in your pleasure. 

Joel nods, kissing your sweaty hairline, "'s goddamn right you are, babygirl," he hisses, "easy for me. this pretty little pussy is mine, isn't it?" 

you scream, "yours, Joel-" before he barely finishes the sentence.

with your words, he smiles against your neck - the feeling of it sends goosebumps over your whole torso. "you're a lucky girl," he growls in your ear, teeth brushing the shell before licking it gently, "you can cum." 

you barely realize you've hit your orgasm until you’re writhing - a white-hot, searing arousal streaking your vision as your eyes roll back. he fucks you steadily through your orgasm, your thighs closing slightly around his large palm, but his fingers don't stop their motions on your clit. 

you shake and stutter for gasps as he pounds into you, chasing his own high that's been spurred - by your own words or the clenching of your orgasm around him, you're unsure. 

"love how you feel-" he groans, voice weakening as he nears his own orgasm, hips sloppy as he pushes your face down, against the cool tile of the bathroom sink. "fuck, baby, made to take this cock." 

his sentences are choppy, his gasps and grunts of pleasure mixing with the slap of your ass against him as he thrusts, your legs tired as he fills you full and then suddenly pulls out. you gasp at the suddenness of his absence, turning to look at him as if betrayed - but he looks completely gone, eyes dark with need. "gonna cum on your tits, sweetheart." 

your stomach flips at the word - one he's never used before - and you relax into his harsh grip, moving down to the ground on your knees as he grunts, "take this shit off now." 

his shirt is on the ground in half a second, your breasts bare to him as he fists his cock, eyes on you and lidded with pleasure. your hands fall onto his strong thighs, looking up at him in awe as he fists his cock, slick with your sticky spend, tip flushed and veins stretching over the shaft. "please, cum on me, want it so bad, Joel," you whine - his hand caresses your jaw and slips over your lips, sticking his thumb into your mouth. you suck eagerly and he moans your name deep, head tilting back in ecstasy. 

"fuck," he grunts, slipping his thumb out of your mouth before you can even swirl your tongue around it, and then he's hitting his orgasm.

ropes of his cum land on your tits, a small bit gathering on your chin as he slows his hand, letting out a few sharp breaths. he's barely caught his breath before your fingers are gathering a swipe of his thick cum, bringing it to your mouth. his dark eyes follow you through his labored breaths as you slowly suck his spend off of your fingers, "fuckin'- pretty," he mumbles into his hand as he runs a palm over his face, shaking his head. 

you smile, cheeks heating up. the sun is rising and the room is fully golden, bouncing off the mirror and illuminating his tan skin, the scars on his body and yours. he's pretty, you realize. 

you tell him so, quietly - in the silence of the bathroom. his scowl softens and you swear you see a blush forming as he rolls his eyes down at you from where you perch on the linoleum. 

Joel always says you only tell him sweet things to get him to fuck you - but in the afterglow of your actions, you catch sight of your makeup-stained pillowcase back in Joel's bedroom and it makes you grin. you know he doesn't wash it for a reason, the same reason you keep coming back to him. 

and you also know that the way he smooths his thumb over your hairline, the way your own hands in turn soothe over his thighs - those actions, they make up for everything else that's unspoken.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

taglist: @satansgoatt @elissaaa @queerponcho @bbyanarchist @lapricot @umavvitch @asreadbyaj @dinsbaby @cottoncandytomu @onmytallesttiptoess @switchbladedreamz @missannwinchester @abs-2020 @afandomidiot @cosm1c-babe @rogersbarnesxx @carleenphillips-blog @bonnibuckets @nightlovechild @jazzyspasms @girlboybug @cannolighost @pastelnap @userpedros @feministfanboi @frogers @grhowls @daddy-din @gothoppered @totallynotastanacc @robbatlover @casssiopeia @wannab-urs @redhotkitchen @joelapologist2001 @silkiers

message me if i forgot to tag u. i was pretty lazy with this one sorry. requests are open.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

[coal15]

So for the tens and tens of people out there following my WIPs, I apologize that it's been ages since I posted another chapter. At first it was just a monster case of writer's block but then a potentially devastating health crisis came up--for now it looks like I'm at least not staring down the barrel of imminent doom, but it has been a teensy bit distracting. I'm trying to get the creative engines revving again, but it's slow going. I don't wanna force things and end up cranking out garbage chapters, but it's hard not to pressure myself. So to lift my spirits and maybe re-ignite some confidence, I've decided to post links to the works I'm most proud of.

**fandoms represented below the cut are Heartstopper, 9-1-1, Good Omens, Sleepy Hollow, and The Magicians. Comments welcome but certainly not required (she says whilst mewling in the general direction of her inbox)

Protected. The Magicians, Queliot. Explicit but also full of romance and cuddles. If I had to pick one project as my "crowning achievement," it would be this baby. It follows Queliot's entire life together. 11 chapters. **it even got mentioned in a list on syfy, I had no idea until someone pointed it out to me in the comments, and yes I did 100% squeal about it for days even though it was just a tiny blurb on the list

Inconvenient Mistletoe. Sleepy Hollow, Ichabbie. Porn With Plot. (lots of plot) This was the first fanfic I ever wrote. Had no intention of publishing, but in a sudden fit of daring I posted it to ff.net and it got such an enthusiastic response I kept going. Covers the whole Apocalypse and a few years beyond. Every fic I've written since then owes its existence to this one. 17 chapters.

Of Guilt and Victory. Heartstopper, Nick and Charlie. General Audiences. This one is strange in that the story is what it is because Nick can't bear the thought of finding out someone has un-alived themselves when he knew it might happen and did/said nothing to intervene. This is in regards to Ben but at NO POINT is he forgiven for what he did nor sh*tty behavior in general, but this idea just fell into my mind based on what a beautiful golden retriever of a human Nick Nelson is, and the story evolved from there. It's odd, but I'm proud of it. 7 chapters.

A Series of Odd Proposals. Heartstopper, Nick and Charlie. General Audiences. This is one of those WIPs I mentioned. 8 chapters so far. It follows them through adulthood. In the chapter I'm currently writing their daughter is sixteen.

*Discalimer re: my 911 fics* yes I've written for both buddie and bucktommy, if it offends you that I've done such a thing the solution is easy: don't read them.

All's Well That Ends Well. 911, Buddie. Teen and up audiences. The whole thing pretty much revolves around the evolution of their love story from present day into old age. 10 chapters.

Buck's Gonna Buck. 911, Bucktommy. Mostly GA, but there is a brief mention of sex toys to I tagged it teen and up. These three "chapters" are just short, ridiculous drabbles. 1) Buck's POV getting ready for a date. 2) Tommy's POV getting ready for the date. 3) The date. Just silly fun. We haven't had much time w/them yet but I'm hoping to write more for them in s8 when there's more material to work with.

All Roads Lead Back. Good Omens, Aziracrow. Teen and up. One of those obnoxious WIPs. Starts a few weeks after s2 ends. 11 chapters thus far and we're tits deep in a rebellion against The Metatron in Heaven and searching for the true Almighty. Also, Muriel is a badass.

The Long Way Home. The Magicians, Queliot. Teen and up. Eliot embarks on a desperate mission to bring Quentin back from the underworld. Angst, danger, adventure, longing, romance, humor. Even a musical episode ********Okay, so this one is unusual in that I was just about to start writing the LAST DAMN CHAPTER when the pandemic hit. And how had I planned to end it since the very beginning? Well our heroes would win the war of course, but as a last act of vicious revenge before defeat the Library was gonna . . . wait for it . . . unleash a deadly pandemic upon the world and kill millions. I came up with this ending long before the pandemic, but . . . yeah. Nope. But I couldn't think of a better idea either. So it just sat there without an ending and thanks to everything else going on in the world I totally forgot about it for like a year. And when I did remember I still couldn't come up with anything better than my original idea. Should I finish it and stick to the original plan even though it's SO on the nose? I am super open to alternative suggestions here, because if it had an ending I absolutely would have listed it right up there with Protected. Currently 12 chapters. Again, alternative ending suggestions super welcome!

[groupiewhoreee]

Motley Crue Headcanons !! (NSFW)

vince neil

okay, this dude loves thighs. he absolutely adores sticking his head between them and just eating you out.

loves ass and tits absolutely has no problem with sucking on ur tits and eating ass

he loves eating puss, 2

he can be submissive at times, but usually he will be the dominant one

when he is submissive, he loves when you call him good boy. and he loves calling you mommy.

he says you taste like cherry pie (warrant ref?)

he likes reverse cowgirl, or doggy style, but he's willing to try new positions

he doesn't mind public like under the table bizz, but if hes fucking you in public he doesn't want anybody to see how he uses your pretty body.

loves doing it on the bed, or on the couch or over the table

cums basically anywhere you want, usually on ur ass or on ur tits

when he gets rough, he chokes you, make you suck his fingers, and lightly slap ur face. or hes very sensual and soft if thats how u want it

this dude doesn't mind any kinks, but if its piss, anything like vore shit, just gross stuff he aint doing it

actually lives for ur body

nikki sixx

nikki has no chill. is a literal sex demon, which he calls himself.

he loves any kink to be honest, any kink you want to do or anything, he's willing

actually lives for eating ass. ass is his favorite thing. grabbing, smacking it as he walks by. has no problem with it. booty is booty

lives for boobies too and he loves every size of boobies

love seeing you in lingerie, has a photobook of you in it, and got mad when the boys looked thru it

loves public stuff, even when people see you

willing to share you with tommy, and tommy only. because terror twins?

can get submissive, loves calling you mommy/mistress. and he loves when u call him a good boy, absolutely. mostly the dominant guy

choking, spitting, spanking, any of that he loves. he absolutely adores topping you, hearing you pant, and scream his name. seeing you cry beneath him.

cums anywhere you want, usually on ass.

prefers doggy style cuz he can see ur ass. ass is ass, he loves it, ig. loves any position you'd want

he isn't very after care guy, he is used to banging groupies, although hes trying his best now.

lives for ur ass

tommy lee

hopeless romantic, always candles and chocolates with roses

literally never would hurt you during sex. when you asked him to choke you and all that he was surprised, but he then understood that you were into that stuff and decided doing it often

unless you want slow and sensual he likes that.

never intends to be submissive, loves being the dominant one. he likes to be on top, always.

loves reverse cowgirl. only position he'll let you top in. he also likes doggy style and missionary is also there. he loves pounding from behind.

also loves thighs, loves to grope, and trace them. he loves ur lips too, best place to kiss.

cums anywhere you'd like.

aftercare 🤩 he literally will take a bath with you, clean ur hair, and help you. he will cuddle and wrap his arms around you unless he just wants the entire bed to himself.

any kink is fine to him, hes gross, i know.

boobs. he loves boobs. he likes to grope them and touch them while he walks by.

also loves ass, he likes to smack it, and pound it. loves eating it too.

dude this guy lives for lingerie.

practically spends all his life savings on it.

lives for toys

mick marz

okay yes, mick is an old man. but, he still gets on the action.

he's a bit insecure about himself.

love's reverse cowgirl, because he doesn't have to do much work, but missionary if reverse cowgirl isn't what you want.

loves eating you out, and does it pretty well.

absolutely loves pussy. we all saw that photo with the guitar and the back it said, "I HEART PUSSY"

loves boobies too, gropes and touches them a lot. also likes ass? he smacks and grabs it as he walks by like its cake dude

tries to make sex satisfying for you

dude is up for anything, ask him and he'll try it.

loves to fuck you against walls, but its rare because it requires work for him.

he uses his hands a lot. choking you, making you suck his fingers, spanking you, fingering.

he cums basically wherever you want, on ur ass, anywhere

aftercare, he will help you wash, and try cuddling with you.

[aro-throughyourchest]

I would very much like to hear your trans Wilbur headcanons!

OHHHHHHH boy I’m not on my computer so this might not be as fast as I want it to be but sit down so you can strap in I’m just getting started

(For context even pre-transition we’re gonna use she/he/it pronouns and both identifiers.)

Uhhh trans-typical trigger warnings. We’re not just getting into the “cosmetic” shit of being trans.

So C!Wilbur for years before his death: just absolute egg. I made an edit about it that which is in my bigender wilbur tag but anyway yeah. Girlie was deeep in the closet. She was envious of all the people who got to live the life they wanted and felt bad about it or completely oblivious to it. (c!Eret came out to it and bro didn’t even fucking realize just died a little on the inside and thought it was transphobic.)

She’s so attached to an outright “manhood” that she’s actively pushing herself further in the closet, because men are big and strong and tough and she’s leading a country, so if there’s any doubts about being a man there’s definitely no time for that! (Which there aren’t, so she’s good.) It’s never liked armor and always brushed the idea off, and if it visualizes itself in a dress every once in a while and would love to model one, or pretends his coat was just was a little bit longer, then no one needs to know. And he doesn’t need to understand.

Pogtopia just turns it up to eleven. Its body is wrong and that’s bad, and she keeps visualizing herself like a man, like Schlatt, and crying. But also a lot of it is also the normal crying? And this kind of crying is different from the crying she usually does, the crying that Tommy doesn’t know how to help and the crying that Techno suspiciously says nothing on. There are no mirrors in Pogtopia. For good reason. There are mirrors in Schlatt’s office.

Something is wrong he can tell, something is wrong. And she doesn’t know what it is, and it scares the living fuck out of her.

Fast forward a few years into limbo, Wilbur is fiddling with her shirt and suddenly a thought: hey, what if I had tits. Like actual ones? The thought just takes him so far off guard, it stops fiddling with its shirt entirely, dropping it in the embarrassment. What the fuck?

The thoughts continue like this and with no one to talk to, Wilbur can literally do nothing but self-reflect, and oh my God does he want to wear dresses? Does she want long hair? It’s stuck in the body and with limbo allowing no recluse, he mourns.

It suffers like this for a while, eventually concluding, “I am what I am,” but it’s still not an answer. It’s just a dismissal.

Wilbur doesn’t bring it up when Tommy follows him into to limbo, too busy occupied with having someone for the first time. And if she lets a few things slip that Tommy definitely doesn’t catch uhhhh who knows.

Revival drags him back to life. And suddenly, his body has weight again, he can feel the warmth on his skin, and the air in between his lungs, and it’s everything he ever wanted. Then crash.

All the pieces he tried to forget over limbo just come hurtling back like a bullet train. Too loose shirt, hair that doesn’t feel right, too masculine, not what he wants- What he wants?

This is all too much, he can’t figure this shit out on his own.

Despite himself (herself?), she goes to find Eret. Niki might kill her, and going to his son about this, it just simply couldn’t take. It remembers fourteen years ago, when they came out to Wilbur. Or was it a year? Fuck.

Either way.. Breathe tepid and heart racing, he knocks on the door to Eret’s museum. She opens, and God, this just isn’t worth it. It turns to run away and feels a hand on its shoulder. Something cold runs up the spine of his back, and she immediately smacks the hand away, fully ready to blow her top. Then it falters. He’s ready to walk off, call this a bust and just go home, but then Eret speaks: “Wilbur?”

God.

“…Can we talk about something?”

Surprisingly, the first thing on Eret’s mind wasn’t Wilbur’s coming out. (Crazy, right?) They talk properly about all the shit that’s happened with conversations they really needed to have, Wilbur definitely cried a few times, tried his best to not start arguments, but somehow, he went in for an explanation and came back with one of his oldest enemies her first friend in 13 years.

What he thought would be a small talk eventually blossomed into her first real reconciliation.

He’s so anxious to try on a dress, a dichotomy from the confident, suave Wilbur Eret once knew, but as she slipped it on, her eyes lit up. Eret brushed out its hair for it, pulling the lower half of it into a ponytail and talking about how fast Wilbur’s hair already grows. Its heart swells with pride.

Bigender. That was the word. She rolled it over on her tongue over and over again, bigender. It fit. Its identity wasn’t black and white, no one or the other. Because yeah, sometimes he was a guy, and sometimes she was a fucking girl. God.

[milla-frenchy]

Toni!!!

Jesus christ, this series, I swear...

In the first part, the way he cut her off from everything (family, friends), the way he manipulated her, and then the way he abused her, was terrifying.

In this part, the relationship is established for two years, and the way he fucked her up took my breath away.

He lifts your chin up so you have to look at the other man. He’s broad, though not as much as Joel, with dark curls and dark eyes that make you feel like he wants to cut you open and see how you tick. 

The Miller bros, those angels 💀

“Don’t embarrass me, girl,” Joel warns.

So many sentences like this... I could feel my hairs stand up

“You goin’ soft? You usually have ‘em trained better by now,” Tommy teases, but his words have Joel seeing red.  You sit back. “What?” “Sorry, sweetheart, did you think you were special?” Tommy says with a nasty smirk. He pats your face. “Poor thing.” You look at Joel, tears welling up.  “What, you think I had a house full of equipment that’s never been used? Y’should be grateful. All my toys before you had to suffer some trial and error. I got it perfected now, and you’re wasting it, being a fuckin’ disobedient bitch.” 

All of this, damn. How her heart breaks...

Was he not going to keep you? You don’t notice you’re crying, but Tommy clearly enjoys it. He moans and holds you down as he cums down your throat. You aren’t ready, though, and sputter a little, coughing and leaking his cum down your chest. 

Your writing is amazing. You write it so perfectly

He squats down and helps pull you to your knees in front of him, cupping your filthy face in both hands. “I don’t wanna send you away. You know I love ya. But if you can’t be good, then what’s the point, baby?” Your sobs are subsiding out of the pure elation that comes from his gentle touch. “I’ll do anything,” you whisper. “I know ya will. You don’t really have a choice.” He sighs, shaking his head. “I’m gonna get you fed and taken care of. But you’re about to have one of the worst days of your fuckin’ life.”

I'm at the point where I'm not sure my hair will ever return to its normal place.

And then, the cigarettes part 💀 The shower, where "he washes the mud and piss from your hair with gentle hands" 😣

You nod, and he helps you to your feet, drying you with a soft towel and taking care around the raised welts on your ass. There will be some nasty bruises tomorrow, but when isn’t there? Your tits have mottled spots of yellow fading, and the shape of Joel’s hand around your throat basically never leaves. 

And you manage to write the worst things by turning them into dark poetry

“It’s fucking disgusting. You think I want to let just anyone use you? I could fuck any hole I want. I could go out there and have every cunt and ass and mouth. You know why I won’t?” Your eyes flick over to him, but you don’t try to answer, don’t stop what you’re doing.  “Because they ain’t you, sweetheart. You’re my perfect girl. Nicest I’ve ever had. And if I got something this nice, and I don’t share it with my brother? You don’t even suck him off right? How do you think that made him feel, baby?” [...]

“I know you’re tired, baby. I hope you remember this fuckin’ lesson because I’m not sacrificing two nights of sleep again to repeat it.” [...]

“I’m gettin’ old, sweetheart. I don’t want to keep breakin’ in toys that ain’t worth my time. I just finished puttin’ you back together exactly the way I like ya. You stay my good girl, and you’ll be mine ‘till I die.”  [...]

“God damn,” he whispers. “I fucked you up, huh?” [...]

😣😣😣 he's the worst

With the wand and the tawse, he breaks you down again and again and again. But that’s the thing about Joel. He reduces you to pain or pleasure or the delicious apex of both that brews between your thighs, and then he cleans you back up, puts the pieces back where he likes them.

I've always been very sensitive to this. How they break them, then put the pieces back.

When he sees the heartbreak on your face, he sighs. “Ah, shit. Look, I know you’re just tryin’ to please me. But you’re makin’ me feel bad for tryin’ to be careful with ya. If I take it too far today, you won’t be able to take as much anymore. I ain’t breakin’ you.” 

Master in manipulation

Look, Toni. I don't know how you manage to write 10k words, in such a perfect way. I'm in awe of you.

Excellent second part 🤌👌

And there's a playlist, yayyyyy!!

And...we'll get a part 3, given the way it ends? 👀

the art of breaking: part two

the art of breaking, part two: theory of decay

very dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

NOTE: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. this fic contains themes of abuse and extremely dark content.

words: 10k

summary: joel knows just how to make you his forever. a sequel to "the art of breaking"

warnings (new warnings in red) and story under the cut; reader discretion is advised.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

warnings: dead dove do not eat, non-con, dub-con, very dark!Joel, BAD bdsm etiquette, not SSC/RACK compliant, sadist!Joel x masochist!reader, coercion, corruption, manipulation, isolation, gaslighting, glory hole, reader gives tommy a blowjob (joel and tommy do not touch), body modification, permanent marking, captivity, sadism, masochism, pain play, extreme punishment, whipping, impact play in general, mentions of vomit (no description), oral, vaginal, reader x other men, degradation, humiliation, Joel sees reader as property, inadequate aftercare, blink and you miss it piss "play," straight up abuse this time guys, overstimulation, forced eating, needles, voyeurism, objectification, human furniture/ashtray, cigarettes, consumption of non-food items, nipple/clit pumps, this one might be worse than the first idk sorry

Again, I cannot say this enough. This is a dark fantasy and should not be taken as representative of a good d/s relationship—it’s abuse masquerading. Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean I’m condoning it. 

Please read responsibly. 

i. dessication

When he goes to work, he leaves you free to roam the house and do your chores. For shorter trips out, he tends to put you in your cage. There’s no real reason, but it keeps you in a good place. You’re always softer, quieter when he gets back and lets you out. 

He couldn’t do it all the time, of course. There are things needing to be done. Plus, every day, he gets to come home to you knelt, waiting by the door with dinner kept warm. He could afford a housekeeper, but then you’d have nothing to keep your mind and body occupied when he’s away. 

Of course, sometimes he leaves you chained up in the basement. He can’t always be nice, after all. And the thing he loves to come home to most, second only to you kneeling at the door, is your exhausted body still tied where he left it, bearing the marks of his latest pleasure. 

Sometimes, he just leaves you in stocks to contemplate all the raw kisses from his favorite whip. Sometimes, he has you pinned to the table with a vibrator strapped to your clit for the day. On the lowest setting—he’s not a monster. 

Well. It starts on the lowest setting. He can do whatever he wants with it through a handy app. It was the only way Tommy could convince him to upgrade to a smartphone.

But today, you’re just set about neatening up. Neither you nor Joel are messy— though he does have a tendency to empty his pockets wherever he’s standing—and it’s not a huge house. You finish up early and have time to read while supper’s in the oven. 

You’re already kneeling when you hear the key in the door, eyes down, hands behind your back, but you have to tense up not to flinch when you hear a second pair of boots.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” drawls a voice you don’t know. 

The only reason you don’t panic is because Joel’s boots enter your field of vision. You’re intimately acquainted with them—literally—and despite the fresh layer of dirt, you’d know them anywhere. 

“Ooh, damn, she’s good,” says the voice.

Joel chuckles and reaches down to stroke your cheek. “Told ya.” 

You melt a little against his hand, letting the pride in his voice warm you.

He rubs his thumb over your cheek and lets you press a little kiss to the digit before stepping back to take his shoes off and dump the handful of change and crumpled receipts on the foyer table. “C’mon,” he says, snapping his fingers so you know he means you, too.

You resist the urge to look at the stranger, but you don’t like the way he lingers to follow you instead of following Joel. You can feel his eyes on your exposed flesh, the dress just short enough to show off your cunt when you crawl. 

No one has ever come into the house before. At least not when you’re out and about. You don’t know if Joel’s had company while you’ve been in the basement or something; you’ve never even thought about it. All you know is that it’s been a long time since you’ve seen another person. 

It’s terrifying. 

You go to kneel between Joel’s feet, but he stops you. “Turn around,” he says, guiding you with firm hands to face forward. 

He laughs when he sees that you’re still staring very carefully at the carpet. “Y’can look at him; he ain’t gonna bite.”

The other man, who has settled in the armchair facing the couch, laughs too. “I might,” he says.

“No, you won’t.” Joel’s voice goes hard for a moment, and you don’t need to see to know he’s glaring. 

It makes you feel better. So what if someone’s looking at you? Joel’s still protecting you. 

He lifts your chin up so you have to look at the other man. He’s broad, though not as much as Joel, with dark curls and dark eyes that make you feel like he wants to cut you open and see how you tick. 

“This is my little brother, Tommy,” Joel says. “Go tell him hello.” 

“Hello,” you say quietly. 

“C’mon, now, go give him a proper greeting,” Joel nudges you with his foot. You crawl over to Tommy and kneel between his legs. Your gaze darts from him to Joel, teeth worrying at your lip. 

“Don’t embarrass me, girl,” Joel warns.

Tommy lifts your chin with his hand. “He wants you to suck me off. Go ahead.” 

It’s nice, but it’s not his permission you need. You risk one more glance at Joel. 

“You heard him. You got two seconds, sweetheart, before you’re gonna regret it,” he growls.

“You goin’ soft? You usually have ‘em trained better by now,” Tommy teases, but his words have Joel seeing red. 

You sit back. “What?”

“Sorry, sweetheart, did you think you were special?” Tommy says with a nasty smirk. He pats your face. “Poor thing.”

You look at Joel, tears welling up. 

“What, you think I had a house full of equipment that’s never been used? Y’should be grateful. All my toys before you had to suffer some trial and error. I got it perfected now, and you’re wasting it, being a fuckin’ disobedient bitch.” 

You close your eyes tight and choke back a sob. He’s never, ever spoken to you like that before. When you turn back to Tommy, you have your mouth open wide and waiting.

He leans back. “Well? You gonna make me do all the work?”

“Can I use my hands, please?” you say, eyes darting from Tommy to Joel. 

“Great, now you got her all nervous,” Tommy bitches, and Joel rolls his eyes. 

“Go ahead,” Joel tells you gruffly. You’ve been so good. So obedient. Maybe he shoulda warned you that he wanted to show you off. No, he thinks, it’s not his fault. He didn’t owe you a warning. You should just accept it and obey.

You’re shaking when you tug open the button of Tommy’s jeans, fumbling with the zipper. Apparently, it takes long enough that he grunts and knocks your hand away, pulling his cock out. 

It feels like a trap. Joel has not explicitly ordered you to do this. But he doesn’t usually try to trick you. 

“For Christ’s sake,” Tommy snaps, and yanks you forward. You get with the program quickly, wrapping your lips around him and trying to do your best. 

He’s smaller than Joel, but it’s a decent cock. Not that it matters to you. Despite not having to gag on him, you can’t breathe anyway, too preoccupied. Why is Joel doing this? Is he going to punish you for it later? 

And the worst thing, the thing that keeps bouncing around your brain as you try to get Tommy off: What happened to the other girls? Did he get tired of them and kick them out?

Was he not going to keep you?

You don’t notice you’re crying, but Tommy clearly enjoys it. He moans and holds you down as he cums down your throat. You aren’t ready, though, and sputter a little, coughing and leaking his cum down your chest. 

“Jesus Christ,” Joel snaps. He gets up off the couch and yanks you away from his brother by the hair. “What the hell's the matter with you today?” 

“I’m sorry,” you cry. 

“Shut up,” he says, and drags you out to the place you visit in most of your nightmares, despite only having been there once in reality. 

The Pit. 

ii. consumption

When he comes to get you in the morning, you’re wrecked. Deflated, no more tears left to pour down your cheeks. For now, at least.  

The sun is against his back when he opens the gate, reaching down for you with one strong arm. Bathed in the golden light, he is every inch your savior, and when you’ve climbed out on shaky legs, you prostrate yourself at his feet the way he likes. 

He’s still mad, though, so he steps one filthy boot on your head and grinds your face into the mud. He pisses on it for good measure, the hot stream dripping down your hair and face onto the soil. 

He’s got a switch in one hand. With you effectively pinned in place, he wastes no time in swinging it down on your ass. 

You scream and sob as he beats you. When he finally stops, when he’s drawn every bit of his anger in welts against your skin, he lifts his boot from your head and squats down. 

“Why d’you have to make me do this?” He’s solemn, sorrowful. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say, focusing on controlling the hysterical sobs wrenching from your chest. 

You don’t know what will follow, so you remain still, not daring to move without an order. 

“I should drop you off at a fuckin’ whorehouse,” he mutters. He pulls you up by your hair, and you scramble to your knees. “You can learn to suck who you’re told to suck.”

“Please, sir, please don’t, please—” It’s too much. You stumble, sobs wracking your body hard enough that you can’t move. You collapse in the grass with his hand still holding your head up. 

He lets go, letting you fall. 

You crawl to his boots and kiss them, mud be damned. It wasn’t like you weren’t covered in it anyway. “Please, sir, I’m so sorry, please don’t—” you say between sobs. 

“Please don’t what? You think you’re in any position to be askin’ for anything?”

“Don’t get rid of me, please; I promise I’ll be better; I can be good.”

“I’ll think about it, if you can fuckin’ earn it.”

“Please, please let me try to earn it.”

He squats down and helps pull you to your knees in front of him, cupping your filthy face in both hands. “I don’t wanna send you away. You know I love ya. But if you can’t be good, then what’s the point, baby?”

Your sobs are subsiding out of the pure elation that comes from his gentle touch. “I’ll do anything,” you whisper.

“I know ya will. You don’t really have a choice.” He sighs, shaking his head. “I’m gonna get you fed and taken care of. But you’re about to have one of the worst days of your fuckin’ life.”

You choke on a sob and sway a little. The fear and the hunger are like a fog over your brain. 

“Hey. Listen t’me.” He holds your hands in one of his. “You’re gonna learn, and it’s gonna be real hard for ya. But at the end of it all— if you take it all like a good girl—you’ll be forgiven. Got it?”

You look up through tear-sodden lashes, lip quivering, and nod your head. 

There’s no part of you anymore that registers an issue. No warning bells, no red flags, no hair raising. 

You follow him to the bottom of the patio steps, where he nudges you to kneel back down, folding over so your face rests against the soil. You wait while he goes inside, unsure of how much time has passed until he comes back out with a plate of eggs, scrambled with cheese and little bits of sausage. 

That raises some alarms. Not to the way he treats you, but more of a signal for what to expect. It’s protein-heavy, which isn’t necessarily unusual, but it smells delicious. And there’s no way you’re getting to eat that after behaving so badly. 

You’re half right. He squats down next to you and scoops up a bite with the fork. You don’t take the bait; you know that’s not for you. 

He moans exaggeratedly when he chews, grinning all the while. And then he scrapes the rest off the plate into the dirt in front of your face. 

“Ah, ah. Not yet,” he says, and you close your eyes at the sound of his zipper being yanked down. 

“You get wet from that beating earlier?” he asks.

You nod, even though he’s already reaching down between your legs and shoving his fingers in your cunt. He brings back his shiny hand and strokes his cock. 

“Look at me, baby,” he says, shifting onto his knees so when you open your eyes, you’re faced with his fist pumping away at the red, angry head. “Coulda been you. Shoulda been, but bad girls don’t get what they want.” 

You whimper. It really does hurt your feelings, but you know you have nothing to say for yourself. 

“Open. Maybe you’ll get lucky, and get some fresh.”

You obey immediately, squeezing your eyes back shut as soon as he starts to cum. A little bit lands in your mouth, which you hold open.

“You can swallow that. But don’t eat yet.” 

He walks away, puttering around on the patio. You try to work up the nerve for his command, stomach churning. Maybe it’ll still taste fine. Maybe cold semen and dirt won’t ruin it that much. Maybe. 

If you hadn’t earlier, you believed him now about it being the worst day of your life. He certainly wasn’t starting out small. Sure, you’d eaten off the floor before, but inside the house. The house you clean, so you know how sanitary it is. 

But thinking about doing this makes you want to cry. And when he tells you to get started, you do cry. Just a little. 

“You got about six minutes,” he says, checking his phone for the time instead of the eternally broken watch on his wrist, “and there better not be a single crumb left. Get your ass up here as soon as you’re done.”

You’re not sure how long it takes you, but it must be nearly the whole six minutes, because by the time you’re knelt at his feet on the patio, he says, “Cuttin’ it damn close, sweetheart.” 

He’s playing fucking Candy Crush, legs kicked out on the little wooden table in front of him. He’s got you knelt at his side, and after a few minutes, he digs into his breast pocket and hands you a smushed carton of cigarettes. 

You draw one carefully out of the pack and extend it to him, letting go once he’s pinched it between his lips and pulling out the lighter. Carefully, you ignite the tip for him and tuck it back away. You go to give the carton back, but he shakes his head.

He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth to blow smoke. “Hang onto that for me. And this,” and he hands you his coffee cup. 

It’s not the first time he’s used you as a table. He tried using you as a footrest but found it less satisfying. You try to sit and work through your nerves, try to ignore the terror that he might not keep you if you can’t endure the day. 

It’s a good thing that he drained you of any concept of dignity long ago, cut you open, and let it ooze away like pus from an infection.  

“Open,” he says absently, not bothering to look away from his game.

Your eyes and mouth snap open, and he taps the cigarette against your lip, letting the ash fall onto your tongue. You jerk back a little but correct it immediately.

He quirks an eyebrow. “I’ll give ya a pass this time. But keep your mouth open, tongue out, and don’t fucking swallow.” 

He’s clearly happy to spend the afternoon like this. He goes through a second cigarette and still doesn’t let you swallow or spit. Your knees ache from the planks of the deck. 

He gets up and goes inside for a few minutes, taking his empty coffee cup with him. You don’t dare drop your position, though. 

When he comes back out, he hands you a bottle of beer, condensation already dripping. He resettles to watch the game on his phone. 

Anything resembling hope is trickling out. He hates watching things on the little screen, peering at it through his glasses. But he never smokes inside the house, so he’s resigned himself to this for the sake of your punishment.

It makes you feel less than the ash on your tongue. 

By the time it’s over, your mouth has long gone dry, itching with the ash of four cigarettes, when he stands up and stretches. He leans down and holds your chin before spitting in your mouth.

“There ya go. Swallow.” 

And you do. When you cough a little as the ashes cling to your dry throat, he pries your mouth back open and spits again. 

It helps a little. 

iii. dismemberment

You’d only been in the Pit once before. The first time was arguably your worst offense, which was good, Joel thought, that you still hadn’t topped that misbehavior. 

But as glad as you are that it hasn’t happened a lot, it means you don’t really know what to expect. When he brings you into the ensuite, you know this routine enough that you kneel on the shower floor, barely flinching when he turns only the cold tap, and the faucet sputters to life. 

He never gets in until you’re shivering, so while he gathers fresh clothes and towels, you scrub the mud from your body. When he checks and finds you satisfactory, he turns the knobs until the water runs warm. 

Your shivers don’t subside for a few more minutes, though. Not until you’re practically done cleaning him with the spongey loofah. Hot tears burn in the corners of your eyes, though only a few slip loose.

When he turns around and takes it from you, you thank him for letting you wash him. 

He gives you a smile, hand cupping your cheek.

“Of course, baby. Don’t worry. I’m going to help you remember how to be my good girl.”

But first, before he can follow up on the threat, he washes the mud and piss from your hair with gentle hands, massaging your scalp. You hold still, head tipped back, and let the tears come harder.

He notices but doesn’t comment. It’s normal now, when he takes care of you after a hard punishment. Or, in this case, in the middle of one.

You go to speak, to pour out your regrets and devotion, but he shushes you.

“I want you quiet ‘till I say otherwise,” he says. “Nothin’ outta you unless it’s an emergency. Got it?”

You nod, and he helps you to your feet, drying you with a soft towel and taking care around the raised welts on your ass. There will be some nasty bruises tomorrow, but when isn’t there? Your tits have mottled spots of yellow fading, and the shape of Joel’s hand around your throat basically never leaves. 

He gives your raw, burning skin a sharp smack, sending you off to put on the dress he’s laid out for you.

He tells you nothing, just leads you to the truck. The drive is quiet, apart from the crooning voice on the radio. It’s a bit of a drive, and you park in a broken-up lot surrounded by rusty chainlink fence. He grabs your hand and takes you across the street to a dilapidated building. A cheap banner is tacked above one of the doors. 

Joel hands a bill to a man, who opens the door just enough for you to squeeze in. It doesn’t take long to figure out where you are.

“Been a while since I brought you someplace nice, baby. Hope you like it, ‘cause we’re gonna be here most of the night.”

That’s the understatement of your life. He hasn’t taken you out of the house in over a year. You’re not sure you remember how to exist away from home, clinging to his arm as he leads you through the club.

You can’t decide what will be worse, but you don’t have to wonder for long when he drags you around to an empty stall. He’s not there to use a hole. You’re there to be one. 

He clips your collar to the wall with just enough slack that you could pull back to breathe if the person on the other side doesn’t let you. 

He takes the ring gag out of his pocket and dangles it in front of you. “You need this, or are ya gonna be good?”

“I’ll be good,” you say immediately, a phantom ache in the hinge of your jaw. 

“You sure? ‘Cause if you have to ask later or I have to make that decision myself, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“I’m sure,” you whisper. 

“Good.” He pats the side of your face, two sharp smacks in lieu of a caress. There will be no softness for you tonight. 

He waits to talk to you until your mouth is full. You look miserable, but you don’t hesitate. It’s not to the standard he’d usually require, but you’re both aware of the hours ahead, so he lets you pace yourself. 

He crouches down near you. “You like that? Some random dirty prick in your throat?” 

You, of course, can’t answer, but your eyes close against the hurt.

“It’s fucking disgusting. You think I want to let just anyone use you? I could fuck any hole I want. I could go out there and have every cunt and ass and mouth. You know why I won’t?”

Your eyes flick over to him, but you don’t try to answer, don’t stop what you’re doing. 

“Because they ain’t you, sweetheart. You’re my perfect girl. Nicest I’ve ever had. And if I got something this nice, and I don’t share it with my brother? You don’t even suck him off right? How do you think that made him feel, baby?”

He keeps it up, past the point where he feels like carrying on, but he can tell it’s wearing you down faster than the relentless facefucking. You’re starting to work your jaw, joints popping in between visitors, but even that doesn’t compare to the way you’ve started to shake when he’s scolding you.

“I know you’re tired, baby. I hope you remember this fuckin’ lesson because I’m not sacrificing two nights of sleep again to repeat it.”

You whimper around the stranger’s cock, which encourages them to fuck into you harder. But Joel knows the tears in your eyes aren’t from that. 

“Yeah, you were bein’ selfish, huh? I couldn’t fuckin’ sleep with you out there, and now I’m up all night with you here.”

There it was, he thought, watching you break. A little too early; it was going to be tough to keep you going. But nothin’ did you in like the thought of having hurt him in the process. 

And it was true. He never slept with someone out in The Pit. Too fuckin dangerous. He kept watch on a camera. He needed you scared and sorry, not dead. 

He watches as you choke down the stranger’s seed, looking like you might retch. He shuts the little sliding door for a few minutes and gives you some water. After you’ve rehydrated and seem a little less green, he opens it back up.

“Alright, get ready for the next round.”

In the truck on the way home, he keeps you tucked close to his side. Between the dark, empty highway and his coat wrapped around you, you start to doze off. 

He nudges you a little. “None of that now. Ain’t finished with you yet.”

You whimper, not in protest but in exhaustion. Despite how hard you try to fight it, you’re fast asleep when he pulls into the driveway. 

He thinks about waking you up anyway, to follow through on his word. He carries you inside and up to the bedroom, still deliberating, but when he tries to set you down on the bed, you cling to him desperately, even in your sleep. He manages to wriggle the coat off you and lays down beside you. He’ll just let you both rest for a little while.

You wake up, mid-afternoon, shaking all over. Joel awakens moments later, eyes wide as he tugs on your arm to roll you over. 

“Oh, baby,” he says, and moves to get out of the bed. “Knew I shouldn’t have let you go to sleep.”

But you grab onto him, lip trembling. 

He knocks your hand away. “I‘ll be right back, jus’ hold on.”

You’re curled into yourself, sobbing, when he gets back three minutes later. 

He hands you a water bottle anyway. “Sit up; you need to eat. It’ll help.”

Somehow, you find the strength to struggle and wriggle your body into sitting. He brings you to lean against his chest while he leans against the headboard. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, a kiss pressed to your head. 

You start crying hard all over again. 

“I know. M’sorry. I should have talked to ya last night, huh? S’that what you’re all worked up about?”

You nod. There you are, sitting in his bed, when you hadn’t fucking earned it. But he doesn’t shove you off or hurt you for it; he just feeds you a protein bar and lets you sip at the water between bites. 

After he’s given you the last of the bar, he has you slide down to your knees by the side of the bed.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I disobeyed and embarrassed you.” 

“I didn’t ask you what you did wrong.”

“Oh,” you say softly, and have to think. “I didn’t understand, at first. That you wanted me to suck his cock.”

“And after you did?”

“I—” you don’t want to say it. You know he’s going to be mad. He doesn’t like when you question things like this.

“Is this because Tommy said you weren’t special? ‘Cause you know better.” 

“No, I just… why did you get rid of the others? What did they do?” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, and cups your face in one hand. “I don’t think that’s anything you gotta worry about. Not anymore.”

“But how will I know how to do better?”

“You already are. None of ‘em ever made it this far. They talked big talk but couldn’t back it up. Some of ‘em didn’t want to give up the things you have, some of ‘em couldn’t handle my expectations. I told you, you’re the nicest thing I’ve ever had. You’ve let me make you exactly the way I want you to be.”

“Even though I was so bad the other night?”

“Yep. Because you took every consequence, and I know you’ve learned your lesson. And you’ll probably fuck up again someday. But if you keep wantin’ to be better, I’ll keep teachin’ ya.” 

You can’t help but cry again. You’re so tired and so tired of crying. 

“What, were you worried I was gonna replace you with some new young thing someday?”

You nod, and he clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“I’m gettin’ old, sweetheart. I don’t want to keep breakin’ in toys that ain’t worth my time. I just finished puttin’ you back together exactly the way I like ya. You stay my good girl, and you’ll be mine ‘till I die.” 

It doesn’t stop your tears.

“Hey,” he says. “What do you need?”

It startles you. “What?”

“What do you need? What’s gonna make you feel better, baby?” 

You’re not sure when the last time you’ve had to think about something like that is. He’s been taking care of you for so long now. 

“Whatever you want,” you say. 

“No, baby, that’s not what I’m asking.”

“That’s my answer, though,” you realize. “I need to feel whatever you want me to.”

“God damn,” he whispers. “I fucked you up, huh?”

Your lip trembles.

“No, baby, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just kinda incredible. Jesus. How could you think I’d ever get rid of you? There’s not a fuckin’ bit of you that isn’t mine.” 

Your cheeks burn, so you bury your face into his palm and press a kiss to the center. 

“You want to know what I want, is that right?”

You nod. 

“I wanna fuck your pretty little mouth. And then I want to order us some fuckin’ takeout and eat it in the bath.”

It makes you smile just a little. 

“Yeah? That sound good, baby?” His thumb rubs against your cheek. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, open up for me.”

You wrangle yourself into position. The initial weight and taste of him sends warmth through your bones for the first moment since he dragged you outside. 

It’s sloppy, the way he fucks your throat, in a way it usually isn’t. It’s always messy, but his thrusts are erratic. You can’t keep up with his pace because there simply isn’t one. It’s not long before he’s holding you down and pumping his cum down your throat.

It trickles down and cleanses everything in its path. You’re lighter, like you can breathe again. You thank him sweetly, pressing a kiss to his twitching cock. 

He’s panting, but strokes your cheek with one hand. “That’s my good girl. Feel better now that I washed all those other guys outta your mouth?” 

Technically, he had done that last night, had shoved three soap-covered fingers in your mouth in the gross club bathroom. Wretchedly, it had the side effect of making you nauseous, and he had insisted on doing it over after you threw up.

But this felt more pure to him, more consecrational in a way. The soap might have cleared the actual evidence away, but his come was your wine and wafer. 

“Yes, sir,” you say into the flesh of his thigh where your head rests. You kiss there for good measure, eliciting a pleased hum from him that sends you preening a little. 

He lays back on the bed, leaving a hand on the top of your head to stroke your hair while the other gropes around for his phone. “What do you want, baby? Lo mein?” 

“Oh, yes, please.” 

He feeds you noodles in the bath and then eats you out until you fall asleep. 

iv. reduced to bone

You’re on your knees in the basement, bent forward over a metal pipe placed at just the right height to nestle into your hips and keep them tilted up in the air. Stocks hold your head and wrists in place, tits hanging just below. The wood is slowly dampening as you drool around the ring gag. 

“Got a surprise for you, baby,” he had said when he led you down. “You know how you keep beggin’ me to hurt you worse, and I have to keep tellin’ you I’m not tryin' to wear you out?”

“Yes, sir?” 

“Well, I think you’re going to like this.”

That had been… well, you’re not entirely sure. A while ago, maybe, but your brain wasn’t the best judge of time right now. After he had secured you here, he had dragged out the little machine. It’s sitting under your torso somewhere, thin clear tubing stretching out like a web he’d caught you in. 

There’s no noise but the hum of it, which you’ve gone pleasantly numb to. The pressure is unending, each nipple and your clit being tugged into the tiny cups relentlessly. 

It tingles, just on the side of too gentle to be fulfilling on its own. That’s okay. You’re pretty sure you’ll be in delicious, mind-shattering agony soon. 

This you know because, well, it’s Joel, but also because of the tools he’s laid out on the little wheeled cart and left for you to stare at. 

A thin cane. Clover clamps with a length of chain. A tawse with a tapered, pointy tip. A wand. 

It makes you dizzy to look at. 

Also, you know because it’s a Friday night. Joel enjoys you however he likes any day of the week, but he’s careful about saving the deepest of his cruelties for Fridays. Because mind-shattering wasn’t really an exaggeration. When he gets like this, you sometimes don’t surface enough to take care of yourself for a day or two.

On those occasions, he never leaves you alone. Doesn’t want to, both because he loves when you need him that deeply and because you’re so soft and pliant. Truthfully, he thinks he could do anything to you then and you’d thank him for it. 

Which is why he’s got Tommy coming over tomorrow. It’s not that he thinks you need to be out of it to avoid a repeat of last time. He knows you learned your lesson and you’ll be good. 

But he’s got something special in mind that he needs help with. It’ll just be easier for everyone if you’re at your most agreeable. 

And yeah, you owe Tommy a blowjob. One of the ones that make Joel feel like he mighta died and somehow gotten through the pearly gates by the grace of your devotion. 

Plus, he’s pretty sure you’re going to love his plan, and he wants you unprepared, so you’ll cry real pretty and be truly desperate to show him your appreciation. It’s been on his mind since that night a few months back when you didn’t seem to believe him about never letting you go. 

He’s never fucking letting you go. There’s nothing in this world that could take you from him. He’s made sure of it. 

Sometimes, he has to remind himself that you don’t know you’re married. 

He thought about telling you that night, so you’d understand the depth of the commitment he’s made. But he doesn’t want you to take it the wrong way. Doesn’t want you thinking you need to act like a wife . 

He’d had a whole bucket of bullshit cooked up to excuse it, but when he told you to sign the paper, you hadn’t questioned it. Hadn’t questioned that you couldn’t see what it was, only the line where he pointed. You’d signed the fucking paper and never asked a goddamn thing. 

He was glad. He didn’t like lying to you. This was just one of those hoops to jump through in a world that didn’t understand what you shared. 

When he comes back down, your eyes are already glazed over. Your body shines with a thin layer of sweat, and your chest is heaving as you squirm. It’s gone beyond gentle. The waves of suction have you whimpering soft and high, barely louder than a breath, but nearly constant. 

He chuckles and strolls over, crouching down to wipe the sweat off your brow with the bandana from his pocket before it gets in your eyes. You give him a truly pathetic look, eyes wide as you drool helplessly. 

“Not so nice now, huh?” 

You whine. 

He strokes your cheek with an exaggerated pout before sliding two fingers into your mouth, pressing down on the back of your tongue. It tries to curl around them, eliciting another cruel laugh. 

“Jesus, girl. S’there anything that would stop ya from gagging for my cock?”

You shake your head. Even if you weren’t spread by the ring gag and choking on his fingers, you’re beyond speech. Too far deep. 

Joel actually doesn’t mind when you talk. He’s got no rules restricting your speech (well, most of the time). As long as you’re respectful, he likes the company. 

But he really likes when you go quiet like this. When he’s pushed you so far that you can’t . 

“Look at you, all worked up. We haven’t even gotten started, baby. You gonna be able to take it?”

You nod, whining, and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes them on your cheek. 

“What was that, baby? Couldn’t quite understand ya.”

Tears spring to your eyes as you whine again. 

“I’m just teasin’,” he says and kisses your forehead. “I got ya. I know you’re gonna be my good girl and take everything I fuckin’ want.”

He reaches down and tugs the tubing until the cups pop free of your breasts. You cry out, but it turns into a desperate moan when he tugs the one off your clit. 

Yeah, he coulda turned the pump off first so they just fell off, but where’s the fun in that? 

He’s grinning wickedly as he reaches back up to your breast. He barely, just barely, brushes over the side of your nipple, and the sound you make goes right to his cock. 

“Fuck, you’re so swollen.” He has to remind himself he’s playing the long game; he just wants to pinch and pull so badly. He’s pretty sure you’ll scream, even though normally it wouldn’t be much at all. 

But he wants to fuckin’ torture you tonight, so he’s going to drag it out. He wants you incoherent and beaten down when he’s done, so far gone you’ll stay there for days. 

So he’s gotta start soft. He drags his fingertip around your areola, not quite brushing the nipple but tracing the ring left behind by the cup. You twitch, shoulders jerking back, and he grips your breast. 

“None of that, now,” he croons, letting go and switching sides to torment your other breast. 

It’s holy, in that way you never quite understood. Not like the Jesus kind, though you never were much for church either, but in the way that people chase salvation through empty bottles and sharp needles. 

With the wand and the tawse, he breaks you down again and again and again. But that’s the thing about Joel. He reduces you to pain or pleasure or the delicious apex of both that brews between your thighs, and then he cleans you back up, puts the pieces back where he likes them.

He makes you come until you cry, and then, when you’re sobbing and exhausted, that’s when the night really begins. You’re twitching and jerking at the barest contact, writhing with every snap of the cane. 

It’s so, so good. Until it isn’t. But he’s running that damn mouth of his, that sweet, filthy mouth, and you can’t not take it. Your tears are gone, all run out; he likes to wring you dry. And he keeps rubbing his hand over your hypersensitive flesh, already raw and ruined, and murmuring soft words and sweet taunts. 

“Look at you,” he croons. “My pretty little toy. You’re so beautiful, suffering for me like this, baby.”

And so you do. You suffer for him. There’s nothing left in your little subby brain right now but Joel Joel Joel. 

You’re dry. He almost can’t believe it. The only time you’ve not been a sloppy, soaking mess was when he broke your finger. 

He whistles low and slow. “Shit, baby. Guess you have some limits after all, huh.” 

It’s impressive that you can even lift your head enough to shake it weakly. An overwhelming fondness washes over him. 

“ Aw. Takin’ it for me anyway, were ya?” He comes around and squats near your head, unhooking the gag and easing it out of your mouth. He rubs gentle circles on the hinges of your jaw as you whimper.

“Did so good for me, baby. Lemme get you outta there, and I’ll give you my cock.”

You shake your head, tears spilling over, but you don’t have a voice. The words don’t come together in your mind, just devastation.

His grip turns tight, forcing you to look at him. “No? You tellin’ me no?”

You shake your head again, lip quivering. 

“You don’t want my cock?”

You shake your head harder and try to reach for him, hands flexing where they’re bound in the stocks. Trying to make him see just how bad you want his cock. 

Luckily, he understands that much. “You wanna stay there? Baby, my knees ain’t gonna like fuckin’ you here.” But he can tell from the way your face crumples that he still isn’t quite getting it. 

“Are you tryin’ to tell me you want me to keep goin’?” 

You nod and he slaps you, a sharp strike that catches you by surprise.

“Stupid girl,” he says, scowling, and gripping your chin tightly between his thumb and forefinger. “I decide when we’re done. The whole point of this was not to ruin ya. This ain’t a punishment. Well, it wasn’t. Might be, next time.” 

He stands up, shaking his head. “Dumb fuckin’ cunt.”

It hurts worse than the cane did. 

When he sees the heartbreak on your face, he sighs. “Ah, shit. Look, I know you’re just tryin’ to please me. But you’re makin’ me feel bad for tryin’ to be careful with ya. If I take it too far today, you won’t be able to take as much anymore. I ain’t breakin’ you.” 

You’re sobbing too hard to respond, but you don’t try to argue or struggle when he releases you. You crawl to lay kisses to the toes of his boots and nuzzle your cheek against them.

He sees it for the apology it is. 

v. parched to dust

This time, when Tommy Miller takes out his cock in front of you, you’re ready. And there’s no way in hell you’re disappointing Joel again, so you wrap your lips around him, not quite eagerly but with enough determination that no one could fault you.

When you drag the second consecutive orgasm from him, he tugs you away with a fist in your hair, panting and gasping. Joel swats his hand away and beckons you back to his lap. 

“ Jesus,” Tommy finally says, tucking himself back into his jeans. 

“Told ya it was just a bad day,” Joel snipes. 

“Sorry,” Tommy says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shoulda figured. It’s just… you’re a little soft for her, yeah?”

“Course I am. But I’m not soft on her.”

You know he loves you. You do. But hearing him admit that he’s soft for you makes your chest ache. 

“Got another surprise for ya, baby,” Joel says, rubbing his hand over your back. 

You’re overwhelmed. It’s not that he doesn’t give you things or do things for you; it’s that it’s never such a big deal. It just is . He takes care of you. That’s how this works. Not gifts and surprises. 

You bite your lip so you don’t question it, but he sees through you.

“Now I know you don’t remember. D’you even know what day it is?” 

“Saturday,” you say. “You’re home.” 

He shakes his head, but it’s betrayed by the smirk. “You’re right, baby. But what’s the date?”

You actually have to think for a minute. You hadn’t crossed off the calendar this morning like you usually did, and yesterday’s activities have you a little rattled. “It’s um, it’s August 19th?”

“That’s our anniversary, baby.”

Your brows scrunch as you try to think back. That’s not right. Your first date was in February. You moved in sometime early in June. You’re not sure what his metric is, but August doesn’t make sense. “Um. Are you… are you sure?” 

He doesn’t get mad like you thought he might. He just laughs. “Course, I’m sure, baby. It was the night we came home from your folks’. When you agreed to be mine.”

Your face heats. “I’m sorry—”

“Y’ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry about, baby. I didn’t expect ya to remember. But you’ve been mine for two years now, and you’re still worried I ain’t gonna keep you. But I’ve been thinkin’, and I know how to prove it to you.” 

If this doesn’t convince you, he thinks, nothing will. Never mind that his whole goddamn life revolves around you. Never mind that you’ve worn his collar for the last 731 fuckin’ days. 

You’re busy wondering why he made you suck another man’s cock today if he cares about your anniversary. But then again, you’ve long accepted that what he wants won’t always make sense. It’s not your job to make it make sense. It’s just your job to do it. 

“C’mon, let’s go downstairs,” he says. 

You swallow hard around the sudden fear, and he laughs. 

“What? Had enough yesterday?”

“No, sir,” you say. It’s mostly the truth. Mostly. 

He shakes his head. “Not today. C’mon.”

Now that he moves, you follow. 

Tommy’s already in the basement, which almost gives you pause, if only because his movement startles you. 

Joel has you hop up on the padded table instead of the metal one, typically a sign that either you’re going to be here for a well-extended time or that he’s going to fuck you on it. 

Tommy’s setting things you don’t recognize out on the little cart, but you don’t try very hard to look. Looking makes your breathing get a little ragged, so you look at Joel instead. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, bending slightly to give you a kiss before he begins to slowly circle the table, fastening straps over your body. 

He’s left the dress on, which is weird, too, but you’re not complaining. It’s always a little chilly down here and even though you know you shouldn’t, you’re glad he’s not made you bare yourself completely in front of Tommy. 

It’s a lot of straps. You watch curiously, if not a little dazed, as he secures your ankles, thighs, stomach, chest both above and below your breasts, arms in three places, neck, and head. 

The one around your neck clips to your collar, not adding another band or choking you. But you’re unable to lift your head and neck at all. 

When he’s done with the strap across your forehead, he smooths away the worry lines that crease beneath it. 

“Just need ya to hold real still. You’re probably going to like this, but don’t fuckin’ come.”

“Yes, sir.” Your eyes are wide and worshipful as you wait for further commands. 

“Be real good for Tommy, okay?”

Your heart pounds in your throat, but you promise immediately. 

He hops up to sit on the spanking bench nearby. 

“Where first?” Tommy says. 

“Hip,” Joel says, settling in to watch. 

Tommy goes about his business and pulls the bottom halves of the table apart, wrenching your legs open slowly. He spreads them wide and slides a stool over, situating himself right up by your cunt, and flips the hem of your dress up over your belly button. 

You whimper and try to look at Joel for any indication of how you’re supposed to behave, but the restraints don’t allow enough wiggle room. 

Something cold smears across the front of your left hip, and, much to Joel’s surprise, you break. You’re still raw in more than one way from the previous day. 

“Please, sir,” you blurt, lip trembling and eyes squeezed tight. 

He hops down, brow furrowed, and comes closer, raising a hand to Tommy to pause him. 

He cups your face. “Please, what, baby?” His other hand rubs up and down your side. 

You force your eyes open to look at him, blurred through waiting tears. 

“Please, can I have a gag?” you say. Your eyes are scrunched, and fists clenched. 

He strokes his hand over your cheek. “‘Course you can. Good girl.”

The praise keeps you calm while he steps away. When he comes back, you open your mouth wide, and he settles it between your lips. 

You nearly cry in relief when you feel the little bulb press inside, not much different than the head of his cock. A few tears spill over when he leans down to kiss your forehead. 

“Atta girl, he says, pinching your chin before returning to his perch. 

The warmth of his touch lingers, and you let the pressure of the gag distract you from where Tommy starts to move again. You suck on it steadily, eyes fluttering shut when you feel the unmistakable scrape of a blade across your hip. 

Shaving. He’s shaving you. You can’t fathom why, with only peach fuzz reaching there. And you think maybe it’d be a cold day in hell before Joel let anyone shave your pubic hair. He liked it kept trimmed but not too neat. 

“I’m from the seventies, baby. Women’re supposed to have a nice healthy bush,” he had told you fairly early on when you were just dating. He hadn’t told you to stop shaving and waxing, but of course, you had. 

Warm water washes over the area with a washcloth not far behind. Tommy’s firm hand does a final sweep with something cold. 

“Alright, honey,” Tommy says, his voice almost seeming fond , “just hold still and be a good girl, okay?” 

As if you’d do anything else. 

You startle a little at the loud buzz that kicks up, and Tommy rubs gloves fingers over the opposite hip for just a moment. 

And then he gets to work. It hurts . But the pain clues you into what’s going on, and you come to the only logical conclusion: Joel’s having you tattooed. 

You start to cry, the feeling of being loved and owned overwhelming. You don’t hear Joel’s chuckle, buried as it gets under the gun in Tommy’s hands. 

You thought it was overly cautious of him earlier, to worry about you having an orgasm during anything involving Tommy. But you get it now. The pain itself is bearable, almost delicious, but the rush of euphoria in your veins from the mere concept is intoxicating. 

It goes on and on. Maybe it’s only half an hour. Maybe it’s four. The pain cycles, fading to a soothing heat before building back up to a scald. 

You don’t realize it’s over right away. The buzz of the gun plays on in your brain even when the room falls quiet. And Tommy’s doing something to it, probably wiping it down, but your skin still rages. 

Joel hops down and comes over to the side of your left leg. “Shit, that’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” he says to his brother. 

“Looks damn good. Hey, she’s got a real pretty pussy, huh?” He says, elbowing Joel. “S’funny, watchin’ her leak all over.”

Joel peers over, running a finger over your cunt, and laughs. “Knew you’d like that,” he says.

You whimper. 

He pulls out his phone and snaps a photo. “Want to see, baby?” He asks though he’s already turning the screen to you. 

The skin is red and irritated, but the ink takes your breath away. In shiny black, right there on your hip, sits a blocky “JM” surrounded by a circle. It looks like a fucking brand. 

Your eyes fly to his, whining desperately and praying he understands. A sly grin spreads across his face, and the tip of his middle finger traces oh so gently up your slit. 

“Come for me, baby,” he says, not bothering to touch you further. He knows you won’t need it. 

Vision blacking out, you writhe uselessly against the restraints as the pleasure batters through you. You’re only vaguely aware that the loud keening sound is coming from you, but it’ll register later when you feel the raw ache in your throat. 

Tommy whistles. “Sorry I doubted you, princess.”

You whine through the aftershocks, tears welling up again at the thought of the tattoo. You hope Tommy would leave so Joel will fuck you. 

Then you remember him asking, “Where first?” just as Tommy drags his stool around to the right side of your torso. 

Joel comes with him, rolling up his sleeves and tinkering with something on the cart. They both touch your arm a lot, fingers roving and adjusting you. You start to tune it out until Tommy lathers a spot on the inside of your wrist. 

Once it’s been shaved and cleaned, someone presses something against the spot for a moment. 

“Well?” Joel says. 

“Lines look clear to me,” Tommy says. He’s leaning close to your arm. 

Joel doesn’t walk away this time. As the gun kicks back to life, he stays with his hand resting on your upper arm, looming over Tommy’s shoulder. 

It’s easier this time, now that you know what to expect. It hurts, but you’ve had worse and probably will again. You’re feeling a bit too dizzy, though, when it finally stops. 

“This one’s for you to see,” Joel says, starting to unlatch the straps. He frees your arm first and then your head and neck, plus the gag. The ache makes itself known as soon as you shift a little. 

You peer immediately at your wrist, and a strange clenching tears through your chest. A few inches below your palm lays the dark outline of Joel’s thumbprint. 

“Oh,” you whisper, a strange tingling spreading through your limbs. “Oh.” 

“Knew you’d like it,” he says, lips curling into a smug smirk. 

Once you’re untethered, he peels your dress off so the fabric won’t brush against your hip. 

“There’s a protein bar and a bottle of water on the coffee table,” Joel says. “Go eat and wait by my chair.”

You’re swaying a little but he helps you down and makes sure you can stay on your feet before he removes his hands from your waist. 

You make your way upstairs in a daze. Truthfully, you don’t really remember it. When they come upstairs, you’re knelt in your place, wrapper and empty bottle on the table. 

“Good girl,” Joel says, lowering himself with a little groan into his recliner. He shifts around and pulls his cock out. “C’mere.”

You hop up immediately, and he takes you by the waist to help you settle where he’s fully hard already.

“Don’t move,” he says, to your great disappointment. “None of that,” he scolds at your pout. “It’s my turn. Just relax.”

Tommy sets the gun and equipment up to the side of the chair. You settle against Joel’s chest, snuggling in and resting your head on his shoulder so you can watch. 

Joel’s other hand, the one not waiting in place, comes up to cup the back of your head. He bends his head down to kiss where he can reach. “You’re being so good. Just a little bit more, and then you can take this cock.”

“Do not come on her tattoo, Joel,” Tommy says. 

Joel laughs, but Tommy smacks his arm. “I’m serious. It’ll fuck it up and probably infect it. Don’t fuckin’ do it.”

“I’ll wait ‘till it’s healed, don’t worry.”

You moan and clench around him at the idea, which only encourages his pleased chuckling. 

Tommy takes your hand, peeling it from where it rested against Joel’s chest, idly brushing through the hair there. You let him, letting it go limp and unresistant.

He presses your thumb against an ink pad and pushes it down on a piece of paper, rolling it carefully. He repeats the process a few times before he’s satisfied. Wiping it clean, he coats it one more time before pressing it against Joel’s wrist.  

You stare, rapt, as he traces the lines of your fingerprint onto Joel’s thick arm, framed by dark hair. It sits in parallel to the watch on his other wrist. 

“Where d’you want these?” Tommy says after he’s wrapped up and started to pack away the equipment. He’s holding the papers where they tested your print.

“The safes. One in each office,” Joel says. 

It’s weird, certainly, but so is Joel, so you don’t give it much thought. 

He’s cradling your face in his palm, looking at you with something so tender and ferocious that you can’t possibly look away. He thrusts up into you, his other hand tight on the hip opposite the tattoo.

It hurts, but, well, you don’t mind. 

The way he fucks you open now is slow, cruel after making you sit still for so long, but he’s savoring it. Savoring the way you can’t help but stare at him in worshipful bliss. It’s like a drug, the way his attention makes you hazy. He’s got you hooked, addicted, right where he wants you. His. 

Not a damn part of you that isn’t. 

The smirk curls across his face, and his hand curls around your neck, abandoning the gentle caress for something you both understand as love. You come on his cock when he tells you, every time he tells you, as he leaves you gasping and clutching his forearm, not prying him away but holding on as the room spins. 

When he fills you, he kisses you deeply, hand back around your throat as his mouth takes the rest of your air. You collapse against his chest when he lets go, and he holds you there with a smug, satiated smile and a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You doze in and out in his lap as he and Tommy share a bottle of bourbon. 

“Damn, I shoulda brought Daisy over. You haven’t had someone for her to play with in a while,” you hear Tommy say through the fog of your brain.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Joel says. His hand is scratching at your scalp and it feels so good you almost forget Tommy is talking.

“... my wife and your little pet—” he’s saying.

You don’t mean to open your eyes, but you catch his as soon as you do. He laughs. “Yeah, I got a wife. I’m not as mean as my brother, here.” 

You find that hard to believe, but also, you don’t really think of Joel as mean. He’s strict, sure, and he has high expectations. But he takes such good care of you, and you want for nothing. 

The phrase stirs something odd in your head. Do you want for nothing? Well, it’s at least partially true. You don’t want anything, not a thing you have or don’t have. You’re happy with whatever Joel gives. 

It’s probably the same thing. Besides, you wanted that career; you wanted to put on a face, a mask, and pretend to be someone who gave a shit about the company’s reputation. And you were wrong, so wrong. And Joel’s always been right. So what do you know about what you want?

Joel’s rumbling voice startles you a little where you’re tucked against his chest. “She was one ‘a mine, y’know,” he says to you. 

Tommy’s wearing a sly grin. “Yeah, until you scared the shit out of her,” he says, laughing. “Poor little thing didn’t know what to do with herself.” 

“She wasn’t like you,” Joel says. He waits as if he expects a reaction, but you don’t stir from your safe place in his arms. 

“Nah, not everyone’s as fucked up as y’all,” Tommy says. “I ain’t a sadist,” he says to you, a glint in his eye. “Don’t get me wrong, I do love puttin’ her in her place, but mostly, I just like havin’ my pretty little wife at home.” 

Joel’s watching you; you can feel the heft of his gaze. But you’re so blissed out, so calm right here in his lap, dripping his seed slowly around where his cock still fills you. 

“Would that bother you? Playin’ with a girl who used to be Joel’s?” Tommy goads.

You think about it for a moment. “She ever get his mark?”

Tommy grins, teeth like a shark. “Nope.”

You hum, unbothered, and nuzzle your cheek against Joel.

“Attagirl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head. “Knew you’d learn this time.” 

You gaze at his thumbprint on your arm. The cells around it will grow and die, but not his claim on you. 

It’s almost comforting, you think, that by the time that fades, there’ll be nothing left of you anyway. 

bonus: the art of breaking playlist

thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who asked for a part two and expressed love for the first. I will admit I am INCREDIBLY nervous to publish this both because it's kind of fucked up but also because so many of you loved the first part and I'm scared this won't live up to your expectations.

please, if you enjoyed this, let me know! soothe my anxiety lol. and if you don't want to publically do so, anon is always on.

i love you!

[angrylizardjacket]

it's in the blood // this is tradition

Summary: Children inherit all sorts of traits from their parents. Not all these traits are good.

"My reputation preceded me before I was born."

[ charlotte & lola au ]

A/N: 2292 words. Halsey's new album killed me on the spot. i talk a lot about the next gen being mirrors of their parents, but i'd like to go into detail about that not necessarily being a positive. @misscharlottelee this made me feel things. i love these kids.

Warnings: overdose mention, addiction discussion, mentions of drug abuse.

Penelope Dingley-Lee

Tommy can count the amount of times he'd seen Razzle truly angry on one hand, and here and now he can see it again, written all over his neice's face. He'd thought she would look like Charlie when she's angry, and occasionally she does, the way her lip curls derisively, dismissively, that's very reminiscent of his cousin, but here and now, her blue eyes are hazy, cloudy, and her lips twist with an irate arrogance that is worryingly familiar.

Angry and high and wearing clothes that don't quite match, in this moment she's exactly her father's daughter.

She's been in the papers again. Her tits have been in magazines again. Tommy bites down on his instinctual desire to repremand her; she'd call him a hypocrite, call him an old man, tell him to keep his opinions to himself while she could still buy his sex tape out of a shady car boot down the street.

Charlie was like that too, on occasion, wit too quick for him to keep up with. When she got into a mood like this, Tommy didn't have to worry so much; usually Razzle would egg her on, but knew when to pull her back.

"It's my god given, motherfucking right to go feral -" he'd heard Charlie back in the eighties holler at three in the morning, high on amphetamines and waving a gossip rag above her head. Razzle would be on the sofa, equally fucked up, but gazing at her like she hung the stars in the sky.

"Lola gets photographed at least once a month stark naked along the strip like it's a sport, why is my Playboy shoot a national crisis?! My tits are fantastic!"

"They are, my love," Razzle nods seriously, and Tommy pulls his pillow from beneath his head, trying to either block out their voices through the thin walls, or maybe smother himself. The girl beside him, the groupie whose name he doesn't know, asks blearily why there's so much yelling. Tommy doesn't answer.

A week later, Tommy is the one to bail out Charlie and Razzle for public indecency, and they're both beaming from ear to ear.

Here in the present, Penny is draped out on the sofa, laughing low and pleased as she watches TV.

"TMZ blurred out my tits," she snorts, "cowards."

"Penny..." he can't help the faintly disappointed notes in his voice when he says her name.

"Thomas, I've read The Dirt," Penny fires back venemously. Hypocrite he hears in her tone, you have no power over me.

There's something hollow in her eyes in the photos he sees of her in the papers. She wears her father's inflluence and her heart on her crushed velvet sleeve, on the arm of a shallow, pretty, band boy who plays badly and loudly. But she laughs louder, though tthe sound is low and unconvincing if anyone bothered to listen hard enough, and Tommy wonders if he has enough dark hair dye left for when that boy breaks her heart.

Jupiter Lee

Tommy is proud to watch Jupiter on stage, but he is afraid.

Their anger is something he remembers from Lola, the way they cling to the past with vitriol echoes their mother, but on stage, they drink up the attention, get high off the love the audience gives, and he sees himself in those moments.

A child of addicts, Jupiter had drawn lines in the sand for themselves that they refused to cross; no alcohol, no drugs, and they'd stayed loyal to that. But highs come in all forms; they simply picked a different kind of poison without realising.

On stage, halfway between the gutter and a god complex, Tommy knows the smile they wear all too well.

Rebellion from Jupiter didn't shock the world like it did when it was Penny's name in the papers. Jupiter's trajectory was spot on in the eyes of the public, but rebellion wouldn't be the thing that broke them.

Once, so long ago that it's a miracle the memory survived, Tommy remembers asking Lola what she would be doing if she wasn't with the band. Lola gave him an easy, bleary smile, laughing sweetly when she told him that one way or another, she'd be here. In the moment it overwhelms him with love. In hindsight it breaks his heart.

"Come on, I think this is inevitable," Jupiter smiles on television as an interviewer asks them the same question; if they weren't making music what they'd be doing, "as if I'd do anything other than this."

'Don't you know where I come from?' is left unspoken, but Tommy still hears it.

He tries to picture himself in a life without the world at his feet the way he has now. No image comes to mind. Nothing else makes sense. Even if he wanted to do something else, wanted to grow up to be something else, he couldn't even begin to picture it for himself, tragedy and all.

They play their parts. They let history repeat itself. Jupiter makes mistakes Tommy and Lola had already learned from. Penny plays Jupiter's conciousness until the role grates on her nerves, diving head first into chaos, taking Jupiter with her with little convincing.

Tommy remembers this too.

When the world looks at Penny and Jupiter, they like to remember how Lola was seen as a bad influence on Charlotte, but forget that Tommy would have followed Charlotte in to Hell without hesitation.

Leo "Seo" Sixx

Lola has google alerts set up for her son, Seo, because he disappears for months without warning. Tommy asks how he is, and Lola looks to her phone with a tight smile, telling him that he's competeing in a skateboarding competition in Prague. She learned that from Twitter.

Seo comes and goes without warning, and talks to his siblings more than his parents. He loves them, but he hasn't allowed himself to stop for years. He doesn't know how. Then again, neither did Lola or Nikki.

"Jupiter thinks a lot about legacy, don't they?" He's in Tommy's kitchen, eating a poptart, when Tommy returns home one friday evening. He's waiting for Penny and Jupiter to finish getting ready, the three of them going out.

"Do your parents know you're in town?" Tommy asks with faint amusement, though there's a twinge of guilt in his gut when Leo considers that he should probably let them know. Says he forgot. Tommy's not sure if he believes him; like his parents before him, he tends to leave a lot unsaid. It's part of his charm, the world seems to think, but Tommy knows all to well how deliberate of an act it can be.

"Jup's got all this stuff in their head about legacy and who they should be," he continues his earlier thought, "which I guess makes sense, they tie a lot of themselves up in their identity," he shrugs, then, "I don't know Leo."

Tommy's not sure if he's talking about the grandfather he's named after, or himself.

"You've given this a lot of thought," Tommy says quietly, humouring him.

"I think a lot," Seo responds, "I've been thinking about going back on my meds, its weird being off of them." Of course this concerns Tommy, who knows objectively that Seo isn't his kid, but he's close enough that Tommy feels like he's allowed to be concerned. "I'm worried a doctor's note isn't going to be enough to let me compete at the Olympics on speed," falls too casually from Seo's lips, alarming Tommy in an instant. Though it must clearly show on his face, as Seo breaks out into an apologetic grin, "dextroamphetamine, for my ADHD. I've been trying to wean off it for the Olympics, it's been hard -" but his next words, said so blithe, so casual, have Tommy's heart stopping in his chest as he's thrown back thirty years, "I've been on them since I was like eleven years old; it was great, I could think, like the right amount, but now I... I think everything. I feel everything. Its a lot." He shrugs, like he didn't just become an echo of his father.

Seo's parents both died twice from overdoses, and now their son feels like he can't function without amphetamines.

Objectively Tommy knows that they work for Seo, that he's not abusing them he simply uses them to help him function, but the irony is not lost on him. It's a lot to unpack. He doesn't think to ask about the Olympics; it slips his mind until he sees Seo and a silver medal on his Twitter feed.

Lola calls Tommy in tears. She's proud, but she wishes she'd known, wishes she'd been able to watch it live, or go over and support him in person.

No-one in Seo's life seems to fully know or understand his intentions or actions, no-one can predict his next move. He puts up a bright facade, but like his parents before him, he does not trust the world to know him.

They don't know where he goes in the few months after the Olympics, all they know is that he doesn't come home.

Cerie "CerieThree" Sixx

Since she'd turned sixteen, Tommy has never seen Cerie Sixx without a smile. That is a very deliberate choice that she's made.

She's made a choice to rise above the percieved grime of her origins. She's halfway across the country, smiling for a camera she can control, editing her image before she lets it out into the world. Cerie Three - even the name the world knows reflects this; she's picked apart the context she was born into, disecting it, deciding which was useful to show the world, disposing of the rest.

She speaks warmly to her family, from what Tommy can gather, but the people on the peripheries of their life seem more like associates in the coldest sense of the world. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes half the time when she sees Tommy, and she shakes his hand when her brothers will hug him. The internet is closer to her than he is.

Cerie looks the most like her mother of all her siblings; she's 21, the exact same age Lola was when she met Tommy, but half the time he can barely see the resemblence. Lola had let the world see a villain at that age; Cerie had learned from that, had rejected that, rejected the cold, hard humanity of her mother's fronting. Cerie wanted to be perfect. Cerie had to be perfect, hyper aware of her own image, like her siblings seem to be, but the way she'd so effectively shaped her public identity was kind of terrifying.

Perhaps this was what it was like for people who didn't know Lola, only allowed to know the image she put out into the world, or people who only knew Nikki for his stage presence.

But the more Tommy thinks about it, the more he remembers just how effectively Lola had wrapped the band around her little finger when she set her mind to it, how she talked her way around exectives despite being dressed like she'd woken up in the gutter and fucked up on any number of drugs. Lola understood people, and it seemed Cerie did too.

Cerie Sixx, twenty one, doesn't stop creating content, doesn't stop studying, and doesn't stop smiling. Two of those three things are inhereted traits, inhereted determination, and the third is a choice.

Cyrus Sixx

Though Cyrus had inhereted much of his parent's musical talent, the same way Jupiter had, Cyrus had also inhereted a love of the high life. Even so, he's so full of love, kissing his mother on both cheeks before he goes out to get shitfaced in the bars she was decades before he was even born.

He works hard, at his job, on his music, but his partying matches it just as well. He knows exactly how far he has to fall before he meets the depths his parents' had sunk to, and though he doesn't voice this, his arrogance comes across in his actions.

There'd always be someone to pull him away from swan diving to rock bottom. He takes that for granted, and keeps getting closer and closer.

The only one of Nikki and Lola's children who still lives at home, he's the only one like them in the way they'd feared.

"He's going to have more success than he will ever be able to comprehend," Nikki had told Tommy, the day after Cyrus had been admitted to hospital after staying up for four days while high and obsessing over a song he had been working on. Nikki had found him having a fit after having fallen from his desk chair. Now, sitting on Tommy's patio in the sunset, he looks tired, he looks afraid, "if he doesn't end up killing himself first."

A month ago, the fire department and the police had to pull him, kicking and screaming and bareass naked from a tree in the middle of town. His parents had bailed him out, had felt a familiar sting of guilt as they find themselves reminded of their own youthful exploits. They repremand him, of course, but they both know the only reason they stopped climbing trees was because there had been no-one to pick them up after.

Nikki sees himself in his sons mistakes, but he'd had to learn concequences the hard way.

Tommy loves his family and all it's strange branches, as well as their raucous youth, but his closest friends were some of the most volatile people he'd known, and somehow he'd forgotten that as time as taken people and memories from him.

But these children were made in their image.

[benryphobic]

well whatever. here we go

celine: gordons ex wife. very nice woman, but things just didn't work out. she makes lots of assumptions about people, not out of malice! but bc she thinks she can read people well (she cannot) shes very smart still, as she met gordon at MIT! she studied theoretical physics, but found it extremely boring. switched her major to engineering. she and gordon have adhd solidarity :) and they do a bi weekly trade off of joshua. she may or may not be a lesbian

bill: tommys ex boyfriend. was interested in being a friend of tommy, mostly bc of the rumors at how fucking crazy he was (rumor had it that he had bitten off the head of a rat to get into the fraternity he was in.) interest soon came infatuation. he was deeeeplyy closeted tho, but he and tommy still ended up "dating". bill got married and had kids. but hes still sweaty about his "gay college experience that totally didnt mean anything"

jospehina: coomers ex wife. she made coomer a tits man. that's all ill say. anyways she's a really good fighter, and lottt more scrappier than coomer. shes...not exactly the nicest woman, shes kind of actually a bitch. she joined the military, and coomer was like "cool". he would have joined her, actually! if she hadn't told him to be "the nerdy one", and pursue a life of science instead. they had a really bad falling out, but she still care him :)

barbie: one of benrys exes. shes the longest hes ever dated, tho, so he actually remembers her name lol. not much to say about her except she's gordon but a white woman. they might have cheated on each other LOL. they chilled out tho. he became a security guard, she became one of the female assassins.

giovanni: bubbys ex. aka the gman. yes they dated. yes its weird for tommy. don't think about it

[adashelbysgirlfriend]

A Taste for Something Younger  - Polly Grey Headcannon

Omg I love the Ada roommate headcanon! Could you do the same for Polly? Maybe with a woman a little older/same age as Ada (because we accept age gaps in this household) and her and Polly actually get together in the end? I'd die for that ( @vikingsxf​ )

this idea gave me a big gay hard on and honestly I'm so glad you had it; Polly doesn't get enough love. Ive gone for a younger (Ada age) reader because we definitely support a healthy age gap relationship and i just want to pretend its me who's with polly so. ALSO THIS IS A BIT SMUTTY JUST A LITTLE BIT BUT JUST A WARNING OKAY BABES 

you and Ada had been friends since she started at the library

you both had a lot in common and she would tell you about her crazy relatives which always kept you entertained

obviously you had no clue that the Ada Throne you knew was actually thee Ada Shelby 

when you finally do meet her brother in one of his unannounced visits to her flat its a massive shock that your besties family are the notorious Shelby's 

she brings you out to meet the other brothers and John and Arthur both take a liking to you

when Finn tells Polly about Adas new friend from the city who is breaking hearts all over Birmingham she doesn't really have much to think 

i mean it wouldn't be the first time the shelby boys lost their heads over a girl (especially dumb and dumber) and it probably won't be the last

but when she gets the pleasure of meeting you she can't help but understand why the lads lost their heads

you're stunning, not just physically 

you're mind is almost too wise for your years

“you've got an old soul” 

“thank you, Mrs Gray”

“its Miss, and call me Pol”

you're around a lot

you help in the office with the other women and come for drinks when Tommys in a good mood and feels like having the gang out

Polly’s sass making an impression

you're really intimidated by her because she's just this all knowing mature lady who is also really stunning 

she invites you and ada over to have a girly evening 

you literally don't want to go

anxious as hell

i feel like Polly is one of those people that gives off this no bullshit vibe, so you're scared to even chat to her just incase you say the wrong thing

dressing to impress by buying a new outfit and feeling like a fool for it

its the first thing Polly notices when she sees you 

“you look ravishing don't you”

literally blushing all over

stumbling on your words

Ada has no clue whats going on and is so confused

maybe even a little jealous? why are you swooning over her auntie so much 

Ada gets a surprise phone call and has to leave and you are wanting to leave with her but Polly all nah stay 

this is the (best) WORST CASE SCENARIO PEOPLE 

ALONE WITH POLLY 

in her HoUSE

getting drunk to hide the fear but then also getting loose lipped

chatting absolute beans with her and she can't stop laughing at you 

Because she loves that you're a bit scared of her but seeing a more bold side of you kinda turns her on

the drinking night becomes a weekly thing

you start to relax into Polly presence 

seeking comfort in your time in her home 

Ada doesn't even get an invite anymore

getting drunk together and her listening while you babble on about literally the most random topics ever

you get two whiskies in and start telling her all the facts you know about giraffes or the fall of the Berlin wall

and she just loves to sit and watch you 

insane tension 

a lot of staring 

touching but nothing that would cross the friendship line, flirting with it though 

her doing you makeup and telling you about the wild things she's done 

that almost so close you could kiss but without the kiss tension when she's in your face putting your lipstick on

she says you look good in red, which you don't believe but at this point she could tell you you looked good in a teletubbie costume and a bitch would be dressed head to toe as Lala

she sees you start to push your comfort zones and she loves it 

the new found confidence makes her horny as hell

Jealous Ada is more jealous when she sees you walking round in Polly’s shade of lipstick 

“she must really like you to let you borrow that” - but its LACED IN GAY ANGST BECAUSE WTF HOW DID HER AUNT STEAL YOU 

i feel like you make the first move 

which isn't something you or Polly expected

like you've both been drinking all night and for some reason you start doing vodka shots

and this is the good shit vodka were stalking russian standard pissed off your tits shit love

and you watch her neck those shots like she's getting paid by the hour

and you just 

walk stumble right on over there and fall into her lap 

grab that sexy face in both hands and give her the softest kiss she's ever had in her life

it feels like her first kiss ever

which is saying something because you betcha that womans had a lot of kisses

polly doesnt know how to respond she's SHOOK 

she doesn't even close her eyes she's like 

literally frozen in shock 

pulling straight back

whoops

suddenly all that drunk confidence is gone and you're hit with that crippling anxiety you get when you've done something wrong and been caught for it 

Polly grabbing a fist full of your hair and pulling you back down 

now she's KISSING YOU AND OH LORD 

passion 

she's not even clumsy when she's drunk like you are this woman is EXPERIENCED

lip biting oh my christ 

not that pussyass nibbling but actual biting 

and tongue 

and i mean after that loves theres no going back really is there

finding your confidence again or maybe just horniness and drifting your hand under her skirt

your newfound confidence surprises her but she refuses to let you know that because hello she's Polly fucking Gray 

“dont start something you can't finish, little dove”

“do you want me to stop?”

“i didn't say that”

this is the START OF SOMETHING NEW

leaving her panting and sweating, lipstick smudged and clinging to the arms of the chair

i mean once it happens once its a common occurrence loves

not that either of you are complaining 

not just sex but dates in her living room by the fire

walks together arm and arm 

nobody really thinks to much of seeing her and you together, either assuming you're just one of the boys girlfriends or that you're her niece or something 

and they couldn't be more wrong but their ignorance is bliss

she loves how young you make her feel

and you love how much she takes care of you

i feel like maybe she's a little nervous of baring all to you; physically and mentally

her body is slightly more mature than yours, things aren't as new and shiny as yours may be; i feel like she’d take some reassurance maybe before she knew that you wouldn't just leave her for someone your own age

not that Polly is one to doubt her self worth but she feels like maybe she's just a phase for you 

you wouldn't want her any other way though; you love her body and lets be real we all do too 

she takes even longer to be open about her memories and past

i feel like she slowly but surely reveals more and more about her private life until she can finally trust you with the complete story 

the rest of the shelbys know better than to question Polly on her personal choices; but they are happy to see the carefree woman they remember from when they were young 

even salty Ada can see the happiness you bring out in her, although she doesn't want to admit it to herself

Polly buys lingerie for you all the time 

being bratty and flashing your bra strap to her in public places 

or grabbing her hand and running it under your dress until she can feel the lace of your underwear when you're both out in the Garrison 

she has this “wait until i get you home” look that you'll do anything to provoke 

she teases you until you beg for her to let you finish as punishment 

“you see what you get for being naughty, y/n?”

she likes it when you ride her face, because although Polly is still in control she likes to put you in a position of power

and she likes to be able to see all of you when you're close to the edge

angry sex, because lets be real Polly can be a snappy little bitch and when you both get angry what better way is there to solve the issue than rough lesbian sex 

she loves your smile 

and your giggle

it makes her feel like a teenager all over again 

nobody really understands how you put up with such a intimidating, dominating woman everyday but they don't see cuddly Polly who likes to be little spoon 

she does her very best to keep you out of the family business and always will because you're one of the only people on earth Polly couldn't live without 

you often joke about how Polly would just move in after you but she knows that after you there would be nobody else for her

“without you my little doll, i couldn't be me” 

lots of lap sitting 

hair stroking  

the sweetest kisses; she tastes of cherry and whisky

she says you're like pink gin, sweet tasting and extremely intoxicating 

Polly had given up on love until she found you, and now she's got you best believe she will spend the rest of time she has on earth making sure she keeps you 

[avengemebuckyy]

Be Careful

Summary: 

You tell Bucky to be careful with your heart. Too late he realizes you should have been careful with his.

or:

You’re awkward,odd, and not the most conventionally attractive yet you’re the only woman that Bucky sees

Warnings: manipulation 

Authors note: Back from the dead lmao. This is probably trash but I just needed to force myself to finish something it order to try to get back in the groove! Feedback is more than greatly appreciated, it’s what keeps me writing tbh...

PS. You ain’t shit in this lmao

---

You weren’t the most eye-catching. You didn’t look like the girls Bucky used to chase after in his younger years, or the girls on the internet he’d find himself staring at once he’d discovered Instagram, endlessly scrolling through picture after picture, lost in a sea of beautiful bodies and faces. You didn’t look like the tall slim blonde agent he’d always make a point to hold open the door for, or his neighbor’s daughter in Wakanda, who had had dark skin so smooth and a face so perfect he’d never managed to say more than two words to her.

You were slightly awkward, with a slightly odd sense of humor, always cracking jokes that sometimes no one laughed at but you. But you didn’t care, you would laugh at them all the same. You wore baggy clothes, and not the fashionable baggy kind either. Your favorite outfit was baggy camo print cargo pants and an old grey band t-shirt, logo so faded it was almost impossible to decipher.

At first Bucky didn’t pay you much attention. He wasn’t rude, but he treated you with the same gruff stoicism he treated everyone with. Well everyone besides Sam, Steve, and Natasha. Besides he only saw you rarely, you were a high level agent thanks to your skill, but you didn’t work closely with the team very often. Until you did.

One mission with Clint was all it took to have your name thrust forward when Fury was looking to fill a coordinator position. Suddenly you were everywhere. Coordinating their positions on missions, even going on missions with different members of the team. You fit in well with the team, your corny jokes and generally happy disposition make you easy to like. Your apartment was five minutes away, thanks to Tony, so you would often eat breakfast with the team and stay at the Tower well into the night, often crashing in a room designated for you, also thanks to Tony.

You were like a deceptively shallow river Bucky would think after. One minute he was wading through your shallows, next moment he was being taken under by your currents, realizing too late that he was in deeper than he thought possible.

It started slowly, you would make an effort to make conversation with Bucky, never seeming off put by his non answers. Bucky found himself coming to you with numerous questions on how to work social media, you would give such long winded explanations he wouldn’t have to embarrass himself with asking questions. Soon he found himself seeking you out for more than explanations. Funny thing is you were the one who introduced him to Instagram, to the  beautiful women on the app but eventually he found himself unable to see any woman but you.

Bucky found himself sitting with you at lunch, looking out the window in the mornings waiting to catch sight of your army green jacket. He’d sit with you in the afternoons as you did your paperwork, steal glances at you ,your forehead always shiny by midday with an almost ever-present patch of acne, eyebrows scrunched together as you filled out mission reports. He loved those quiet moments the most. Bucky wasn’t good with words, not anymore. But he would help carry the 10 pound boxes of paperwork, always bring an extra pen in case yours ran out of ink, and constantly would bring you your favorite Starbucks order. He secretly hoped that you would read the affection behind his actions.

You didn’t usually go to Stark’s parties, you’d rather go to bars and clubs with your friends.

“The crowd at Stark’s parties just aren’t my crowd,” you’d explained with a shrug, toeing the floor with your scuffed sneakers. Bucky had nodded in understanding. They usually weren’t his crowd either, but he’d always go to support Steve, who was pretty much expected to show face.

But for some reason you show up to this party. Four months into your blossoming friendship (and Bucky’s crush). Bucky wasn’t prepared for what you were wearing. When he heard the agents whispering about your unexpected appearance at the party he half expected to see you in jeans and a t- shirt. Or even your cargo pants. At the sound of your name Bucky zeros into the muttered conversation.

“Did you see her?”

“Yeah, damn.”

“Was not expecting that. Or her to even show up. Who knew?”

“She’s kinda hot, not gonna lie. In a weird way”

Bucky turns his head scanning the crowd, heart rate already picking up, fully expecting to see your sweat-pant clad form. He sees you alright. But not in sweatpants. A red dress barely covers your figure. Hemline way above the halfway mark of your thighs and twin slits in the skirt reaching up to your hips. A draping halter neck ties at your neck and completely exposes your back and gives a generous view of your tits. He catches flashes of the curve of your ass as you walk.

In hindsight the dress was totally in line with your character. You didn’t dress the way you did because you were ashamed of your body but rather because you didn’t give a fuck. Your hair is pinned up, one perfect curl escaping your updo and kissing your neck. Bucky feels his heart stop. He spies numerous heads turning as you languidly weave through the crowd in dangerously thin stilettos. You cozy up to one of your agent friends and the two of you drink, giggle, and dance. Bucky can’t take his eyes off of you.

When you head to the balcony he follows.

“Hey,” you say when you spy his shadow darkening the entrance to the balcony. 

“Hey,” he gruffs, in a tone he fears is too quiet. But looking at the curve of your exposed back suddenly has his voice dying in his throat. You turn back to looking at the city skyline. Bucky steps forward next to you. Close. Closer than he’s ever been to you, painfully aware of your arms brushing. He can’t fully feel your skin through the long sleeve button down he’s wearing but the touch sets him on fire all the same.

“Needed some air. “ He eventually grumbles. Trying not to stare at your profile. You look at him then, wearing a sly expression he had never seen on you.

“I’m sure you did,”

--

After that it doesn’t take long for Bucky to gather up the courage after that. Maybe it’s the way you had looked at him on the balcony or the way both male and female agents were sniffing around you at the party. All the same about a week later Bucky finds himself heading to your office in the afternoon as usual, but this time holding a bouquet of flowers.

Afterwards Bucky falls in love with you hard and fast. He finds himself doting on you, taking you out, bringing you flowers and other tokens of his affection. He hears the whispers, it’s almost impossible not to with his super soldier hearing.

“How’d she’d get him,”

“What an odd couple,”

“The Winter Soldier’s with cargo pants?”

But he still holds your hand in public all the same. Stops in the middle of training recruits to kiss you whenever you happen to cut across the gym all the same. Keeps a picture of you in his wallet all the same.

Bucky has never felt this amount of care and comfort from a person since...ever, even before, in his other life. You put his boots by the heater in the winter when he sleeps over so his feet won’t freeze when he walks to the compound. You listen to him, even when he’s angry, raging at nothing, or when he’s sad and sullen, taking minute long pauses in between sentences. Or even when he wants to do nothing but sit in silence and hold you. You especially listen when his words come fast, tinged with self hatred. You reassure him, holding him like he’s fine china. After many late night musings you give him with the best present he’s ever gotten, an impossibly soft kitten who’s uncharacteristically loud purr always grounds him. Bucky finds himself able to open up with you in a way he can’t with anyone else, even Steve. Bucky’s not good with words anymore, but with you he’s amazing. He can’t stop singing your praises, lavishing you with sweet words and adoration.

In hindsight it was a warning.

“Sweetheart, your wallet must be screamin’ for mercy, with you buying this cake nearly everyday,” Bucky says pinching off a piece of the lemon pound cake which is almost always at the corner of your desk. He recognizes the cake from a bakery across the street, and knows its nearly four dollars a slice. You stretch cracking your back, nipples poking through your shirt. Your ever present band shirt had breathed its last breath, and this new shirt is thinner and cropped, and hugs your body closer.

“Not really, I don’t buy it, Tommy hooks me up” you say, shooting him a smile and then returning back to your paperwork.

“Tommy?” Bucky says, and unbidden hot jealousy sears through his chest at the mention of your coworker “He’s always buying you these?”

“Yeah,” you answer, not looking up, and Bucky tells himself to remain calm, unbothered. 

He doesn’t.

Later after the subsequent fight and make up Bucky holds you as the two of you sit on his bed.

“I’m sorry,” He says again.

“It’s alright,” you say and somehow your simple words draw the truth out of him.

“I’m just...I- I’m afraid of losing you.”

“I’m afraid of losing you too,” you confess, then pause “Bucky, please be careful with me,”

Your relationship was easy, comforting. The two of you almost never fought, and never grew tired of being with each other. One blissful year turned into two and then five. It was like a dream and Bucky never wanted to wake up.

But reality eventually did.

How closely you guarded your phone should have tipped him off. How you’d constantly declined calls while the two of you were together. The way you almost always got ‘too drunk’ on girls night and would end up crashing at your friend’s place.

The first time it’s sixth months into your relationship on a lazy Saturday. The two of you had ordered pizza and planned to cuddle on the couch and have a movie marathon. You were in the bathroom when your phone had vibrated. Knowing that you would get a notification when the pizza arrived Bucky had looked at your phone. Bucky had felt surprised to see the name Dominos instead of an unsaved number pop up on your screen. Your phone didn’t show the preview of the text like his did. Your phone was still unlocked since you had headed to the bathroom but a few seconds ago, so Bucky tapped to open  the text.

Dominos: [Can’t wait to see you again, beautiful]

Bucky’s blood had run cold. He froze, only unfreezing when he realized you were standing next to him.

“We aren’t exclusive!” you had defended.

“What the hell do you mean?” Bucky had growled. At that your face had crumbled, eyes filling with tears.

“You never asked me to be your girl.” you had looked away “We never talked about what we are,”

“Whaddya think we’ve been doing these past months?!” Bucky had yelled back,

“ I don't know. I don’t assume Bucky. Because guys always seem to want to date me, treat me like their girlfriend and then turn around and throw it in my face that they never said I was.” your voice breaks and so does Bucky's anger.  He hadn’t been very verbal with you so far. It’s true he never asked you to be his girl, or even verbally on a date. He just thought you both knew. Guilt fills him at the sight of your tear stained face.

“I’m sorry I was just preparing for the inevitable,” you say and turn away. Bucky grabs your arm and pulls you towards him.

“Well, let me make it clear. I want you to be my girl. I want you to be mine and mine alone.”

Your expression is unfathomable as you wind your arms around his neck.

“I am yours.”

That night you stand in front of Bucky and  wordlessly slip out of your sweatpants and t shirt, rendering him speechless. With reverence Bucky’s hands trace your frame and his mouth follows. That night he worships you.

Later, you wrap your arms around him and whisper 

“I love you,”

 And Bucky knows that he’s done for.

“I love you too sweetheart.” he says, and later still when you’ve fallen asleep Bucky lies awake, stroking the soft contours of your back. He’s done for. And he knows it.

“I’ll be careful,” he whispers.

--

Reality had tried to wake Bucky gently. Through warning signs that should have been loud and clear especially to an ex assassin. But Bucky had accepted your half baked truths and excuses. He was too far gone off of the drug that was your love to heed the warning signs until reality slapped him- no choked him, awake.

His awakening came in the form of the sight of you on your kitchen counter, a man kneeling in between your spread thighs. The flowers he had bought you on his way back from his mission that had ended early drop to the floor. Bucky freezes. But at the sight of Tommy’s face, cheeks slick with you he loses it. Next thing he realizes that he has his hands around your coworkers throat. But your hand on his shoulder drains the fight out of him, and as Tommy scrambles out of the apartment Bucky crumples to the floor and sobs. 

“Why?” He asks and he realizes he’s not just asking about now, but about all the times he’s caught you cheating but didn’t have the strength to leave you. 

“Baby” you say and gather him into your arms. He wants to pull away, thrash, yell, but he doesn’t. He just melts into your touch. You make him weak. And at night when he thinks about your excuses and half truths he hates himself for it.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” he says, sobs wracking his frame “Five years-did they mean nothing to you?”

“I’m sorry,” you say “I love you,” 

At this Bucky pulls away, standing. “Don’t fucking lie to me.” he hisses.

“I’m not,” you say standing “I might lie all the time but I’m not lying about this.” your eyes go soft at the corners, and start to water.

“No. I love you. I adore you. I’d give you anything-everything and you treat me like shit” Bucky spits, there’s a pain in his chest, his heart is breaking “And I just fucking take it, because you make me so fucking weak- and I hate it” another sob ribs from his chest. A part of him thinks  that this is his punishment. For all of the terrible things he’s done. Cursed to be in love with someone who will never truly love him back. He looks at you, your hair is in disarray, baggy t shirt, those fucking cargo pants around your ankles. He gives a bitter laugh “Who woulda thought that you would’ve been the one to make me weak.”

“Why? Because I’m not pretty?” hurt flashes across your face then your eyes go hard. Usually Bucky would have been quick to refute any self deprecating words, reassuring you how beautiful he found you, how gorgeous you were. But now he just lifts his chin and looks back at you with the same hard eyes.

“Well I know I’m not pretty.” you shrug, face going strangely expressionless “But you still fell for me all the same. More fool you.” you say, and after a moment continue. “We should break up.”

At this Bucky shatters. Because he knows deep down that even after all of this he still would have taken you back. He still wants to grovel at your feet and plead to try to fix your relationship. But instead he decides to finally choose himself and turns and walks out of the door and out of your life.

Year later he still finds himself looking at your picture in his wallet, the one remnant  of you he has left, that he can’t bear to get rid of. On lonely nights where he can’t sleep and can’t stand the coldness of his bed  he’ll trace the curve of your smile and wish that you had cared enough to have been careful with him.

Tags:@stephie-senpai@ayeputita@pixierox101@iamwarrenspeace@ dreamgirljere  @ufffg@pietrotheavenger @trinityjadec@abbytagg@wastedsummerss@turdblossommm@jimmyisfab@sev7en@hottrashformarvel @superbuckytrash@waidewilson@abbytagg @awkwardfangirl2014 @desir-ae

Bucky only @chamongangae@callmebucky-doll

[bandtrees]

3, 5, 7, 10, 12, 21, 22, 23 - also only if you want! ((virtual hug)) (that's how you do it right?)

yep! and a virtual hug back to you! <333 hlvrai asks but the asks are self aware!

3 - who do you relate to most in the series? - to nobody’s surprise, tommy! we’ve both got a stutter, for starters :’D aaand on a personal note, i’ve just got something of a complex about Being An Adult But Not Seeming At All Like One, which is why tommy being written in the fandom sometimes as super “mature” to prove he’s an adult bugs me. he can be naive and immature and childish and dumb in some areas and still be an adult! those things aren’t mutually exclusive, y’know? i sure don’t wanna lose sight of my inner child by the time im 37, i mean im 18 and i havent yet XD

5 - favorite scene? - there are so many GOD there are SO many and as a freelatta fan i am PHYSICALLY restraining myself from saying “all the post-betrayal scenes with tommy”. i think i’ll say the entire outside desert section around the “THERE’S NOTHING THERE” bit, there are just so many bits in there. it’s made so much funner by the fact that the “THERE’s NOTHING THERE” bit wasn’t even planned but it was still such a big turning moment for the series. the stars just ALIGNED

7 - favorite line? - “get me outta this BOX” is just so inexplicably funny to me, i don’t see it get a lot of appreciation but GOD it’s funny, i think it’s the mic quality and the bass boosted “BOX” that kills me. iv got a lot of favorite lines but they’re the usual suspects (“look out gordon! hotted BOOBS up ahead tits BIG ONES!”, “slower than molasses drips off a spoon :)”, both of which iv spent long intervals just quoting to myself. and of course, literally all of benrey’s villain monologue)

10 - do you have a favorite headcanon or trope about any of the characters? - you will pry adhd gordon from my cold dead hands. as for tropes, i am a massive sucker for scary/vengeful benrey even when it’s not really incharacter. just tickles my angst/horror bone real good, and we all know i love me my angst and horror

12 - do you drink soda? - not as much as i used to! though... hlvrai has probably made me drink more trying to get in touch with my inner tommy buuut its usually not my preferred drink. i’ll have it with popcorn because who doesn’t have soda with popcorn but usually i just have iced tea or water with stuff 

21 - if they make a second one, what is one thing you want to happen in it? - honestly? no idea! i dont know anything about half life 2 and so i don’t reeeaally think it’s my place to wish for anything as i’m not sure what would and wouldn’t fit. i say that like hlvrai fits canon half life at all but, ykno

22 - what do you think is inside g-man’s suitcase? - loose tic tacs. it’s where tommy gets them for his drawer. either that or hoarding loose tic-tacs is a family trait

23 -  is chuck e. cheese a restaurant or a entertainment center? - RESTAURANT and NO I DO NOT TAKE CRITICISM FUCK YOU

thank you for the ask!!! :D

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and dating Tommy Turner

(My gif)(Tommys in plaid for any of you who haven’t seen porkys)

- You met Tommy when the both of you were placed in the same class. The two of you became quick friends once you were seated near each other. He introduced you to the other guys and soon enough you had a whole group of new friends.

- For a while you remained just that: friends. He even became a wing man of sorts and tried to set you up with a few guys from school. But everything changed one fateful day.

- Like clockwork the boys had snuck into the the tunnels of the school and got into position at their peepholes. Except today you had had an accident with a bunch of paint in art class and were sent to clean yourself up in the school showers.

- It took the boys a little while to realize just who the new girl was since they knew you didn’t have gym class that period. But they got their answer as you turned to face their wall innocently giggling at Wendy’s teasing as you scrubbed the paint from your chest.

“Holy shit that’s y/n!” Everyone in the group tries to stifle their laughter, everyone but him; he’s too busy staring at you.

- He had never thought of you in a sexual way before, he sort of just saw you as one of the guys. Yet here you were, wet, naked and wow, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

- For the rest of the day he looks at you weird and you have no idea why. He’s staring, gulping, sneaking glances after you catch him watching you; you feel like an algebra equation he can’t figure out. You start to question yourself; what have you done lately that would make him suspicious of you. Was one of the other planning a prank? Was he?

“…Well I’m gonna head to class Tommy…see ya…” you mutter as you leave the lunch table.

- His third eye has been opened and its laser focused on your tits.

- When he can’t get you out of his head for a week straight he knows he has a real problem on his hands and a problem he apparently can’t “fix” with his hands…believe him he tried.

- You’re beginning to wonder what the hell is going on with your best friend (and crush but that’s besides the point). You try to ask the guys whats going on but they just fight back laughter like there’s an inside joke between them. They just think that Tommy’s particularly horny after seeing you naked and doesn’t know how to deal which is …sort of the truth but he’s more than horny. He’s in love.

- He begins to subtly try and ask you out, saying things like “hey y/l/n, wanna go to Deadbeats with me tonight?” but you just aren’t getting it. He wants to yell that “it’s a goddamn date” whenever you ask “where everyone else is” but he doesn’t have the nerve.

- Tommy is definitely the type of guy to act really childish when he has a crush on someone (and after you start dating) and since you’re already friends this works out perfectly for him. He takes turns acting like a playground bully who pulls your pigtails and a really soft, sweet boy.

- After some time Tommy actually asks you out in a proper way that can’t be mistaken as just a friendly hang out. You genuinely think it’s a prank until he kisses the life out of you, but even then it takes a few dates for him to totally convince you.

- Your first date is at a nice restaurant. He wants to make the occasion stand out so he opts for the stereotypical romantic dinner date since the two of you had done just about everything else in town together as friends. He’s sort of out of his element; he’s blushing and giggling whenever you say something, it’s really quite the adorable sight to see.

- Since you knew each other before you went out you don’t have to deal with that trial period a couple goes through, you just skip to being girlfriend and boyfriend.

- When the gang finds out about the two of you dating Peewee accidentally rats the guys out for spying on you when you were in the showers. You aren’t exactly mad just really flustered and embarrassed. You drop your face into your hands and refuse to look at anyone all the while Tommy is attempting to make you feel better(and failing miserably).

“It’s really no big deal y/n, I mean you have a great body! You have no reason to be embarrassed believe me!”

“You could see me naked if you’d like? Then we’ll be even Steven.” 

- Obviously he doesn’t help his case very much but you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to go steady with him.

- His love language is very physical; he prefers to show you he cares through his actions rather than his words. 

- Hand kisses and hand holding.

- Hugs from behind where he just keeps you pinned against him.

- He’s a funny guy even when he isn’t trying to be.

- Gossiping together. 

- Getting to hear about the “master plans” he’s particularly proud of or the ones he needs your help with. Although sometimes he doesn’t tell you about the pranks he intends to pull because he doesn’t want you to try and stop him.

- Compliments even though he says them like he’s actually teasing you.

- He likes to make you shriek so be prepared to have him try to scare you at least once a week. 

- Drive in movie dates. 

- Bowling dates.

- Going to the record shop together. 

- Elbowing him when he tries to mess with Balbricker so that he can maybe avoid detention for once. I have this idea in my head (kinda like that niece ask) that Tommy’s girlfriend would be like Balbricker’s favorite student and it bothers Tommy to no end. Like~

 “How the hell do you like that evil bitch?”

 “What? Shes always been nice to me?”

- Visiting him in detention; he gets in trouble a lot.

- Kissing his beauty marks. 

- He ruins the moment a lot; it’s just his thing.

- Dancing with him. 

- You’re basically best friends who kiss and cuddle. 

- Do not tease him with not following through on kisses. That is a serious offense.

- He’s pretty smooth like sometimes he’ll say something and you’ll have to take a minute to recover from it.

- Him always defending you and being ready to kick someone’s ass.

- He likes all your jokes no matter how bad.

“That’s a shit joke y/n.”

“I liked it.” He pulls you into a hug with a smile.

- He cleans you up whenever something happens to you like a nosebleed or a scraped knee. He likes to take care of you it’s fun for him especially when he gets a kiss and hug for it.

- He loves seeing your lipstick on his handkerchief, he always smiles when you borrow it and there’s a little smudge of red on the corner.

- Cracking up when Balbricker tackles him.

- When she’s dragged away you jokingly ask if he’s alright, he replies that “it” is hurt and that you should kiss it better.

- Evidence suggests that he has a pretty big porky (with a mole) so…enjoy that.

- He probably jokingly flashes you when you tell him to get dressed (or something similar).

- Pins you against walls while the two of you makeout.

- Sit. In. His. Lap. At the diner. He wants everyone to see you together.

- He slaps your ass in public, he does not care in the slightest. He only cares if his parents are around and even then he’s still a little shit

- He’s definitely snuck through your window late at night and fucked up his knee because he immediately tripped and fell to your floor. You can’t stop laughing while you make sure he’s okay.

- You ever just want to get fucking thrown? He likes to throw you, it’s a perfect match. In a bed, a pool, doesn’t matter, you’re just getting tossed.

- Leaning your heads on each other’s shoulders.

- Affectionate name calling.

- Neck kisses.

- He likes to tickle you, he thinks your uncontrollable laughter is adorable.

- Billy and you get really close since he’s the one in the gang who sticks around Tommy the most. You guys make a good team.

- Once something happens he’s excited for the rest of the day because he can’t wait to be able to tell you about it. Like if he doesn’t get to see you for a while he’ll keep a list of what’s happened so that he doesn’t forget.

- He doesn’t really get jealous. If you wanted to date someone else you could have but you chose him; obviously that meant something, right? He sort of just thinks it’s funny to watch guys attempt to flirt with you and get turned down. He particularly enjoys it when you sit on his lap to make sure the other guy takes the hint; he always gets this smug look on his face.

- On one hand he thinks it’s cute seeing you jealous, on the other hand he gets a bit exasperated by it (kind of because he’s a perv and wants to spy on other girls without anyone trying to stop him).

- Most of your fights are probably about his incessant need to stare at other girls tits or his questionable choices when being caught by said girls. He’ll assure you that it was “just a joke” but that’s a pretty shitty excuse, isn’t it?

- If you break up with and ignore him for a little while he’ll learn his lesson. He’ll clean up his act when he realizes you aren’t going to let him play you. You’ll get an apology from a very uncomfortable boy after some time spent away from each other.

- He is genuinely sorry once he realized he actually really bothered and/or hurt you. He sort of just didn’t take your feelings into consideration, he’s not exactly experienced in real relationships. Like I said: he’ll clean up his act.

[thedeviltohisangel]

He’s A God, He’s A Man: 5

It was too soon.

masterlist is my url/writing

send in your thoughts!

Lydia was peacefully changing the bandages on a wounded soldier when there was a shift in the air. The quiet hospital, save for the occasional groan when a patient tried to roll over, suddenly shifted like a fireball had rolled into it. Her fellow nurses were helping carry in three men that were limp in their hold. Blood caking their faces. Body parts pointing in directions they didn’t naturally point in.

“What happened?” She moved towards the bed that now held one of the men. “Get me a knife and towels!”

“Tunnelers. We think one of their devices when off before they got far enough away.” One nurse, Fiona, began to wipe the blood from his face and arms while Lydia used the knife to slice his clothes from his body in a bid to look for the extent of the damage. 

“Shit the pieces look like they’re really in there.”

“Dr. Whitworth isn’t here, Lydia and we aren’t-” Lydia grabbed the arms of Fiona.

“We’ve watched him perform surgery like this a million times.”

“Lydia-”

“Don’t say it, Fi. He won’t make it until the doctor comes back. If this was your husband or brother wouldn’t you hope someone would at least try?” 

“You performed surgery without authorization?” Ada held the toast in her frozen midbite when the story had flowed from Lydia’s mouth.

“Kind of. But it all worked out!” Lydia quickly shoved the bread into her mouth. She hadn’t spoken of that time since her last conversation in France with Tommy. In all honesty, her actions were reckless and naive and she could have been responsible for his death that day. But she had saved him. She didn’t regret it for a single second.

“I’ll say,” Ada replied with a smirk. She had female intuition. She knew Tommy was actually smiling now that his long lost love wasn’t so lost anymore. Had heard in the streets that Tommy Shelby would go to The Garrison and be so taken by the new barmaid he didn’t even bother to order a drink. That he had been late to a meeting in order to hear the end of the story she had been telling him.

“You should be eating a real breakfast, Ada, and not just bread and jam.” Lydia swallowed as Polly came strolling into the kitchen.

“Everything’s been making me ill lately. This is all I can stomach.” 

“Is it the flu?” Instinctively, Lydia reached her hand to Ada’s forehead to feel for a temperature. There was none. And her skin was no paler than it had been the other day in this very kitchen. Maybe she did seem a bit swollen or bloated.

“No I don’t-Polly!” Ada exclaimed as her aunt grabbed her tit.

“When was the last time you bled?” Lydia’s eyebrows shot up as she realized exactly where this inquiry was going.

“I’m only a couple weeks late,” Lydia looked at her like she knew she was lying, “Fine! A few weeks late!”

“And the father?” Polly asked as she fell into the third seat at the table.

“Doesn’t know. He’s left town for a bit,” Ada got visibly upset at the deep sigh that fell from Polly’s mouth and the way Lydia avoided eye contact with her. “He’ll come back! I’m sure of it.”

“There’s a woman in Cardiff,” Polly began but was interrupted by Tommy appearing in the doorway.

“I thought I heard your voice.” It seemed as though he hadn’t even noticed the other two at the table. Choosing to focus on Lydia’s surprised face as if he had caught her in the middle of something improper. “Did I interrupt something?” Tommy finally glanced towards the faces of his aunt and his sister. Polly looked stern and Ada looked guilty.

“Not at all! I was just expressing how I would like a tour of your office.” Lydia stood quickly from the table and smoothed the front of her skirt. Quickly she moved to grab Tommy’s arm and gently guide him back from where he came.

“Hold on-”

“Thomas, we were discussing feminine problems and it’s incredibly embarrassing that you are still standing here.” She was looking at him with a perfectly serious expression and raised eyebrows as if she was daring him to inquire on the topic of their conversation one more time. He opened his mouth but closed it after a moment of thought. Ada smiled gratefully at Lydia as her brother finally turned back into the parlor.

“I got the best bottle from Harry’s cupboard for you. I think you’ll like it.” Tommy handed her the whiskey as he opened the door to the betting shop.

“Looks beautiful,” she murmured as she handed it back to him. The shop was slowly building to its bustling nature. Men were counting money and adding numbers on the till. Lydia was drawn naturally to the chalkboard that seemed to be the centerpiece.

“Monaghan Boy,” she said as she tapped the name with her finger, “I heard you made quite the spectacle with him downtown.” Tommy smirked.

“Giving people a reason to part with their coin.” He put the whiskey down on a nearby table in order to pull a cigarette from his back pocket. “You talking to the locals about me?” Lydia blushed.

“The men at The Garrison wax poetics about you. And I can’t help if I’m curious as to the man you are today. Though I am happy to see you managed to find a way to work with horses,” she teased. She remembered how he had told her his dreams of owning a stables and spending his days riding and training and grooming the animals. She wonders how much of the gypsy spirit still resided within him.

“I have a habit of getting what I want,” he said low enough so only she could hear. So he knew exactly what he meant behind those words. She stepped closer to him. They had a tendency to create this little moments inside their hectic world. Where nothing could penetrate the air around them. Lydia had become addicted to the way that felt. 

“What I want, Thomas, is to drink this whole bottle with you before the sun reaches it peak.”

“I have work to do.” He did. That much was true. But he also needed to create distance from her. It was beginning to feel good and that was dangerous.

“Is that what you want?”

“No,” he whispered like it was the most sacred of secrets. He so badly wanted to kiss her. To fall right into the abyss like he had back in France. To pretend that his life was simple enough that he could meet a girl and fall in love her and have a beautiful future. But that wasn’t his life. At one point it had been. But now it was razor blades and racetracks and war. And Lydia, his little dove, was standing right in the crosshairs.

“Where’d you go?” she whispered as she traced her fingers down the side of his face. She had noticed the look in his eyes drift to a faraway place. “Come back, Thomas.”

“You’ll be patient with me, won’t you?” She furrowed her brows at his question.

“What do you mean?” He laced their fingers together and pulled her into the private office.

“Things in my head aren’t always right anymore. Things in my life certainly aren’t what they were when I met you. I can’t do things with you the way I had and the way I want to and I just need to know that you’ll be patient with me.”

“Yes. You never have to ask if I’ll wait for you. I’ve drank myself to sleep just to see you in my dreams,” she confessed. Tommy didn’t have the heart to tell her about the opium he smoked in order to see her. Unable to stop himself, he pressed his lips to her forehead. He let himself absorb the feeling of her skin and tried to tell her, in that simple action, that he could find a way to love her again if she could find it in herself to love a man like him in return.

“Would you like that whiskey now?” he asked with a smile. For Tommy Shelby, life felt pretty good. And that scared him.

----

Lydia couldn’t stop giggling as Tommy peppered kisses all over her face. She had just stopped by his group of men to say goodbye as she was heading into town to pick up more supplies with Fiona.

“Thomas, I’ll only be gone an hour.”

“I’ve never been away from you that long before.” He knew he sounded like a child but he couldn’t find it in himself to even feel slightly ashamed about it. Every second that was away from him was a second that he wasn’t able to protect her and love her and show her off as his. His. Tommy Shelby had never had anything that he didn’t have to share with his brothers and sister. Lydia was going to be his wife. He would never have to share her affection or her attention with any of them. Only he would know the joy of her love.

“When I get back, I’ll change your bandages with the new ones we are getting. They should be more comfortable as you get ready to…” She couldn’t get the dreaded words out. Tommy had been given a clean bill of health by the doctors. He was due back out on the front lines soon. She wouldn’t know where he was and what he was doing the way she had been. Things could happen to him and she could be the last to know.

“We don’t have to worry about the future,” he whispered as he threaded his fingers into her hair, “we have right now and let’s make the best of it.”

Tommy woke to the sound of his name being called out the window. He was grateful for it. The hospital caught fire moments after his last conversation with Lydia. He barely survived his heart breaking from the sight once, he didn’t want to feel it all over again. He thinks his mind was playing tricks on him. Reminding him how loving Lydia had caused him pain previously. Letting him know that it could again.

With his coat wrapped tightly around him, Tommy walked to The Garrison through the rain. He had just put down his beautiful white horse. Cursed by the Lee family. Tommy thinks that is why he always had to be on guard. Always be one step ahead. Because everything in his life was cursed. And his curse was to watch the people and things he loved crumble while he stayed strong.

“Did you walk here in the rain?” Lydia pulled Tommy inside and pulled his wet cap and coat from him. 

“I just shot my new white horse. The one you were admiring the other day.” He had ridden it to the bar with the intent of showing her. Showing Lydia the beautiful things that he could afford. That he was moving up in the world. It had been in a bid to impress her and now it had backfired.

“Why? He looked perfectly fine and beautiful when you were riding him the other day.”

“He looked at me the wrong way. It’s not good to look at Tommy Shelby the wrong way.” His stare was blank as she sat across from him at a table. Like he was looking right through her.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she whispered. He seemed fragile sitting in front of her. She didn’t want to rock his boat.

“Do you remember when I took you dancing in France?” Lydia chuckled.

“It was hardly dancing, Thomas. More like we snuck into the American camp and danced outside their event.” She remembered it clearly. Dancing to the faint sounds of music and glasses clinking and Tommy’s heartbeat guiding her along the steps.

“It was a sad song we danced to. I remember my chest feeling tight. But I didn’t know if it was because of the song or because I was falling in love with you.”

“Tommy…” That was a strong word. One they hadn’t said out loud to each other since Lydia had shown up in Birmingham. She didn’t want to say it. Campbell was still here and guns were still missing and Tommy Shelby was not her Tommy Shelby. She was still trying to memorize the new scars and bruises and calluses that had appeared since France. She couldn’t be in love with him yet.

“I think I’m falling in love with you again.” On the tip of her tongue were words telling him that he couldn’t say that. That is was too soon and too new and too much for her to handle. That he wasn’t in the right state of mind to be making such an admission to her. That she hadn’t imagined it happening this way.

“Do you mean that?” Tommy stood and walked around to her side of the table, kneeling on the floor so she was slightly taller than him.

“I do. And I’ll prove it by doing it right. Will you let me court you, Miss Wilson?” She giggled as Tommy took her hand and daintily kissed the back of it.

“How can I say no to that, Mr. Shelby?”

“I wouldn’t let you.” He kissed her hand again. “I want to show you more of the business. I want to take you to the races.”

“As long as business doesn’t take up too much of the time.” She knew businessmen like Tommy back in New York. Money and networking always took precedent over her company at dinner or a party.

“You’re my priority, yeah?” She nodded, his fingers holding her chin so she had to look at him and see the sincerity in his eyes. “Will you accept a gift from me? Something to wear?” Lydia knew that Tommy was a man of new wealth. But she was also fiercely independent and didn’t want him to think she needed his money or was attracted to him because of it.

“Only if you don’t go overboard.” Her face was stern and it was Tommy’s turn to read the sincerity in her eyes.

“Of course.”

“Then I guess we will be off to the races.” If only they knew.

@aveiangdon @odetostep @girl-w-a-quill @itsilvermorny

[cruecifymesixx]

Love and Leather /part fifteen/

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: To the anon that said it was too long, i figured out how to do the link. I deadass was about to say fuck it. Also, first time writing smut, dont @ me if its horrible.

Warnings:dirty sleaze, language as usual.

Taglist: @oskea93, @brideofdraculana , @xstarryeyes, @aryssav, @miserablecunt, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol , @electradestiny , @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies, @fandomshit6000 , @anntheboneless @tiranni, @venus-calum, @justjodeye, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @are-we-real, @brooklyn-antiques, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @dillightfulpickle, @madsthegroupie, @martabastic, @hoop-diddy-doo, @romanticvengeance, @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @shinobi-nobi, @shouttatthedevill, @moonlightxcal, @gees-jacket-slut, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @baiabouk, @motlycrue

Nikki’s POV

My heart was beating fast as I kept opening up doors and slamming them, getting frustrated that everyone in this god damn house had the same idea I did. “Maybe it’s the universes way of telling us we shouldn’t bang.” Vanity told me, giggling as the coke was finally starting to seep it’s way into her brain. She goes through massive giggle fits and was always down for anything when ever she did blow with us.

“Shut up with the philosophical shit, Van. I’m done playing games with you.” I said as I held her hand, getting even more pissed as every guest room I went into was occupied.

“Yes sir.” Vanity mocked me, causing me to roll my eyes, “But Nikki, I wanted to have fun with Tommy.” She whined out quietly. I came to a halt as she stumbled into me. I turned around and faced her, “you’ll have more fun with me doll.” I told her, picking her up and throwing her over my shoulder.

I opened the master bedroom door and laughed, “I am not having sex in Vince’s bed!” She told me as I sat her down on the bed, and turning away to lock the door, “God knows how many tramps he’s fucked in here...Nikki, his wife sleeps here.” She told me and I rolled my eyes, while reaching down and slipping off her heels.

“Either we do it here, or do it in the bathroom, your pick doll. I thought this would be more fancier for your rich princess self.” I joked with her, a huff escaping her hips, laying back into the bed. I stood a foot away while basking in her beauty.

I wanted to control myself, I wanted nothing more then to rip off that skimpy black skirt and fuck her senseless, but I couldn’t treat her like I treat these whores I usually fuck. I wanted to take my time with her.

“Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna touch me?” She asked while propping herself up on her elbows, giving me a smirk and raising her eyebrow.

She scooted herself up the bed as I kicked off my boots, slowly making my way onto the bed and crawling on top of her, resting in between her legs.

“I hope we get interrupted like usual, just in spite of you not letting m-“ I shut her up by kissing her soft lips, while trailing my tongue across them before pulling away,

Her eyes slowly opened as her hand moved the pieces of hair out of my face, “You need to be quiet sometimes.” I whispered, placing another gentle kiss on her lips, while lazily trailing them to her jawline, then finally down to her neck.

I felt her sigh underneath me, as my teeth grazed the skin of her neck. Vanity ran her fingers through my hair, tugging my head up and putting her lips on mine. I slipped my tongue inside of her mouth, tasting the whiskey from earlier. Vanity sluggishly threw her arms over my shoulders, trying to pull me closer to her. I laid down on top of her, trying not to put all of my weight on her.

I worked my way down to her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin trying to leave my mark. Her free hand started tugging at my shirt, I sat up on my knees and took it off as her nails traced down my chest and untied my leather pants, before squeezing my cock through them.

I leaned back down and kissed her lips, groaning as she kept rubbing me through the fabric, her lips forming a smirk. “You better lose that grin of yours.” I warned her right before sinking my teeth into her neck, causing a moan to escape through her lips.

I sat on my knees again, as her legs were draped over mine. I slid my hands underneath her top while pulling it up, she did the rest of the work and took it off.

“Fucking beautiful, Van.” I muttered as I cupped her breasts, and began kissing down her chest and abdomen, before gliding my tongue back up. Vanitys’ eyes closed and fluttered in the back of her head in pure bliss as she grabbed her own breasts, squeezing & toying with them.

I looked up at her angelic face before letting my teeth graze across her nipple, making her pink glossy lips part. I moved to the other side, gently smacking away her hand and holding it at her side. “Nikki, please...” she pleaded, her body slightly squirming underneath mine, as my tongue swirled around her nipples, “I need you...fuck..” I listened to her begging, trying to play it cool but I was slowly losing the battle. I reached down for her skirt as she lifted up her hips for me to slide it down her legs.

Vanity let a whimper escape her lips as I trailed my finger up and down the dampness of her panties. I moved her thong to the side as a smile played across my face. I’ve waited so long to see her naked on a bed, begging for me to touch her. Fuck, practically letting me do anything i’d like as long as it meant i was touching her. I looked at her as I let my finger brush over her clit, her gaze was already set on me as she placed a hand behind her head, “Stop teasing me, you jerk.” She whined, causing me to laugh, “Okay, okay.” I responded, grabbing the band of her thong and pulling it down her legs.

I let my lips drift across the top of her thighs before forcefully grabbing her knees and making her legs part. Vanity sighed in content as I watched her run her manicured nails through her hair.

I kissed her inner thighs, gently nipping the soft skin, which made her try to close her legs but I held them down to the bed. I placed a gentle kiss on her clit, while spreading her folds and slowly licking a line up and down, before swirling my tongue in circles around it.

Vanity rested her hand against the back of my head, grabbing a fistful of my hair. “So fucking good.” I mumbled in between her legs, while holding down her hips gently sucking on her clit. “Fuck, Nikki...”

I looked up, noticing her bottom lip in between her teeth, while her eyebrows were scrunched together. I reached up, toying with her tits, with my free hand I licked my finger as I slowly teased her entrance, emitting a moan to escape her now parted lips.

My tight leather pants were becoming more tight, feeling as if they were cutting off all circulation to my cock. I quickly stood up, “What are you doing?!” Vanity shouted, “Shut up.” I groaned back at her, while trying to take off the pants as quick as I could but it proved to be difficult. I shoved her back down on the bed, slowly sliding a digit in her while my tongue worked on her clit.

I groaned into her wetness, “You taste so fucking good, Doll.” I told her as I grabbed my throbbing dick, and slipping another digit inside of her. I guided my fingers in and out skillfully while trying to find the right pace, slightly curling my fingers. Once I found a solid rhythm, she started moaning louder, “Babe, fu-“ She got choked up by yet another moan, “I just wanna feel you in me.” Vanity said, her eyes closed while taking her lip in between her teeth.

I groaned when she said that, as i quickly moved to the side of her, resting my forehead against hers, strategically teasing while pumping my fingers inside of her wetness, “Tell me what you want princess.” I whispered into her ear while my fingers started to speed up, trying to push her over the edge.

Vanity’s moans filled the room, her thighs were beginning to slightly tremble. “F-Fuck...I want your cock inside me..” She says through moans, wrapping her hand around the nape of my neck and pulling me into a rough kiss.

I pulled away from her lips and studied her face, Vanity’s plump lips were parted, eyes closed and her eyebrows were scrunched together. By the way her heat was clenching around my fingers, I knew she was close, “You want me to fuck you like a whore?” I asked, before sucking on side of her already bruised neck.

“Please Nikki. “ Vanity chokes out between moans, “I’m gonna cum.” She told me, causing me to smirk, “Then cum.” I casually stated while my fingers rhythmically brush against her G-spot. I’m truly only good at two things in life; the first being bass, the second being pleasuring a woman the way she wants to be.

Vanity dug her nails into the back of my neck as I felt her release herself all over my fingers. “Fuck, Nikki!” She yelled out, not allowing the pace slow down until she put her hand on top of mine to get me to stop. I looked at her, a sly smile on my face and her eyes full of lust.

I reached down and grabbed my pants, letting her catch her breath as I grabbed a condom out of my back pocket. I never, ever left home without one.

She pushed her hair back and rubbed her face as I finished putting it on, and slowly made my way back on top of her. “You sure?” I asked her, as I let my hard cock tease her entrance. She gave me a smile and nodded.

I spread her wetness around, before slowly easing myself inside of her. Her hand wrapped around my bicep, “Wait..Wait.” She said while looking down as I stretched her out. I slowed down as much as I could and placed my lips on hers, “God you’re so fucking tight, doll.” I said through gritted teeth, trying to make sure I didn’t bust right then and there.

“Fuck..” I moaned out as I finally got all the way inside of her. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Christ.” I told her and she chuckled, then gave me a nod, telling me it’s okay to go.

But honestly? She didn’t have to tell me fucking twice. My thrusts started to find a rhythm as my hips bounced against hers, and as she wrapped her legs around my waist. I felt her nails run up and down my back, leaving their mark, “Christ, Van.” I groaned wanting more of the pain that was causing me pleasure. I picked up my pace and started thrusting deeper inside of her, “Please, don’t stop.” Vanity breathes out, while digging her nails into my sides, making me feel the blood droplets dribble down, “Ah fuck.” I moaned while grabbing her hands, pinning them against her abdomen, holding them in place while repositioning her legs so they were resting against my shoulders and chest as I held onto her wrists for more leverage as I began to pound into her.

“Oh my god! Nikki.” She screamed out, I smirked to myself, hoping everybody at the god damn party heard her. She couldn’t control the moans that were escaping her pretty little lips. I let go of her pinned down arms, and began to rub her clit with my thumb, thrusting into her harder.

“Fuck! You’re gonna make me cum!” She cried out. With my free hand I reached up and wrapped it around her throat gently, before squeezing the side sides of her neck. I watched has her cheeks turned a rosy pink and a smile formed, her bottom lip going between her teeth. What a beautiful fucking sight.

A broken up moan escaped her lips, “Fu...Fuck...Nikki.” She placed her hand on top of mine, and I let go of her, as she finally inhaled a breath of fresh air.

I pulled out of her, “I want you on your fucking knees.” I told her, she did as I said, as she got on all fours. I got behind her and noticed the mirror that was strategically placed in perfect view.

Fucking Vince, i’ll have to thank him for this later.

I slowly slid myself back in her, as I watched Vanity’s face through the mirror, but her hips naturally tried pulling away as I buried my cock in her, “God Sixx, you’re so big.” She moaned, as I pulled her back to me.

I started giving her slow, deep thrusts as I tried to find my composure, while pushing my hair back. I grabbed a fist full of her long locks, as I picked up my speed, “I’m gonna cum, Nikki.” She dragged out my name, as she grabbed ahold of the sheets while I started to slide my dick into her harder.

She started to match my thrusts, pushing her ass back into me, I let my hand come down for stiff slap against it, “Baby, fuck!” She yelled out, as i did it again on the other cheek, but harder, making her pull away from me, but again I pulled her back.

I grabbed a hold of her hips, digging my fingers into them as I made her take all of me, only resulting in ungodly moans to come out of her. “I’m gonna cum, Nikki!!” She screamed out, as she started to play with herself.

“Cum for me doll, let me feel you cum all over my cock.” I groaned, feeling my own release coming soon, while smacking her ass again.

“Oh my god!!” She moaned, as her pussy tightened around me, “Fucking hell.” I hissed through my teeth trying to hold off until she was finished. I watched her orgasm through the mirror. Her lips were parted, she was holding her breath, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

“Cat got your tongue?” I asked, choking out a laugh, she slowly opened up her eyes and looked at me through the mirror, shaking her head and biting her lip, “Asshole.” She whispered. In response, I slapped her ass as hard as I could, “Nikki!” She moaned out, I looked down and saw a bright red hand print.

“Come here.” I said pulling out and laying on my back, holding her hand, and guiding her to straddle my waist. She grabbed my rock hard cock, slowly easing herself on to me and began to slowly rock her hips into mine. I tried catching my breath as she took control, placing her hands on my chest and riding me.

“Cum for me, Nikki.” She said, as I grabbed her hips, guiding her into mine. “Tell me this pussy is mine.” I groaned out, trying to focus, but she didn’t say anything, “Fucking tell me.” I said while grabbing her waist and sitting up as she was in my lap, still making her take it, “And if I don’t?” She whispered into my ear as she wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and made her look at me, “Fucking tell me you belong to me.” Her lips parted as we made eye contact. She bit her lip, looking at me with pouty eyes, “I belong to you.” I groaned, “God damn, fucking right you do.” She bucked her hips into mine, making me lay on my back again.

“I want you to cum Nikki, please cum for me.” She moaned, continuing to ride me while biting the side of my neck, “Ah, fuck! Van!” I shouted as I finally hit my breaking point.

“God damnit!” I yelled while pushing hair out of my face. Vanity got off of me, laughing at herself, “and what the fuck are you laughing at?” I asked her, and she shook her head as I took off the condom and tossed it to the floor.

“Come here, sweets.” I said while pulling back the sheets. She got underneath the sheets with me, curling up against my side, while leaning her head on my chest as my arm was wrapped around her body.

“Bout nearly killed me.” I told her, feeling her body tremble with a fit of laughter. I reached down for my pants, “You want a bump?” I asked while pulling out a small baggie of coke, “I’m okay.” She spoke softly, as her fingertips traced the tattoos on my chest.

I relaxed as Vanity wrapped an arm around my waist, “Go to bed doll, I’ll be here when you wake up.” I told her, my mind too wired off the drugs to sleep. “Okay.” She yawned, as I glided my hands up and down her back, while kissing the top of her head.

What felt like a few hours later was only about forty minutes when there was knock on the door, only for me to hear Docs’ voice. I looked down at Vanity, seeing she was sound asleep. I quietly got out of bed while putting on my pants.

I opened the door, seeing his eyes dart over to Vanity, I moved to the side and blocked his view, “What?” I snapped at him,

“We have a huge fucking problem, we need you.” He said, shutting the door in his face. I got my clothes back on, and took one more glance at her before walking out the door.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Reflections by the Water

Paring: Newt x Plus Size Reader

For the SPOOKTOBER 2018 Competition

Requested by @gruffle1 :  Could you please write 50: “ We’d make such a cute couple. ” with Newt (from The Maze Runner) x reader? Also if it’s not too much trouble could you please make them plus size? Thank you in advance.    

Words: 3125

Warnings: None

A/N:�� Writing a story for a plus size reader was very much a new endeavour for me (which I thank you for requesting because it helped me learn new things). I read a few articles and other people’s fics in order to get a feel for Do’s and Don’ts. I’m not skinny but I’m also not plus size (and simply being friends with plus size people doesn’t make me an expert so I refused to slap on an ‘Oh I know someone like xyz’ and then write something stereotypical) so that’s why this piece was late. But also, I’m still learning, so your criticism would be greatly appreciated to make sure I know what worked and what didn’t with this fic!

Prompts in Bold-Italics.

You woke up early that morning to prepare for your supply run with Minho. Supplies were getting low and he had made a subtle comment about not wanting to be stuck for hours in the wasteland with Brenda's permanent sour expression and dry sense of humour, so you took that as his unofficial way of asking you to come with. You always enjoyed Minho's humour and he always said he felt safer with you watching his back.

As you snaked your arms into your favourite leather jacket, you noticed the layers beginning to peel and the seams loosen with age. You'd have to replace it soon, a notion you weren't all too thrilled about. Finding supplies and clothes weren't easy lately. You had asked Newt to teach you how to sew so you could easily mend any tears because it was easier than trying to find new clothes that were comfortable and not tight.

As you made your way over to the beat-up vehicle you noticed Newt give something to Brenda before she headed towards a sleepy/eyed Minho. Newt ran up beside you, a big open smile on his face, his sandy blond hair ruffled by the wind. The smell of the saltwater clinging to the morning air.

"Hey, Y/N! Hold up..." He called after you as he hobbled slightly at a faster pace than his leg was comfortable with.

You turned towards him, squinting from the morning sun, "Hey Newt, what are you doing up so early?"

Newt let out a gentle laugh as he shyly rubbed the hairs on his nape, "Uh, Minho said the three of you were going on a run..."

When he didn't immediately finish his sentence, you tried to help him along, "Did you want us to keep an eye out for something?"

"Not exactly," he looked up at you a little uncertain. "I just wanted to say be careful, is all."

You found his concern sweet. It was no secret the two of you got along. In fact, you had always had a soft spot for Newt, but he was always a little shy when left alone with you for long periods of time. He’d fumble for words and always give you that charming, squinty, half-smile.

"Always," you reassuringly caressed his lithe arm, running up and down the length of his biceps.

"See you when you get back, yeah."

"For sure," you waved goodbye and then headed to join Minho and a very cranky looking Brenda.

***

While in a desolate old-world building, you, Minho and Brenda went searching for supplies.

"Okay, I'll run ahead, do a quick search of things. Meet back in ten?" Minho asked.

"Uh huh, yeah sure." Was all Brenda said after she pocketed that list from before and hauled her body on top of some fallen debris onto the second floor.

"Be careful, and remember: stay quiet," Minho nodded at you as he ran down a corner and out of sight.

You worked your way through desolate rooms that held damaged manikins and destroyed artefacts of all kinds, keeping an eye out for essentials. About a few minutes past the agreed-upon rendezvous time, you carried your haul to the vehicle, the sound of Brenda's shrill scream pumped adrenaline straight into your veins like it was an intravenous transfusion. You grabbed your trusty metal bat and ran back to the building. When you finally got there, you noticed an abundant number of infected screeching and heading towards a struggling Brenda who was pushing the dead weight of one such infected from her body.

Brenda looked over at you, relieved to see someone, anyone, that wasn't infected. After a moment of letting the ice in your veins freeze your muscles, Brenda shouted with a slight hint of agitation: "A… little… help… for fuck's sake!"

You regained your senses and looked around for a way to get up to her level quickly. You spotted the stairs on the other end of the building and made a break for it, bashing your bat against any infect body that tried to claw its way to you. When you got to Brenda you had to practically wrestle the infected off her and use as much of your strength as you could to throw it off the ledge. Its body landed with a crunching thud, missing Minho by inches as he yelped from being startled.

Brenda dusted at her jacket before her eyes went wide in horror, "Oh shit!"

"Uhh, guys," Minho looked frazzled. "Better get down here quick!"

You looked in the direction Brenda and Minho were staring and saw a hoard of infected clamouring over each other in a seething rage and practically foaming at the mouth.

"Fuck!" You swore.

"Quick, through here!" Brenda shouted after you as she slid under a crack in the wall that led to the lower levels.

"You kidding, I can't fit through there!" You said with annoyance. You rolled up your sleeves and looked back to the smaller hoard you had previously struck down to get to Brenda. "Guess, back into the killer hoard I go!"

You focused more on making a break for it than using your energy for your mean swing. As you ran, you were annoyed by how haphazardly your tits bounced about against the weak bindings of your bra. It was a bit of a hindrance, especially given the life or death situation you were in. You would have to make a note to fix the straps or maybe make a new one altogether.

When you finally met up with the others, you made your way out of the building, making sure to barricade the door shut.

As Minho held his knees and tried to catch his breath, Brenda rested against the door which rattled from the bombarding hits from the infected on the other side.

"That's the last time I do Newt any favours," she said apprehensively.

"Favours?" You asked.

She just looked at you and shook her head, "It's not important. Let's get out of here."

As you walked back to the vehicle, you noticed a tear running across the length of your arm.

"Shit!" You mourned your jacket. "No amount of needle and thread will fix this!"

"Don't be so dramatic. Anything can be patched back together!" Minho gave you a heartfelt smile.

"It's a lateral tear!" You whined.

Brenda sighed, "I'm sure you'll be able to replace it."

You closed your eyes and sighed into your hands, "Easy for you to say." You whispered too low for anyone to hear.

***

When you got back to camp, you decided to go and lay by the beach for a moment. You'd be lying if you said all this excitement hadn't left you a little winded. Hell, you could see Minho grabbing an impromptu nap on a hammock he set up with Thomas the other day. You also noticed Brenda take something to Newt's workshop by the edge of the beach strip. Newt noticed you staring at their exchanged and beamed a bright smile at you as he awkwardly gave you a quick wave before disappearing into his workshop.

A part of you wondered what exactly Newt asked her to get. Another part was irritated he asked Brenda instead of you. The two of you were closer for starters. At least he always gave you that impression.

As you lay by the ocean, hearing the waves lap, Thomas jogged to your side.

"Y/N, hey!" he said.

"Hey, Tommy. What's up?" You asked as you noticed a group of people collecting by the heart of the camp and stacking firewood.

"Hey, a few of us are gonna have a little bonfire. Trade scary stories. You in?"

You mulled his invite over for a bit, weighing your fatigue against your need to socialise. Your gaze shifted to a now snoring -and drooling- Minho swinging on the hammock. He was dangerously close to falling over. "I think I'm going to follow Minho's lead and get some shut-eye before meal time."

You stood up off the ground, dusting sand off your trousers.

"I hear you guys had quite the exciting day?" Thomas remarked.

You huffed, "A little too exciting if you ask me!" Your eyes Thomas for a moment and then asked skittishly: "Hey you mind if I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Have you noticed anything weird between Newt and Brenda lately?"

You question made Thomas shift his stance. You didn't know whether that was a tell or not. You chose to ignore it when he guffawed and slung his arm casually around your shoulders, "I have it under good authority that Newt and Brenda are strictly friends. Maybe friends is pushing it… More like friendly."

Thomas smiled at you as though he knew something you didn't.

"I'll see you later tonight?" Thomas asked as he walked back to the ever-growing fire pit.

"If I don't sleep like the dead… Or Minho!" you jested as you made your way over to your shack.

***

Everyone around the campfire was tense. Bated breath and bulging eyes all set on Gally. His eyes lingered on you for a moment before he clapped his hands and made screeching noise.

"And then, just like that, they never saw her again. Some say her haunting screams can still be heard if you wander too close," Gally muttered with a sinister edge hanging to each vowel. His eyes wild and unnerving as he finished telling his ghost story to the rest of the crowd.

Thomas's eyes were elsewhere, staring blankly at the flames. Newt held a similar expression from time to time, his attention bouncing back and forth between reminiscing and being in the present. Brenda didn't care much for the story and spent much of her time with her head to the stars. Minho was joking around with a bunch of boys who had decided Gally's storytelling skills were not to their liking.

Aris seemed particularly unhinged, his face downturned in discomfort.

"I think that's enough horror stories for one night," you spoke gently to the crowd. Aris noticed your eyes linger on him when you said that. He gave you a look of appreciation in exchange. You smiled warmly. Just then you noticed Newt come out of his stupor and look across from the fire to where you sat. His blue eyes reflecting the flames like clear mirrors. His gaze was intense, but his features soft and almost filled with a look of intimacy you'd never seen before. Or maybe you just never looked in his direction when he did.

You blood flushed hot and you were unsettled by how quickly your heart began to feel heavy and full against the butterflies manifesting within your stomach. From the heat of the flames to the heat emanating off your body, everything was becoming a little overwhelming.

You excused yourself from the group and made your way to the banks where you let the cold waves lap and splash across your bare feet. The moon was full, providing ample light for your reflection to be cast upon the water easily. Inching closer to yours was Newt's reflection, becoming larger and larger until you could all but feel his frame blocking the wind beside you.

"It's a beautiful night isn't it?" He asked casually, as though you'd been talking for hours before this moment.

Your eyes were glued to your reflections shimmering and distorting with the waves. The starlight appearing as speckles on the dark water. Newt's eyes were set on the horizon, glancing at another marvellous view from your own.

"The stars are unusually bright for this time of year," you agreed.

The longer you stared at your reflections, the more you began to wonder what exactly it was that made you so close. Newt had been adamant to get to know you in the beginning. To be honest, he wasn't always trusting of new people since he left the glade. At least that's the impression he gave you from all his stories and how cautious he was around new people. There was a certain irony to him being one of the few people you felt close too.

Your personalities couldn't be further from compatible. He was stoic and level headed, but there was a latent temper that simmered under his cool eyes born from the harshness of this world and what he had to endure. You could be a little hot-headed and a bit more open when it came to expressing yourself. You were like to sides to a coin. Even his small stature and deceptively slender arms contrasted to your larger build and more visibly formed muscles. And yet, the two of you couldn't have looked more normal, more fitting, standing side by side.

"On nights like tonight, I always find it calming to come out here and watch how the light casts a silver layer just where the horizon meets the sea." Newt pointed out to where his eyes were set.

You lifted your head and followed his direction.

"I've noticed." You said freely.

Newt turned to you. You simply shrugged and nudged him with your elbow.

"Just because I don't brood as you do, doesn't mean I don't notice things too."

There was a brief pause filled by the sound of the waves. Newt's left hand trailed down to his leg where he squeezed the muscles as though trying to will them to heal better. You returned your eyes to the horizon.

"When Minho told me what happened, I was worried," Newt admitted.

You glanced over at him, "Hey, you know I always make it back."

You placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked over to where your palm connected to his shoulder and gave a fond smile.

"I know. But it doesn't change the fact that I always worry. Not just for Minho, but…" Newt looked into your eyes this time. "For you."

"Newt," you said softly.

"I kept waiting for the right moment to say something, but I forgot that in this life the right moments are moments like these. When it's peaceful and you do get a chance to say something when the people you care for come back despite all the dangers they faced."

Newt turned to you, placing a hand over yours that was still connected to his shoulder.

You tried to speak but you were tongue-tied. This was most definitely a first.

"Y/N, I feel something for you. And whatever it is, it's more than friendship."

You cocked your head gently to the side, the breeze blowing your hair into your eyes. Newt removed his hand from yours and tucked those stray strands back behind your ear. The contact of his calloused fingers against your soft cheeks felt indescribable.

Before you knew what words were surfacing, you absentmindedly asked, "Why me?"

Newt smirked and shrugged, "Why not?"

You giggled to yourself, finding something comical in this sweet moment.

"What?" Newt asked surprised.

You shook your head, "It's nothing. It's just… Well, I always thought we’d make such a cute couple."

Newt gave a low grumble in agreement, "How does Thomas put it: Me with my stubborn broody nature and you with your warm smile."

Suddenly, it made sense why Thomas had looked at you strangely earlier.

"Thomas huh? Is he the reason for this confession?" You teased.

"He may have mentioned that you thought something was going on between me and Brenda. I didn't want you to get any wrong ideas about her and me so I figured I'd show you."

"Show me what?"

"You'll have to trust me," he held out his hand for you.

You placed your hand in his and let him lead you towards his workshop.

Once inside, Newt began moving things around as he lit a few lamps along the way.

"A while back, I heard this story about a past time from before. During the time of year when trees shed their browning leaves and it rained for days, they used to decorate their towns and streets with carvings and other frightening things." Newt mentioned as he bent down to retrieve something from a handmade box.

"That sounds… odd," You remarked.

"I thought the same thing. Apparently, they'd exchange gifts," Newt handed you something wrapped in a thin sheet.

You hadn't expected him to hand you a gift. A part of you felt a little bad for not having one to give him. "I--"

"Before you say anything, just open it," he encouraged.

You set the parcel on the table and unwrapped it. You gasped.

"Newt, it's..." You searched for the right words as you lifted the newly sewn together jacket and held it up against the light. It was pieced together with several different pieces of leather. Red, tan brown and even darker black patched gave it an authentic if not complementary colour scheme. You ran your fingers over the careful stitches made from thin thread to the slightly more noticeable ones made from what seemed to be twine.

"I noticed your old one was getting a little worse for wear and I figured it since I can't be with you on all your scavenging trips..."

"It's perfect." Your voice croaked slightly, pushing back tears as you motioned to set the jacket down and wrap your arms around Newt.

He staggered ever so slightly, not expecting you to hug him so quickly but when he regained his ground Newt returned your hug with just as much enthusiasm. A beaming smile tugging at his lips.

When you broke away, your eyes locked for a long minute and the amber light from the lamps cast a golden sheen upon the two of you. And then your lips met in a tender and novelty kiss.

"I have imagined doing this a lot of times. I have to admit, the reality is a thousand times better," Newt said.

You failed to suppress your blush, "That's one thing we have in common."

"Just wait until Thomas finds out. He's been pestering me about admitting how I feel for months now."

"And now you can shout it from rooftops."

"Our roofs aren't that high, or sturdy."

You laughed, "You're right. Bad idea."

"Besides, I'd like to keep this between us for now. See where we go from here. Save Gally from inevitable heartbreak."

You looked at him quizzically, "Gally?"

Newt scrunched his nose in disbelief, "What you didn't know? He was being quite obvious about it."

Your mouth upturned into a half moon, "Maybe I don't notice everything."

"You noticed me," Newt said before placing a kiss to your cheek.

"How could I not?" You placed your forehead to his. "Let's go back and look at the stars."

***

Note: The bra thing was something I got from my own experience being someone who gets assaulted by her own boobies if I even think of running without a sports bra. I hope it didn’t come across as crass.

[ladyshandioftheendless]

Shandi’s KISSteria drabbles 14!

I really want this part to be better than the last one. Its the length that it is because I didn’t know how else to write the ideas I had. So! This part will be in alternating POVs~ Hope you enjoy!

~Shandi

The night StarChild experienced many different firsts~

TERROR COMES TO KISSTERIA Part 3

~NIKKI~

Who woulda thought the Princess of KISSteria was a pure little virgin flower? Shocked the hell outta me. Whatever. Been a long time since I made a virgin scream my name~ He gasps when I give his ass a squeeze. “Looks like I’ve already found a part of the old you..” I give him a smirk. “Yeah but you haven’t found the largest part yet~” 

“Your head’s right there~” 

Okay, I’ll give him that one~ We both laugh and he drapes himself over me. Probably unintentionally but hey..gives me a chance to get my hands on all the goods~ The flimsy suit he’s wearing does nothin’ to hide how hot he’s getting. Shit, it really doesn’t hide much of anything. He’s got it cut ridiculously low in the front, just exposin’ everything to the world. Then again he does have nice tits. Why shouldn’t he show em off~? He makes sexy little noises as I grab two nice big handfuls of his sweet ass. One of my legs is between his and I can feel him start to grind on me. “Admit it, Princess..you’re a total exhibitionist~” He looks up at me confused. “C’mon..look at what you’re wearin’! You like teasin’ don’tcha? You wanna show everybody who wants ya what they can’t have~ And don’t think I can’t feel that you’re not wearin’ underwear..dirty girl~” I know I’m on the money~ His cheeks are so red right now..red like those luscious lookin’ lips~ I pull him closer for a kiss cause I just gotta get my tongue between ‘em~

~STARCHILD~

Nikki isn’t wrong. I do like showing off my body. Why shouldn’t I? It’s the envy of KISSteria. I like the attention. I like putting on an air of being unattainable. Those little games won’t work on someone like Nikki. He takes what he wants. While these thoughts are racing through my mind I feel his lips on mine. His tongue pushes its way past my lips as he kisses me fiercely. I moan and bury my hands in his hair. Gods he is so good. His tongue is everywhere. I can barely keep up. He’s making me dizzy. The next few moments are such a blur. He keeps our mouths sealed together as he unfastens my collar and tosses it aside. He mercifully releases my mouth and playfully sucks on my bottom lip, making me moan again. “Get out of that suit, Princess..show off your pretty tits for me~” More vulgar words. I don’t find myself as disgusted as I should be. Instead I’m…aroused. I can’t begin to explain why. 

He’s watching me now. His gaze only heightens my arousal further. I pull off my arm covers and lay them gently on the floor at the foot of my bed. I shoot him a little glare for throwing my collar. “Those feathers are expensive, you know..” He just laughs. “Don’t get your non-existent panties in a bunch, Princess I think they’ll survive!” Of course this is all a joke to him. He only has one thing on his mind. While I look away and pout those hands of his have other ideas.

~NIKKI~

Princess is really cute when he’s pouty~ With his collar gone I can see the little bite marks I left on his neck from earlier. Maybe some more will heat him up again~ “Oh c’mon, baby..” I move his hair aside and brush my lips against his neck. He’s trembling again. “..I’ll say my sorries later..cause right now I don’t wanna stop until I’ve got you naked under me~” He makes a soft little noise. My dirty talk never fails to make him putty in my hands~ Once he tilts his head back I go in for the kill~ He’s got that suit pulled down around his waist and his hands back in my hair just seconds after I start sinkin’ my teeth in~ “Gods..Nikki..!!” My hands are on his chest, groping those beautiful tits while he moans my name in my ear. He sounds so damn hot~ He only gets louder when I play with his nipples. “Mmm..like that don’t you, Princess~?”

“..ahhh..more, Nikki..please don’t stop..!!”

He’s makin’ me so hard..and my pants are being a literal pain in my balls. I take his hands and guide them down to my belt. “These are gettin’ awful tight. How ‘bout a helping hand~?” 

~STARCHILD~

The moment finally comes. The moment I’d been dreading. He wants me to undress him. He puts my hands on his belt and looks at me, waiting for me to unbuckle it. I don’t know why I’m suddenly so afraid. My fingers are stiff. I want to but I.. “What’s the matter, Princess..don’t wanna? Just thought it’d be nice if you gave me a handie~” I have no idea what he means by that and I don’t ask. More of his vulgar words. I look away. I’m so embarrassed. I knew at some point I would choke. I’m waiting for him to start laughing at me. But he doesn’t. I feel his lips on my cheek. “I’m not gonna make you do it, baby. Relax~ Want me to?” I nod. “I..I’m sorry..” 

“Pfft..it’s your first. You don’t need to be sorry~”  Who knew Nikki Terror could be so patient? “Just gimme a few minutes~” I keep my eyes away but I can hear him undressing. There’s a strange pleasant heat stirring up within me now that makes my breath quicken. “I know you’re nervous, baby..that’s okay..” he whispers in my ear, laying me down on my pillow. “..lemme take care of ya~” I nod again. I feel so undeserving of his kindness and patience. I’m hoping somewhere within me lies the courage to repay him. Maybe he’ll help me find it tonight. 

~NIKKI~

He wants me in full control. He’s so cute and innocent and I wanna drive him crazy~ He starts wimpering as I pull his suit down past his hips. “Nikki..” His voice is shaky. I give him a chance to stop me but he doesn’t take it.

Fuck~

His cock is as beautiful as the rest of him. Flushed red. Dripping. Ready to be sucked~  “You..are so fucking gorgeous, Princess~“ As soon as I start stroking him he’s moaning, writhing and grabbing my hair with both hands. He doesn’t watch me. He’s got his eyes closed, his mouth wide open..and it’s the sexiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen~ He’s struggling to move his legs more so I just pull his suit down to his ankles. “That better, baby~?” He answers by kicking it clean off. Those silky thighs are wrapped around my neck and he’s begging me for more. I knew he wouldn’t stay shy for long~ The moan I hear when I take his cock into my mouth is the best thing in the world~  “…ohhhh…oh Gods, Nikki..!!” I can feel his toes digging into my back. When you get their toes to curl that’s when you know you’re hittin’ the right spot~ “NIKKI..!!!” His thighs are trembling. I’m workin’ him fast with my lips and my tongue and he is losing his fuckin’ mind~ So close, baby..just a little more~

~STARCHILD~ 

All of my nerves have been set aflame. I can’t put the immense pleasure I’m experiencing into words. I feel Nikki’s lips tighten around me. His teasing tongue driving me to absolute madness. Something is building inside of me that I have never felt before. Every movement of Nikki’s mouth is bringing me closer..ever so much closer. I’m moaning so loudly, my voice is unrecognizable to my own ears. Nikki loves it. I can see it in his eyes whenever mine meet with his. 

“N-Nikki please…!!”

I need more. I’m craving it. He tortures me further by pulling himself away. “Please what, Princess~? Tell me what you want~” I don’t know how to say it. I don’t know the proper words. My core is aching. I have to at least try. “G-give me…give me..release..” 

~NIKKI~

“I can do that for you, baby~” 

I’ve been waiting to hear that all night~ But I also don’t wanna be a total dick and wreck him like Tommy would. I don’t think he’s ready for that yet. I got an idea though~ I wrap his legs around my waist as I move forward. Feels so fuckin’ good having his hot, naked skin against mine~ He looks at me with those big doe eyes. Yeah keep looking, Princess..I wanna see your face when I make you cum~ “Nikki..” he’s pleading to me, reaching up to stroke my face and hair. “Shhhh I’ve got you~” I keep my eyes locked with his as I take both of our cocks in my hand. “Move..your hips for me, baby~” He doesn’t waste a second doing what I say. The friction..feels like fuckin’ heaven~ He’s clawing at my back. We’re panting heavily..moaning together..thrusting against each other so hard the bed starts shaking. A few more good strokes and we’re both fuckin’ done for~ He screams and throws his head back.

“G-Gods yes, Nikki..YES~!!!”

“F-FUCK~!!!“

~STARCHILD~

I’ve never experienced such euphoria in my life! My body is humming. I feel warm..and so sated~ Nikki collapses beside me with a contented groan. "That was..fuckin’ amazing, Princess~” he says, gently stroking my hair. I smile and lean into his touch. “It was~” We gaze at each other silently for a while, occasionally leaning in to brush our lips together. After a while he laughs softly. “I dunno about you but I’m feelin’ sticky~” Now that he mentions it..ugggh. I didn’t realize intimacy could be so..messy. I sit up and move to the edge of my bed. “I simply will not have us falling asleep like this. Why don’t you join me for a bath~?” His eyes practically light up. “Sure, Princess..I love doin’ it in the water~” Shaking my head, I take his hands and lead him into my bathchamber. Being with Nikki Terror is a one of a kind experience that I am certain I will not forget any time soon~

~END~