#and trying to get some new shit started!! cause I miss my fuckin kids!!!!!

[iamaslutforcoffee]

Power Chapter 1: Emberson Leanne Howard

(Rue's narration will be stated in bold italics unless otherwise stated)

The Howard sisters were something different. First there was Cassie. Cassie was your typical California aesthetic kind of girl. She was cute, big chested and blonde. Gus, their father, tended to favor Cassie over the other two and even went so far as to put her in ice skating lessons but that was neither here nor there.

Next there was the twins, Lexi and Emberson, They weren't identical but fraternal twins.. Lexi was the more out spoken of the two, and was alittle more popular than Ember. She had a more lean body, with beautiful brown hair and matching eyes. We were best friends since we were kids.

Ember was the quiet one of the three, definitely not one to really want to have attention on herself and preferring to find peace within her own company. Despite that, most of the friend group they all hung out with and even most of the highschool thought that she was the most beautiful of the three sisters, and also the most kind. But Ember had a terrible temper and other mental issues which caused her to be continously in therapy. It all started when their father, Gus, got into a terrible accident with Ember in the car. The trauma from the accident and also the PTSD from her dad going down my favorite rabbit hole of drugs and drinking severely molded her into the outstanding citizen she was today.

Ember sat in the resting chair quietly, chewing on her already non existent nails. She made a mental note to ask Cassie if she wanted to go get their nails done together, if she was even in the mood for it.

"So, Emberson.." the therapist started, but before she could continue Ember interrupted her.

"It's Ember, ma'am." She quickly muttered, her leg bouncing slightly from the anxiety.

"My apologies. Ember, how are you since our last discussion?"

Ember shrugged, and sighed. Running her hand throughout her hair she finally looked back at Miss Callson.

"I'm ok, I guess. Seeing my sisters best friend get wheeled to a ambulance because she overdosed really wasn't on my list of things i planned on seeing this summer"

But she wasn't ok at all. It was triggering her PTSD with her dad . She could still remember when he had to move out due to his drug use and one night he came back to the Howard home to steal shit to pawn. Lexi and Ember didn't want him there, Cassie let him back in. Unfortunately for her seeing me being wheeled into a ambulance really upset her and a small part of me did feel bad. All she was trying to do was come over and braid my hair up for me, or bringing back some clothes she borrowed. I couldn't remember.

Miss Callson continued on questioning Ember, and Ember continued on answering as simply as she could, there was no use fighting it at that point. If they thought she needed a mandatory grippy sock vacation, she'd gladly take one.

Afterwards, Ember left and a new prescription in place of one of her meds she usually took in tow. She drove to a nearby corner store, parking and getting out while smoothing down her leggings and favorite t shirt.

As she walked up to the door, Ember was startled by Fezco.

Now everybody knew about or has heard about Fezco O'neill, his grandmother was a complete drug dealing badness of a woman and he followed in her footsteps when she fell sick. Despite that, he was actually pretty fuckin' smart and did well during school until it was time to take care of his sick grandma and his brother Ashtray. Everyone also knew of his crush on Ember, him never being the one to want to get his heart broke he never said anything.

"Hey, ma'." Fezco spoke from his usual spot by the door. "What's in the bag?"

"Fuck! Fez I thought I told you about that scaring me shit!?" Ember hollard, crutching her chest.

"Shit, 'm sorry. You good?" He asked, getting up from his spot to try and comfort her.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good. And it's my uh.. it's my medicine. The kind that I actually got prescribed and not from a cooler in a bodega, babe. It's perfectly legal" she spoke, winking at him and his face turning a lovely shade of red amongst the freckles.

Then a walking zombie came waltzing back into their lives. Now I may be fresh out of rehab, but that doesn't mean I planned on staying sober.

"Rue, hey!" Ember noticed the familar crown of long curly hair and the small figure of one of her good friends, Rue.

"Hey Ember. Fez. " Rue replied, a small but genuine smile on her face.

Now when Ember said Hello, she was usually pretty genuine about it. Atleast with me. Now while Lexi was my "best friend since childhood", her twin Ember was definitely the less judgemental of the two and was definitely a more ride or die type of friend.

"How long you been back, Rue?" Fez asked, turning his attention briefly to Rue. Fezco was her friend, too. But had the displeasure of being her dealer at the same time. He couldn't help but feel guilty when she overdosed but Ember had to reassure him it wasn't his product that did it.

"Five days" Rue meekly responded.

"And how you been feelin'?" He asked, lighting his blunt and inhaling briefly, offering it to Ember. She politely declined.

"No thank you, Fezzy" she smiled at him.

"Well, ever since I gave my life over to my lord and savior, Jesus Christ, things have been like.. really good." Rue replied.

Ember shook her head chuckling.

"Word? That's what's up." Fez replied, continuing to smoke.

"You're full of shit, Rue. There's no way you're a born again christian" Ember giggled as she spoke, Rue smiling at her.

"Yeah.. yeah I'm fucking with You, Fez. It was a joke." Rue replied.

Rue asked where Ashtray was and headed inside, scoring her first hit since she was back.

"You know.. I worry about her more than I absolutely should" Ember spoke quietly, squatting down next to Fezco.

"Here, take the chair Em. An' i know, but you can't be out here worrin' about her all the time. It's not your job to worry. " Fezco spoke and offered her his chair. She smiled, taking it and knodding.

"Yeah, I know. But I still do."

~~~

Ooooooooof.

I'm excited 🥰🥰

[notstilinski]

The Bear Starters !

Taken from  the 2022 Hulu series, The Bear! Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit! 

“You cut vegetables like a bitch.”

“(Name), I am saying something. You are my favorite bitch.”

“Don’t say sweetheart, you fucking weirdo.”

“Listen, I’m trying to talk to ya, okay? Don’t be rude and start doing a million things-“

“One plus one equals your an asshole.”

“That’s how you say hello to me?”

“You smell like this place.”

“It’s redundant and white. Just like you.”

“Hey, has (Name) always been an asshole?”

“Look at you. Fucking softie!”

“Merry Christmas, Lizards. Sounds like we have a real problem out here.”

“DeVry teach you to fix that?”

“It’s um… A lot of words.”

“Yeah, but they basically say we’re getting killed on labor.”

“Is my hair on fire?”

“I’m telling you… Beware of bitches with little notebooks.”

“FYI. You cocked it up, you’re gonna caulk it out.”

“I wasn’t expecting company, by the way. These Arby’s cups are from different visits.”

“Can’t believe I’m taking orders from a fucking toddler right now.”

“Still looks like a kid painted it with their asshole.”

“I stopped by to see you. I should have stopped by to break your legs, but, you know what, I guess I’m getting forgetful.”

“Really good short-term, (Name). Congrats on that.”

“Look, I’m, uh- I’m fine. You know, I just have trouble breathing sometimes, and I wake up screaming.”

“Whatever. I know tons of people that cry out of nowhere.”

“We can’t curb that kind-of chaos until the thinking changes.”

“Like, I just, uh, follow orders even if it leads to tensions and chaos and resentment and ultimately does not work out.”

“No, it’s just, uh, I felt like (Name) was alive for a second.”

“You two looked like you joined the dumbass cult.”

“You stick to your shit, and I’ll stick to mine.”

“Fuck brunch.”

“Why are you doing that? Why are you trying to put a t-shirt on a fucking hot dog?”

“Chill. I’m not gonna bring up shit, alright?”

“I suffer from anxiety and dread.”

“One bite of a doughnut brings much joy, two bite brings sadness.”

“If you’re into it, then I’m into it.”

“I didn’t really know him well enough to miss him.”

“Yo! What is good you fuckin’ replicants?”

“Fuck your vibe!”

“Don’t ever fuck my vibe!”

“He’s mean! He is not nice! He is a fucking asshole!”

“Yeah, I also have a lot going on. Do you know I also had a brother die recently too?”

“You’re such a soft, shitty bitch.”

“Will you fight with me tomorrow?”

“Yeah, you will. But not cause you’re you, just cause shit happens.”

“If I don’t do anything, this place will burn down. and all my anxiety will go away with it.”

“I mean, my whole shit got rocked, and there’s not a night where I don’t stay up thinking what I could’ve done different.”

“We have finally gotten this to a place where things are sort of, kind of, a little bit chill, right? I would like to hold on to that as long as I possibly can.”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask him when he’s not dead.”

“Okay. Good. So, you’re a psychopath. Cool.”

“You know you don’t realize, this is a delicate ecosystem… and it’s held together by a shared history, and love, and respect.”

“Keep not processing trauma, (Name).”

“Is there a name for that thing where you’re afraid of something good happening ‘cause you think something bar’s gonna happen?”

“They say I’m contagious, I only cause bad news.”

“I think the thing that pisses me off is the thing that I’m probably too embarrassed to admit. Is that you never ask me how I’m doing.”

“I guess all the time I feel like I’m kind of trapped because I can’t describe… how I’m feeling. So to ask somebody else how they’re feeling, that just seems, uh, I don’t know, insane?”

“The point of this is that it is a business. Not, uh, some sort of a hollow shell you can project your dying fantasies or whatever onto.”

“No, this is a war on you shutting the fuck up, (Name).”

“Somebody get me a fucking sharpie that fucking works! Fuck!”

“And that’s why you hate that I’m here, right? Because I see you for the loser that you fucking are. And everyone fucking knows it.”

“I’m fucking sorry. I’m- I’m sorry. I’m really— I’m just fucking this up, guys.”

“I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. I had a stutter when I was a kid. I was scared to speak half the time. And, uh, I got shitty grades ‘cause I couldn’t pay attention. I didn’t get into college. I didn’t have any girlfriends. I don’t think I’m funny.”

“I always thought that my brother was my best friend. Like we just knew everything about each other.”

“I didn’t know my brother was using drugs. What does that say?”

“The more he wouldn’t respond, the more our relationship kind of strained, the deeper into this I went, and the better I got.”

“And the more people I cut out, the quieter my life got.”

“I, uh, I feel kinda bad ‘cause I feel like I haven’t really like asked you how you’re doing. Um, with everything, since, you know.”

“I left you into my home, and this is how you treat me? You reward me with memories for cooking for you?”

“That’s exactly what they did. They destroyed it like a bitch.”

“(Name), I stand before you, a penitent man.”

“No, but seriously though, if you ever try that shit with me, I’ll fuck your ass up.”

“I don’t know. And I didn’t really want to give it to you because it meant that he was gone.”

“Oh, shut up, you old bitch.”

[mypoisonedvine]

The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff.  and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother.  if only you’d known how much worse it could get...

word count: 4.5k

warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af

You’d never cared for the Sheriff.  Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt.  Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it.  Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.

“You… what?!”

“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll.  “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.

“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence.  “You’re engaged after two months?”

“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned.  Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you.  “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well.  The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that.  Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”

“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed.  “I’m… we’re moving…?”

“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.

She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard.  It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this.  She could do better than him anyways!  But she didn’t care about that, only money and status.  You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh.  You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life.  You were just numb.

//

You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer.  It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his.  You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table.  He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.

“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.

“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know.  Not in the house, at least.”

You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway.  You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.

“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly.  Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink.  Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe.  There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.

“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”

“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled.  “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’.  This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”

You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity.  Almost.  

“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned.  “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!” 

With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face.  It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over.  You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.

At first it was just refusing to leave your room.  That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death.  So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions.  You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.  

He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either.  And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more.  You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it.  Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot.  You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else.  You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible.  You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything.  Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.  

You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.

//

Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently.  The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen.  She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.  

There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though.  You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one.  At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along.  Friday night was different, though.  This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning.  That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it.  It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?

Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside.  You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.

“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow.  It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”

“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms.  He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.

“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.

You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face.  You didn’t let it get this far just to give up.  You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?

“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.

You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.

“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.

With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey.  You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak.  “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”

He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could.  You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this.  Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.

“Watch your tone with me.  I’m not kidding around.”

“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”

“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.

For some reason, it all hit you at once.  All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.  

“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response.  “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you!  You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”

You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled.  It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.

“Go to your room.”

You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.

You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed.  It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before.  He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.

“Lay across my lap.  Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked.  You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes.  He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits.  It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.

“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.

His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was.  You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet.  You didn’t know why, but you were.

“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly.  You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.

“O-one,” you stammered.

He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain.  But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse.  Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.

“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward.  Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused.  You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing.  What the fuck is wrong with me?!

He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him.  He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.

“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed.  “You are in dire need of a punishment.  You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”

You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal.  “Thank you, for going easy on me…”

“Where’d that fire go, huh?  Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.  

He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers.  “This fuckin’ mouth.  You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you?  Come on baby, open up.  I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”

He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.

“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”

You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip.  You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.

“Like what you see?  You’re so wet for it,” he purred.  You tried to speak but words abandoned you. 

It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed.  His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth.  He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting.  You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.

“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy.  “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock.  Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”

You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe.  His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.

He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough.  You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.

“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.

“Wait?  I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled.  “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring.  Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”

Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra.  Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands. 

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured.  His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside.  “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”

You shook your head, looking down at the floor.  A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.  

“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you.  You shook your head again.  “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly.  “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason.  You gonna be good for me now?” 

You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.  

“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs.  “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”

You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind.  You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more.  Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.

“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority.  “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart?  Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?”  He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”

He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.

“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.  

“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands.  A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers.  They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.

His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off.  You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.

“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor.  “I can smell how much you want it.”  He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue.  “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised.  You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.

The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs.  You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come.  And you really, really wanted to come.

Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily.  It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.

“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”

“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I’m your daddy now.  Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”

Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment.  Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you. 

“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth.  “Beg me.  To fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”

He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed.  It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned.  He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.

Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true.  And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother.  He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.

“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”

You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.  

“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon.  Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not.  At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.

He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you.  Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.

Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it?  Feels good when daddy fucks you?”

You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher.  Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer.  He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright.  He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.

“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned.  “Feel that, sweetheart?  Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”

When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face.  “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed.  You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.

“Gonna come, pretty girl?  Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.

“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed.  “Please!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop.  Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”

You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day).  He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you.  “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out.  He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.

“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked.  It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip.  He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt.  “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?” 

The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath.  You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction.  You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.

“You look so good like this.”  

It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”

“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer.  “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”

“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.

He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.

His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.

“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”

[ddudumemes]

SOUR SENTENCE STARTERS 

(( collection of ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY THREE sentence starters taken from OLIVIA  RODRIGO’s first album ‘ SOUR ’ . ))

001.  BRUTAL  . ‘  i  think  that  i'll  die  before  i  drink  .  ’ ‘  who  likes  me  ??  ’ ‘  who  hates  you  ??  ’ ‘  who  am  i  if  not  exploited  ??  ’ ‘  where's  my  fucking  teenage  dream  ??  ’ ‘  i  don't  stick  up  for  myself  .  ’ ‘  i'm  anxious  and  nothing  can  help  .  ’ ‘  and  i  wish  i'd  done  this  before  .  ’ ‘  and  i  wish  people  liked  me  more  .  ’ ‘  all  i  did  was  try  my  best  ,  this  the  kinda  thanks  i  get  ??  ’ ‘  i  wish  i  could  disappear  .  ’ ‘  ego  crush  is  so  severe  .  ’ ‘  god  ,  it's  brutal  out  here  .  ’ ‘  i  feel  like  no  one  wants  me  .  ’ ‘  and  i  hate  the  way  i'm  perceived  .  ’ ‘  i  only  have  two  real  friends  .  ’ ‘  lately  ,  i'm  a  nervous  wreck  .  ’ ‘  i'm  not  cool  ,  and  i'm  not  smart  ,  and  i  can't  even  parallel  park  .  ’ ‘  got  a  broken  ego  ,  and  broken  heart  .  ’ ‘  god  ,  i  don't  even  know  where  to  start  .  ’

002.  TRAITOR  . ‘  i  played  dumb  ,  but  i  always  knew  .  ’ ‘  i  kept  quiet  so  i  could  keep  you  .  ’ ‘  ain't  it  funny  how  you  ran  to  her  the  second  that  we  called  it  quits  ??  ’ ‘  ain't  it  funny  how  you  said  you  were  friends  ??  now  it  sure  as  hell  don't  look  like  it  .  ’ ‘  you  betrayed  me  .  ’ ‘  i  know  that  you'll  never  feel  sorry  for  the  way  i  hurt  .  ’ ‘  you  talked  to  her  when  we  were  together  .  ’ ‘  loved  you  at  your  worst  ,  but  that  didn't  matter  .  ’ ‘  it  took  you  two  weeks  to  go  off  and  date  her  .  ’ ‘  guess  you  didn't  cheat  ,  but  you're  still  a  traitor  .  ’ ‘  there's  no  damn  way  that  you  could  fall  in  love  with  somebody  that  quickly  .  ’ ‘  remember  i  brought  her  up  and  you  told  me  i  was  paranoid  ??  ’ ‘  god  ,  i  wish  that  you  had  thought  this  through  before  i  went  and  fell  in  love  with  you  .  ’ ‘  you  gave  me  your  word  ,  but  that  didn't  matter  .  ’ 003.  DRIVERS  LICENSE  . ‘  i  got  my  driver's  license  last  week  .  ’ ‘  you  were  so excited for  me  .  ’ ‘  and  you're  probably  with  that  blonde  girl  who  always  made  me  doubt  .  ’ ‘  she's  everything  i'm  insecure  about  .  ’ ‘  how  could  i  ever  love  someone  else  ??  ’ ‘  i  know  we  weren't  perfect  but  i've  never  felt  this  way  for  no  one  .  ’ ‘  i  just  can't  imagine  how  you  could  be  so  okay  now  that  i'm  gone  .  ’ ‘  guess  you  didn't  mean  what  you  wrote  in  that  song  about  me  .  ’ ‘  you  said  forever  ,  now  i  drive  alone  past  your  street  .  ’ ‘   all  my  friends  are  tired  of  hearing  how  much  i  miss  you  .  ’ ‘  they'll  never  know  you  the  way  that  i  do  .  ’ ‘  today  ,  i  drove  through  the  suburbs  and  pictured  i  was  driving  home  to  you  .  ’ ‘  i  still  fuckin'  love  you  ,  babe  .  ’ ‘  i  still  hear  your  voice  in  the  traffic  .  ’ ‘  i  know  we're  through  but  i  still  fuckin'  love  you  .  ’

004.  1  STEP  FORWARD  ,  3  STEPS  BACK  . ‘  all  i  did  was  speak  normally  .  somehow  ,  i  still  struck  a  nerve  .  ’ ‘  you  got  me  fucked  up  in  the  head  ,  boy  .  ’ ‘  never  doubted  myself  so  much  .  ’ ‘  am  i  pretty  ??  am  i  fun  ??  ’ ‘  i  hate  that  i  give  you  power  over  that  kinda  stuff  .  ’ ‘  it's  always  one  step  forward  and  three  steps  back  .  ’ ‘  i'm  the  love  of  your  life  until  i  make  you  mad  .  ’ ‘  do  you  love  me  ,  want  me  ,  hate  me  ??  ’ ‘  i  don't  understand  .  ’ ‘  maybe  in  some  masochistic  way  i  kind  of  find  it  all  exciting  .  ’ ‘  which  lover  will  i  get  today  ??  ’ ‘  will  you  walk  me  to  the  door  or  send  me  home  crying  ??  ’ ‘  did  i  say  something  wrong  ??  ’ ‘  it's  back  and  forth  ,  going  over  everything  i  said  .  ’ ‘  did  i  do  something  wrong  ??  ’ ‘  maybe  this  is  all  your  fault  instead  .  ’ ‘  i'd  leave  you  ,  but  the  rollercoaster's  all  i've  ever  had  .  ’

005.  DEJA  VU  . ‘  so  when  you  gonna  tell  her  that  we  did  that  too  ??  ’ ‘  that ��was  our  place  ,  i  found  it  first  .  ’ ‘  i  made  the  jokes  you  tell  to  her  when  she's  with  you  .  ’ ‘  do  you  get  déjà  vu  when  she’s  with  you  ??  ’ ‘  do  you  get  déjà  vu  ??  ’ ‘  do  you  call  her  ,  almost  say  my  name  ??  ’ ‘  let's  be  honest  ,  we  kinda  do  sound  the  same  .  ’ ‘  i  hate  to  think  that  i  was  just  your  type  .  ’ ‘  now  i  bet  you  even  tell  her  how  you  love  her  .  ’ ‘  don't  act  like  we  didn't  do  that  shit  too  .  ’ ‘  you're  tradin'  jackets  like  we  used  to  do  .  ’ ‘  a  different  girl  now  ,  but  there's  nothing  new  .  ’ ‘  i  know  you  get  déjà  vu  .  ’

006.  GOOD  4  U  . ‘  good  for  you  ,  i  guess  you  moved  on  really  easily  .  ’ ‘  you  found  a  new  girl  and  it  only  took  a  couple  weeks  .  ’ ‘  remember  when  you  said  that  you  wanted  to  give  me  the  world  ??  ’ ‘  good  for  you  ,  i  guess  that  you've  been  workin'  on  yourself  .  ’ ‘  i  guess  that  therapist  i  found  for  you  ,  she  really  helped  .  ’ ‘  now  you  can  be  a  better  man  for  your  brand  new  girl  .  ’ ‘  well  ,  good  for  you  you  look  happy  and  healthy  ,  not  me  ,  if  you  ever  cared  to  ask  .  ’ ‘  good  for  you  you're  doin'  great  out  there  without  me  ,  baby  ,  god  ,  i  wish  that  i  could  do  that  .  ’ ‘  i've  lost  my  mind  ,  i've  spent  the  night  cryin'  on  the  floor  of  my  bathroom  .  ’ ‘  you're  so  unaffected  ,  i  really  don't  get  it  but  i  guess  good  for  you  .  ’ ‘  well  ,  good  for  you  ,  i  guess  you're  gettin'  everything  you  want  .  ’ ‘  it's  like  we  never  even  happened  baby  ,  what  the  fuck  is  up  with  that  ??  ’ ‘  good  for  you  ,  it's  like  you  never  even  met  me  .  ’ ‘  remember  when  you  swore  to  god  i  was  the  only  person  who  ever  got  you  ??  well  ,  screw  that  ,  and  screw  you  .  ’ ‘  you  will  never  have  to  hurt  the  way  you  know  that  i  do  !!  ’ ‘  maybe  i'm  too  emotional  but  your  apathy's  like  a  wound  in  salt  .  ’ ‘  maybe  i'm  too  emotional  or  maybe  you  never  cared  at  all  .  ’ ‘  maybe  i'm  too  emotional  .  ’ ‘  your  apathy  is  like  a  wound  in  salt  .  ’ ‘  maybe  you  never  cared  at  all  .  ’ ‘  good  for  you  you're  doin'  great  out  there  without  me  ,  baby  ,  like  a  damn  sociopath  .  ’

007.  ENOUGH  FOR  YOU  . ‘  i  wore  makeup  when  we  dated  'cause  i  thought  you'd  like  me  more  .  ’ ‘  tried  so  hard  to  be  everything  that  you  liked  .  ’ ‘  i  knew  how  you  took  your  coffee and  your  favorite  songs  by  heart  .  ’ ‘  i  read  all  of  your  self-help  books  so  you'd  think  that  i  was  smart  .  ’ ‘  i  knew  from  the  start  this  is  exactly  how  you'd  leave  .  ’ ‘  you  found  someonе  more  exciting  the  nеxt  second  ,  you  were  gone  .  ’ ‘  you  left  me  there  cryin'  ,  wonderin'  what  i  did  wrong  .  ’ ‘  and  you  always  say  i'm  never  satisfied  but  i  don't  think  that's  true  .  ’ ‘  all  i  ever  wanted  was  to  be  enough  for  you  .  ’ ‘  and  maybe  i'm  just  not  as  interesting  as  the  girls  you  had  before  .  ’ ‘  but  god  ,  you  couldn't  have  cared  less  about  someone  who  loved  you  more  .  ’ ‘  i'd  say  you  broke  my  heart  but  you  broke  much  more  than  that  .  ’ ‘  i  don't  want  your  sympathy  ,  i  just  want  myself  back  .  ’ ‘  i  just  want  myself  back  .  ’ ‘  don't  you  think  i  loved  you  too  much  to  be  used  and  discarded  ??  ’ ‘  don't  you  think  i  loved  you  too  much  to  think  i  deserve  nothing  ??  ’ ‘  but  don't  tell  me  you're  sorry  .  ’ ‘  feel  sorry  for  yourself  .  ’ ‘  someday  ,  i'll  be  everything  to  somebody  else  .  ’ ‘  you  say  i'm  never  satisfied  but  that's  not  me  ,  it's  you  .  ’ ‘  all  i  ever  wanted  was  to  be  enough  .  ’ ‘  i  don't  think  anything  could  ever  be  enough  for  you  .  ’ ‘  nothing's  enough  for  you  .  ’

008.  HAPPIER  . ‘  you've  moved  on  ,  found  someone  new  .  ’ ‘  i  thought  my  heart  was  detached  from  all  the  sunlight  of  our  past  .  ’ ‘  does  she  mean  you  forgot  about  me  ??  ’ ‘  i  hope  you're  happy  but  not  like  how  you  were  with  me  .  ’ ‘  i'm  selfish  ,  i  know  ,  i  can't  let  you  go  .  ’ ‘  find  someone  great  ,  but  don't  find  no  one  better  .  ’ ‘  i  hope  you're  happy  ,  but  don't  be  happier  .  ’ ‘  do  you  tell  her  she's  the  most  beautiful  girl  you've  ever  seen  ??  ’ ‘  remember  when  i  believed  you  meant  it  when  you  said  it  first  to  me  ??  ’ ‘  and  now  i'm  pickin'  her  apart  like  cuttin'  her  down  will  make  you  miss  my  wretched  heart  .  ’ ‘  she's  beautiful  ,  she  looks  kind  ...  she  probably  gives  you  butterflies  .  ’ ‘  i  wish  you  all  the  best  ,  really  .  ’ ‘  say  you  love  her  ,  just  not  like  you  loved  me  .  ’ ‘  think  of  me  fondly  when  your  hands  are  on  her  .  ’

009.  JEALOUSY  ,  JEALOUSY  . ‘  i  kinda  wanna  throw  my  phone  across  the  room  .  ’ ‘  i  know  their  beauty's  not  my  lack  .  ’ ‘  i  can't  let  it  go  .  ’ ‘  comparison  is  killin'  me  slowly  .  ’ ‘  i  think  i  think  too  much  'bout  kids  who  don't  know  me  .  ’ ‘  i'm  so  sick  of  myself  .  ’ ‘  i'd  rather  be  anyone  else  .  ’ ‘  my  jealousy  started  followin'  me  .  ’ ‘  i'm  happy  for  them  ,  but  then  again  ,  i'm  not  .  ’ ‘  oh  god  ,  i  sound  crazy  .  ’ ‘  their  win  is  not  my  loss  .  ’ ‘  i  can't  help  gettin'  caught  up  in  it  all  .  ’ ‘  all  your  friends  are  so  cool  ,  you  go  out  every  night  .  ’ ‘  you're  livin'  the  life  .  ’ ‘  i  wanna  be  you  so  bad  and  i  don't  even  know  you  .  ’ ‘  all  i  see  is  what  i  should  be:  happier  .  prettier  .  ’ ‘  all  i  see  is  what  i  should  be  .  ’ ‘  i'm  losin'  it  ,  all  i  get's  jealousy  .  ’

010.  FAVORITE  CRIME  . ‘  know  that  i  loved  you  so  bad  i  let  you  treat  me  like  that  .  ’ ‘  i  was  your  willing  accomplice  .  ’ ‘  i  watched  as  you  fled  the  scene  .  ’ ‘  one  heart  broke  ,  four  hands  bloody  .  ’ ‘  the  things  i  did  just  so  i  could  call  you  mine  .  ’ ‘  the  things  you  did  …  well  ,  i  hope  i  was  your  favorite  crime  .  ’ ‘  you  used  me  as  an  alibi  .  ’ ‘  i  defended  you  to  all  my  friends  .  ’ ‘  now  every  time  a  siren  sounds  i  wondеr  if  you're  around  .  ’ ‘  'cause  you  know  that  i'd  do  it  all  again  .  ’ ‘  i  hope  i  was  your  favorite  crime  .  ’ ‘  it's  bittersweet  to  think  about  the  damage  that  we'd  do  .  ’ ‘  i  was  goin'  down  ,  but  i  was  doin'  it  with  you  .  ’ ‘  i  say  that  i  hate  you  with  a  smile  on  my  face  .  ’ ‘  look  what  we  became  .  ’ ‘  i  hope  i  was  your  favorite  crime  ,  'cause  baby  ,  you  were  mine  .  ’

011.  HOPE  UR  OK  . ‘  his  parents  cared  more  about  the  bible  than  being  good  to  their  own  child  .  ’ ‘  he  wore  long  sleeves  'cause  of  his  dad  .  ’ ‘  somehow  ,  we  fell  out  of  touch  .  ’ ‘  don't  know  if  i'll  see  you  again  someday  but  if  you're  out  there  ,  i  hope  that  you're  okay  .  ’ ‘  she  raised  her  brothers  on  hеr  own  .  ’ ‘  she  couldn't  wait  to  go  to  college  .  ’ ‘  she  was  brought  into  a  world  where  family  was  merely  blood  .  ’ ‘  we  don't  talk  much  ,  but  i  just  gotta  say  i  miss  you  and  i  hope  that  you're  okay  .  ’ ‘  nothing's  forever  ,  nothing  is  as  good  as  it  seems  .  ’ ‘  well  ,  i  hope  you  know  how  proud  i  am  you  were  created  .  ’ ‘  but  ,  god  ,  i  hope  that  you're  happier  today  .  ’ ‘  'cause  i  love  you  and  i  hope  that  you're  okay  .  ’

[arrowflier]

Prompt: Mickey apologizes to one of their neighbours for something that clearly wasn't his fault just to make Ian(who's in his people pleaser mode) happy. Later, Ian realises how Mickey was right all along and feels bad about the whole thing and they talk. Basically them having a mature convo at the end

Ian heard the shouting as soon as he stepped out into the courtyard. Mickey had come down earlier to take a quick dip, and Ian was hoping to join him and relax together for a while.

But based on the way his husband and one of their neighbors were yelling right then, that clearly wasn't in the cards.

Ian sighed, and closed his eyes briefly. Was it really too much to ask that Mickey get along with the people in their building? He didn't even have to make friends, he just had to not be an asshole to everyone he met.

A particularly loud shout--something about children, and language, and have some common decency--forced Ian out of his reflections and toward the apparent catastrophe that was Mickey in public.

“Dammit, Mickey,” he muttered under his breath as he rounded the last corner and brought the pool into view.

Sure enough, Mickey was there.  He stood at the edge of the shallow end of the pool, like he had just hoisted himself out, water droplets still lingering on his sculpted arms and chest.  His arms were raised and held out to the side in challenge as he blustered on about public space, and freedom of speech, and I’ll do you one worse lady, just you watch just inches away from a middle-aged woman that looked like she had stepped out of a lululemon ad.

Ian was pretty sure it was the same woman who had stopped him at the elevators last week to ask him to “keep it down up there”.  They really didn’t need to cause more trouble with her; Mickey had them on thin ice already when his response to Ian relaying that request was to play loud, bass-thumping music while riding Ian into the floor for effect.

She hadn't met his eyes since.

"What's going on here?" Ian interrupted, coming up behind Mickey and settling a hand on the back of his husband's neck.

"This lady was tryin to--" Mickey cut off when Ian squeezed and released that hand in warning. Mickey glowered at him, but shut his mouth.

"Your husband," the woman said with a glare at Mickey, "was setting a bad example for my nephew."

Looking around for the aforementioned child, Ian sighed when he saw a little boy staring at them all from a pool lounger with wide eyes.

"We're sorry, Mrs...," he trailed off, but she didn't bother to fill in the blank for him, instead just raising her eyebrows and tapping her sandaled foot expectantly.

"Uh, anyway, it won't happen again," Ian finished awkwardly. "Right, Mick?"

"Are you kidding me, Gallagher?" Mickey asked, incredulous.

"I expect a direct apology from your husband," the woman demanded at the same time.

Ian raised his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, and gave Mickey a little shake when the other man didn't speak up.

"Come on, Mick, just do it," Ian muttered.

After a tense moment, Mickey did.

"Fucking fine," he hissed at Ian, ignoring their neighbor's sharp intake of breath at the curse. "I'm fucking sorry, alright?," he directed at her, before pulling out of Ian's hold to face him.

"You happy now?" he asked, before turning and stomping off to go inside.

The effect was dampened by the soft slapping sound of his bare feet hitting the pavement, leaving behind wet marks on the concrete. Ian and the woman watched him go with drastically different expressions: one with disgust, and one with concern.

"I do hope you'll keep your man in line better in the future," the woman groused at Ian, but he wasn't really listening.

"Yeah, sure," he answered absently. "Excuse me, I just gotta..."

And then he was scooping up the towel and shoes Mickey had left behind, and hurrying after his husband.

---

"Mickey?" Ian called out hesitantly as he entered their apartment. Other than a couple of damp patches on the floor, there was no sign of Mickey anywhere.

Then Ian heard the shower start, and set Mickey's things down next the door to follow the sound.

Mickey's wet trunks were pooled on the cold tile floor, the shower curtain pulled tight from wall to wall. The splash of water bouncing from flesh to the acrylic tub echoed through the room.

"Mickey?" Ian asked softly, taking a step past the open door. "Mick, you in here?"

He heard a snort over the sound of the water, the curtain moving as Mickey's arm jostled it from inside.

"No, it's your other husband, Sherlock," Mickey answered, an odd tone in his voice. "You know, the one you listen to before you take some random bitch's side."

Ian winced. Okay, Mickey was mad, then.

Moving further into the room, Ian closed the lid of the toilet and turned to sit on it, elbows on knees.

"Sorry," he offered briefly. "But she had a point Mick, there are kids here--"

The water stopped abruptly, and the curtain pulled back to reveal Mickey’s face.  His hair flopped wetly over his forehead, water still sluicing down the middle of his face, and he scowled as he brushed it away with the back of a dripping hand.

“Kid, huh?” he questioned  “So I need to go get my fucking tattoos removed because some random kid might see ‘em?”

Ian blinked.

“Wait,” he said slowly, mind trying to figure out what he was missing.  “What?” then scoffed when Ian just watched him.

Mickey just scoffed.  

“You don’t even know what she was yellin’ about, do you?” he asked rhetorically. “I didn’t say a damn word to her or that sniveling brat she brought with her,” he revealed.  “They took one fucking look at me, saw the words on my knuckles, and off she went on her little fucking tirade.”

“Shit, Mickey,” Ian started, but Mickey wasn’t done.

“Don’t you act like it matters,” he growled.  “You care more about playing nice than payin’ attention, and don’t pretend that after all these years you don’t still assume I’m always the fuckin’ problem.”

Fuck.  Ian had really screwed this one up.

“Mickey,” he repeated, more firmly, standing and stepping closer to the shower.  Ian took the shower curtain in one hand and tugged it further to the side.  Mickey shivered in the influx of cool air, looking more like a disgruntled cat mid-bath than an angry man.

“Mickey,” Ian said again, softer, and stepped over the lip of the tub so that nothing was between them.  He took Mickey into his arms, his husband putting up a token resistance before settling against him with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Ian whispered into his wet hair, ignoring the patches of water soaking through his clothes.  “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Mickey hummed into his chest, not looking up.  “You kind of did, though,” he mutters.  “Every time somebody’s got a problem with me, you act like it’s my fault.”

Silence, for just a moment.

“Yeah,” Ian finally agreed, stroking a hand down Mickey’s bare back.  “Yeah, I need to work on that.”

He pulled back, made Mickey meet his eyes.  Mickey was no longer glaring, and his eyes were dry, but there was still something off about the way he met Ian’s gaze.

“You know I don’t really think that, though, right?” Ian asked, disheartened when Mickey didn’t offer a response.

“I don’t, Mickey,” he said earnestly.  “I love you, and you’ve been trying so hard--”

“Shouldn’t fuckin’ have to try,” Mickey murmured, and oh.

“No, you shouldn’t,” Ian rephrased.  “And I’m sorry I’m always making you feel like you do, too.”

Mickey moved back farther, and Ian’s arms dropped loosely back to his sides.  His fingers itched to reach out again, but he got the feeling Mickey needed some space.

“Okay,” Mickey said.  “Get outa here so I can finish.”

Ina obeyed, stepping out of the tub and moving toward the door, but he turned back before he left the room.

“When you’re done, come into the bedroom, alright?” he asked quietly.  “I’ve got an idea to get back at that asshole woman.”

“Apology or not,” Mickey said wryly, “I don’t think I’m on the mood to fuck you right now, Ian.”

Ian just smirked. 

“Not what I had in mind,” he said.  “Now hurry it up, I think you’re gonna like my plan.”

---

About twenty minutes later, after the shower had started and stopped again and Mickey had had a moment to gather himself and get dressed, Mickey walked into the bedroom and stopped still.

Ian was sitting on their bed, fully dressed, but that wasn’t what had Mickey startled.  No, it was the fact that right in front of him was a huge stereo with old school speakers, the ones that used to be downstairs in the communal lounge area, with Ian’s phone sitting right on top.

“What’s all this?” Mickey asked, and Ian grinned.

“So she doesn’t like profanity, huh?” he said.  “Well I found a favorite new song.”

Mickey started to grin himself as he caught on to the plan.  Ian stood and pushed one of the speakers a little closer to the vents in their floor, angling it so the sound would bounce right down into the apartment below.  Then he tapped a few things on his phone, cranked the volume, and let harsh base and more expletives than Mickey had ever heard in a piece of music fill the room.

Mickey laughed.  Ian held out a hand, like he was asking for a dance, and turned the music up even louder.

Shaking his head at his husband’s antics, Mickey took the proffered hand, and let Ian spin him to the sound of their bitchy neighbor losing her mind below them.

[quokkacore]

can you dig it? (m) [kim doyoung & kim jungwoo]

summary: post concert highs can be a real bummer, and tonight, after a particularly intense performance, your boyfriends help you come down.

pairing: kim doyoung x kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre: poly!au, 70s!au, band!au, smut, fluff

warnings: drug usage (weed specifically), mentions of other substances (lsd and cocaine), shotgunning, established poly relationship, soft dom jungwoo, mentioned switch jungwoo, hard dom doyoung, sub reader, high sex, sex on a water bed!!, unprotected sex, spit kink, they're all so sweaty help, mxm, degradation kink, praise kink, orgasm denial, overstimulation, minor possessiveness

song recs: don’t stop - fleetwood mac // unlock it (feat. kim petras & jay park) - charli xcx // love her madly - the doors // ziggy stardust - david bowie // rhiannon - fleetwood mac // eclipse - kim lip (loona) // flick of the wrist - queen

word count: 5.4k

a/n: this is for my best friend, who i love with all my heart,bc last month we were talking abt the dowoo photoshoot and she said smth about high sex with dowoo. happy birthday queen <3 thank u for listening to me complain abt writing all the time :’)

masterlist

Friday, July 22rd, 1977

The concert hall smelled like cocaine and sweat, you noted to yourself as the three of you joined hands to bow. Cheers from the crowd bounced off of the walls as you bid them your final goodbye, wishing them a good night and telling them to drive safe. Still, their chanting persisted. "Seoul Motel! Seoul Motel! Seoul Motel!" 

You wondered vaguely if this was what it was like to be a young god.

The curtain lowered, and the three of you were ushered offstage, to take some pictures and then head back to the hotel, to try and get some rest before you were off to Philadelphia, some five or so hours from where you were now: Boston. 

Truthfully, everything passed in a blur. It was almost always like this after these concerts. The thrill and euphoria of performing made it difficult to focus on things. That might have also been because Jungwoo had passed you a joint before the concert. You couldn't be completely sure.

Your tambourine and guitar seemingly disappeared, but you knew it would show up tomorrow for soundcheck when you got to the Philadelphia venue, right along with Jungwoo's bass guitar and Doyoung's drum kit.

What you did know was that here, in the car back to the hotel that your manager was driving, lecturing you and Jungwoo about the importance of being sober when talking to reporters, Doyoung had a hand on your thigh, and that was all you could focus on. 

Doyoung was high too. You knew this because ten minutes before you were needed on stage he pulled you forward by the hips and told you to take a few hits from the hand rolled joint and blow the smoke into his mouth. Of course, he wasn't as high as you and Jungwoo were, and he knew how to hide it better. But if you were to get close enough you'd notice the redness rimming his eyes, the dilation of his pupils.

The three of you were something, that was for sure. You had been, probably ever since Jungwoo joined the band, some eight years ago, in the fall of '69. You only really defined what you were once you got your first big hit thanks to some disc jockey in LA playing a song you had written, Calabasas, on the radio back in '73. 

The song had blown up, and suddenly the three of you were whisked into a whirlwind of celebrities, drugs, paparazzi and producers who thought the three of you were born yesterday. Yes, you were college kids that ran on booze and weed, but you weren’t complete morons. That was when the three of you sat down to properly discuss boundaries, what slid and what didn’t.

You and your boys decided that night that weren’t down with the idea of everyone knowing. Too many prying eyes. The public didn’t really know, because the press would have a damn field day. 

Other than that, it was a pretty open secret. In the industry, who was going around with who didn’t really matter—a lot of them were too off their face to even care. You realized that a few years back when David Bowie walked in on you watching Jungwoo and Doyoung get it on in a bathroom at some afterparty in New York City, and closed the door muttering something about how strong the edibles were.

 So, what your manager said fell on deaf ears. Too much weed, too much adrenaline, too much energy for someone who needed to head back onto the road in a few hours.

 When you finally got back to the hotel, Jungwoo grabbed your hand in the elevator on the way up to your rooms, which were right next to each other. "You said that your bed was really big… can we come up?"

You nodded, leaning against his arm. Doyoung hummed affectionately at the sight, noting how tired you both were. 

"You two are about five seconds from passing out," Doyoung mumbled, and you waved your hand in denial. 

"Are not," you protested like a child.

"Y/N, don't be a chump. I'm pretty sure if Woo weren't next to you, you'd have fallen over."

You didn't have the energy to counter, and as the elevator slid open, you were the first one to march out, ready to just take a cold shower and die for the next few hours. 

Realistically, you knew that wasn't what would happen. What would happen was that you would shower, get into bed and then toss and turn for another hour or so. Only then would the adrenaline truly wear off. The weed didn't help, making you feel sleepy. 

You unlocked the door, and Doyoung and Jungwoo gawked at the sight—and size—of your bed. It could probably fit all three of you easily. 

Since only one room would spark rumors, the manager usually booked two: one for Doyoung and Jungwoo and one for you. Your room always went unused. Usually, you would have to push Doyoung's and Jungwoo's beds together to make enough room, leaving an awkward and uncomfortable dip for the person in the middle. Whoever got the middle was handed the terrible double edged sword: cuddles galore, but a sore back in the morning. 

Immediately Jungwoo jumped onto the bed, gasping and immediately laughed gleefully as the bed sloshed underneath him. 

"A water bed!?" He exclaimed, splaying out his limbs. "Oh, far out. You really lucked out, dollface." 

He kicked off his shoes and curled up in the middle, eyes fluttering shut. You followed, sitting at the side as you peeled off your white leather go-go boots. Throwing yourself down next to him, you sighed at the sensation of waves beneath you, and nodded. "Oh, this is ace," You murmured, "Feels great."

Peeling one eye open as Jungwoo wrapped his arm around you, your gaze landed on Doyoung, who was still leaning against the wall. You beckoned him over with a hand. "C'mere, princey." 

He made sure that the air conditioner was working before sitting down on the other side of Jungwoo, for which you were grateful. The still drying sweat on the back of your neck and on your chest started to cool instantly. You and Jungwoo giggled as Doyoung’s weight sent waves rippling beneath you.

"So, are you guys gonna sleep or what?" Doyoung asked, kicking his shoes off as well and peeling off his denim jacket. His eyes were still wide open and he didn't look tired at all. "I'm probably staying up a little later, I have some ideas for some lyrics I want to get down—"

"I would love to sleep. But I can't," Jungwoo declared before glancing knowingly at the both of you, "and neither can either of you." 

You hummed in agreement. "Hmm, you're not wrong. Too much energy left."

You turned to bury your face into his chest. His forest green short-sleeved button up was only buttoned up halfway, easily revealing his collarbones. He smelled like pot, sweat, and designer cologne. His chest rumbled as he continued to speak. 

"What about you, bunny boy? You can't tell me you don't still feel it."

"The weed or the concert jitters?" Doyoung's voice was raspy, cautious. He had a feeling he knew where this conversation was going. Once you and Jungwoo ganged up on him, it wouldn't take long to wear him down.

"Both," You and Jungwoo said in unison. You laughed at the sound. Doyoung chuckled as well, and you cracked your eyes open, despite how cozy you felt with Jungwoo stroking the skin of your nape.

"Well, the jitters are still there. That's why I'm staying up. As for the weed… well, yeah. I still feel it."

Jungwoo sighed. "How's the weed hitting you, though?"

"Honestly?" Doyoung's eyes met yours, and you felt something simmer in your chest. He huffed, deciding to take a bite of the apple, and leaned towards the both of you. 

"The weed, plus watching you two perform… Safe to say I'm pretty fuckin' horny right now."

You bit your lip, giving him a sleepy grin. "Oh, Woo, we turned him on." The teasing tone wasn't missed despite the sleepiness in your tone. 

"And what about it?" Doyoung asked, leaning back on his hands. "You can't say that watching Jungwoo do the thing doesn't get you going."

"I have a thing?" 

"We all have a thing, Woo. Princey's over there is at the end of Mr. Jones' Motorcycle. You know, when he finishes the solo? He always throws his head back, because there's sweat and hair in his eyes. You can see his neck and shit..."

Jungwoo blinked. "Shit, that is his thing… What's mine?"

You raised an eyebrow at Doyoung. "His is the thing where he gets so into it that he throws his head back and plays, and still manages to get every bass note right, right?" 

Doyoung nodded with a satisfied hum. "Gets you going, right?"

You brought a hand up to Jungwoo's chest, slowly sliding it down his stomach. Your voice lowered to a raspy murmur, and Jungwoo's hand tightened around your waist. "Damn right it does." 

"And plus, you both have told me that watching me put together the drum kit is hot."

"'Cause it is!" Again you laughed as Jungwoo said the same thing you did. 

"Jungwoo." Doyoung's voice sounded thicker. "You can't tell me that Y/N isn't an absolute vixen on stage." 

"You're right," The younger man answered, voice gruff. His hand slid down, gripping your butt and giving it a light squeeze, before directing his words at you. "Oh! Y/N, your thing is when—you know how every time you play the transition from Calabasas to Saturn’s Rings you sway your hips and flip your hair back and forth? Sometimes you’ll look at me or at Doyoung while you do, and you looked at me tonight. You're a little tease up there, dollface."

Your breath hitched at their words. “Oh, yeah?” You goaded, cuddling further into Jungwoo’s chest. You let a coy smile grace your face as your eyes fluttered shut. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Don’t be a brat,” Doyoung growled.

“No, Doie,” Jungwoo hummed. He suddenly sounded a lot more awake. “...What would you have her do about it?”

Your eyes fluttered open, swallowing despite the sudden dryness in your throat. Doyoung's pupils were still blown wide, but you were pretty sure it wasn't because of the weed. He licked his lips. "Princess, get on your knees." 

Jungwoo prompted you up, pulling you up to stand at the side of the bed. Doyoung circled around the bed, before standing next to Jungwoo. Your gaze fluttered between your two boyfriends, one looking stern, the other looking like he was having the time of his life. 

Quietly, you lowered yourself to kneel on the plush carpet, fingers gripping the silver fabric of your dress' skirt to hike it up, so that you wouldn't kneel on it. Your hands itched to reach for them but you knew you needed to ask for permission. "Can I touch you?" 

Doyoung smiled, reaching for his belt. "There's our good girl," He said. Your mouth was already watering embarrassingly as you helped him undo his belt, pulling him out of his boxers. He was already half hard, and as you lifted your hand to spit in it, someone grabbed you gently by the rest. Jungwoo leaned over, turning your hand to reveal your palm to him. His eyes seemed to burn into yours as he let his spit fall into the palm of your hand. You felt your legs close, thighs trying to rub together at the sight. 

"Go on," Jungwoo murmured, using a hand on your jaw to move your head. Your eyes fell on Doyoung's cock again, slowly getting harder and harder. Your hand wrapped around it, stroking slowly as you met his smoldering gaze. You stroked him until he was rock hard in your grip, and his breathing turned heavy. Again, you swallowed, and Doyoung noticed this time. 

“What is it, princess? You want it in your mouth?”

“Yes, please,” You whispered, eyes wide. He chuckled breathily, head tipping back as you ran your thumb over the slit. His eyes met Jungwoo’s, who was palming himself through his pants.  

“What do you think, baby?” He asked him.

“Don’t be mean, Doyoung,” Jungwoo said softly. “Look at her, she’s desperate. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You whined, nodding. The pair chuckled. Jungwoo grinned at the state you were already in. “Go ahead, dollface. Give it a kiss.”

Before Doyoung could say anything else, you took his dick into your mouth, and let out a soft moan at how heavy he felt, hot and pulsing. He let out a guttural groan of your name, a hand burying itself in your hair. His other hand gripped Jungwoo’s shirt, pulling him forward to meet in a tongue-filled kiss. 

Slowly, Doyoung’s hips started rocking back and forth, grinding into your mouth. Your hands stroked what you couldn’t fit, as well as his balls. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to relax so as to not gag on his length. But when he sped up, it became too much to avoid. 

A tap on your shoulder, and Doyoung let you off of his cock. You turned your head to look up at a very flushed Jungwoo, who had pulled his dick out of his pants as well. The words, “Me too?” tumbled out of his swollen lips. And with that gentle, breathy tone, who were you to disobey?

You wrapped your lips around Jungwoo, who hissed at the sudden heat of your mouth. From there, something primal inside of you took control, wanting nothing more than to please—you took turns sucking them off and stroking them, the muffled sounds of their moaning spurring you on.

It was always like this—during sex, Doyoung was the meaner one, manhandling you and throwing degrading words in your face that made your stomach curl in sick pleasure. He was the one who could put you in your place when you became too bratty to handle. Jungwoo was gentler, but he was all too content to watch Doyoung toss you around. He would always swoop in after Doyoung took you apart, and piece you back together. He’d tell you how good you were, how good you made the both of them feel, and while he definitely didn’t treat you like fragile porcelain, he definitely didn’t leave as many bruises as Doyoung did. 

And then, when they were both done, they’d shower you in kisses, and whisper in your ear how grateful they were to love you, and say some philosophical thing about eternal love and the cosmos that you’d always be too fucked out to comprehend, but that made your heart do a backflip regardless. 

“Shit,” Jungwoo groaned, pulling away from Doyoung’s lips. “Y/N, I’m gonna cum.” 

You pulled off of Doyoung to look up at Jungwoo. “In my—in my mouth, please, Woo.”

He nodded, licking his lips as his hands fisted themselves in your hair, gripping but not pulling as he allowed you to touch him the way you wanted. His hands gathered the loose strands into a makeshift ponytail, using it to guide your mouth up and down his hot cock. His hips bucked into your willing mouth, the sound of his hissing and his moaning getting louder and louder, until… 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Y/N… Y/N!" He groaned, as he came into your mouth. His head tipped back, which gave Doyoung access to his neck, pressing sloppy kisses to the skin. This sight was worth the bitter taste that coated your tongue: one of your lovers in ecstasy while the other anchored him to the ground. 

He left his dick in your mouth for a moment, before pulling out with a shaky breath. Doyoung pulled away, letting him breathe. As Jungwoo caught his breath, Doyoung pulled you up, and he sat on the bed, bringing you down with him to straddle his lap. 

You turned your head to face Jungwoo, who smiled at you, coming closer to the both of you. One of his hands patted the top of your head. "That was wicked," He said. 

Doyoung smiled softly, and gripped your chin to get you to face him. His sweet grin didn't disappear as his grip forced your mouth open. He groaned at the sight of your tongue coated in Jungwoo's semen. 

"Gorgeous," He mumbled, eyes trained on your lips as it began to spill out. 

"Kiss her," Jungwoo told him, "You know you want to."

So he did, his tongue almost immediately slipping past your lips to get a taste of Jungwoo for himself, swallowing it down greedily. Your hands came up to unbutton his black dress shirt, and his hands pushed up the skirt of your dress to get you to rock your hips against his. You gasped against his mouth at the feeling of only your soaked panties separating him and you, before pushing the shirt off of him. 

He moved to lie you down on the bed. As he pulled away from you, you caught his tongue slipping out to lick at a dribble of Jungwoo's cum on his lips. To make matters even worse, the bed was rolling beneath you, making your head spin. 

Jungwoo pulled his shirt off before he sat down behind you. Meanwhile, Doyoung moved down your body, parting your legs. He prompted you to sit up, resting your back against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your earlobe as Doyoung peeled your underwear off of you, biting his lip at the sight of your drooling pussy. 

"You're absolutely drenched, princess. And all from sucking our cocks, huh?"

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as Jungwoo's lips began kissing along your jaw. When you didn't say anything, Jungwoo pinched your sides gently. "Use your words, doll," He whispered. From behind you, his eyes met Doyoung's. "You're gonna keep being our good little girl, right?"

"Y-yes, Jungwoo." Your hand lifted itself to press against his cheek, a silent plea for more kisses. He smiled against your skin. 

"Atta girl," He praised, "On your best behavior for us tonight, huh?" 

"The little slut's just being good because she wants to get fucked, Woo. Don't get it twisted." 

"Please, Doie," You pleaded at the mention of being fucked, "Need it."

The older man chuckled lowly, pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit. 

"Told you."

His tongue pressed itself against your hole, and you immediately cried out. You would have immediately started grinding against Doyoung's face if it weren't for Jungwoo's hands on your hips, holding you down and keeping it still. 

"I don't think you wanna do that," He murmured. His hands travelled underneath your skirt, gripping the silvery blue gossamer as he tried to lift it up. You did your best to keep your squirming at a minimum as you tried to help him get you out of it. Finally, the bell sleeves were pulled off, and you were left naked as the day you were born.

Jungwoo’s hands moved to your breasts, playing with them as he watched you whimper at the sensation of Doyoung’s mouth working at your folds. When he slipped his tongue inside, you keened, head falling against Jungwoo’s shoulder. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” He whispered. 

Your chest heaved, squirming up and down as he began to tug and pinch your nipples, calloused fingertips making you cry out.

Doyoung’s free hand gripped your thigh, and his fingers on the other hand slipped inside when he pulled his tongue out. Immediately, he plunged in two fingers, curling his fingers as he attempted to search for that one special spot.

"Ngh, Doie, faster, pleasepleaseplease." Your legs were trembling slightly now. 

"So fucking slutty," Doyoung mumbled, chuckling wickedly, "And all I had to do was stick my fingers inside." 

He complied with no protest, and the sensation of Doyoung stroking your walls and Jungwoo continuously pawing at your breasts caused a string of moans to come pouring out of your mouth. Jungwoo had been sucking a bruise into your clavicle, but leaned up to press his lips against yours. 

"Don't want anyone hearing what's meant for Doie and I," He said, lips brushing yours. 

The idea made you even needier, the double entendre making your head spin. Jungwoo didn't want anyone to hear you because if they did, rumors would spread. And on top of that? He didn't want anyone to hear. You were theirs. They were yours. This was a sacred ritual between bodies meant to be witnessed by only the three of you.

Your head felt like you were floating, even though your limbs felt like they were sinking into the watery mattress. A coil began to tighten in your stomach, and your soft whines, muffled by Jungwoo's plush lips, increased in pitch. 

They both knew what this meant, because a second later, Doyoung removed his fingers from your core, and Jungwoo pulled away, his hands moving from your breasts to rest on Doyoung's atop your hips. You were left reeling and breathing heavily, that familiar sensation floating away.

When you looked down at Doyoung, you swallowed at the sight of his lips, chin and fingers, all glistening with your wetness.

He lifted himself up off the mattress, and proceeded to sandwich your chest in between his own chest and Jungwoo’s back. He gripped his dick, rubbing it against your folds, which were now even more soaked than before.

"Tell me how much you want it, princess." He pressed his forehead against yours, hissing when the tip caught your clit. You let out a desperate whine, clinging to his broad shoulders. 

"Do—Doyoung, please fuck me," You begged, reeling at the sensation. He was so close, all he had to do was slide in. But he refused.

"Not good enough," He insisted.

"Doyoung, don't be mean," Jungwoo said, but he seemed to be more amused by your desperation than anything.

"No, I wanna hear how much she needs us."

You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to gather your words. Jungwoo's hands stroked your sides, trying to calm you down. "You doing alright, doll? You wanna take a breather?"

"We can always stop." Doyoung's voice had turned stable, secure, safe. He started pulling away, until you grabbed him by the forearm and shook your head. You opened your eyes, seeing concern in his eyes

“No,” You mumbled, “Jus’ want some water. Think there’s some in the minibar. ‘M really hot.”

Doyoung nodded, getting up and striding over to the small refrigerator on the other side of the room. He pulled out a water bottle, and popped open the cap before passing it to you. Jungwoo had taken to fanning your face lightly with his hand. You took several long swigs of water, before setting it on the nightstand.

“I’m fine,” You promised. “Can we please keep going? I can take it.”

Doyoung pressed a kiss to your temple. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yeah,” You said with a nod. 

“Doyoung,” Jungwoo murmured, “Be careful.”

“I know, baby." He lowered his eyes to study your face. "I won’t go that hard on you, Y/N.”

You nodded, even though deep down you wanted to protest. You knew that this was probably the best route to take. You could already feel the high—from the weed and the concert—wearing off. You knew that if Doyoung were too rough you’d probably crash on the way down instead of float.

So, Jungwoo brushed some stray hair out of your sweaty face, and Doyoung grabbed your legs gently, wrapping them around his hips. Slowly, Doyoung eased in, and you sighed in satisfaction of finally being filled. He bit into your shoulder, taking deep heaving breaths as he let you get used to the sensation. Jungwoo took turns pressing kisses to the top of your head and the top of Doyoung’s head. 

“I love you both so much,” He whispered, “I’m so grateful the universe brought us together.” 

Doyoung looked up at him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “My baby,” He murmured against Jungwoo’s lips. He then turned to you and did the same, “My princess.”

You smiled at their words, but the need in your core was becoming unbearable. "Doie, Woo, I love you both so much," You murmured, "But Doyoung, if you don't move I'll pin you down and do it myself."

"And you were doing so well," Doyoung groaned with a laugh, before beginning to thrust his hips. It was a slow, torturous glide, and the way it caused the bed to rock left you dizzy in the best possible way. Doyoung was panting into your ear like some sort of beast, and you were whining softly with every cant of his hips.

"You must feel so good right now, huh, doll?" 

"Jung—woo," You moaned, clawing at his bicep.

"I know, dolly, I know." He sounded sympathetic enough, but the way he was grinding his dick against your ass suggested otherwise. "Bunny boy is just so good with those hips of his, hm?"

"H-he is!" You cried, "Feel so full, ah, Doyoung!" 

Doyoung's eyes met yours, and his hips picked up their pace, until your eyes rolled up into your head. Your head thrashed side to side, leaning against Jungwoo's shoulder. His mouth lowered once again to kiss at your neck, and your hand wrapped itself against his nape, while the other gripped Doyoung's shoulders.

Jungwoo's hands slithered down to where you and Doyoung were connected, and started rubbing at your clit. You shrieked, chest arching. Doyoung hissed. "Shit, do that again," He bit out, "Fuck, princess you just got so tight."

"D-Doie, harder!" 

Doyoung looked up at Jungwoo, the two having an unspoken conversation. A second later, Jungwoo gave a cautious nod. Doyoung smiled, before he adjusted his legs. Then…

Then. He began pounding into you at a breakneck pace. Your legs tightened around him, wanting him even deeper than before. 

"You love this, don't you? Our pretty little slut." His voice was tighter now, panting with exertion. You nodded. 

"Yes, yes! I'm your slut!" 

Doyoung grinned, before locking lips with you. His tongue dipped into your mouth, before letting you do the same to him. You could tell he was starting to feel something—he always kissed you or Jungwoo as a way of telling you he wouldn't last much longer. 

Truthfully, you could feel it coming too—your body felt like it was on fire, and your hips couldn't stop squirming. Whether it was towards Jungwoo's calloused fingers on your clit, Doyoung's cock, or away from both, you couldn't tell. Your moans were getting shriller too.

You clenched down on his length again, and he grit his teeth, grunting as his pace turned sloppy.

"C-c'mon, princey," You pleaded, "Give it to me, give it…"

"Shit, yes…" His head lolled onto your shoulder. "Gonna stuff you so full, princess, you'll be dripping—"

"Please! Oh, please—"

The two of you fell apart almost at the same time, your orgasm triggering Doyoung's a second later. Your mouth fell open, legs trembling and heart pounding as waves crashed over and under you.

When you came down, Doyoung rolled off of you, turning onto his side to watch you and Jungwoo. Jungwoo, who ceased the movements of his hands and slowly laid you down. Your head landed against the pillows, and you let your eyes shut as you caught your breath. 

"Can I take care of you one last time, doll?" You heard Jungwoo say. Your eyes opened blearily, and you reached a hand out towards him, legs parting of their own accord.

Both of your lovers groaned at the sight of your pussy, Doyoung's cum brimming from your folds. 

"Absolute perfection," Jungwoo murmured, crawling between your legs. He gripped his dick with one hand, the other swiping through your folds, and you immediately whined at the sensitivity there, teetering the fine line between pleasure and pain.

"Please," You whimpered, "Woo, I want it."

"You're insatiable." He sounded so affectionate, so in love. You watched as his eyes studied his index and middle fingers, covered in a mix of Doyoung's cum and yours, before dipping them into his mouth to lick them clean. You sighed, a dopey smile gracing your features. He lowered himself down to brush noses with you, dark eyes blown wide, wide awake despite the dark circles underneath.

"Guess I'll just have to do something about that."

He slid in as if he was coming home, immediately setting a solid pace that had you seeing stars, arms wrapping around his shoulders to lock hands at his nape. The sensitivity left you pliant in his arms, and Jungwoo didn't hesitate in cradling you in his arms.

"So good for us, Y/N. Always Doie and I's sweet girl." 

You nodded, tears brimming at your eyes at the heaviness in your chest, the pulsing in your core. His hair was falling into his eyes, and you lifted your hands to his face, doing your best to brush it away. Your hands cupped his cheeks, heavy eyes burning into his. Your hips were rutting against his desperately now, wanting nothing more than to feel that high with him.

Jungwoo pressed a brief kiss to your neck, feeling something simmer in his gut embarrassingly fast. 

Doyoung placed his head next to yours, gently lifting Jungwoo's head to kiss him, hand brushing the other man's ass. When he pulled away, he kissed you as well, and Jungwoo's mouth pressed itself to one of your nipples. You keened against Doyoung's mouth, hips losing all semblance of grace.

Here, you were needy, animalistic, running on instincts, and your boys were drinking it up like water from a desert oasis. 

Doyoung pulled away, a thin trail of spit connecting his lips to yours. His hands cradled your head.

"Can you feel it yet, princess?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, silent moans falling from your lips. "Ah, yeah, Doie… s-so close…"

"Me too," Jungwoo groaned between your breasts, "So wet, Y/N…"

"That's from all the cum she's filled with, right, princess?"

You nodded. "Mm—ngh! Stuffed me so good, Doie." 

"Yeah? You gonna let Jungwoo fill you up even more? Gonna keep it all inside, right?"

Your stomach did a backflip, and you felt your toes curl. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, I want it—"

"I'll give it to you, doll," Jungwoo growled, "It's all—fuck—all yours. S-same way this is all for us, right?"

Those words were what caused you to finally fall over the edge. Your high was so intense that you could have sworn that your ears popped—clawing at Jungwoo’s shoulders, your eyes squeezed shut. Only one side ended up scratched, since you always kept your right hand nails short to properly play guitar. You sobbed against Doyoung’s lips, and he eagerly swallowed up your cries, shushing you gently as you came back down.

You didn't feel Jungwoo come inside, but you felt it immediately afterwards—the satisfying stickiness, the warmth in your stomach. 

You looked at Jungwoo, pressing a soft kiss to his sweaty forehead before prompting him to move off. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you towards him as his little spoon, peppering kisses to your cheek and whispering how good you were. The two of you looked at Doyoung. You reached out, making grabby hands at him. His eyes were drooping, and he was blinking blearily as if he were trying to fight off sleep.

Still, he got up and pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, as well as his lighter. As he sat back down on the bed, the waves sent you and Jungwoo further and further into the recesses of slumber. As consciousness left you, you caught Doyoung looking down at the two of you as if you were the most precious beings he'd ever encountered. His tone was low and grumbly, but there was a glint of smug satisfaction in his eye.

"I hope you two are happy. I can't remember those goddamn lyrics anymore." 

[inkmemes]

ryan  ross  lyric sentence  starters ↪  taken  from  various  songs  he’s  written,  lyrics  he’s  sung,  &  poetry  he’s  penned.  trigger  warnings  for  mentions  of  sex,  cheating,  drugs.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“so close …”

“i am composing a burlesque.”

“i'm all alone in an afterglow.”

“but we haven’t even met yet.”

“this war ain't gonna fix itself.”

“you can’t be lonely.”

“you're gonna have to dig your way out.”

“she was nowhere to be seen.”

“some people never change.”

“i know i broke your heart. mine is broken too.”

“i'm carving pumpkins.”

“i'm afraid that i may have faked it.”

“though you tried to cut me down it wasn’t deep enough.”

“this may call for a proper introduction.”

“i know it’s mad.”

“all the lights are on, but no one's home.”

“a year ago, i was dreaming of where i am now.”

“charm your way out.”

“we're all too small to talk to god.”

“you’re invited.”

“it's not so pleasant.”

“if you're going, then go.”

“i was suspicious and naive.”

“we're still so young, desperate for attention.”

“things have changed for me, and that's okay.”

“that's the spirit.”

“watch your mouth.”

“it started with a simple kiss.”

“don't you move.”

“what a wonderful caricature of intimacy.”

“we'll never go hungry.”

“praying for love in a lap dance and paying in naivety.”

“i lie in silence and feel like a fool.”

“grab your hat and fetch a camera.”

“your eyes are the size of the moon.”

“it's time for us to take a chance.”

“you should take this heart of mine.”

“how did i get here in the right from wrong?”

“i know it just doesn't feel like a night out.”

“it just made her more interesting.”

“she didn't even see me.”

“do you know what i mean?”

“i'm wrecking this evening already, and loving every minute of it.”

“i sure do make an easy target.”

“someone i love loves someone else.”

“don't bother waiting up.”

“don’t you go down.”

“you vanished when you'd gotten what you came here for.”

“would it be alright if we just sat and talked for a little while?”

"when did he get all confident?"

“you know it will always just be me.”

“i feel the same.”

“all my forgotten poems are a joke.”

“she'd wanna kiss you all the time.”

“i want a big celebration.”

“i'll ignore my heart and lie to the truth.”

“film the world before it happens.”

“that's just ridiculously odd.”

“it grows like fancy flowers.”

“he tried to save the calendar business.”

“i wonder if this was physical or if it could have been in my head.”

“i wouldn't be caught dead in this place.”

“you're pulling the trigger all wrong.”

“i saw you, i met you, i loved you.”

“so let me set you free.”

“i'm aware that you're scared of my heart, but it's here.”

“northern downpour sends its love.”

“you better put that pen to paper.”

“if you're gonna preach, for god sakes, preach with conviction.”

“haven't you heard that i'm the new cancer?”

“i know i broke your heart.”

“i am something velveteen.”

“we're locked inside.”

“just don't put your teeth on me.”

“when i’m good, i’m the baddest.”

“i’m up, looking for you now.”

“you can call me tonight.”

“it sure as hell ain't normal.”

“haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?!”

“we sure are in for a show tonight.”

“can't take the kid from the fight.”

“she's got me twisted in love.”

“i could've waited for the train to come.”

“you could love me if i knew how to lie.”

“if it were me, i'd write another song.”

“i fell from the heavens as a fetish.”

“i am renewed.”

“i hope that i've still got your help.”

“take a look at what you got me into.”

“we should feed our jewelry to the sea.”

“who could ask for any more?”

“i'm pouring out my heart for paper.”

“i need to leave you but i never will.”

“i forgot how to call you.”

“just stay where i can see you.”

“it's the greatest thing that's yet to have happened.”

“i’m doing my best.”

“she didn't choose this role.”

“life is not a fairytale.”

“our loneliness will keep us warm.”

“i don't mind taking a photograph.”

“you're gonna bend until it breaks.”

“maybe something in my blood could lift my spirits up.”

“i am out of my mind.”

“imagine knowing me.”

“i hope it's where i belong.”

“is it still me that makes you sweat?”

“your speech is slurred enough that you just might swallow your tongue.”

“i must be lucky to have you be the one who loves me.”

“but who could love me?”

“you clicked your heels and wished for me.”

“give me your attention.”

“you set the house on fire.”

"man, it feels good to feel this way."

“i've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck then any boy you'll ever meet.”

“if the clouds were singing a song, i'd sing along. wouldn't you, too?”

“i know i've been wrong.”

“kissed a girl in the lobby ‘cause she asked so politely.”

“i can't get out by myself.”

“true love like ours is worth so much more than a diamond ring.”

“it never made her happy, 'cause she couldn't ever have me.”

“i do drunk dialing minus the alcohol.”

“i hope to god he was worth it.”

“he looked like he was barely hanging on.”

“why do i find myself outside at your window in the night?”

“i'd put a statue of myself upon the shelf.”

“they spill unfound from a pretty mouth.”

“ i'm going to need you to keep time.”

“you better back your shit up.”

“i think i owe it to you to try to be every hallucination you see in me.”

“you do this all the time."

“you're not what he's thinking of when he's with the other girl.”

things have changed for me.”

“this was no accident.”

“it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.”

“just sit back and relax.”

“i, for one, won't stand for this.”

“we play by donner party rules at all times.”

“the glitter is gone.”

“boys will be boys.”

“you're all that's left for me.”

“my mind is all mixed up.”

“who knew that love was a dangerous drug?”

“'she couldn't ever have me.”

“isn't this exactly where you'd like me?”

“we can play normal for a few days.”

“i ground my teeth and you bite your tongue.”

“in case i lost my train of thought where was it that we last left off?”

“it seems i’m someone i've never met.”

“i think i made you up.”

“it never gave a damn about me.”

“perhaps, i was born with curiosity, the likes of those of old crows.”

“i'm cold, i'm hungry, but i'm bored.”

“i don't want no gifts.”

“the monster mash is playing.”

“do you really even live here?”

“this kind of thing always happens.”

“you were right. i was wrong, like i always am.”

“i missed your skin when you were east.”

“i feel as if i’m a figurine.”

“every night is the same.”

“ i'm sure i didn't ruin her.”

“i could have sworn we danced slow before.”

“i'm seated and sweating to a dance song on the club's pa.”

“it's nice to think that you are always wanted.”

“am i who you think about in bed?”

“you'll never know until you're there.”

“come on, this is screaming ‘photo op’.”

“you and i will always be ‘the dream’.”

“any practiced catholic would cross themselves upon entering.”

“it was a scream when we were young and dumb.”

“i know i should've never left.”

“who can i believe?”

“she always had her fangs at my jugular vein.”

“and a few more of your least favorite things.”

“in matters of opinion, love has gone insane.”

“if i go to hell will you come with me or just leave?”

“in the house of mirrors, ain't nothing keep you safe.”

“you know that you feel it too.”

“now we're making some progress.”

“god damn, i’d hate to see what i’d do under the influence.”

“i’m only reflecting your perfections.”

“just a first kiss to face the new year.”

“we’ll sit in silence.”

“you're a regular decorated emergency.”

“euphoria is a risk on the floor.”

“she could never win me.”

“love is all i'm really after.”

“have some composure,.”

“this was a therapeutic chain of events.”

“on the hotel floor, drinking warm champagne.”

“we need to talk.”

“every word gets you a step closer to hell.”

“let me help you please.”

“i never said i missed her when everybody kissed her.”

“now i know it's just a matter of time until i make her come.”

“if the world were ending, would you kiss me or just leave me?”

“forgive me if i’m not quite ready to give them to you.”

“i want to know what everyone knows.”

“you told me not to fear the dark.”

“the weather is impeccable.”

“i don't love you, i'm just passing the time.”

“i can't help but to hear an exchanging of words.”

“love is established philosophy.”

“but it might’ve been the calm that comes before the storm.”

“let's sing it like you mean it.”

“there's a devil in the corner.”

“there’s never anything good on tv.”

“everything goes according to plan.”

“i ran from love like it was laced.”

“i guess we're back to us.”

“we can't help ourselves.”

“i remember fuckin' in the falling rain.”

“i wasn't born to be a skeleton.”

“i couldn't quit her.”

“everything's gone missing.”

“we must reinvent love.”

“i know it's sad that i never gave a damn about the weather.”

“what do i know?”

"the best part about you was me."

“check the pocket of my leather jacket.”

“i am truly made of one million glowing constellations.”

“i mean, technically our marriage is saved.”

“she's a dangerous place.”

“even the truth is wrong sometimes.”

“was it god who chokes in these situations?”

“i feel like something on strings.”

“she couldn't ever catch me.”

“i try not to think about it and you.”

“i know it's just a matter of time.”

“i can't prove this makes any sense, but i sure hope that it does.”

“you know you should take it a day at a time.”

“i never said i’d leave the city.”

“it's the greatest thing you'd ever imagine.”

“i might have lost control.”

“i'm in a rut but still adored.”

“i'll keep my distance.”

“i need to take a vacation.”

“it's almost halloween.”

“is it a fairy tale?”

“well, this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne.”

“you can't stand it.”

“i'm exactly where you'd like me, you know.”

“we were always thick as thieves, you and me.”

“maybe i will, maybe i won’t.”

“all i want to do is dig a hole with you.”

“stop stalling.”

“it truly is enough to be alive and be in love.”

“i can't believe my eyes.”

“if i were to die tonight, would you cry, or deny my place in your life?”

“you are at the top of my lungs.”

“things do like to build up and fall apart at the same time for me.”

“why can't we just be friends?"

“i never know where the evening goes.”

“i want to go where everyone feels the same.”

“i fell in love again.”

“all i do is lie.”

“they asked for it.”

“was it all a dream?”

“all your wishes, they will sink like stones.”

“i wandered through the sunshine.”

“living even one minute without you is a moment i'd rather not have to live to see.”

“i want to go where everyone goes.”

“i think that i have had enough.”

“asked to be her husband; she already had one in prison.”

“true love is scarce.”

“somehow it still came undone.”

“things are shaping up to be pretty odd.”

“is ‘young’ a word for ‘dumb’; a word for ‘fun’?”

“said i'd let you keep it forever.”

“i never said i’d leave this town.”

“guess i'm going to a party.”

“damn, this is rough.”

“someone should have told her that pretty ain't a job.”

“something changed along the way.”

“i can't convince myself that you were good for more than cheap thrills.”

“now i’m the only one to blame.”

“let's not get selfish.”

“i hardly knew a thing about you.”

“give your feet a chance, they'll do all the thinking.”

“make a name for yourself.”

“it's useless searching in the cupboards.”

“i won't cut my beard and i won't change my hair.”

“it’s just the end of the world.”

“back to the room where it all began.”

“what was it that you put into my guts?”

“what a shame.”

“we'll leave the past out to pasture.”

“i know the world’s a broken bone, but melt your headaches, call it home.”

“everybody knows it but you.”

“it looks like the end of history as we know.”

[pollyrepents]

love will make us

Warnings: John changes a diaper (puts on a show about it) and references sex.

Summary: making the most of the mundane with your gangster husband

Word Count: 2.5k of blatant favoritism

A/N: part two to the love language series! Quality time! i love john shelby! No real moment in time this is set, john’s still kicking. the teething moment is inspired by @hb-writes​ ‘s fic The Baby Whisperer 

Arthur | Tommy | Ada | Finn | Polly 

“Come sleep with me: We won't make Love, Love will make us.”

― Julio Cortázar

You listened to the baby in your arms babble to herself, her own incoherent language making her fall into a fit of giggles. You paced the floor for what felt like the hundredth time that evening and she kicked her legs, her attention turned to the stuffed bunny she had thrown to the floor.

 “Is that it? Is this what you want?” You inquired, bending down to grab the toy. She immediately pulled it to her mouth, her nose wrinkling as she bit down on the fabric as hard as a teething baby could. You brushed down her curls, cooing as she pressed her face against your chest. “I know, sweet girl.  Daddy’s going to be home soon and he’ll have the syrup that’ll make it all better.” You promised, smiling as her mumbling renewed around the soft fabric of the toy, gums rubbing against it.

 She began to whimper and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, the telltale sign of her nose scrunching up allowing you a moment to brace yourself for the noise. She began to cry again, her head thrown against your shoulder in a dramatic display of her discomfort. You sighed and started to rock in place, thankful that her siblings had evacuated the house to play with the other children in the lane. A house full of Shelby’s who could talk and walk was chaos enough, the tribulation that came along with teething would only drive complaints. Even your ever patient and curious Katie had had enough, wrinkling her nose at her little sister and shaking her head when you asked if she wanted to hold her to help her calm down.

The heavy front door swung open, thudding against the wall loudly before slamming shut. You peeked around the wall, the sight of John shrugging off his coat as he made his way toward you filling you with gratitude.

He leaned down to press a quick kiss to your cheek as he passed, making his way to the kitchen. “Why’s my girl making all that noise,eh? I can hear her out on the lane.”

“You gave her those Shelby lungs. She’s using them” You rubbed her back in soothing circles, bouncing her softly. “You missed her giggling. She was laughing up a storm by herself.” You glanced up at John’s peaked cap and he swiftly removed it, tucking it into his back pocket. “I think waiting for the teeth has made her delirious. She’s gone absolutely silly.”

“Have they?” He leaned down and narrowed his eyes at the whimpering baby, his own smile threatening to break his serious demeanor. “They made you silly, did they?”

She hiccupped, hiding her warm face against your neck.

“They’ve made me delirious.” You tutted, running a fingertip lightly down her spine. “Up at the crack of dawn and she hasn’t been down for a moment since. The moment you left her bum was sitting up in that bassinet, just waiting.”

“Let me see them then, pretty. Let’s have a look at the teeth causing all this trouble.” He tipped her chin back, gently pushing her cheeks together with his index finger and thumb. The chubby legs against your stomach began to kick excitedly and she began to giggle, her nose scrunching up. John cooed and inspected her dribbling mouth, laughing at the tiny snort that left the child.

“She’s really lost it.” John agreed, fingers tickling at her neck. “No teeth and all that noise about it.”

“Linda says when she was waiting on Billy’s teeth a little bit of syrup helped her.” You rose an eyebrow, using your free hand to reach into his pocket.

“But there’s nothin’ in there yet.” He pulled the baby up under her arms, covering her cheeks in stubbly kisses. “My girl ought to be out there running with her brothers and sisters.” He bounced her on his hip and she gripped his pinstriped shirt, squealing happily. “All that noise can keep them in check.”

“Try and put her down for a nap.” You stretched your sore arms, feeling the slight burn from being in motion for so long. “She’ll be a riot during dinner if she doesn’t get her nap in.”

“When is she not a riot?” John stretched her above his head, grinning as she began to babble downwards toward him. She spotted you, squealing and squirming in his hand with renewed vigor 

“John, not so high.” You scolded, patting his side in passing. “You better have that damn syrup somewhere.”

“Coat pocket. Straight from Polly Gray. She sends her best.” He affirmed, holding the baby eye level. His eyebrows pinched together and he pressed his nose to her round belly and sniffed, pulling back“Oi!”

“What, John?” You made a face, trying to measure out the thick syrup on a teaspoon spoon. “You’re going to make me spill-”

“She took a fuckin shit.”

“Babies do that.” You nodded, intensely focused on the spoon. “All day.”

“You need to-”

“I’ve been changing her all day.” You tried not to smile, seeing John’s face of disgust from the corner of your eye. “You’re holding her, your turn.”

“I just got home!”

“And I just gave her to you. 

John scoffed, “You knew she shit already!”

“I didn’t, I swear!” You laughed lightly. “Bring her here, she needs the syrup.”

“Syrup and a nappy change.” He scoffed, trying to hand the baby off. You took a step back, trying to spoon the syrup into the child’s mouth from a distance. She let out a whine and John quickly pulled her close, pressing his thumb against her chin to keep her mouth shut. She scrunched up her nose and the two of you watched her carefully. As soon as she let out a sharp cry you dropped the spoon into the sink and took a few steps back, smiling at John.

“You can at least fucking hold her down while I change her then.” He grumbled, his lips against the crown of her head. “Wild little thing, she is.”

“Deal.”

“Go get set up a nappy, then.” He glared at you, trying to hide his smile in your daughter’s hair. As you passed him his hand left the baby’s back and swatted your behind.

“John!” You yelped, rubbing at your backside. “You’re so heavy fucking handed!”

“Never complained before.”

“You’re holding our baby!” You tried your best attempt at a scowl as he began to ready your daughter for changing. You pulled her changing blanket over the dresser, placing a hand over her belly when John laid her down on her back.

She looked up at you, already whimpering and trying to turn onto her belly so she could crawl away. You cooed softly, turning her back onto her back and leaning down to kiss her freckled nose. “I know, daddy’s so slow, my love.”

“If mummy has a problem she can change your smelly arse herself.” John gagged dramatically as he folded up the dirty nappy, holding your daughter’s kicking legs down with one hand as she attempted her routine grand escape. “For fuck’s sake-”

“She’s a baby. This is torture for her.” You covered her ears, pouting at her as she hiccupped while he wiped. “How was work?”

“Fine.” He took a deep breath before leaning back down to pull a new nappy from the drawers. “Long. Busy. Stop moving, you. Not making it easier on yourself.”He pinned her nappy back in place, fingers scribbling lightly at her bare stomach. She erupted into high pitched giggles, kicking chubby feet at her father. “What did you do all day? Miss me?”

“Never.” You rebuttoned the baby’s onesie before John scooped her up to hold her close. “Some reading and chores. I should have gotten dinner started when the troops went out, but someone-” You pinched the baby’s cheek lightly and she pressed herself against John, suddenly shy. “Kept me occupied.”

“Can’t blame her for that.” John walked into the kitchen, already starting to put pans on the counter. “I’d want to be on you every chance I got too.” He adjusted the child in his arms and walked over to the bassinet in the living room. He settled her down and you watched fondly, only catching the end of what he mumbled to her.

“Put up a fight in there, eh.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her head before standing up. “Mummy and I have mummy and daddy things to do.”

You couldn’t help a laugh as he waggled his eyebrows, making his way toward you.

“Dinner, John.” You reminded, quirking your own eyebrow.

“But I’ve been away all day.” He protested.

“So have the kids.I sent them out after lunch..” You turned toward the counter, beginning to wash the vegetables that needed to be rinsed and skinned. “I bet they’ll have an appetite when they get back.”

“But I’ve been away from you all day.” His warm breath tickled your skin as he leaned down slightly to kiss along the skin of your neck.

“You have,” Your fingers gripped the carrot, dragging the knife downward toward the counter and pulling up the skin. “I worked up an appetite.”

“Doin what? Waiting on me to get home?” His voice was teetering on the roughness you loved, low and rumbling out of his chest against your back.

You turned toward him, lips just brushing his as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You leaned in, taking his ear lobe between your teeth for a brief second before whispering, “cleaning your teething daughter’s shitty nappies.”

John pulled away from you, unamused.

“Grab some potatoes, and get to cooking, Mr Shelby.” You chopped the narrow end off of the carrot, smiling at your handiwork.

The quieter moments came when the kids were in bed, on the couch.

Whiskey and John and heat, his heavy head on your lap. He read aloud the same book you read to the kids, a preview to make sure nothing in the next chapter was too scary. Your eyes attempted to focus on the newspaper on the arm of the couch beside you, fingers absentmindedly carding through his cropped hair.

“I have never seen him. But I spoke to him as he sat behind his screen and gave him your message. He said he will grant you an audience, if you so desire; but each one of you must enter his presence alone, and he will admit but one each day.” John cleared his throat as your fingers paused, blue eyes flicking away from the novel in his hands. You looked down at him and smiled slightly, beginning your ministrations again. “Therefore, as you must remain in the Palace for several days, I will have you shown to rooms where you may rest in comfort after your journey.”

“It sounds like your fucking brother.” You muttered, eyes on the day’s printed paper before you.

“No it doesn’t.” John’s eyes closed momentarily, finger saving his spot in the book.

“Sure it does.” You scratched at his scalp in slow circles. “We wait and wait and hope he’ll have some news that won’t kill you. That won’t put a bullet in you.”

“What do you want me to tell him, eh? My woman doesn’t want me doing the hard stuff anymore?” He made a move to sit up and you pressed your palm to the middle of his chest, stopping his movement.

“Your woman wants you to be okay.” You briefly tugged his hair once, sharply, making him look up at you.  “He keeps tapping into that temper of yours and I think it’ll kill you.”

“Nothing’s happening to me yet.” His hand lifted to squeeze your side gently, his hands heavy against the fabric of your nightdress. “I’m not going first. I’ll live forever, I think.”

“I’ll kill Tommy if I have to.” You began rubbing his scalp again. “If it means you do live forever.”

“The little ones will run circles around you tomorrow.” John sat up, rubbing a hand over his own hair. His tone was sharper now, the conversation over with.  “maybe we should go to bed.”

“They won’t, because you’ll be home.” You fingered the page of the paper. “Because it’s your daughter’s birthday.”

 “Fuck.” He rubbed his hand over his face, looking at you with tired eyes in the warm light of the fire. “Alright, c’mon.”

 “I’m still reading the paper-”You pulled your legs up onto the couch as John’s arm looped under your knees, attempting to stop him. “John-”

“Don’t start your hollering, you’ll wake the fuckin kids.” He grunted. He stood up, lifting you into his arms bridal style. He tightened his grip the moment you began to slip and clicked his tongue at you. “Enough, Y/N, let me-”

 “Your bones are creaking, old man!” You tried to get down, afraid of John dropping you or hurting himself. “John, you’ll pull something-”

“Yup, so stop making it fucking hard.” He grumbled, his voice slightly strained. He leaned down slightly so you could reach the table, nodding toward the whiskey bottle and the discarded novel. “Grab em, will you.”

“God forbid John Shelby go without his whiskey-watch it!” You yelped as he dropped you rather ungracefully on the bed, tucking your tight curls behind your ear.

“With my wife comes my whiskey.” He uncorked the bottle, taking a sip and handing it off to you again. John stripped himself of his trousers and button down, leaving him in boxers and an undershirt. He nodded toward the book again, digging around the bedside drawer.

“Don’t smoke in bed.” You reprimanded, knowing there was no use most of the time.

“Start reading, then.” He tossed his lighter back into the drawer and the corner of your lip turned upwards at your small victory. “Give me something to do.”

You squinted at the page, the letters out of focus and small. John reached his hand out, your thin framed glasses in his palm.

You began to protest, “I can see just fine! I don’t need- 

“Just put the fuckin things on, please.” He tossed them in your lap and came to lie down beside you. “You’ll give yourself a headache.”

“Fine.” You shoved the frames onto your nose, batting John’s hand away as he reached out to pinch your cheek.

“You look so sweet like that.” he cooed. “Like a sweet old teacher. I’d be sweet on you.”

You scoffed, eyes scanning the page.“Prick.”

“Maybe if you ask nice.” John smirked beside you, tugging you down by your waist to rest against his chest.

He pressed a kiss to the pulse point behind your ear, nuzzling his stubbly cheek and chin against your skin.

“Alright-I found it!” You giggled, bringing your shoulder up to block him. You elbowed him in the side and he snorted. “Behave-and listen! I want to make sure this book won’t scare Sarah and Katie.”

You cleared your throat, shifting your position so you were leaned against him, the book visible to both of you. He pulled the covers up, tucking them in around your waist as you began to read, “Thank you,’ replied the girl ‘that is very kind of Oz.”

[mego42]

good girls appreciation week 2021: day 2 // places and spaces: pwp in the paper porcupine

for places and spaces day, i’m going back in time to celebrate one of my fav show locations: the paper porcupine, specifically the back room.

if there is one thing above all else i am a truly desperate heaux for, it’s a good art room. what can i say? i spent my formative years haunting them and there’s something about a paint/ink/god knows what splattered work table that does it for me. add in a mechanical printing press? nirvana, truly.

so without further ado, allow me to rec some fics that use the space as god intended.

one thing that always stands out to me about this fic is how well it captures the snap, crackle and pop between beth and rio

it opens with them literally giving each other the silent treatment while still hanging out alone for hours on end in the paper porcupine while beth prints for weeks

yes that weeks includes the mutual stubborn silence

iajs that’s the kind of petty that really makes this ship shine

and then when they break, the nasty, bitter reckoning that spills out only serves as foreplay for a hookup that perfectly captures that half bitter antagonism, half desperation to reconnect dichotomy that characterized their s3 dynamic

in addition to a fantastic hook up, the back and forth banter and energy is really what makes this fic shine

1000000/10

fav quote:

“You’re a shit shot,” he says instead, so close now their chests are grazing with every intake of breath.

“I had a shit teacher. Kinda full of himself.”

Read on AO3

is it that i love pp back room hook ups or the post 213/rio’s return from the dead angsty tension? who can say, really

(both, both is good)

whatever it is, have another!!! this fic is specifically a take on the missing scene from the infamous 304 money-making promo i mean montage

what DID they do while they waited for the pulp to dry?????

the tone of this one leans a little more heavy than the previous rec as beth and rio grapple with the bitter weight of everything between them and how it’s made that much more complicated by how present the good parts of their history are as well, and how much they can’t/don’t want to escape either

idk guys, that juxtaposition is the specific flavor of angst i live for

i also love love love that in this one rio’s the one poking at the open wound of their relationship and i love that it’s the key to beth unlocking and airing some of her own grievances. communication! who knew!?

fav quote:

“I like watchin' you work.”

Me too. She wants to say. I like you watching me too. She wants to say. But her mouth is dry and her voice doesn't work so she‘s silent.

“I fuckin' hate that I like it.”

Read on AO3

how do i love this fic, let me count the ways (jk we’ll be here all day bc i love it a lot)

remember how i said my favorite flavor of angst is the kind that runs on a combo of bitter and poignant memory? well boy howdy does this fic nail that like whoa

while this fic is much more sprawling than just hooking up in the pp, that is both where it starts-ish AND a returned to feature including an A++++ negotiation for a new and better blender

points deducted for mention of the keyhole sweater (I KID!!!!!!!) (not about hating the keyhole sweater, it looks so itchy idk why, but about the points deduction)

basically, to cap it off, this is one of my fav rio pov fics, it does such an incredible job capturing this completely exasperated, vaguely pissed off about it, but also kind of desperately into it vibe that feels so exactly right for a later s3 era rio starting to realize how deep his feelings for beth may in fact go and losing his mind about it and i love it a lot

plus the anti-beth list of hook up criteria remains i think one of my favorite things in any brio fic ever, so

and this is all just ch 1, i’m still not ready to talk about ch 2 but just know i think about the bit in the shower a normal amount

fav quote:

No women between 5’7 and 5’10, ‘cause Elizabeth’s height fluctuates dependin’ on her shoes.

No women with doe eyes, doesn’t matter the color, ‘cause she’s all he sees when he looks into ‘em.

They can’t drink bourbon or tequila shots, and shit, it’s not even the things she likes, but the things she doesn’t, too—which means no women nursin’ a chard or a rosé, either.

If they’re got a flower printed or embroidered or embossed anywhere on their person, they’re out.

He’s left women in parkin’ lots for drivin’ vans, and said goodnight ‘cause they carry a large brown purse.

Read on AO3

like i was gonna leave the iconic brio try butt stuff fic off of the list

what i really love about this fic, aside from the fact that it’s hot af, is how well it captures the competitive aspect of beth and rio’s dynamic and how they’re always playing a game and trying to score points against each other

in this version it’s on the playful, almost, dare i say, affectionate end of the spectrum and the way it’s woven throughout gives the fic an extra spark that makes the story an absolute delight

this is also like, the peakest of peak beth, i.e. blurts out something she didn’t mean to and then not only will she gnaw her own arm off before admitting a mistake or defeat but she’s actually gonna flip this whole thing around and lean in as hard as she can and be the absolute best

i also love how rio immediately gets on her level and takes it just as seriously as she is but still finds ways to tease her, without like, teasing her (this makes sense shut up)

what i’m trying to say is the characterization is flawless throughout and captures all of the best things about them and their dynamic perfectly and i love it thank you and goodnight

fav quote:

It’s playful, more of a game than anything else. It’s just that he tends to be a bit more agreeable when she’s sucking him, just a bit more willing to be persuaded when he’s inside her. Usually, she’s asking for something small, like a new blender or a larger supply of singles, something she knows he won’t say no to. Beth has fun with it, daydreaming up some pretext or another while she’s printing. It’s easier this way, to pretend that what they’re doing is nothing more than a transaction.

To pretend it really is just business.

And if he lingers when they’re done—to kiss her and hold her and laugh with her—well, it means nothing if she doesn’t think about it.    

Read on AO3

[vennilavee]

stormy skies

pairing: levi x reader, and baby kaiya

summary: it’s not the first time you’re home late from work.

word count: ~2260

warnings: a shitty boss, some cursing

a/n: wrote this because i couldnt sleep last night due to the current us election... enjoy

***

Levi peeks his head into Kaiya’s bedroom, and sees her fast asleep in her bed. She’s surrounded by pillows, her lion stuffed animal, as well as her butterfly, shark, and flower pillow. It’s been about an hour since she fell asleep for her afternoon nap. 

He thought he heard a noise on the baby monitor, but it was nothing. Just her shifting in bed.

Her face is squished into the pillow and Levi can’t help the small upturn of his lips at the sight.

Kaiya’s already almost two years old, and neither you nor Levi can quite believe it. Levi claims that she’s the spitting image of you, but you claim the opposite.

You’re both right.

Levi’s career allows for him to work from home for most days. You and Levi had spent the better part of two weeks setting up his office, back when you had first moved into your new home. Before Kaiya was born. He has two monitors on his mahogany desk, a sleek keyboard and an even sleeker mouse with his laptop plugged into the dock.

A photo of you and a photo of Kaiya sits next to the monitor on the left, and a photo of the three of you next to the monitor on the right. The baby monitor is in front of him, just in case Kaiya wakes up before she is supposed to.

He’s eager for Kaiya to wake up and for you to come home, and he puts his glasses on to get to work and hopefully end his day early.

***

Levi shoves a hand in his hair, expelling a deep sigh as he logs out of work. He stretches his arms and his legs, only to be alerted by a slight vibration from his phone.

It’s a text from you:

angel: gonna be late today… levi: again? angel: yes :(

Levi sighs to himself, waiting a few seconds before replying.

levi: ok, be safe 

It’s the third time this week, and he’s lost count of how many times you’ve come home late over the last few weeks. At first, it hadn’t bothered him. But then it became a habit. And then Kaiya was asking for you during dinner.

That was the first of a few fights. They usually ended with you promising that you’d be better about it and draw the boundaries you needed to draw.

And yet… 

Levi hears Kaiya waking up on the baby monitor, her soft coos and calls of ‘daddy’ and ‘mommy’ nearly echoing in the silent room. He turns the monitor off and walks upstairs to her bedroom, where he finds her sitting up. Her smile is sleepy and she makes grabby hands for him with her stuffed lion tucked under her arm.

“Daddy,” She beams at him.

“Slept well, Kai?” Levi asks and she doesn’t reply, instead tucking her face into his neck. Levi brushes his lips over her forehead as he carries her downstairs. She’s still warm from her nap, grey eyes blinking sleepily. 

Levi gets started on dinner with Kaiya on his hip and feeds her spoonfuls of sauce and bits of meat here and there, which she accepts eagerly. She smiles widely with her nose scrunched when she likes it. You’d claim that her smile is identical to Levi’s, but he disagrees.

He’d tell you that everything good about Kaiya comes from you.

Levi gets lost in his thoughts of you, wondering if you’re on your way home. He’s having trouble remembering the last time you both had gone to bed together without the melancholy of your work schedule hanging over your head.

He sighs. Kaiya hears him and looks up curiously.

“Daddy?” Kaiya says, patting his cheek, “Mama?”

“Mama’s comin’ home late, kid,” Levi says, “Again. Do you miss her?”

Kaiya lets out a sigh suspiciously similar to his.

“Yeah. Me too, kid.”

***

By the time you come home, it’s well past dinnertime. Levi had left out a plate for you, but by now, it’s cold. You kick your heels off and place them in the closet neatly, grimacing at the covered plate on the dinner table and your empty living room.

You can almost taste Levi’s disappointment. But you just want to see Kaiya, you know she’ll be able to cheer you up.

What a shitty day. Shitty week. Shitty month. With every day that goes by, you’re getting closer and closer to telling your boss to shove his foot up his ass. 

You immediately head into Kaiya’s bedroom, where you’re certain Levi is telling her a bedtime story. You’re not even sure what time it is- is she asleep? Are you too late?

You hate bringing the smell of work home, preferring to change into comfy clothes before greeting Kaiya and Levi with a kiss. But you can’t wait, not tonight. Not when you know that Levi is upset with you and when you miss Kaiya so much that you ache.

“Kaiya?” You whisper, “Kaiya, baby?”

“Mama!” Kaiya squeals, looking up from the book that Levi’s reading to her, “Hi, mama!”

You kneel next to her bed and open your arms for a hug. She jumps into your arms happily and you kiss her cheeks and her forehead as she giggles wildly.

“I missed you, baby,” You mumble, holding her close, “So much.”

You pull away and cup her cheeks tenderly, rubbing with your thumb. Kaiya only looks at you with the same disarming silver eyes that belong to Levi. Her eyes are soft when she looks at you, her grin bright and toothy.

“Daddy, story,” Kaiya says, pointing to Levi.

“Can mama join?” You ask quietly, looking at Levi.

“Don’t be stupid. Of course mama can join,” Levi murmurs, patting the spot next to him.

You don’t even admonish him for saying ‘stupid’ in front of your daughter and he says nothing about you wearing your work clothes in his daughter’s bed.

You kiss the corner of Levi’s mouth, taking his hand in his as he continues to read to Kaiya. He squeezes your hand every so often, listening to the way Kaiya gasps and giggles at the story. Levi doesn’t tell the story with much fanfare or gusto- he tells it just the way Kaiya likes. With the always present dry intonation of his voice.

You think it’s Kaiya’s favorite sound in the world.

Kaiya points at the picture in the book and giggles, looking up at you for confirmation that you can see what she’s pointing at. You hold her hand and laugh with her too, melting at the way her smile holds your world in it.

After a few more pages and a few more laughs, Kaiya begins to grow tired. She rests her head against your arm, stifling a yawn. You rub her back to lull her into sleep but she tries to stay awake.

“Are you sleepy, Kaiya baby?” You coo, kissing her forehead.

She doesn’t reply, instead closing her eyes. It only takes a few more forehead kisses and back rubs for her to fall into deep sleep. You smile at Kaiya and look at Levi, offering him a small smile as well.

“Did you eat?” Levi asks, nudging your shoulder and gesturing for you to get up.

“No, I put it in the fridge. Not really hungry. Just want to be with you and Kaiya,” You murmur.

Levi gives you a long stare and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t be stupid. Go eat. I know you probably haven’t eaten since noon. Because of your shitty boss,” Levi says pointedly.

You sigh, heading into your bedroom to change out of your work clothes and wash up before heading downstairs.

He doesn’t join you.

You eat quickly, somewhere halfway between enjoying and savoring all of the flavors and barely chewing so that you can go upstairs to talk to Levi. You wash the dishes in the sink quickly before double checking the locks and heading to your bedroom.

Levi’s in bed, reading a book and casts a look of acknowledgement to you. It feels odd, devoid of his usual affections. You know why. Because he’s upset with you.

You curl next to him, cupping his cheek to get him to look at you. Levi sighs heavily and casts his book on the nightstand.

“Your job is fuckin’ shitty,” Levi says without missing a beat, “Kaiya misses you. A lot.”

I miss you. A lot. The words hang in the air.

“I know, I’m sorry. I hate it,” You whisper, crumbling under his scorching gaze, “I didn’t want-”

“So? What are you gonna do about it?” Levi asks flatly, voice full of ice, “It’s your dream job, right?”

It unnerves you.

“Levi,” You say hollowly, “Don’t be like that-”

“Not bein’ like anything,” Levi says easily, “Your daughter fuckin’ misses her mama. This is the first time you’ve tucked her into bed properly in who knows how long- she asks for you all the time, always asking for her mama. And where is her mama? At work-”

“Levi,” You beg quietly, “Levi, stop-”

“How many times are we going to have this conversation?” Levi says hotly. You raise your eyebrows when you hear the emotion in his voice. He’s clearly been thinking this for quite some time.

“I’m sorry,” You plead, taking his hands in yours.

He pulls them away from you and your lips part in a surprised ‘o’. You’re quickly confronted with how much you’ve been hurting him.

“Levi, I’m gonna fix it. I swear- I’m gonna fix it, I’ve already talked to my boss a-and told him I can’t do this anymore-” You blubber, tears forming in your eyes.

“Can’t do what anymore?”

“The late nights-”

“Yeah, they’ll stop for what? A week? Then start back up again,” Levi scoffs coldly, “You promised you’d fix this. So fix this.”

“Levi- stop,” You mumble, “You’re being mean-”

You can’t help it- you start to cry harder, fat tears pool in your dark eyes and roll down your cheeks, as your bottom lip trembles. You let out a loud sob and turn away from him, not able to meet his eyes. Levi blinks at you, almost nervously. 

“Shit,” Levi says under his breath, “Shit-”

He wipes your tears from your cheeks and pulls you into his chest, his chin over your head. His arms are tight around you, heartbeat lulling you into calm. Neither of you say anything for a few minutes, despite the apology on the tip of his tongue.

Levi hates seeing you cry, especially when he is the cause of your tears. But he knows, even if his words were cruel, the problem still exists.

It takes a few minutes for you to breathe and for your sobs to reduce to sniffles. 

“I’m trying, baby,” You mumble, “I told him I need to scale back. But- he’s just so, fucking-“

And then you start to cry again. Levi wonders if there’s more to it than you’ve been saying. He wonders if there’s more of a problem than just late nights. Levi rubs your cheek with his thumb, giving you a few more minutes to gather your thoughts.

“Is something else going on?” Levi asks, most of the heat gone from his voice.

You’re quiet again, looking up at him. Trying to figure out how to allow the words to bubble up and leave your throat.

“What is it, angel?” He asks, cupping your chin for you to meet his eyes.

“He’s just so,” You sigh, “He’s so… mean. He talks down to me sometimes when we have group meetings- and I don’t even realize until the meeting’s been said and done. God, I hate what a boys club it is there. 

Oh, and his favorite is that one guy who always steals credit for the work that I do- and he said he’d dock my bonus if I didn’t start picking up the slack, but I am, I’m picking up everyone’s fuckin’ slack and all I’m good at doing is hurting you and hurting Kaiya- and I n-never wanted to be like that. 

I never wanted to be the person who put their career in front of their family. I should be able to have both, but not- not like this.” Your rant ends with a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over.

“Angel,” Levi breathes, kissing your forehead, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought I could handle it,” You mutter honestly, “But I can’t. I need to get out, Levi.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Levi says, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You didn’t. It’s okay, I get it. I get it.”

“I should’ve helped you. Not yelled at you.”

“How could you know? I didn’t say anything,” You scoff, slipping your hand under his shirt to rub his chest. You missed him, and this.

“Thought we said no secrets,” Levi says lightly, “No more. We’ll figure it out.”

“‘M not working for most of next week. I need a break,” You say, pressing yourself closer to Levi.

“Good. We’ll figure it out, alright?” Levi says and squeezes your hand. He dips his head for a kiss, and you can taste the sweetness of his unsaid apology.

“You, me and Kaiya?” You ask with a small smile.

Levi nods, quelling your fears with a series of featherlight kisses that deepen quickly. His hands wander your ribcage, holding you close and warming you up from within. Silver eyes melt into your brown, and you’re reassured by his steady strength.

You’ll be okay. You, him and Kaiya. You’ll be okay.

tags: @simpingmaize

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Ep 17 part one

(Masterpost of all the rewatches) (Canary’s pinboard of original content)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Inaccessible

Wei Wuxian hides in a boat among the lotuses next to a pier in Lotus Pier, the second-most-literally-named home in the show, after The Burial Mounds. This pier has a railing that goes all the way around it, without any ladders or anything. Not to be ADA on main but this means if you can't Jedi jump, you're fucked.  

Hefeng Liquor

While Wei Wuxian waits and tries, not very successfully, to keep his shit together, he hears the guards talking about the local booze that they're going to drink at their murder victory party. We learn, in a desaturated flashback (that OP has done her best to resaturate), that this is lotus-infused wine invented by Wei Wuxian during happier days. 

He kicks the flashback off with his favorite activity, Unnecessarily Erotic Beverage Drinking. (gifset) I’ve slowed this gif down so we can all appreciate the unnecessariness. The way his hand caresses that leaf OMG

Hopefully he is not drinking lake water out of that leaf. Side note: How is it possible that Xiao Zhan doesn't have a drinking water endorsement deal? I had to resort to Zhu Yilong's brand of water for this gag. I figure if it's good enough to pour directly onto a lightning burn like they do in The Lost Tomb Reboot, it's good enough for a leaf hummer chastely drinking out of a leaf

(more behind the cut!)

In his memory, Jiang Cheng tells him to stop fucking around and come help with the basket of lotus pods. Wei Wuxian responds by grabbing one for himself and then sitting his ass down and not helping. Cause he’s a motherfucking P.I.M.P.

Emotional Rescue

Wen Ning arrives on the pier with Jiang Chang, to Wei Wuxian's extreme relief. Look how much emotion Xiao Zhan is able to convey even with half of his face hidden, my lord.

Wen Ning carries Jiang Cheng on his back, in an echo of other significant piggyback rides in Wei Wuxian's life.  

Wei Wuxian's relief is at war with his fear, seeing his brother in such bad shape. Remember, these are cultivators, who heal quickly and mostly don't get their asses beat this hard. The only time Wei Wuxian has been comatose was after the Xuanwu cave, and that was probably because of his prolonged contact with resentful energy/Yin iron.

Hibernating Zidian

Wen Ning gets ready for his first, but not his last, boat ride with an unconscious Yunmeng brother in it. He tells Wei Wuxian that Jiang Cheng is pretty fucked up but isn't dead.

Then he gives Zidian to him. Before we talk about Zidian, let's talk about BAMF Wen Ning.  Wen Ning is an awkward goofball. He’s also insanely competent at just about everything--wine-drugging, dude-smuggling, corpse retrieval, dog acupuncture, drug pushing. As well as shooting rocks out of the air and, later, beating zombie ass, and resisting mind control. . 

This is the foundation of their friendship; it’s not actually about Wei Wuxian being nice to the weird kid. He initially sought Wen Ning out for the same reason he sought out weird kid Lan Wangji--his martial skill. He accepts his weirdness and is protective of him because of his missing-spirit problem, but he did not befriend him out of altruism.

Wei Wuxian is so forgiving that he can smile fondly when looking at the weapon that whipped the shit out of him a couple of days ago.

Wei Wuxian puts Zidian down right next to Jiang Cheng's hand and...nothing happens. It doesn't recognize him or spark to life. This didn't seem meaningful when I watched it the first time, but rewatching...yikes. It KNOWS.

Wei Wuxian admits, with tears in his eyes, that there is nowhere safe for him to go with Jiang Cheng, and Wen Ning immediately offers care and shelter. Even though that is putting his own life at serious risk.

Life obligation is a common theme in CDramas. It’s often something a person chooses as a way of showing love. Guardian builds an eternal romance out of two people saving each other’s lives over and over.  But accepting the obligation is a choice (in fantasy dramas, if not in real life). Love and Redemption has a gloriously harsh sequence where a life is saved, and the save-ee cooly rejects the saver.

Every time Wen Ning saves Wei Wuxian, he cites that one time that Wei Wuxian saved him from the water demon. And Wei Wuxian cites this rescue right here when he throws everything away to save Wen Ning. Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng doesn't acknowledge any debt to Wen Ning at all, only--grudgingly--to Wen Qing. And people are ok with that.

Basically all this is to say that I think Wen Ning leans into this life debt because he loves Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian leans into it because he loves him back. Non-romantically, I think...at least on Wei Wuxian’s part. YMMV.

They go to pick up Yanli from their Granny, telling her to go into hiding. She starts to cry, not knowing how she'll manage on her own. Wei Wuxian tells her that they will come back, as Wen Ning looks super unsure about that.

Of course Wei Wuxian can't know, at this point, whether they will come back. Wei Wuxian always wants to make everybody feel better, and sometimes you really can't make someone feel better except by lying. He compulsively says shit that he thinks people want to hear, almost as if he was beaten frequently and arbitrarily as a child.

Wen Ning is doing his best for the recreational boat ride industry, as he rows the Yunmeng trio through some amazingly beautiful scenery.

Core Melting Time

Meanwhile, back at Lotus Pier The Yunmeng Supervisory Office, Wen Chao is hung over, Wen Chao is angry, Yawn

For some reason, Wang Lingjiao has suddenly decided to talk to Wen Chao in the most cloying and annoying way possible. 

Also, the fact that she still addresses him as Gongzi when she is totally fucking him is kind of great. This is like those fics where Elizabeth Bennet calls Mr. Darcy "Mr. Darcy" even when they're married and hitting it. 

Wen Zhuliu demonstrates why he's called Core-Melting Hand, by punishing the wine guard. He's able to melt a guy's core by grabbing him by the throat, and also picks him up, Darth Vader style, for extra meltyness.

All that stuff I said last time about Wen Zhuliu feeling ambivalent about being a villian...yeah, he seems to have gotten that right out of his system. 

Chilling in Yiling

Wen Ning is doing his best for the recreational carriage ride industry.  Wei Wuxian, after presumably several hours in the cart, decides that now is a good time to get curious about where they are going. 

Here we start to see a new side of Wei Wuxian.  Before this he was carefree, other than specific worries about his friends. He confronted danger with lightness and humor, or with temporary fear, that he let go of once the danger passed. Now, after all the deaths and seeing Jiang Cheng so injured, he's twitchy, anxious, and angry.

Very, very angry.

When he realizes that Wen Ning has brought them to the Yiling supervisory office, he goes off, demanding to know whose home this was before the Wens took it and grabbing Wen Ning and shoving him into a decorative...decoration.  He thinks Wen Ning brought them here to harm them. 

I wouldn't have thought such a pretty dude could be so menacing, but holy crap.

The way he's confronting Wen Ning here is not his normal style. He's not trying to provoke a bigger fight like he usually does; he's not trying to create distance, the way Jiang Cheng does. He's very intimate, getting right in his face and maintaining eye contact. He trusted Wen Ning and feels personally betrayed.  

Shy little Wen Ning is remarkably calm when confronted like this. Wen Ning really isn’t afraid of anything, despite his general air of nervousness. (Full gifset of Angry WWX over here.) 

He calmly and kindly explains the situation. He doesn't appeal to Wei Wuxian's trust, saying "oh I would never;" he appeals to his logic, which gets through to him. 

Wen Qing comes out and the guards start banging on the door and Wei Wuxian flips out again, grabbing a sword and pointing it at Wen Qing as she decides what to do.  Wen Qing seems unruffled by Wei Wuxian's sword pointing, and we see her weighing up the situation.

She makes her decision, sending the guards away and deciding to help the fugitives, officially joining the Clear Conscience Club. She could probably get Wen Ning out of trouble by turning them in, but she opts to put personal loyalty and her belief in her own ideals ahead of her family's safety.

Wei Wuxian is not ok. He’s just not ok. He tries to act like it after they get settled in with Wen Qing, but he's not, and I think that plays into his next several choices. 

Next comes a whole sequence of Jiang Cheng being unconscious with pins in his head--ow--while Wei Wuxian twitchily tends to him. 

This sequence is kind of unfair to Jiang Yanli. What matters to the story here is Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian's relationship, so that’s the focus of these scenes. But really, there is no way Jiang Yanli would not be at Jiang Cheng's side unless she was literally unconscious herself. Let's assume Wen Qing stuck a needle in her to make her rest while she has a fever. Shippers should also feel free to assume that Wen Qing spent hours at her bedside, tenderly wiping her forehead and holding her hand as she recovered. In his sleep, while Wei Wuxian sits by his side, Jiang Cheng calls for his sister, mother, and father, but not for his brother. Ouch.  

Let's pause to appreciate Wei Wuxian's new outfit, which is the sort of getup most people in this society probably imagine Yiling Laozu wearing, rather than the low-key homespun stuff he actually spends his Yiling year in. This robe has fancy shoulders, shiny material, touches of Jiang purple, strange red hoody strings, and a fuckin' CAPE. He didn't bring any luggage with him from Lotus Pier, although he's still got his Yin Turtle Sword hidden in a bag of holding. So the most likely explanation is that Wen Ning hooked him up with this lewk. "Wei Wuxian is a nice person. He should have a magnificent cape."

Wen Wing and Wei Wuxian take a breather to stand on the porch and work out what their status is with each other, like a couple of fucking adults, which is amazing. Basically Wei Wuxian is ready to forget earlier Wen shenanigans, but is going to avenge Lotus Pier. 

Wen Qing isn't enthusiastic about that but doesn't argue, just asking, mostly rhetorically, if he plans to kill her too. He's uncomfortable considering that; the role of avenger isn't one that's comfortable for him, although he turns out to be extremely good at it. He does not, of course, plan to kill her too. In a few months, imprisoned in a Wen dungeon, she will be the only Wen left alive after Wei Wuxian 1.5(No-Gold Edition) and Chenqing come to visit.

Jiang Cheng finally wakes up, and the first thing he does is to test out his spiritual power by hitting Wei Wuxian as hard as he can. 

DUDE.

Look at Wei Wuxian's face, as he goes from happy, to shocked and hurt, to laughing it off. It's exactly like when Jiang Cheng shoved him in the Rock Lady temple. Has Wei Wuxian spent all of his years with Jiang Cheng going from affection, to hurt feelings, to pretending it's fine? God, I think he probably has.

This episode raises a question that will come up again later, but never be answered. That question is, what the fuck are these weird footies and why the fuck does Jiang Cheng wear them to bed?

Jiang Cheng reveals that his golden core is gone, that he can't cultivate any more, which means he can't avenge his parents or achieve any ambitions in life. Nobody has apparently given any thought to why Wen Zhuliu is called "Core-Melting Hand" before this, which is hilarious, frankly. If I fought with a guy called, for example, Brain-Eating Mouth, I think I would make certain assumptions about him and what he planned to do with my brain.

Something interesting is happening in this moment, because as he comes fully back to consciousness, Jiang Cheng pours out all of his trauma and horror to his brother, telling him about the core melting and practically wailing about his feelings over it all. And his brother understands, and ultimately finds a way to help him. What does Wei Wuxian do after his own trauma? Keeps it secret, so nobody finds a way to help him, although many people try to. So Jiang Cheng is, in this way at least...emotionally healthier than Wei Wuxian? That's unexpected.

Jiang Cheng is super upset and is mad at eternal scapegoat Wei Wuxian for saving him. Jiang Cheng would rather be dead than be a regular person. Whereas Wei Wuxian, faced with the same problem, is like, *shrug* I’ll adapt. These are both valid emotional responses to suddenly becoming disabled. Losing a golden core is definitely a disability, in this environment; it's not just about magic sword fights. Jiang Cheng's home is designed for people who can fly; Lan Wangji's home is designed for people who don't feel cold, and Wen Central is made of actual lava, for example. 

Jiang Cheng is already struggling with a lot of difficulties. He was raised by shitty parents, he's got anger management issues, he has a crushing weight of responsibility. And now he's also lived through the deaths of most of the people who matter to him. If sword cultivation is the one thing that gives him joy in life (ok one of two things, obviously fashion also gives him joy because he WORKS it), he can't reasonably be expected to rally when it's taken away.  

Oh, honey. Oh, baby boy. 

Wen Qing picks the worst moment to come in and tries to tend to Jiang Cheng, who starts off being devastated that the girl he likes is seeing the wreck he's become, and then moves along to helpless rage when he remembers that she's a Wen, and he screams at her to get out.  

Jiang Cheng is not able to put personal loyalty ahead of clan loyalty like Wei Wuxian is. Partly this is his nature, and partly it's his role as the lineal descendant of the clan leader. As a firstborn son of a gentry family, his destiny as clan leader is in his blood, and so is his responsibility to the clan. When Wei Wuxian praises Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen for caring less about bloodlines than about shared ambition, he is speaking from the position of someone who's bloodline ain't shit. Jiang Cheng will never be able to share that perspective.

Next: More of this excruciating episode!

Writing prompt: The Day I Discovered I Could Melt Your Fucking Core, by Wen Zhuliu Drabble prompt: Why I Wear Socks to Bed, by Jiang Cheng

[alinakerrin]

Speeding Bullet: Day One: Pursuit

@sniperscout-ship-week infected me with brain rot so I'm trying my hand at doing some more stuff for the superhero au I'm working on.

He should have known the job was harder than it seemed. Who pays that much to kill a kid? But the offer was too good to pass up, so here he had taken it.

It had started fine; he had landed into Boston with no issues, using a fake name and fake passport, and arrived at the rented apartment he would be setting up in with no issues. After unpacking he spent a little time checking his gear and ensuring that no damages had been caused in transit.

He reluctantly ate, and then headed out to scout some locations for nests. It was pretty easy, all things considered. There were a lot of tall buildings near where he had been told his hit was often seen, so he had a lot of vantage points to set up in. He didn’t really need multiple locations--as he expected to be done after one shot, like always--but it was nice to have a few options.

How wrong he was.

After he had a few good locations he headed back to his apartment. He was too tired to be effective--and it wasn’t exactly covert to kill someone on his first day in the city. So he lay on the moderately uncomfortable bed, and thought about what he would do when he got the second half of his money.

Perhaps he would finally be able to go home. He doubted it--not after what he had done--but maybe, just maybe, he could sneak in. With that amount of money he could make the more complex tech ideas he’d been sitting on for the past three years.

Three years. Had it really been three years since…

He tried not to think about it. It was too painful.

The hit was at the end of the week--that was the original plan--his employer had informed him where his target would likely be and that they would be distracting him to make the shot easier. He’d been a bit pissed that they thought he needed “help” but in hindsight he wished they’d done a bit more.

He spent the week prepping. Checking his gun, making sure that he had all his gear, and finally, when the week was done, setting down an alibi. It was easy really. He just left the window curtain open and used a hologram to make it look like he was reading. It was a little thing, but given how there was a security camera on the opposite street corner, it should be enough that if his fake name hadn’t been enough that he would be fine.

It wasn’t like anyone at the scene would see his face, but he had to be sure.

He made his way to the nest he had picked out, avoiding cameras where he could and hiding his face where he couldn’t. Once he arrived, he changed into his usual gear--it was too distinct to be travelling to the hit in--and lay in wait for his target.

He was early. He always arrived early.

While he waited, he absentmindedly flicked through the different filters on his goggles. The half mask goggles weren’t technically his--not anymore--but he still had them. It wasn’t like anyone else could use them anyway. He settled on his usual filter, the one that made what he was seeing normal.

Half an hour passed before he got adjusted to the scarf on the lower half of his face. Like always, he thought. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just… warm and it took him time to forget that it was there.

He pulled out his gun and did some last minute checks. As usual, it was fine. Better safe than sorry.

Afternoon fell into evening turned slowly into night, and the time for the hit was coming close. He was getting nervous--there had been no indication that anything was happening, and no sign of his target. He double-checked that he was in the right spot. He was, but there was still no sign of them.

“Come on,” he growled, and his leg started to bounce. He gripped his knee tightly. He needed to be still. The time came, and there was still nothing. Feeling like he was going to explode, he gave in to the urge to pace. It would be fine. He could still see the square the target would be in, and he had his gun on him. He could trust his reflexes.

At least, he thought he could.

It had happened so fast; a crashing sound from the square, screams and sirens. He whipped around to see—“What the bloody hell?”

Locked in combat were two people--one male, one female. The police were trying to mitigate the fight and evacuate the area, but it seemed like anything they tried didn’t stop them. As he looked closer the male was--

“Fuckin--” he quickly loaded his gun and took aim. They were exchanging blows and his target kept leaping and rolling away. After taking a moment to track his movements, he pulled the trigger.

“Fuck!” He reloaded, and took aim again.

That was his first warning that this job was one he should back down from. Because the Sniper never missed and the fact he had was bad news.

The fight was drawing to a close, his target was winning, he took a deep breath and pulled the trigger again.

“Shit!”

Once more he reloaded, this time not bothering to wait a moment, and took aim and shot as fast he could.

And that time, the target whipped around, and looked right at him.

“Fucking, pissing hell.” Sniper growled. He reloaded, and out of the corner of his eye saw the woman crumple to ground, and his target was moving and HOLY SHIT WHY IS HE SO FAST—

Sniper was knocked off his feet, pinned to the ground with his gun pressed horizontally against his throat. On top of him was his target, angry and determined.

“Who are you?” He demanded. Sniper tried to push his gun up—so he could breathe—but his target held firm.

“Who are you?” He asked again, pushing down on him.

“Do—do you always sit on your enemies or am I special?” Sniper croaked out. He needed to get out. He weighed up his options. If he had known he might get cornered he would have set up a teleport point. But since he hadn’t…

“Answer the goddamn question,” his target said, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Trying to get on a first name basis?” Sniper said, subtly moving his left hand to change the mode his gun was in. “Bit early don’t you think?”

“You work with her don’t you?” He nodded back to where the woman he had been fighting was. “Who sent you?”

“Sorry.” Sniper reached for the trigger and pulled, shooting a grappling hook into the far wall. His target jumped and in that brief moment of surprise, Sniper kicked out and escaped from under him. He pulled the release mechanism on the gun and ran from the room.

He couldn’t outrun him, but maybe he could throw him off.

There was a fire escape just down this corridor, all he had to do was get there. He dropped a smoke bomb as he ran, faster than he ever had before, jumped through the window and over the railing of the fire escape.

Pulling his coat inside out to activate the cloaking and pulling his scarf and goggles off, Sniper made his way into the crowd of people being evacuated. Just before he disappeared into the throng, he cloaked his hat and glanced into the alley. His target was nowhere to be seen.

Safely back at his apartment, Sniper collapsed onto his bed and tried to process what had just happened. Heis target… he had moved too quickly to be a normal human.

Sniper hadn’t expected to meet another one like him. Especially not here.

He pulled out his phone and called his employer. It was time they had a chat.

[abundanceofnots]

Prompt! After seeing that ball gag in the basketball hoop in their room, I’m hilariously imagining Franny wandering downstairs with it during breakfast or something and everyone freaks out about it, or something similar lol

Forewarning: As you could’ve guessed, this one is pretty dirty. In fact, I’ll probably never recover from writing some of these words. You’ll know which ones I mean. Damn it, Shameless, why are these things canon?!

---

They were talking again. Loud, like they didn’t give two shits who could hear them, even though the house was full of people.

Lately, it’d become almost nonstop, and Debbie had just about enough of it – and them.

“Take it, you insatiable slut!” 

“Yes, fuckin’ impale me with your monster cock!”

As she stood behind the closed accordion door, which frankly did nothing to silence all the bizarre exclamations and assorted sex noises, she scrunched her face in disgust. Thankfully, her ears only felt like they were bleeding, and the real damage was happening just to her inner calm.

This time, Ian and Mickey were going at it at half past seven on a Sunday, throwing around words that would make even the creators of bad pornos cringe. 

They’d been on her shitlist ever since she found several dried come stains on her lilac bath robe, and really, her frustration with them only grew stronger from there. It was one thing that they apparently made sex into a full-time hobby; sounding like absolute perverts throughout their daily (and nightly) numerous rounds was another. 

Debbie could take it no more. She was long past the point of finding it funny. There were now very specific, lewd details about her older brother forever embedded in her mind – and she fondly looked back at the days when Ian was still behind bars and dearly missed.

Checking that her palm was covering Franny’s eyes, she squeezed her own eyes tightly before getting a blind hold on the accordion door. She yanked it open, immediately causing the verbal vomit to stop.

“The actual fuck, Debbie!” 

She heard scrambling and annoyed groans and, eventually, to what sounded like a fight over the comforter, the bed creaked as someone got off it. She took that as her cue and secured her hold on Franny, who started to dig her little fingers into Debbie’s palm.

“I’ve had it with you two assholes!” she raged, using her free hand to gesticulate wildly. “I was fine with the exaggerated moans and the fact that seeing your ugly naked asses around on a daily basis was now a given, but if I have to hear the words uber-masculine slut and dom top daddy one more time, I’m gonna make sure you won’t be able to stick your dicks anywhere. For a long time.” 

She paused, becoming faintly aware that someone was hurriedly trying to get dressed somewhere to her left.

“Now, I’m gonna go back to bed,” she continued, much calmer, satisfied that her case was being heard without protests, “and you’re gonna watch Franny because you both owe me. Big time.”

The room was silent, the atmosphere tense. Debbie let out a frustrated huff. 

“Just tell me when,” she prompted, too scared to open her eyes. 

For a second, it seemed like Ian and Mickey argued without saying a thing out loud. Then, settling on whatever, Ian cleared his throat. 

“Yeah.”

Debbie immediately regretted not leaving without sparing them another glance. Because while Ian was at least dressed, standing in front of her in his boxers and a T-shirt that was both too tight and inside-out, Mickey sat on the bed only with the comforter bunched in his lap. 

They were both sweaty and out of breath, and Debbie felt herself flush when she noticed the visible handprints on Mickey’s neck. 

Still, she recovered fast, piercing them both alternately with a hard stare. “Can’t believe I even have to say this, but no fucking in front of my kid!” she warned, pointing her finger at them.

---

The slam of Debbie’s bedroom door successfully burst the strange bubble they got themselves caught up in. Their eyes instantly snapped to each other. 

“I call shower,” Ian announced plainly.

“Fuck you, I call shower first,” Mickey countered. “I was about to bust a nut anyway.”

“What’s bustanut?”

It was the first thing they heard Franny say, and, yeah, Debbie was definitely going to break both of their dicks after this, wasn’t she?

“Well, Franny,” Ian started as he leaned down to her, maneuvering her a little so that she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of Mickey’s naked form as he untangled himself from the comforter, “that’s a thing adults say when they have to brush their teeth. And your Uncle Mickey has a really stinky breath this morning.”

“Like you’re one to talk, bitch.” 

Ian looked up to Mickey poking his tongue in his cheek, his loosely curled fist moving in front of his face in a rather obvious motion. He shot him a glare, but Mickey just pulled his boxers up and left the room, chuckling.

The good news was that Franny seemed content with that. Shrugging her shoulders, she hopped on their rumpled bed and started jumping on it. Ian decided it was better than having to crack the ol’ concept of male ejaculation to her on an early Sunday morning and went about his routine as usual. 

It didn’t take long until something else caught Franny’s attention and she started making low frustrated noises.

Putting on his deodorant, Ian watched in the mirror as she struggled with the cap of their lube. 

“Is this a special sauce?” she asked, all bright-eyed and curious.

Ian snickered. Franny knew all about special sauces ever since Liam started experimenting with making his own in the kitchen a few weeks ago. 

“Yeah, I guess it kinda is a special sauce, in a way,” he replied amusedly. “Uncle Mickey says he doesn’t like it, but he’s a filthy liar.” 

“Smells like strawberries.”

“Yeah, it does.” He turned, grinning at her. “Nice, huh?” 

She held the tube out for him. “Can I try?”

Instead of opening it for her like she probably expected, Ian took it from her and shoved it in the closest drawer.  

“Maybe in a few years.” 

Franny sighed dramatically, and Ian observed in real-time as he started losing his fun uncle points with her. But it didn’t matter how pouty she got; he couldn’t actually let her play with their lube. Mickey was right – that shit was expensive.

It only took about a minute this time before she got bored again. Kicking the bed involuntarily with her feet hanging over its edge, she scanned the messy room. Finally, her eyes fell on a black leathery thing laid on top of the laundry basket by the bed. 

“What’s that?”

Ian pursed his lips as he thought of the best answer, but before he could give her any, he got interrupted.

“It’s a ball gag,” Mickey supplied as he strode into the room with only a towel around his hips. His hair was wet, and the unashamedly self-satisfied smirk on his face had Ian roll his eyes.

“What’s a ball gag?”

“It’s—”

“A toy!” Ian said, a little panicky. “A toy that Uncle Ian and Uncle Mickey like to play with. Especially Uncle Mickey.”

Pausing on his way to their closet, Mickey smacked Ian’s ass. Waggling his eyebrows, he then leaned in to lightly peck his cheek.

“You betcha.” 

Franny’s eyes widened with excitement. “Can I play, too?” 

She got her hands on the contraption at the same time as Ian, who at first tried to scare her off with a stern look. Failing that, he started pulling on the strap, giving out a somewhat tentative laugh.

“Really not a good idea.”

“I wanna play, too! Please!”

“Franny—”

With an ear-splitting screech, she slipped the ball gag from Ian’s grasp and set off running out of the room.

“Crap,” Ian muttered, slapping hard at Mickey’s arm when he had the nerve to chuckle. “Dumbass, your dick’s on the line here, too, you know?”

In the kitchen, he found Franny making rounds around the table; the sex toy held over her head victoriously like a golden trophy. Thankfully, the only person sitting there was Lip, who seemed genuinely entertained by the sudden spectacle.

“Uncle Lip, Uncle Lip, do you wanna play with my ball gag?” Franny asked mid-run.

“Uh, maybe later?” Still smiling, Lip shot his brother a look, pointedly raising a brow.

“Franny?” Ian tried playing nice with a sing-song voice. When the kid slipped past him over and over again, he decided to change his tactics. “Franny! Gimme that!”

“No!” she yelled stubbornly as she took off toward the living room. Unluckily for her, that’s where Mickey, having come down the other set of stairs, caught her. 

As he walked back with her, he held her under his arm so that her tiny legs kicked the air behind his back as she tried to wiggle free. “Sorry, kid, but Uncle Mickey doesn’t share his toys,” he told her as he settled her down in the kitchen. 

Lip sniggered into his mug. 

“So, breakfast?” Mickey suggested after he passed the ball gag to Ian. “I’m fuckin’ starving.”

While Ian hid the sex toy upstairs, Mickey made Pop-Tarts. And Franny, being the good girl she was, sat there through all that and quietly sulked. 

Then, after nibbling on her breakfast for some time, she stood up resolutely.

“I’m gonna go bustanut,” she stated loudly, nearly prompting Lip to choke on his coffee.

He watched as Mickey cackled, and shook his head.

“Debbie’s gonna kill you both, you know?”

Mickey just smirked. “Can’t wait to see her try.”

[slashersins-abandoned]

someone like me

this was written for @idontevenknowanymoreatthispoint​

Bo’s reaches out , gripping your calf , nails digging into the skin there as he lets out a huff of laughter . You make a sobbing sound as he jerks you back from where you tried to crawl away from him . Who would’ve guessed something so small like you would put up such a fight . Bo would be lying if he said tonight’s hunt hadn’t been fun . He grip tightened harshly as he jerked you , pulling you towards him , lifting up to grin down on you , knife in his hand . “Sorry , darlin’ . Can’t get away from me , now .” He smirks down, moving his grip to your ankle so he can stand and drag you kicking and screaming back to that chair of his and tie you up . But no sooner did his fingers graze over the skin of your ankles did you let out a distressed noise and start clawing at his hands , desperately trying to get them off .

“Don’t look ! Don’t - Don’t look ! Don’t !” You’re voice held fear , panic , but not aimed at Bo . He glared down at you , taking your clawing fingers and gripping them tightly in his hand . This was fun , but he was losing his patience .

“Don’t what , darlin’ ? Don’t look at what ?” He sneered down , eyes drifting to your ankles , curiosity getting the best of him at your little fit . But he stilled at what he saw .

“ The fuck …” Thick raised pink scars littered your ankles . Cuts and slices that had been headed and torn open again and again . Scars that seemed so familiar . Dark eyes moved from your marred flesh to his own . They were nearly identical , a damn near perfect match . You’re ankles . His wrists . He breathed out slowly , dangerous eyes glinting as he shot a look to your face . Tear stained and wild eyes as you kept repeating “Don’t look . Don’t - Please don’t look .”

There’s a sharp sting in chest , a heavy weight in his stomach , a feeling of … He shakes his head , chasing away the feeling and letting his need to end your life take over . He smirks , running a thumb over your scars . You could have gotten them from anywhere . It didn’t matter . So why not tease you and make you cry more ? Why not regain his control over the situation ?

“Well , I guess you an’ me are both all scarred up . Did mommy give you these , too ?” He snickered cruelly , tugging your ankle and dragging you closer . He wanted to see you shake your head , or look at him with wide eyes that said those scars were just something you got as being a dumb little shit as a kid . He’s ready for you to cry out , to call for your momma like she could stop him from ending your life . He didn’t expect to see you hold your breath , almost terrified that he’d found out some dark secret . You don’t have to nod your head for Bo to see the truth .

His grip falters , eyes darken as those feelings he’d been trying to push away rise up in him . “Fuck .” He eyes the scars , seeing them next to his own and panting as anger starts to course through him , familiar and hot and blazing . His eyes seem to grow dazed as he stares at your matching scars .

The sound of someone walking into the shop draws his attention , looking up . The footsteps aren’t Vincent’s or Lester’s , and the frustrated call of a woman’s voice confirms his suspicions . He glares up for a moment , looking back only to see that you’ve stopped moving , stopped breathing , staring up in terror at the slots in the ceiling of his little lair . You’re terrified . More afraid of the woman bitching upstairs than of the man who currently has a knife in one hand and your leg in the other . It pisses him off in a way that he hasn’t ever been pissed before . He looks away from you before muttering curses under his breath .

He grabs your face , tugging you close as he glares with deadly intention . “Scream and I’ll gule those pretty little lips shut . You understand ?” You nod frantically , obediently as he tugs you up , tossing you over his shoulder . You don’t fight , instead clinging to the back of his coveralls and pressing your face into his spine . Every step he takes fills him with more and more of that twisting emotion . He hears his mother’s scolding shouts in the way your’s bitches up above them . He feels the duck-tape tighten on his wrists , he feels the need to thrash and scream and roar and . He sits you in the chair rougher than necessary , panting as he takes your face in his hands . Bo’s eyes are wild , searching your face for something , and it seems like he finds it . He mutter’s another low “fuck” before roughly pressing his thumb over your lips . “Not a sound .”

You nod frantically , wincing when you hear your mother let out a loud expletive and once again shout out to see if anyone was in this damn shop or not . Bo glances up briefly , taping tape and wrapping it around your wrists and the chair . You won’t be going anywhere . He tosses the tape to the makeshift bed a few feet away , putting his knife in his pocket and putting on his hat before leaving you alone . Only the light from the slits in the floor and the sound of Bo’s boots and your mother’s harsh curses keeping you company .

Bo’s hyper aware of how you could scream any moment . But the fear in your eyes , the pure and utter terror … you felt that your mother was more dangerous than him . And he hated that he could taste it in the air . That it reminded him of the same fear turned hatred he had for Trudy . You could scream , Bo knew it . But you wouldn’t , couldn’t . And that’s what he was counting on as he fixed his hat and opened the side door , forcing a smile on his lips as he stepped into the shop .

“Sorry ‘bout that . Had to go get some tools from -”

“How much longer until the car is fixed ? I’m tired of walking around this podunk town . Can you even fix it ? Or are you just wasting my time ?”

Bo’s smile flickers to a deadly look for a second before he raises his hands in the air , stepping closer , trying to give a reassuring smile despite the itching irritation in his chest . “I’ll have it out and ready for ya soon . Just gotta switch out a few parts an’ you’ll be good as new . No reason to get all mean , ma’am .”

There’s a movement behind the woman that catches Bo’s eyes . Vincent takes form in the shadows , knife glinting as he nods his head towards the woman . Bo gives a sharp shake no of his head , sending the woman a pointed look as she raves about how much time she’s wasting in this backwater town . Vincent gives a nod , standing in the shadows , ready to help his brother if need be .

“Are you even listening to me ? Hello !” Bo’s eyes snap to hers , his temper boiling over as he stands straighter , shoulder squared . The woman blinks , taking a step back before straightening herself and raising her chin . It makes Bo wanna slice that wrinkled as fuck neck of hers for offering it up so stupidly . “Don’t you try to intimidate me . Now fix my car you lazy bumpkin ! I’m not going to spend the night in this -”

“I think you best shut that mouth of yours . Think you’ve done insulted me enough and my town enough .” And that was the least of this bitch’s sins . His eyes flickered to the slits in the floor only to fill with utter disgust and rage as he looked back at her , stalking closer with a snarl on his face . “All this time you’ve been bitchin’ ‘bout your shitty car . Ain’t even asked if i’ve seen your little girl . Know you came in with ‘em . Skittish lil’ thing . Least when she was ‘round you .”

The woman opens her mouth , looking taken back , but Bo doesn’t let her speak . “You ain’t the type of momma to love her babies , are ya ? No , you’re the type of momma to make your babies scared . To hurt ‘em . To give ‘em scars that ain’t ever gonna fade . Ain’t ever been fond of mommas like you .”

He’s nearly panting , seething with rage . In this woman’s face he sees his own mother , see’s Trudy’s anger and shock . See’s the emotions he wished he could have seen on his mother’s face for all the suffering she caused him .

“Be a real shame … a real shame , if your baby girl had to keep livin’ in the same world as a bitch of a momma like you .”

She doesn’t have time to let the words sink in before Bo is flicking his knife open and lunging forward . Vincent watches from the shadows , understanding sinking over him as he watches his brother’s brutal attack , as he listens to the screams of pain fill the air . This one won’t be a wax figure , it’s fine by him . He’ll just have Lester come and dispose of the remains . He turns to leave his brother to his fury , only casting a curious glance to the slits in the floor before leaving to go back to his workshop under the house of wax .

You’re still , so still when Bo comes back down stairs . Eyes focused on the puddle of blood that drips the floor from the slits in the ceiling . Bo snaps his fingers in front of your face , glaring at you as you come to and look up at him with wide eyes . He looks over you , then to the puddle . Another curse falls from his lips as he stares at you . There’s no fight , just you sitting there , looking at him almost like a lost puppy . He runs his hand through his hair , huffing . “You’re a good girl for keeping your mouth shut .”

He clenches his teeth , taking out his knife and flipping it open . He doesn’t miss you flinch and tense as if you’re accepting that you’d be the next one killed by it . He felt his anger rise , but shoved it down as he slipped the knife under the duct tape and cut it . He pulled it off your skin , tossing it to the floor before grabbing your wrist and tugging you out of the chair . “Come on, I’m fuckin’ tired .”

He takes you up and out of the basement and then the shop . You keep your eyes focused on his back , not daring to look at the corpse on the ground . If anything you speed your steps up with his long strides , your other hand moving to grab on to his trying to stick close . If he notices how you try to all but press into him , he doesn’t say anything . He’s too busy thinking why the hell he was keeping you . If he should just off you . If he could even do that .

He tugs you through the streets to his house , not giving you time to stop and take in the home before he’s dragging you upstairs and tossing you on the bed . He stood over the bed , fingers flexing as his mind worked with how to handle this . You only righted yourself , trying your best to not hyperventilate . You didn’t know how to feel . He’d been trying to kill you . And for some reason he didn’t . Instead he … he saw your scars . He saw them and he got angry , and for once the anger wasn’t aimed at you . He’d killed your mother . His words echoing in your mind . The hatred and fury in his voice , the way it rose in volume and deepened in tone . His accent slurring thicker and thicker before he’d …

“Try to run or sneak out an’ I promise you that you’re gonna fuckin’ regret it .” Bo’s threat pulled you from your thoughts . You nodded at him , trying to convey without words that you wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want . Bo huffed , rolling the worn belt in his hands as he leaned forward , putting a knee on the bed as he used the old leather to wrap your hands together tightly . After a moment , he loosened it just a bit . Didn’t need your hands falling off . His eyes drifted to your ankles , unease settling in his gut as he took another belt and wrapped them around you , a bit more delicately than with your wrists . You wouldn’t get any more bruises or scars from this , at least .

“Go to sleep .” It’s the last thing he says before he turns off the lights and slams the door shut , stomping down the stairs . You sit in the bed for a while , staring at the light coming from under the door . You test your binds . You let your mind drift back to your earlier thoughts . He’d killed your mother . Maybe he’d planned on doing it anyway . Maybe if he’d never seen your scars he might have killed you too without a care . But … He had seen your scars . And he had killed your mother . It was strange . It was wrong . So utterly wrong that you felt so … relieved . You mother couldn’t hurt you anymore . And he’d done that for you . Tears welled in your eyes as you laid down , letting soft sobs leave you . Relieved . You were so relieved . You’d never felt so safe before .

Bo’s drinks . He curses himself , curses the this fucking night he’s had , curses his own rash decisions . He’s sprawled and pissed in his recliner when Vincent walks into the home , signing to him that Lester’s picked up the body and he’d cleaned the shop . Bo just glares and huffs , ignoring his twin the best he can as he clenches the half empty bottle in his hand . There are six others empty on the floor around him .

Vincent doesn’t let his elder brother get away with his fit . Squatting in front of him and giving him an even look , hands moving to ask him questions . Bo doesn’t want to answer , downing his last beer before tossing it on the floor with the others . Vincent doesn’t move , but he does see how Bo rubs over the scars on his wrists . Bo glares at his brother , giving a curse as he starts to spill about the entire fucking thing . Vincent is patient , listening , Bo’s words so slurred that he has to start signing , but even his movements are sloppy and if it wasn’t for the years he’d spent with his brother , he might not have been able to decipher what the man was saying .

In the end Vincent leaves Bo with a sigh , telling him to go to bed . Watching as his grumpy twin stands and stumbles up the stairs muttering under his breath . It seemed Bo had become rather attached , feeling a connection through similar abuse , towards you . And perhaps it would be good for him . He’d keep a close eye , watching how it played out . But maybe , Vincent thought , it would be a good idea for Bo to keep you around .

Bo managed to get up the stairs , getting into his room and stripping down to his boxers . You were sleeping , curled up on your side facing the wall . He stopped , looking down at you , staring hard before cruising and climbing into bed . He turned away from you , back to back . But his drunken mind wouldn’t get the look of fear off your face when you’d heard your mother . He couldn’t not think about the raised pink scars on your ankles . with a grunt he turned , glaring at your back .

You make a noise , distressed and curl in harder . Bo frowns , scooting closer and mummering for you to shut up , you’re fine now , ain’t no one gonna hurt you . Despite the roughness of his whispered voice it seems to settle you , and he isn’t sure how he feels about that . His hand moves to your ankle , fingers brushing under the belt keeping them together .

Bo works his fingers over the marred marks , brain cloudy with booze . “ Jus’ - Jus’ like me . Jus’ fuckin’ like me . Maybe - Maybe I should keep ya . Would ya like that ? Bein’ kept by a bastard like me ?” His words are slurred , eye  heavy . The alcohol in his system , the warmth of his bed , the sound of your breathing and slight scent of your shampoo lulling him to sleep as he keeps stroking the marks on your skin .

[idesofrevolution]

Welp as you can guess, Biker TF won the poll. So here we go kids.

It’d been weeks since I had... become who I am today. I’m still learning how to wield the power that Miss Marie had given me- and there were a few mistakes made along the way. But at the end of the day, I’d grown into a much more competent practitioner, so I decided one drunken evening to treat myself. After a delicious evening with a hunky biker bear, I’d convinced him to let me have his spare set of wheels. Riding came naturally to me- the open road and the wind rushing against me gives such a sense of freedom. It’s hard to explain. We still ride down the backroads outside of town just about once a week, although I’m sure the cruising spot in the bayou clearing does certainly help instigate such rides.

It was one summer afternoon after one such ride and rendezvous, wafting with the stench of sweat and sex, that I came across a young hitchhiker. He was young, maybe 21 or so with gorgeous ebony skin and a lean slender frame. I pulled over, and he quickly ran over to me.

“Hey, are you going as far as town?” His voice was frail and weak. A timbre of defeat echoed from the back of his throat, he’d clearly been through a lot. 

“Sure am. Here, hop on and take the spare helmet.” I smiled at him, and he coyly avoided my glance. He awkwardly mounted the bike, nearly tipping us over. “Never ridden before? Aight, put your arms here, and keep your feet up.” I gently guided his wrists around my waist and he tightly held on, nearly knocking the wind out of me. As we took off, he clutched me even tighter. Riding down the road, I could sense he was a broken kid. The air of sadness permeated his energy, and shaded every ounce of his body language. I don’t think he ever realized just how beautiful a soul he had.

About ten minutes of riding, I noticed we were nearly running on fumes. Luckily, an exit sign harked a little good fortune with a Shell station off the road. We pulled over at the nearest gas pump, and dismounted. 

“I’m gonna fill up, take this and get yourself something to eat man, you’re skin and bones!” I handed him a $20, and he looked at me as if I had three horns and purple skin. He blushed and walked toward the convenience store, but turned back to ask if I needed anything.

I looked at him, standing there against the cinderblock building and decided that he would get the help he deserved. If from nobody else, he would get it from me. I shook my head no, and he entered the store. Filling the tank took all of five minutes before it had topped off. I slid my card in, paid my dues and started to put my gloves back on before I noticed he had not come back out. To my left was another bike, sitting vacant and alone. Alarm bells went off and I rushed into the convenience store. 

I opened the door and could immediately hear the shouting. Behind the counter some teenage dumbass was fuckin around on his phone, not thinking a thing of the brazen diatribe that was filling the room. There, behind the wall of Doritos, Pretzels, and Slim Jims was the young kid, and a big hulking stag of a man shouting with his chest all puffed up like a blowfish. The foul, revolting shit that spewed from that mans mouth was beyond anything that I’d care to repeat in any way here, but when I say it was in reference to his ancestry I’m sure you can fill in the blanks. Grabbing his shoulder like a vice grip, I was about to teach this man what’s what.

“I think it’s time for you pipe the fuck down.” The man turned to me, covered in grease and stinking from days of riding in the summer heat. You know the type, ripped up and stained wife beater with tight, patched jeans; topped off with big beat up harness boots that were clearly two sizes too big. He sneered, sizing me up to see where his chances were in this fight. 

“Ahh, so you’re gonna be this little fuck’s hero, huh? You’re gonna be his WHITE knight, huh? See, I’m just letting him know that in these parts, it’d be best if he just fucked right off.” I’ll be the first to acknowledge that I have a bit of a temper issue which can get the best of me.. In the particular instance, however, I’d say I’m proud as all hell that I held that white trash by the throat about a sold foot above the ground. Tossing him aside, he landed against the aisle shelves like a ragdoll. I smirked, and figured out just how I would help this young man.

“Come on over, kid.” I waved him over, and he sheepishly plodded over to us. The racist tried in vain to pull himself up off the ground, but my size 13 Vans against his big burly chest had him pinned like a mouse in a trap. “I think this man needs a bit of an education, don’t you?” The kid smiled, looking down. I gently held his chin up. “And you need a confidence boost.” 

“Ah, your fuckin’ queers too! I shoulda gue...” I shoved my foot into his stupid maw, silencing him for the last time. I turned to my soon to be apprentice and smiled. I pushed a bit harder, watching my shoe sink further and further into that piece of shit’s mouth, before my entire foot was engulfed by his stretched head. The kid looked in awe as our prey squirmed and fought, and I think it was at this point that the situation clicked in his mind.

“Yeah, hows my foot taste, bitch? They sure stink to high hell, they’re my favorite pair. Kinda jealous of you to be honest.” I wriggled my foot inside his head, watching the outline of my high tops slide around under his skin. I’d played around with him long enough. I turned to the kid, who I’d noticed was tenting ever so slightly and winked. “Might wanna get rid of your threads, bud, you’re not gonna need ‘em.” With a quick jerk of my knee, my foot slipped out of his mouth, his head returning to normal. 

“You stupid fucks, I’m gonna fuckin kill you!” He would never get the chance. In fact, he was about to learn first hand what it’s like to have a healthy amount of melanin. With his clothes chucked aside, and his manhood at full mast, the kid walked toward the writing man. He gingerly put a single toe into his mouth, and pushed. His foot slipped effortlessly into the man’s throat, and quickly tugging at the corners of his mouth, he slipped foot number two in. The man was wriggling like a worm, I’m sure desperately trying to spew empty threats to ward us off. The sight of the kid’s lowering ass onto his stretched face caused a little bit of a muffled shriek to escape his cords. Now, musky, sweaty hitchhiker ass would be a treat to me on even the worst of days, but evidently some just can’t appreciate it’s mouthwatering flavor and scent. With his crack nuzzled right down on the good old boy’s nose, he began to pull on the man’s legs.

I watched proudly as his feet slipped downward, distorting his muscles under the tight confines of his jeans, before a sharp pop landed them inside the destroyed boots. They fit perfectly now, and I could just begin to smell the strong funk of greasy, funky socks and feet. The kid kept sliding into his body, his midsection growing and seemingly inflating with strong muscles. The old tank began to tear and rip, before it was shredded by the sheer mass of the inked, mocha colored abs and pecs that prominently burst forward. 

The kid’s face was in full elation, as he squeezed his arms down the throat, pulling the skin above his shoulders with a loud snap. His arms slipped into place; thick biceps and forearms bubbling outward from the man’s already impressive musculature. His tatted hands flexed, the new sensation of calloused fingertips and meaty palms seemingly fascinated him as he began to rub his new body.

I removed my foot from my new friend’s chest, and helped him up. This man was a beast! Towering to a massive 6′5, he was bigger, broader, and stronger than me- and I’ll admit... it was hot seeing this hulking, musky hunk standing before me with the youthful, boyish face of an early twenty-something. I eagerly awaited the final stretch as he pawed the whimpering final mask of the former racist’s face. Grabbing it by the nose, he pulled ever so slowly, savoring every second the slimy flesh slipped over his head until it snapped loudly into place. He adjusted his new face as the dark complexion flowed up his neck and across his scalp and jaw. He opened his dark brown eyes and smiled a million dollar smile at me.

“Now this is what I’m talkin’ about man!” The only word that came to my mind was stunning. His exterior finally matched his interior: sexy, proud, and strong. “Oh shit...” He looked downward, and within seconds I knew exactly what the issue was. Speaking from experience, not all the adjustments are as easy, so I decided my assistance was required. Getting down onto my knees, I unzipped his jeans, pulling them down. It revealed the yellowed, reeking jockstrap beneath which nearly concealed the problem area. 

Glued down behind his skin was the outline of his cock and balls. Just as I thought. Pulling down the jockstrap, I grabbed the hollow shaft and sac, tugging it up and down. Little by little his cock slid toward the chasm before it fully slipped in with a loud schlorp! When I tell you that cock grew into a footlong dong in seconds... with two sweat-dripping golf balls hanging low to garnish... I couldn’t restrain myself. I took it in my mouth, licking up every droplet of salty sweet sweat, pumping the precum out of it like a faucet. He grabbed the back of my head, thrusting his horse cock down my throat, fucking it like a fleshlight. His smelly balls slapped against my chin, and I could feel them engorging, getting ready to blow. 

And blow they did. Rope after rope. Straight down my throat. Every cup of it was whatever sadness, whatever insecurities, whatever weights held him down; now completely purged. He pulled out and I pulled my apprentice into deep kiss. This is who he truly was, and it was a fitting circumstance for it to happen. We turned to the slackjawed cashier, who evidently witnessed everything. I tossed him a $100, and we left. Hopping on our bikes, we headed back to town. The things I was going to teach dear Antoine here were going to blow his mind, and potentially his load too.

Okay kids. So there you have it. This was a long motherfucker and I’m sure it’s the longest I’ve ever written. If you haven’t guessed by now, each installment of Sebastian’s stories will be focused on punishing hate. This is what’s brought me out of retirement, and this is what I love writing now. I’ll of course listen to the feedback that y’all have provided me- I will do one-offs still. In fact, I’ll probably do a one-off next. Let me know what y’all think in my askbox. Thank you guys so much for all the support you’ve shown me.

[writersmorgue]

I'm in a nightmare but I didn't fall asleep

TW: noncon, vague description of said noncon, kidnapping, non-consensual oral sex

17+ to interact

“That’s TWO out of three sports festivals you lost, Shouto. I’m beyond disappointed in you.” Endeavor’s booming voice leaves nothing to the imagination as it echoes across the barren stadium halls.

Well, almost barren.

Sero cringes from his hiding place behind the nearest wall, making eye contact with Bakugo next to him whose brows are furrowed in concentration.

“You know what, I’m fucking done. You’re going to give me one thing, and it’s going to be the future number one hero. A hero who will beat All Might, something you will NEVER do. My faith in you has been destroyed. I’ll tell them to retrieve you on Friday.”

Shouto makes a choked noise, and the two boys look at each other in confusion.

“Father please, you don’t mean-”

“I absolutely do. I gave you three chances Shouto! You’ve wasted my time and money, and now you’re going to be used like the useless bitch you are. Only serving me one purpose.”

“Please I can do better! Please don’t take me I promise I’ll make it worth your resources- AGH!” There’s a strangled shout as Endeavor grabs his daughter’s long ponytail in his flaming fist, charring the white hair

“You will do no such thing, and don’t even try escaping, I’ll hire more men if I have to. You will be useful.” There’s a scraping sound as Shouto drags her feet as she’s pulled away.

A shrill scream lets out, quickly cut off as Endeavor’s scorching palm slams over his daughter’s mouth with a sharp shut up.

Sero turns to Bakugo, gulping, as he raises a pointed thumb towards the exiting duo, “Uh, that didn’t sound good.”

Bakugo purses his lips, “No, it did not.”

-

Endeavor shoves Shouto into the van head first and she tumbles in, careful to mind the several men surrounding her as she skids to a stop.

“I don’t care how you go about this, you’re all suitable donors. Get her pregnant in a timely manner. Do what you want with her when the baby is born.”

Shouto whimpers as the door is slammed shut, locking her in complete darkness with a group of unfamiliar voices as they discuss who gets to fuck her first.

Her right ankle is grabbed as the van begins to move, the first man growls as she tries to pull away, and his grip tightens.

She screams, hoping someone will hear her. Her mouth burns from her father’s hand.

“NO!!! LET GO! I DON’T WANT IT!” The sound of zippers undoing around her head is what finally sets her off.

Her flame erupts, burning half of her competition shirt, save for her specially made sports bra, and singes the second-place medal strap around her neck. The disc clanks on the metal floor and the men around her shout with frustration.

“He said we could do what we want-” One of them grunts, patting some embers off of his shirt, “Someone subdue the bitch.”

Her head is slammed down onto the metal floor, and she fades away.

-

“Did-” Sero’s voice cracks, and he doesn’t continue.

“Yup.” Bakugo nods, explosions popping behind him as they sprint towards the speeding van, “He just facilitated the rape of a fucking minor.”

“A MINOR!?” Sero screeches, fumbling his tape as it catches on a tree branch, launching him forward “That’s not just a fucking minor, Katsuki, that’s our fucking FRIEND.”

“SHUT UP!!” Bakugo yells right back, “I’m sort of busy trying to save her ass. Obviously, since that van isn’t a puddle she can’t get out on her own. Probably quirk proof or some shit, knowing the asshole.”

“I’m calling Aizawa.” Sero reaches one hand back to his pocket to get his phone.

Bakugo grunts something that sounds like an affirmation.

A few moments later Aizawa’s gruff voice is asking who the hell is calling him at this hour.

“Aizawa-sensei!!”

“What, Sero.”

“So um, Todoroki! She, um, her dad!!-”

Bakugo growls and snatches the phone, blasting himself with just his left arm. Sero would be impressed if he wasn’t screaming internally as the van takes a sharp left, causing them to slow.

“IcyHot has been kidnapped by her dad.”

“Bakugo, I’m pretty sure that’s called having a child legally, give Sero his pho-”

“No you don’t fucking understand!!” Bakugo shouts, “We watched him drag her away and shove her in a fucking van with a bunch of assholes. He told them to rape her Aizawa. She’s been fucking kidnapped.”

“I- you’re joking.” Aizawa’s slight increase in background noise indicates he’s finally taking action, but the goddamn attitude sets Bakugo the fuck off.

“WHY WOULD I JOKE ABOUT THIS YOU OLD BASTARD!!”

“No, you’re right, sorry. I’m getting Nedzu and sending Midoriya your way.”

“NOT FUCKING DEKU”

“Bakugo Katsuki you will shut up and help your classmate with whoever I send to you or you will be expelled.”

“FUCKIN’- whatever old man. We’re just passing the corner store.”

He shuts the phone off before throwing it carelessly at Sero.

“Bakugo!!” Sero whines as he misses the catch and watches his phone shatter on the pavement.

“Not my fault you can’t catch.” Bakugo retorts, speeding up and launching himself at the van.

Sero follows close behind.

They hear a rhythmic thumping from the inside, Bakugo pales.

“Fuck I think they’re-”

“All the more reason we should blow this fucking van open!” Sero shouts into the wind, shooting tape onto the door handle and yanking the entire thing off.

He pulls the nearest guy out by his leg and throws him onto the median.

“C’mon dipshits!! Quit-”

All fight drains out of him, instead replaced with blinding fury, when he sees Shouto.

Practice uniform already torn to shreds, she’s bleeding profusely from somewhere on her head right onto the cold metal floor of the moving van. Surrounded by several other grown-ass men, all staring at Bakugo like deer in headlights, she’s knocked out cold at their feet.

“You bASTARDS!!” He screeches, storming into the van and grabbing Shouto’s limp body into his arms, thankfully her pants seem to be relatively unharmed, it’s the glistening by her slack mouth that has Katsuki concerned.

The men seem to be too shocked to retaliate, but one of them stands, seeming to prepare some sort of excuse. Sero is faster.

Hanta whips through the vehicle, grabbing both Katsuki and Shouto with his tape, flipping the van onto its side in the process, and carrying all three of them out the other door.

The human scum scatter onto the pavement as the students roll, relatively unharmed, into a parking lot. It’s somewhere in those few seconds when Aizawa arrives, followed by a somewhat feral Midoriya.

“Where’s Shouto,” He picks one of the men up by their collar, throwing him violently back onto the asphalt when he sees his three friends laying in a heap a couple dozen yards away.

“SHOUTO!” He calls, practically teleporting to their location and digging through Katsuki and Sero to reach her.

“Jeez we’re fine too, Deku, thanks for wondering.”

Izuku rolls his eyes, pulling Shouto’s limp body into his arms, “Is she- what happened?”

Sero starts nervously explaining, wringing his hands as he looks back and forth between Shouto’s unconscious form and Izuku’s increasingly rage-filled eyes.

He WHAT?!” Green lightning crackles over his skin, stopped abruptly with a firm hand from Aizawa on his shoulder.

Aizawa walks over and crouches, pulling a swab out of his scarf, “Had Momo make me one,” He grunts at Sero’s confused expression.

He sighs, reaching over to Shouto’s face and swiping it around her lips, “Unfortunately I figured we’d need it.” He tucks it into a plastic bag and stuffs both into his suit pocket.

Katsuki huffs, an unreadable expression fixed on his face as he stares down at the girl.

“They got her pretty good,” He reaches a hand out and tucks a strand of hair over, so Aizawa can get a look at her head injury, “probably tried to put up a fight.”

The teacher nods, “and you heard her father approve this- kidnapping?”

“Yes sir,” Sero speaks up, and Midoriya growls.

“I fuckin’ knew he was bad news,” Katsuki scoffs, “always draggin’ her around and shit. Probably paid for them to fuck her up too. Said he wanted her knocked up.”

“He,” Sero’s voice is strained, “he said she was a disappointment that he was giving up on her. She knows that’s not true- right?”

Aizawa hums, pulling out a bandage to wrap Shouto’s head, “well you’ll just have to show her.”

The boys make eye contact, and Izuku pulls her closer.

“Yeah,” Katsuki agrees, “we will.”

-

Shouto wakes up screaming, clawing at her face as blood begins to seep down her cheeks.

“Todoroki wait!!! Todoroki you’re okay! They’re gone!

Hands pry her bloodied nails away and her energy is sucked away as a kiss is pressed to her cheek.

“You kids I swear, never a dull moment.” Recovery girl tuts.

She passes out again.

-

The next time is much calmer, warm light pools around her eyelids and she cracks them open, reaching a hand up to rub the sleep out of them. But in doing so she jostles the hand that had been resting on her own.

“Todoroki?” Sero whispers, raising his head up slowly, eyes widening, “Todoroki!!”

He lunges forward, encasing Shouto in a bear hug.

“Oi, hands off, she’s in a hospital bed for fuck’s sake tape face.”

“Right,” Sero smiles sheepishly, pulling back, “right sorry.

“It’s okay,” Shouto admits, because she really has no idea why there’s any need to be careful, “I’m fine.”

“Oh?” Katsuki’s raised eyebrows suggest she said something wrong, “You call a nasty concussion and almost clawing your own eyes out fucking fine? Guess we have different definitions of the word.”

Shouto frowns, “I don’t remember that last bit.”

Her head hurts slightly, but she feels like she would remember something like that even through a concussion.

She tracks her memory back to before, but she can’t quite seem to remember-

The van, the men, the smell, the sound as he shoved his-

“Shouto?”

She snaps her head up, “Huh?”

“Sorry, you were quiet for a bit,” Midoriya rests a hand on her blanketed leg and rubs it back and forth, “god nervous. You alright?”

They’re all staring at her now.

“Does he know I’m here?”

All three sets of eyes darken, but it’s Midoriya who speaks up.

“He doesn’t matter. Aizawa has custody of you as of now. Your pitiful excuse for a sperm donor has been taken into police custody for aiding in the rape and kidnapping of a minor.”

Shouto gets a distant look in her eye, “Oh” is all she says.

“They didn’t get that far,” Sero gestures to her bandaged torso, where one of the men had tried to take off her uniform pants.

“But they still-” She begins, suddenly nauseous.

“Yeah, they did. And that bastard has been taken into custody just like the rest of em’, he’s not getting out for awhile, especially since the DNA samples matched.” Bakugo informs her.

“Oh,” Shouto hums absently, “there were samples.”

“Shouto, you with us?” Midroriya squeezes her ankle gently, but she doesn’t respond, “Everything’s gonna be alright now. You can rest.”

And she does.