#anyway i have to fucking sleep but I HAD to make this

[tanddiscord]

I do not actually agree with this.

On some level, sure, but also... I had real trouble understanding social hierarchy, and in fact, where I recognised it, I was fairly obedient to it. It's just that hierarchy is actually really complex. Its not just "person a is above person b, who is above person c" but "Person a and b both have roles and positions of power, and while a generally is considered above b in the hierarchy, in many situations, b will effectively outrank a, (a classic example of this is an article i read once, on norse medieval law, where the wife was generally considered secondary to the husband, but where the wife was the absolute authority for anything to do with the house, and if she told the husband to go sleep in the barn, there was fuck all he could do about it. Now how accurate that article in particular was, is unclear to me, but those sorts of relations are EVERYWHERE, and many authistic people struggle to filter out those neuances, and ends up perceiving it all as noise ("if a is in charge sometimes and b sometimes, then is no one in charge?" is the sort of thinking you end can up with)) I did not understand sarcasm as a kid, at all. It took years of active training to learn it. Now I love it. My father still cannot engage with jokes based on 'lies'. A joke like "what do you call a pile of cats? A meow-tain!" just gets him to go "Actually a group of cats is called a clowder, it comes from the same root as 'clutter' and-", and it can take him for someone to say "dad, its just a joke" for him to go "oh, right, yes, sorry." Not understanding some forms of humour does not mean not having a sense of humour though, my dad loves comedy shows. Some autistic people absolutely are rude. Horribly so. And even those of us that aren't, generally do have vocational moments where, yes, we are. A momentary lack of ability to connect the social dots, leads to rude questions, rude statements, rude observations. This is not a 'actually autistic people are angels who can't lie, you just hate the truth!' thing, its a 'sometimes the brain misfires, and does not realise why something would be rude or hurtful, and they cause emotional harm to others for no good reason' thing. Meltdowns, while never about 'nothing', are not indicators that the people around them are bad people. Are you suggesting that the parents of any autistic child who has a meltdown, due to a problem they are unable to communicate, or overstimulation, or under-stimulation, or any other number of things, are bad people because they did not perfectly handle a person whom it is exceptionally hard to handle? There are people with several doctorates, specialising in this specific part of autism, and even they could not possibly prevent every meltdown if a child in their care had certain problems. There are countless reasons for why someone has a meltdown, and many of them don't make sense, just have to be learned and adapted to, especially with those unable to communicate the problems for themselves. Fuck off with this 'autistic people are perfect actually' bullshit. We're humans. Nothing less, sure, but also nothing MORE, and honestly, insinuating we're more, is MORE infantilising and patronising than the morons that dismiss us for being "retards". "Look, just because Maurice doesn't get your sarcasm jokes doesn't mean he doesn't get humour at all. Try puns, he loves those." is a billion times better a response than. "Maurice is a perfect gem! If he doesn't laugh at your jokes, it's because you suck! Maurice is the god-arbiter of all humour!" Like, what even is that? Come on. If your response to bigorty is just as polarised and factless as the bigotry, and also defines an entire group as being 'this exact way, actually'... guess what, you're also a bigot, you just hide behind "But my bigotry says you're one of the good ones!". Check yourself. Might have ended up a bit harsh here, but also fuck off anyway. I am tired of seeing this sort of stuff all the time.

One of my favourite parts about autistic people is how you can use other peoples' reflections of them like an echolocation bullshit detector. Like they personally do not need to do shit for this to work, they just passively emit their own autistic vibe that bounces off every surface around them, and you can assess another person's level of self-awareness by how they reflect it back.

"Autistic people do not understand social hierarchy" nope, they understand you're supposed to be an authority here, but they won't politely pretend to respect you if they think you're incompetent.

"Autistic people do not understand humour" nope, they just don't politely pretend to laugh to humour you, and you are simply not funny.

"Autistic people are rude" nope, they just don't think it's polite to lie to you, and don't care about trying to tell you what they think you want to hear instead of telling you what they think.

"Autistic people sometimes have emotional meltdowns for absolutely no reason" nope, you're just insufferable to be around and the person with the lowest tolerance of your shit is simply the canary in the coal mine who breaks first.

[dafterdarling]

i kinda hope they catch us // ona batlle

ona batlle x reader

warnings: sumt (minors dni), kissing

summary: who needs a girlfriend when you have ona?

word count: 2192

Gossip spreads fast in the Barcelona changing rooms, whether it was something innocent, like the fact that Alexia was apparently filming an interview today or something less innocent- such as that you and Ona were very clearly sleeping with each other. Either way it always spreads like wildfire.

Truth be told- most of the time the rumours were true because yes, Alexia was filming some random interview for an overseas news paper today and you were definitely fucking Ona.

"Be quiet," You mutter in between kisses.

Ona whines loudly anyways and you just kiss her hard, kind of hoping that would shut her up but somehow you can still hear her in between the kisses.

The changing room is empty with everyone else being outside or in the gym but the possibility of someone finding the two of you was still very real- and you really didn't want that to happen.

You can't help but imagine someone walking in on the two of you- If it was Mapi then the whole team would know in five minutes of her walking out- God, she is the biggest yapper you've ever met and to be completely honest you don't know just how Ingrid stands it.

You focus back on Ona, she's straddling you whilst you sit in front of your cubby and grinding down so hard that it's getting really hard to focus or keep quiet.

You're hands are on her hips, trying to get her to slow down but it's pointless because you've never denied Ona anything- that's kind of the reason why you're in the changing rooms instead of the gym.

The both of you pull anyway for a moment to look at each other. Ona's lips are slightly bruised and her face is a deep shade of red, her hair is also half falling out of the braid it was originally in.

"I don't think you've looked hotter," You smirk and you can see the way she rolls her eyes.

"Less talking and more of this,"

She leans forwards to capture your lips again, it's hot and heavy, it makes you feel as though you're suffocating in the best possible way. Then she slips a hand down the back of your training shirt and angles your neck further back and you see stars.

Ona starts kissing down your neck, biting and licking as you try to stifle your moans,

"No- no... marks," You manage to gasp out and you can feel her smirk against your skin.

The last time she left a massive hickey you had to wear a snood for a week- in the middle of April. It was so embarrassing that you contemplated not coming in altogether.

"Shhh..."

Then she bites down hard and you briefly wonder if she's some kind of vampire that doesn't burn in the sun because it almost feels as though she's trying to suck your blood out.

The murder attempt- or bite causes you to yelp loud... so loud that it could have probably been heard down the hall. Ona immediately covers your mouth with her hand and both of you look towards the closed door. You silently pray that no one walks in and when no one does the both of you relax slightly.

"Bad girl," Ona murmurs and tries to continue her assault on your neck.

"Me?"

You slip a hand down the back of her shorts and squeeze hard causing her to jump a little,

"I think you're being the bad one, you little vampire,"

Ona chuckles and you're about to kiss her again when you hear footsteps down the hall- You both look frantically at the door then at each other.

Thankfully, the both of you manage to get enough distance between you for it to look somewhat innocent when Alexia walks in with a few others trailing behind her.

You hear Mapi whistle, clearly suggesting that the two of you were in the middle of something- while true- it didn't need to be broadcasted to the whole team and definitely not Alexia. Who scared you and would probably give you a very long lecture about respecting club property.

You give Ona a smirk across the changing room when no one is looking and leave to actually go to the gym this time. Once you make it to the club gym, you put down your water bottle and are about to put your headphones on when you spot Ona in the mirror. She had followed you, which meant that you would be doing very little working out and more of looking at her abs and ass.

Or at least normally you would but this time you were determined to actually do what the club paid you to do, which is play well and to play well you needed to use the gym- not just stand about.

So you go to warm up on a bike and notice that Ona is doing the same, just a few bikes away from you with her eyes glued to her phone- weird because she would never willingly avoid you.

Then your phone buzzes and you look at the text,

'Spot me?'

It's from Ona and you wonder why she won't just ask you in person but whatever. You send her a thumbs up and focus on warming up before you see Ona wander over to the squat rack and you follow her.

The weight she puts on the bar looks a little light for a spot and to be completely honest you've never seen anyone else spot her when she squats. She looks at you in the mirror and smirks a little which you brush off with an eye roll- this is before she puts the weight on her shoulders and presses her ass right against your crotch.

Now you get why she asked for you to spot her- Your hands hover over her hips and you squat down with her, eyes mostly focused on her ass because you really couldn't help yourself. She was teasing and you knew it but did she really think you'd resist this?

"My eyes are up here," You snap out of it and look up.

You meet her eyes in the mirror and she sticks her tongue out at you before going down again- You really try to focus on her form in the mirror but God, it's really difficult when she's doing this.

After her sets are done, you leave her to her own devices, walking all the way to the other side of the gym just to put some distance between you. Best to say it doesn't work because when you're taking a break from your cable crunches, you see Ona lift her shirt up to wipe the sweat from her forehead.

It gives you a front row view of her abs that just so happen to slightly glisten with sweat. You swallow hard and resist the urge to blush when the two of you meet eyes again, instead you give her a pointed look and she just shrugs.

It turns out that Ona is the devil or at least had been sent by him to tempt you because she spends the rest of your joint gym time showing off every single aspect of her body to you. Bending down right in front of you or pushing her sleeves up just as you happened to be taking a water break. You can barely stand it and are internally thankful that other people are in the gym with the two of you because you definitely would have disrespected club property if they weren't.

After a training session with the team outside, it happens to be lunch break- one that you and Ona don't spend eating food in the cafeteria.

"Fuck- please... come on!"

You're currently on your knees in the bathroom, which is thankfully a singular room rather than one with many stalls because today, you really don't want to be caught.

You lick down Ona's cunt and smirk at the way she lets out breathy moans, you could probably eat her out all day just to see her reactions. Her shorts and pants are somewhere in the corner of the small room, her shirt has ridden up to reveal her abs and you're so turned on that your own underwear is drenched.

You stuck on her clit and put her legs over your shoulders to get a better angle- she squeezes her thighs around your head and you feel light headed by how turned on you are.

"Close-" Ona whines out above you and you are determined to finish what you started in the changing rooms.

You pick up the pace, licking and sucking on her clit whilst scratching your nails down her stomach. You really hope that no one is close to this particular bathroom because you have no way to keep Ona's moans in check, instead you let them be broadcasted to the bathroom and probably the hallway outside as well.

"You gonna come for me, Oni?" You pull away for a split second-

Ona's hair is all over the place and some of her baby hairs stick to her forehead from the thin layer of sweat. Her chest rises and falls fast, breathing heavily. You feel a hand on your head and she pushes your head down to where she wants it- You smirk and do as she asks.

You suck on her clit whilst running your hands down her thighs before dipping a finger inside her, it's easy since she's so wet but you do it carefully anyways.

You time your licks with the thrusts of your fingers to drive Ona over the edge and when she gets there, she practically yells your name as she shakes a little. You put a hand over her mouth to try to keep the noise down but most of the damage is done.

Ona bites your hand and you take it away as raise your brows at her,

"Come on, baby, your turn," She smirks and you happily strip your shorts off.

Lunch is nearly over by the time you're done and you have to eat quickly so you can make it to the mandatory review session for your next game on time. You know that Alexia would have your head if you were late so you make sure you're one of the first to arrive.

You take a seat in the back corner and Ona sits next to you- The film review starts soon after with Pere standing at the front with some of the assistance coaches.

You try to focus but Ona's hand is making its way up your thigh, squeezing every so often as if to remind you that she's still there. You chuckle to yourself when you get the genius idea of pinching her side in retaliation. You do it and it makes Ona yelp- loudly.

You swear the entire team turns to look at her, you included, and she goes so red that you genuinely think something might be wrong,

"Ona, something to say?" The coach asks, stopping the video.

"No-no..." She stutters out and the coach nods before unpausing the mash up of clips.

Ona turns to you with a scowl and you smirk back then give her the same shoulder shrug that she had given you in the gym- Giving karma out feels so good, you think to yourself.

At the end of the day, you end up at Ona's apartment which has become the norm in the recent months. Mostly because it's quite the hassle to drive all the way to hers when she texts you at eleven to come over.

So you stay over more than you don't- sometimes you're even there when she's not and it all feels so natural to you, walking Coco or cleaning the living room.

It's weird- before your transfer to Barcelona you were practically allergic to commitment even if it was purely sexual, it had actually become a joke at your old club. So you cleaning Ona's house is rare- so rare that you've never done it for anyone else.

It's her actually, who brings up the nature of your relationship. You're laying on the sofa, sandwiched between her and Coco, when she asks.

"Am I your girlfriend?"

You involuntarily flinch at the question because it comes completely out of the blue and you actually don't know the answer. You practically live in her apartment, walk her dog, clean her bathroom when she's too tired to, sleep with her and yet, you don't actually know.

You try to laugh it off, "I don't know, am I?"

It's clear that this is an important conversation because Ona doesn't laugh or let alone react, so you take the opportunity to continue,

"I... think so? I just want you to be my Ona."

Ona shifts to look down at you from where you're laying on her, she doesn't look mad or hurt. Instead, she's smiling and her hands threads through your soft hair, you lean into it because it's Ona and you can never resist her.

Your conclusion is that you don't need a girlfriend when you have Ona.

[meowgumi10]

Husband!Sukuna NSFW alphabet (request!)

Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

-he’s kind, cleans you up and maybe asks Uraume to run you both a nice bath

-he likes to keep a hand on your lower stomach, he loves the idea of getting you pregnant

-he just admires you if you sleep straight after, the woman he loves and adores

Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

-on you it would be your eyes, he can see every emotion and most importantly they’re beautiful

-he loves eye contact durning sex, or even when you two are just talking

-on himself it’s probably his arms, he’s able to cuddle you perfectly (especially if this is true form sukuna)

-his hands are large and his biceps even bigger so he can carry you around, hold you, protect you

Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

-he cums way to much, like it gets to a point

-it’s thick and creamy, like double cream (the closet thing i could think of )

-he LOVES filling you up, and will every single time

-with you he loves the taste of you, will slurp it all up after devouring you

Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

-he’s into bondage but is always afraid of scaring you, the last thing he wants is to scare the love of his life

-he loves shibari, definitely has some books on it

-would love to see the bright red rope wrapping around you in intimate ways, allowing him to open you up in anyway he likes

-he has the red rope but is always reluctant to bring it up

Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

-knows what’s he doing honestly

-he’s very familiar with the human body, especially a woman’s and not just in a sexual sense (bros a cannibal)

-he’s not all that experienced in ‘making love’ but he definitely figures it out for you

Favorite position (this goes without saying)

-missionary, mating press, spoon fucking (cuddling and fucking at the same time)

-anything that keeps you two close and makes it intimate

-he likes cowgirl but only if your really pressed up against him, his arms around you as he kisses you softly

-he doesn’t mind letting you set your own pace

Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

-I think he’s more serious, for him sex with you is him showing his love and his love is definitely serious for you

- he does like teasing, he might occasionally make fun of you if you whine too much

-though if you weren’t as serious he’d definitely play along

Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

-he doesn’t give a single fuck

-he never touches it, lets it grow and do whatever it likes

-but if you do get annoyed he’d trim it

-of course his pubes are pink like his head hair

Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

-so romantic you might actually cry sometimes

-on a regular basis he’s sweet and intimate, but if it’s your birthday or an anniversary he goes all out

-candles, roses, new sheets, he might even take you to a big fancy hotel so he doesn’t have to worry about cleaning up after

-he loves you and communicates that’s clearly

Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

-before you he had at least 5 girls that were always on stand by and of course after you two got together there was only you

-he probably hasn’t jacked off since he started getting girls, he doesn’t like how his own hand feels anyway

Kink (one or more of their kinks)

-breeding kink 10000%

-he doesn’t care about gender actually he’ll still try and get you pregnant (or at least fuck you like he is)

-hot take but I think he’d like to be dominated sometimes, not as in get peggged (well maybe) but he’d let you take charge and do whatever you like with him

-maybe even dacraphilia, if he saw you crying from pure pleasure he might cum in the spot.

-the fact that he’s making you feel so good you just start to cry would definitely be a thing he loves

Location (favorite places to do the do)

-anywhere in the house honestly, he prefers the bed but you two have definitely fucked in every room

-I’m not sure about public places, I think he’s too possessive over that,plus he wants you to always be comfortable

-if you’re into it he might do it but typically he wouldn’t

-he might love a jacuzzi or the ocean/sea (imaging the twilight scene rn), it just feels very romantic

-but no matter what he’d never let anyone see your body

Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

-seeing you be confident would definitely get to him

-if you do something for him, like bake him a cake or pack him a nice lunch, then you’ll definitely be getting it

-of course seeing you in something sexy gets him, but if you two have kids and he sees you just in a t shirt and some shorts as you cook breakfast for him and the kids he’d go crazy

-he loves that domestic image of you

No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

-like I said before he won’t let anyone see you let alone touch you so threesomes are a big no

-he wouldn’t like hurting you, like really hurting you, he wouldn’t mind some spanking and light choking but anything past that wouldn’t be appealing to him

Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

-he of course loves to receive, if you decide to go down on him with your perfect mouth then he’s over the moon

-but he gives head like a dog, he loves eating you out and would make you cum at least 3 times before letting you go

-he loves your pussy and it’s heavenly taste

Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

-he’s a slow and sensual type, he’d do fast and rough on rare occasions where he needs to really let some stress out

-he’s a romantic when it comes to you so he’d be slow with his thrusts and talk you through it nicely

Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

-they’re not his favourite, he’d do it if you want one but it wouldn’t be his suggestion

-he likes to take his time with you

Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

-he’d try most kinks, but he of course has limits

-if your super kinky he’s into it, he’d love a nympho wife, but if you’re more vanilla he also likes that.

-No matter what he always makes sure you’re into it

Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

-this guy doesn’t stop, he could honestly go all night

-he has a high stamina, like really high (all that gym paying off)

-there’s been times where you’ve almost passed out but he was still going like it was only the second round

Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

-like I mentioned before he has rope, he might use a remote control vibrator on you sometimes for fun but only around the house

-he’d have sexy outfits for both you and him, stuff for role play and such

-I don’t think he’s big on toys but he doesn’t mind them

Unfair (how much they like to tease)

-he’s playful and likes to tease, especially durning foreplay or just when flirting with you

-he might like to hear you tell him you belong to him so he makes you say it so you can cum

-he can be teasing but he’s not horrible about it

Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

-he’s a big talker of course, sometimes he just won’t stop talking

-now he’s not ashamed to moan but he’s more of a growler/groaner

-his voice is so sexy so any noise he makes is perfect

Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

-he has a thing for chubby girls so if your plus sized hes the man for you

-it’s honestly my favourite trope, massive gym guy with a chubby girl (we need more representation fr)

-and durning sex he likes to watch things…bounce

X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

-he’s big, like a person of course he’s massive but damn

-as a human let’s say he’s about 6’4, he’s very buff I mean he attends the gym religiously, so his cock… it’s a monster

-you were kinda very scared your first time together but he was patient with you

-of course deep in your relationship you can take it like a boss

Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

-he needs you 24/7, he is able to control himself but most of the time he doesn’t want you

-he’s down bad, I mean he married you and sukuna isn’t an easy guy to tie down like that

[pythonmoth]

cw: violence. body harm. heavy torture. waterboarding. trauma. crude language. hurt/no comfort. explicit suicidal thoughts. self mutilation/harm mentioned.

simon riley x reader. implied simon riley x soap. implied simon riley x reader x soap.

First | Last | Next

He didn't want to get out of bed that day, and the Captain calling for a private meeting just as he dared opening his eyes gave him enough reason to know he was right.

Putting on his uniform was as easy as ever. Really, he hardly ever took it off, anyway. It took about twenty seconds to put on his boots and he was off.

It was cold outside.

The night before had been stormy, so if Johnny's lungs weren't used the damn weather by now, he would be cursing the gods for it. It was so cloudy that he just truly wanted to grab a coffee, and sleep again.

Hell, even breakfast before a meeting would do.

His pace wasn't rushed, the sun slowly coming up. As soon as he spotted Simon walking over to the Captain's office as well, seemingly unaware of his presence, he couldn't help but smirk and slow down. He did his best to keep his boots from making noise, holding his breath. He got closer, and closer.

Then, promptly bumped nose first on the back of Simon's head.

"Argh!" he grunted, holding his nose. Simon made no sound at all and just kept on walking. Johnny knew damn well the cocky tilt on the Lieutenant's head as they got near the Captain's office. "Bastard. Could've warned me, instead of making me nearly break my damn nose".

"Why? It's funnier like this" Simon said, the timber in his voice so amused it made Johnny roll his eyes, not really upset at all.

"To you, maybe".

"And that's how it's supposed to be, Johnny".

The conversation was cut short as soon as they approached the Captain's door. He was arguing with someone on the phone. It was clear he was trying not to make much noise, but the anger in his voice was unmistakable.

Simon and him shared a look, and waited for a moment before knocking on the door.

"Get in" the Captain's voice cut through the silence, hanging up the phone before standing up, looking at the two men with a hard expression.

"What's going on?" Simon questioned, standing right next to Johnny, their shoulders brushing.

"We've got a mole" the Captain said, his teeth clenched. Johnny watched as he paced behind his desk, his shoulders hardened.

"A mole?" he wondered, his eyebrows furrowing. "Who's the bastard? We'll drag him to the—"

"Goddammit, Johnny. It's the fucking lass" the Captain snapped.

In that moment, the room went colder than the freaky weather outside. The three men stared at each other for one long second.

"We've five lasses" Simon started, the trembling in his voice so evident that Johnny wanted to reach out, and grab his arm to stabilize him. He didn't, as he was trembling just as badly. "You better give me a name right now, or I'll start breaking your shit".

"If it weren't yours, do you think I would be calling you two idiots?" the Captain growled out. He opened his mouth, ready to continue, but Johnny spoke first.

"Is this some kind of ridiculous, fucked up joke?" he blurted out. He just couldn't think. He just couldn't believe it. "She's been here for nearly ten years. Capt'n, there must be a mistake. And you, you can't possibly believe this shit!" he blurted out at Simon, turning to look at him.

Simon was as stiff as a wooden board.

And he was so damn angry it nearly made Johnny shit his pants.

"Is there proof? Do you have it on you? Is it positive?" Simon questioned, the words flowing, barely controlled. Johnny's mouth fell open. "How can you be sure?"

"LT!" he gasped in surprise, his heart pounding in his throat. He felt like throwing up.

"Answer me" Simon demanded the Captain, ignoring him.

It took them two hours to go through the evidence, more than once. You've been sneaking information, your fingerprints, a few hair strands here and there. It all fit. It was almost as if you weren't even trying to hide it at all.

"Isn't it too simple, too easy?" Simon said, not for the first time. "Price, you gotta admit it's at least suspicious. She's not stupid".

"Capt'n, the lass' a smart one. Not even the lamest bastard in this damn base could pull a mistake this big" Johnny added. Needing to sooth himself, he discreetly placed his hand right next to Simon's on the desk.

The slightest curl of the Lieutenant's pinky across his made him take a deep breath.

"That's your pussydrunk heads talking to you. This is unmistakable and we can't risk it" the Captain shook his head, pointing at the evidence in front of them. They both went quiet at that, too troubled to feel offended. "Take her downstairs. We'll do as I ordered, in five. You either do it yourselves, or I'll call someone else" the Captain said. Simple as that.

If the Captain saw Simon snatch his hand back from Johnny's grip before they both stormed out of his office, he didn't say.

What was there to say, anyway?

An empty box suffered all of the Lieutenant's anger as soon as they stepped out. Snapped in half with kicks and thrown to the other side of the hall, alarming a few soldiers that, just taking a look at them, turned away instantly.

Johnny couldn't possibly do anything to make Simon feel any better if he was just as angry and appalled. Hurt, and incredibly confused, mostly. They didn't exchange a single word as they reached the mess hall, their boots heavy against the floor.

Simon's steps faltered when they saw you sitting at the usual table. Johnny clenched his jaw and walked forward, forcing Simon to do the same.

They both watched as you sipped on your mug, no doubt waiting for them to have breakfast. He saw you take a bite of the bread, your eyes brightening as you turned to them, recognizing their footsteps easily.

It's been nine years, after all.

Johnny's heart trembled at the sight. Anxiety and pain bloomed in his chest, but he forced himself to swallow it down. They had orders.

"It's so darn late!" you complained, your voice a little muffled around your mouthful, looking amused. Ridiculous. "Where were you? Come on, let's eat".

Beautiful.

It had been too easy. You didn't resist their touch at all, raising an eyebrow. Johnny heard you nearly choke when you noticed their grip wasn't playful, asking Simon what was happening, you feet dangling between the two of them.

Johnny's grip was tight, fighting to keep his expression blank, but it got fucking difficult the moment you realized where they were taking you, screaming, fighting, and struggling against them, demanding explanations.

The room had been used for many years, even before they got here. It either reeked of shit, piss or blood and bleach. It's never been pleasant.

The Captain was already waiting there.

He kept silent as Simon punched you on the stomach. Kept silent as you begged and pleaded, trying to meet their eyes, their hands tying you to the chair.

The Captain had ordered not to explain anything at first.

And it was fucking hard.

To see you get punched.

To be the one to gag you, despite your attempts to bite down on his fingers. To be the one who made you choke on your fears, on your pain.

Your panic.

Simon's eyes were detached, stuck within himself, the trembling in his hands barely noticeable, but Johnny saw it.

He felt it in his own hands.

Every time the Captain ordered him to yank on your hair. Every time he pressed that disgusting wet rag against your face and poured the water on it. Every time his gray eyes met your pleading gaze.

With each of your screams.

He saw Simon flinch with every one of them.

After the Captain kicked your lights out, the three of them had a serious conversation. Simon and Johnny were quiet, both of them staring at the Captain as if he had grown a second head right in front of them.

"No. I'm not doing that shit".

"Neither am I. Are you out of your fucking mind, Price?"

"Now, lads, I'm not asking. If you don't do it, I'll grab another two. We need information and the evidence is clear" the Captain cut them off. He didn't look happy about it, but he didn't seem too worried, either. "Tomorrow. That's an order".

Simon and Johnny sat on the stairs that night, with you right behind the door, both of them smoking silently. Neither of them acknowledged Johnny's tears, and when Simon turned away, neither said anything.

Your screams were a stab in his heart. And he couldn't blame anyone but himself.

When Price told him what they were going to do because you "wouldn't open your mouth", he had wanted to kill Price right there, but the evidence was too big, and it didn't matter what he thought. He was but a soldier. Price gave the orders, and it wasn't his place to question them.

Not too much, anyway.

But that didn't mean he had to like them.

Had it been anybody else, Simon wouldn't have hesitated. He would've dragged the dickhead to the basement himself.

But you?

Price had ordered him to go slow, to make you suffer as the nails were ripped off slowly enough to make you pass out, but he couldn't.

He couldn't go against his orders, but he could do them his way.

If it's done quick enough, the pain concentrates and dissipates faster, leaving only raw, throbbing fingertips behind.

That's the best he could do.

As you pushed your head against his chest, pleading and screaming in pain as Price asked you questions you didn't seem to hear, another nail would come off.

"Give him their names. Please" he whispered, low enough for only you to hear, but you were too gone with pain to pay attention.

Price would order him to go on, and Simon would grit his teeth, and do it as fast as possible.

Every scream made him want to crawl into the tiniest cave, and rot for the eternity.

If you were truly a traitor, he didn't care. He wanted you to break yourself free and steal their guns so you could end them right there. He wanted you to win and take revenge, dance on their bodies for all he cared.

When you said it was done between the two of you, he was glad his back was facing you. Otherwise, you would've noticed the trembling of his lips under the balaclava.

Orders. He had to follow orders.

When the toenails started coming off, your screams reached a deeper pitch. It was as if it wasn't you anymore, you looked like a whole different person. Simon pressed his head to your leg, panting, whispering and begging you to say their names.

"Please" he would whisper, gripping your ankles in hope to ground you away from the pain.

When he was two toenails into the second foot, deep cuts along the arch of the two of them, Price's radio went off. He went out of the room.

Simon stopped, looking up at you, but you were slowly passing out just from the little break you were allowed without Price in the room.

Johnny was shaking, his shoulder tense as he looked straight to the door in front of you, from where Price bursted inside the room again.

"Follow me" Price said, his mustache shaking. It didn't take long for Johnny and Simon to follow.

The last time he had been this angry, he had nearly killed himself in the middle of his room.

You were innocent.

Simon was faster than Johnny only for a second.

He punched Price so hard that he could hear a finger breaking, but he didn't give a single fuck.

He knew it wasn't Price's fault.

Still, it felt damn good.

Yells could be heard all across the base, confused soldiers who knew nothing of the situation yet would just stare at each other.

"They caught him trying to escape" Price raised his voice again. "He's been detained and has already confessed. He claimed he was—"

"I don't fucking care!" Simon snapped, gripping Price's desk hard enough to break the shit out of it. "Bring him here, goddammit. I'll put a bullet through his brain".

"You know damn well I fucking can't—"

"The fuck am I here for, then? I'm done with this fucking shit hole" he yelled, not interested in whatever Price had to say anymore.

Johnny and him rushed downstairs, panting, shaking. Price didn't leave his office, the heels of his hands digging into his eyes.

Simon fell to his knees and untied you as quickly as he could, watching you blink your eyes open, your gaze distant.

"I'm so fucking sorry, love. You'll be okay, I fucking promise you that. Fuck, I'm so sorry... I'll carry you, hold on. Hold on..." he whispered, sliding an arm under your legs and carrying you bride style.

He was struggling with his own anger, unable to control his body as he normally would, bumping his shoulders on the walls as he rushed upstairs.

"Watch her head! You're gonna fucking drop her. Let me help—"

"Shut the fuck up, Johnny. Don't fucking try me right now".

If Johnny was hurt by his words, he genuinely didn't care right now. He would get over it.

When he finally reached the clinic, he snapped at however was available to get their fucking arses up.

He knew it wasn't the right thing, but he couldn't afford to be respectful. Not right now. A few medics surrounded you immediately, but one of them started pushing him out.

They kicked him out of your room.

They fucking kicked him out.

Away from you.

"You've two broken fingers, and she doesn't need you. You ain't going in" the head doctor told him. Simon's eyebrows furrowed, his lips curling in a snarl behind the mask, but she was having none of that. "Shut it, you big brute. Now do as I say, or I'm kicking you out of my clinic".

Johnny sat next to him, but Simon wouldn't look away from the door to your room. He sat quietly, not even blinking as the doctor helped him with his fingers. They didn't even hurt.

He didn't matter.

It took you two days to wake up.

As soon as he was allowed in, he barely left your side, only to take a piss or grab a coffee. He would watch the doctors check on you, acting like a dog ready to snap and bite their heads off every time your fingers flicked in your sleep when they touched you.

"L.T. You gotta get some rest" Johnny mumbled, a hand on Simon's shoulder. It was only the two of them and you there. As it should be.

"Not interested".

"Its been four days since you've eaten anything".

"Good for me. Was planning on going on a diet, actually".

"Simon".

"That's my name".

Smack.

Simon finally looks away from your face to look at Johnny with wide eyes, the back of his head burning. "The fuck was that?"

"That's what you get for being a dickhead" Johnny replied, his eyes fixed on you. "She's safe here. Come on, we gotta be fed and rested, so she can kill us when she wakes up".

It took Johnny a lot of convincing, but he managed to drag Simon out. They ate in silence, and slept.

Only a couple of hours.

The moment Simon heard your first scream, just in the back of his mind, he got up to his feet, rushing to the clinic. He wasn't certain if it was his mind or if it was truly you.

When he saw you on the floor, crawling away from him, he felt both relieved and terrified. He sank to the floor instantly, his hands in full display, hoping to ease your fear.

"No, wait. Please. Please. You're okay" he said, his eyes wide, taking in your expression. He will never forget the way you were looking at him, as if he wasn't Simon. Not anymore.

He didn't know what to do, didn't know how to approach you anymore, didn't know how to even begin.

"W-we were tricked" he explained, at a complete loss. "A mole planted evidence against you, but we found him a few days ago, when we brought you here. I'm so—"

"You're sorry" you crackled, and it felt like a stab to his heart. "You're sorry".

It didn't matter what he did, you refused to listen to him.

"Please. I didn't want to do it. I'm so sorry" he pleaded, his hands flat against the ground. "I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Johnny and I. You won't forgive us and we know this. Fuck, you should never do so. Lovie... please".

When you started sobbing, shaking and keeping yourself away from him, Simon broke down as well.

He moved slowly, taking his mask off, and leaving it on the floor between the two of you. He didn't dare looking at you, tears or not, but he wanted you to stop being scared at him.

He would've preferred you stabbed him. He would've preferred you made him eat glass and then shot him between the eyebrows.

But scared? He wanted to bite his own fingers off to make sure he would never hurt you again.

Simon was embarrassed. Ashamed.

He had followed orders, but he should've pressed Price harder. He should've helped you somehow instead of just doing as he was told.

The space between the two of you felt disturbing and too big. He wanted to hold you, to kiss your face, and never let go.

He didn't dare trying to convince you.

But you've been clear. It was over.

All he had left was his regret.

by implied I meant fucking obviously. i couldn't leave johnny out, i love him sm. but if you don't like it just picture them as rlly close buddies, then. they might kiss, but who doesn't kiss their buddies, am I right?

i was gonna wait until tomorrow, but i finished way faster than I thought I would, and I'm hyped as hell, so here you go. a gift!

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @dorothy-rainbird @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold

[aaagustd]

dreams | myg (m)

title: dreams pairing: min yoongi x (f)reader genre/rating: arranged marriage, smut but no smut, pining; 18+ summary: Yoongi would have never guessed that you'd be the girl of his dreams. warnings: pining, whipped!yoongi, wet dreams, implied smut, yoongi touching himself(aka his big dick), ruined orgasm wc: 0.5k release date: february 19th, 2024; 9:13pm est author’s note: Some of you may recognize this lol. I really want to add to this, but we’ll see. divider credit: 1, 2

masterlist | inbox | read on wattpad | read on ao3 | join my taglist

"W-We're going to be late."

You can barely get your words out because every thrust leaves you gasping for air. Your hands grip the railing while you lean over it. The sound of one of your diamond earrings hitting the marble floor goes unheard due to the obscene noises traveling through the mansion.

"That's cool," he grunts. "I don't wanna go anyway."

When Yoongi saw you in that little black dress, he knew his plans were canceled. He's going to need the entire night to appreciate this look. He couldn't even muster up the patience to drag you to bed. How the hell was he supposed to behave for a three hour long event?

"Shit, I'm cumming...!"

This is music to his ears. 

Though he has more plans for you tonight; right now he's only trying to release all the pressure threatening to squirt out of him at any given second.

You've been teasing him all day, testing his patience. He can't hold on anymore. He feels like he might explode.

"Fuck, baby. Me too—"

03:43 am

Not again.

Restless nights have become the norm for Yoongi. Since you moved in, a good night for him is any time he can get a solid five hours.

Tonight is no different. As soon as he drifts off to sleep, he's haunted by the sweetest dreams he's ever had.

His instinct is to savor every moment he can be near you so intimately, but he reminds himself that fantasizing about you in that way is stepping into dangerous territories.

Just because you're his wife, doesn't mean you're his lover or that you'll ever be.

Yoongi doesn't understand how this happened. He was just as resentful of this marriage as you were, but at some point, it all changed. How did you manage to capture his heart when the two of you barely speak?

Shoving the covers away from his body does little to cool him down. The images from his feverish dream still plague his mind.

He bites his lip, pushing those out of his imagination. It's wrong to think like that.

His heart hurts a little whenever he sees your demeanor change as you walk through the front door. It's like you're leaving your real life behind as you're returning to hell.

That's why he tries so hard to make this easier.

Sleeping in a separate room, staying out late, only speaking when necessary—he knows how to stay out of the way. Although sometimes he can't help but wonder... Do you ever get lonely?

He sure as hell does.

Every day women throw themselves at him, expecting him to entertain their promiscuity. But he never does.

He could, and no one would say a word. However, even if he did desire someone else, he could never embarrass you.

Before that happens, he'll slide down his boxers and relieve himself alone, biting into his pillow so you don't hear him crying out your name through the walls.

If he's lucky, he'll pass out after, and be out of his misery.

Hopefully.

Yoongi rolls over and lies on his back, staring at the ceiling as his hand slowly strokes over his skin. The dream he just escaped from starts replaying in his mind, picking up where it ceased. He's already feeling a tingling sensation coursing through his body.

That's it. He's already worked up. Now, he's ready to—

Did he just hear someone knock?

want part 2?? leave a reblog/comment, visit my inbox, or vote

[artstennisracket]

HEEEAARRR ME OUTTT

size queen! art donaldson

oh anon I hear you LOUD and CLEAR. this was easy because Patrick does have a big dick (Tashi confirmed). i had so much fun writing this so I hope you have fun reading :)

cw: big dick energy LMAO, throat training of sorts, dirty talk

Art could describe his sex life in a lot of ways. Fun is the first word that comes to mind, but lately it’s been more like…boring.

Ever since him and Patrick starting hooking up last semester, Art has realized that when Patrick’s on tour, Art tries to fill the Patrick shaped hole in his life with meaningless hookups. And at first that was fun.

Sleeping with different guys and girls, hooking up at parties, drinking, smoking, all that fun stuff. But lately Art’s been feeling less and less fulfilled, specifically with his guy hookups. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

Until last night when he was hooking up with this guy (Taylor or Tanner? he can’t remember) in his dorm. Once the guy had pushed in and bottomed out, Art felt underwhelmed. It wasn’t that Taylor/Tanner had a small dick, maybe it just wasn’t big enough.

Long after Art had kicked Taylor/Tanner out of his room for the night, he gets a text from Patrick at 1am, gonna be there tomorrow, can i crash at yours?

Art has a smile on his face as he texts back, and what if I said no

p: then id say i will fuck that attitude right out of you

a: in your dreams old man

p: that’s not what you said last time, it was more along the lines of “fuck me please don’t stop”while you moaned like a girl

a: whatever 😒

Art shuts his phone off going to lay down for the night and that’s when it hit him. Sex has been boring lately with men specifically because no one’s dick is as big as Patrick’s. Art tried not be a size queen and give everyone a fair shot but he definitely preferred dicks on the bigger end of the spectrum. Patrick was the biggest dick he has ever been with and he’s not mad at that fact. Nothing really compares to the feeling of being split in half on Patrick’s cock.

He quite enjoys the burn and stretch he feels when Patrick pushes into him for the first time. Or the inescapable gagging and choking when Patrick fucks his mouth, forcing Art to deep throat. But he can never fit it all in his mouth anyway. Patrick’s dick was long but also very girthy. Fuck.

Art can feel his own dick peaking interest from his line of thinking. He tries to focus on something else so he can go to sleep so tomorrow can come faster and then Patrick can fuck him properly.

…

When Art gets back to his dorm later the next day he finds Patrick already inside seated on his bed, wearing only boxers and a t-shirt.

“how did you—?” Art questions dropping his backpack in the floor by his desk.

Patrick smirks as he shrugs, “i have my ways”

Honestly Art doesn’t even care how he got in but he’s happy he’s here. Art wastes no time going to straddle Patrick’s lap, pulling Patrick into a heated make out session.

Art can feel Patrick’s growing interest underneath him (literally) and grinds down on Patrick. Patrick sneaks his hand into the back of Art’s shorts, slowly pushing his finger into Art’s hole.

“ah—missed you, missed this,” Art mumbles into Patrick’s mouth.

Patrick adds another finger, pulling away from the kiss so he can watch Art grind desperately on his fingers. Fuck, he’s so fucking hot. “stanford boys not doing it for you?” He smirks.

Art shakes his head no, “no, fuck, not even close.”

“why don’t you show me just how much you missed my cock baby,” Patrick responds pulling his fingers out.

Art smiles climbing off of Patrick’s. He goes to lay down on his back, with his head hanging off the side of the bed.

Patrick raises an eyebrow. He smirks as he stands up, “is that what you want?”

Art bites his lip looking at Patrick as best he could from his position before he says, “you already know the answer to that question.”

Patrick glides his tip against Art’s lips smearing his pre-cum, “dirty, dirty boy.”

Art sticks his tongue out to lap up the rest of the pre-cum on Patrick’s tip before he opens his mouth up to let Patrick in.

Patrick takes his time pressing deep into Art’s throat, watching Art’s throat bulge, “fuck” Patrick whispers under his breath before he starts fucking Art’s throat.

Art tries to keep his throat relaxed because he wants to see if he can take more of Patrick than he did last time, but once Patrick starts thrusting down his throat all bets are off.

Patrick moans, “there you go, taking me so well baby fuck.”

Between all the noises Art’s making choking on his cock, his balls slapping against Art’s face, and watching his cock go in and out of Art’s mouth Patrick can feel himself getting close so he pulls out.

Art sits up, swallowing all the spit that’s accumulated in his mouth. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand before he starts shedding the rest of his clothes, “need you to fuck me, please”

Patrick takes off the rest of clothes before he lays Art on his back, positioning himself between Art’s legs, “how bad do you need it? tell me,” Patrick smirks before leaning down to kiss up Art’s neck.

Art knows that Patrick just wanted him to feed into his ego but Art was too horny to care at this point. “need you to fuck me so bad, want you to split me open on your cock,” Art whines.

Patrick lines himself up with Art’s hole, teasingly tapping his cock against it, “yeah? missed my big cock stretching out your tight hole?”

Art nods. He’s growing impatient, “yes so can you please just do what you said you would do and fuck—”

Art is cut off by Patrick shoving himself in and bottoming out. Art lets out an egregious moan, just short of a scream, “ah ah- yes fuck please, need your fat cock yes”

Patrick picks up the pace of his thrusts, drilling into Art, “these stanford boys weren’t fucking you properly hm?” Art shakes his head no because Patrick is right, none of them seemed to satisfy him the way that Patrick does.

Patrick smirks, “they dont know how much a greedy cockslut you are, just want the biggest dick possible huh?”

Art nods again moving his hand down to start stroking his own cock.

“tell me how much you love my cock baby,” Patrick grunts out, making sure to punctuate every other word with a particularly hard thrust.

Art is rambling at this point. He’s so close and Patrick knows it too, “i fucking love your cock so much fuck, think about it all the time, everyday, just want you to fuck me all the time, fills me up good, nobody fucks me as good as you- oh fuck i’m gonna cum.” Art spills over his fist and his tummy.

Patrick grabs Art’s hips and starts thrusting faster before he spills inside of him. Hearing Art say all those things really got him going but he wondered if it was true.

He pulls out and grabs a rag to clean them both up. “did you mean what you said?” Patrick questions lying down next to Art on his bed.

Art half smiles letting out a breath, “maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” He shrugs, he wasn’t going to feed into Patrick’s ego anymore, he already got what he wanted (to be fucked).

Patrick scoffs shoving Art playfully, “so you’re saying I’m not the biggest dick you’ve been with?”

Art rolls his eyes. He knows Patrick won’t let this go without an answer. “are you the biggest dick Tashi’s ever been with?” He smirks.

Patrick smiles letting out a chuckle, “i think so yeah.” Tashi’s actually only ever slept with one other person besides Patrick and that was the guy who took her virginity. He’s almost 100% sure that his dick is bigger than that other guy, I mean his dick is bigger than 95% of the population.

Art starts to close his eyes, getting ready to take a nap, “well then there’s your answer.”

[just-a-creep-babe]

What Makes You Tick - Chapter 6

(Ticci Toby x Reader)

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What Makes You Tick Masterlist

Taglist: @nyx-daughterofchaos98

Divider by @plum98

The way he has the audacity to sneer out the word Princess—as if you've been such a self-entitled to kidnap—despite them being the ones who abducted you, who took you against your will and forced you into this whole mess—it ignites something hot and simmering beneath your skin.

And it's like all the accumulated stress bursts out of you before you can even stop yourself.

"Well, at least I didn't make you wait around multiple fucking days in some shabby hotel with nothing but the McDonalds dollar meal menu as the closest thing to quality nutrition."

As soon as you seethe the words out, you snap your mouth shut. You realize, with daunting horror, that you've just challenged all three men by insulting them. One of which you know, for a fact, is a murderer, and the other two, of which, somehow scared you even more than said murderer.

The men, it seems, are just as surprised as you are.

But then the Hoodie guy snickers, like your retort amused him.

"I think I like her," he hums, and it's the first time he's openly spoken in front of you, but the low purr of his words is more than enough to confirm your previous theory; he's the one who was in your room last night. He's the one who touched you.

Masky clicks his tongue, and it thankfully distracts you from the memory. He nods in Toby's direction, who also seems to snap out of a train of thought. And at the white-masked man's wordless command, he riffles through a duffel bag you only now notice had been brought in with them.

When he pulls out cable ties and two familiar black strips of cloth, you back away.

"N-no, wait—"

There's a semblance of safety in the bathroom’s lockable doors. It's the only place you could feasibly escape to if things don't pan out in your favor. But it feels like how a child might hide under its blanket when scared; it's not a viable option—not really, anyway—because, sooner rather than later, you'd be forced to come out. But, at the moment, it's the only security you have. And you'll take what you can get.

The men seem to understand your intentions. And although they don't seem particularly worried, they also don't seem too keen on the idea of having to bash down the door to force you out, or to otherwise wait around for however long it'd take for you to leave.

"I'll come willingly," you promise. "As long as you don't tie me up and gag me."

Your gaze locks with Toby, whose reaction you can't gauge beneath his mask.

With the goggles and mouthguard firmly secured in place, any trace of his soft innocence from last night is gone. You don’t know if it’s because he’s standing among the other two imposing men, or if it’s just the lighting revealing the dried specs of blood still staining his clothes. Whatever it is, it’s suddenly hard to imagine he’s even the same person from last night.

If it weren’t for what he told you about the notebook, it’d be easy to dismiss what happened as a dream. And, even then, you’re not entirely certain you can trust your sleep-deprived, stress-fuelled memory.

But you cling to the idea that there’s still some good within him—because it’s the only hope you have, and you need something to hold onto for the sake of your own well-being.

And it’s like your hopes are confirmed when, even despite the other two waiting expectantly for him to cooperate, he seems to hesitate.

You find yourself thinking, again, about unlikely partnerships, and shaking hands with devils.

When Toby looks towards Masky, you flinch.

You shouldn’t have snapped at him.

Something twists at your insides, and the door behind you feels just as promising as ever.

You watch as Masky returns Toby’s look. And the two almost seem to have some kind of unspoken conversation. You eye them both warily, all while Hoodie’s stare never once breaks away from your expression. And the whole thing is suddenly uncomfortably familiar.

Masky eventually shifts his gaze from Toby to you, and it takes everything in your power to stop yourself from shrinking back.

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, nails biting into palms as he steps towards you.

And to find your courage, you recall Toby’s eyes beneath his goggles.

You try to imagine what this Masky guy might look like—if he might have some semblance of warmth, or kindness, or humanity left within him. And it’s meant to strip him from his power and authority, to bring him down to your level and humanize him, but you can’t get past the porcelain mask.

It’s like you can’t imagine anything but some faceless monster of a man.

A slick lurch of intimidation fills your system as he circles around you, predator sizing prey.

You’re torn between looking at the floor, or looking toward Toby for some kind of comfort or pity—anything that could help you stomach the panic seizing your muscles.

You don’t know what Masky’s intention is—if he’s just trying to scare you, successfully so, or if he’s trying to decide how much of a threat you’d be without the blindfold and bindings.

When he finally stops, he plants himself inches before you, and carefully scrutinizes your face. The seconds are painfully slow, painfully long as the black pits of his mask look right through you.

He reaches out, and you flinch again, your heart skipping a beat as his thick fingers dig into your cheeks. Something small and pathetic escapes your throat, and you swear the other two men lean in curiously at the sound, their interests piqued.

You want to run away.

You want to push him back and run away to the illusory safety of the bathroom. The adrenaline screams at you to do so.

But the whole thing feels like some kind of test. And something tells you that, if you do try to run away, they’ll never let you have another inch of freedom.

So you stay neatly paralyzed before him, and let him do whatever he pleases to prove that you won’t try anything stupid.

And finally, after what feels like way too long, Masky snorts.

"Blindfold her once we're out."

It's all he says before moving past you, like you suddenly aren’t worth his time, and walking through the door that connects your rooms together.

You’re left with Hoodie and Toby. And it, admittedly, takes you a second to recover from the fear-induced paralysis before you realize you’re meant to follow Masky.

You follow willingly.

Their room reeks of cigarettes and alcohol.

It's bigger than yours, with an extra bed and a whole couch, but it's otherwise just as plain and simple as your own room. You aren't surprised that none of them bothered to make their beds, but you are surprised that it isn’t as messy as you’d expected.

There aren't any clothes scattered about, nor are there empty bottles of booze or food wrappers all over the place. In fact, if it weren't for the unmade bed, it'd almost look like there was no trace of them at all.

Leaving no evidence behind.

You follow Masky out of their front door, and you’re immediately assaulted by the smell of sweat and humidity from the cramped corridor. It's disgusting.

Your room had a similar unpleasant scent to it, but it'd been faint enough to ignore. Out in this hallway, with the greyish beige carpet absorbing every vile odour, there’s absolutely no ignoring the stench.

You hide your disgust as Masky makes his way through the dingy corridor, and Hoodie and Toby trail closely behind you to keep an eye on your every movement.

One of the first things you notice about this hotel is that there aren’t many rooms. The hallway is thin and relatively short, and you spot a few fire exits and staircases, but no elevators. Which means you were likely right about this being some cheap, rarely-used hotel. And which, in turn, explains why none of your notes were ever found.

Your heart sinks in your chest when you finally reach the lobby, where the front desk isn’t even attended by a staff member. And it gives you this eerie feeling that there’s a chance this hotel might be abandoned.

Something about the thought makes you feel gross.

When you take your first step outside, it hits you harder than you would've thought it would. Fresh air. Even though it's not a particularly nice day out, with overcast clouds casting a dull grey light on everything, it feels the nicest day you’ve ever experienced.

You hadn't realized how badly you’d missed this. Getting locked up for a few days had started to feel like months. And you hadn’t realized, until this very moment, that part of you had been utterly terrified of never seeing the light of day outside again.

It almost has your eyes watering with a rush of unexpected emotions.

But then you're ushered into the car, and that feeling of dread replaces the bitter-sweet lure of fleeting freedom.

Masky sits in the driver's seat and Hoodie takes shotgun, leaving Toby in the back with you, just like last time.

It’s the last thing you’re allowed to see before the blindfold is secured around your eyes. And you’re about to complain, about to argue that they don’t need to do this, but your better judgement has you staying silent.

As long as they don’t tie your wrists together—you’ll take whatever meager ounce of kindness you can get.

You’re left, once more, with nothing but darkness and the thrum of the engine to keep your thoughts company. Your mind wanders, and next thing you know, you’re processing what you think about your kidnappers.

Masky, without a shred of doubt, seems like the cruelest of the three. The others always look to him for direction. They clearly respect his orders, and you dread thinking about what he might’ve done to get to that position. The image of him cracking Toby’s skull against the brick wall comes to mind, and you cringe.

If there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that Masky definitely isn’t the one you want to go up against.

Then, there’s Hoodie. He's mostly quiet, but every time you look at him, you can still feel the warmth of his hand pressing through the sheets and stroking along your thigh. He gives you the creeps.

He seems like the type to always be watching—even when you might think you're alone. You’ll have to remember that.

And then finally, there’s Toby.

From the very beginning, Toby had been off-putting and unpredictable. You could never tell if he was on the verge of offering his help, or if he was seconds away from embedding one of his axes into you.

He killed your neighbour. He kidnapped you and forced you into this whole mess in the first place. And yet, he seems to be the only one who cares about your comfort. He seems to be the only one who wants to help you.

You don't know if it’s just some kind of ploy, some good-cop-bad-cop kind of bullshit. And maybe you’re making a mistake by flirting with the idea that he might not be as bad as he seems. Because, despite the innocence in his eyes, his clothes reek of blood the most out of the three.

And you just can’t figure him out.

Throughout the entire drive, you keep expecting to hear that liquid like last time, and to have that damp cloth pressed to your nose and mouth to knock you unconscious. But as the minutes trickle into hours, it never comes.

You keep getting tempted to pull the blindfold down—just for a slight peak at your surroundings—but you don’t dare. You stay nice and compliant because you don’t want to risk upsetting them, and you certainly don’t want to risk those fucking cable ties.

The only time you’re allowed to remove the blindfold is when they stop to refuel. You’re allowed to go for a bathroom break, and your immediate thought is that you’ll be able to signal for someone to help, but Hoodie sticks to you like a guard dog.

Even if he wasn’t closely following behind, the few truckers milling around barely even throw a cursory glance in your direction. They’d be no help to you regardless.

Hoodie stays posted at the door when you use the bathroom, and then you’re quickly ushered in and out of the stop. Hell, you barely even have time to try to decipher where you are.

You know there’s a possibility that they, once again, lied to you and aren’t bringing you back. But where else would they even bring you? You almost don’t know what to think, and at this point, your best option seems to be just going along with it.

Bide your time until the right moment.

You eat the stale sandwich they offer you from the gas station, and then you’re blindfolded once more, and then it’s back to enduring the long, endless drive.

The men, you notice, don’t seem to speak much to one another. You wonder if it’s because you’re around and they don’t want to reveal too much—about their plan and about themselves—or if they’re maybe always like this. If they maybe just don’t like one another. If they maybe don’t even trust themselves.

You wonder, most of all, why they’re doing this. What’s forcing them to this lifestyle—what they have to lose and what they have to gain. You wonder what gets beneath their skin. You wonder what kind of advantage you could ever pray to have over them.

When the car slows, you know you’re finally off the highway. You come to the occasional stop, and every time you do, you can’t help but wonder if it’s just a red light or if you’ve finally arrived at your destination.

Home.

You’re almost back home, you hope.

It has you getting antsy. You keep shifting in place, and the urge to pull your blindfold off gets stronger and stronger.

You try not to let your eagerness show through, but you don't think you're successful.

And then finally, finally, the car rolls to a stop and you hear Masky put the parking break on.

Home, you pray again, please let it be home.

You almost can’t sit in place. When your blindfold’s finally removed, you’re ushered out of the car, and there, right in front of you, you see it.

You’re back at your apartment.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

But what the fuck else was he supposed to do? He didn't know and this whole thing was just a fucking mess he had no idea how to clean up.

Maybe he could go back to Heaven and just play the pregnancy off as him gaining weight and then he found a baby angel in the streets.

If the baby even looked like an angel. It would be harder to explain away if they were a 50/50 mixture of them.

He knew Lucifer wouldn't have slept with him if he knew but hearing it still fucking hurt.

Maybe he should just find an angelic blade and end then both. Save everyone the fucking drama of dealing with this.

But Adam didn't want to die and he didn't want his baby to die. Why did he do things like this?

Adam closed his eyes, tears dripped down his face onto the pillow. Why wasn't he allowed to be happy?

Why couldn't Lucifer want him......

-

Lucifer sighed, he couldn't focus on making his duck. It was too hard to do when his mind just kept going back to Adam and everything that's been going on.

He's gone over the events and even replaced the shadowed face with Adam's........ It didn't sour the memory.

Lucifer didn't know how to feel about that.

Lucifer: Fuck.....

He got up, maybe making dinner would help. He cooked for a while before he went to go get Adam for the meal.

Only the angel was sleeping. With dried tears on his face.

Guilt clawed at Lucifer's insides, he shouldn't feel bad but he does.

There was one thing, however that he needed to see for himself. Adam might lie but his memory can't. Gently, Lucifer went over and pressed his hand to Adams forehead.

((⚠️ Tw Past Domestic Abuse ⚠️))

The garden of Eden was as beautiful in a memory as it had been in real life. It was a memory of Adam and Lucifer, just talking like they were friends because at the time they were. He could feel the warmth and happiness that came with him talking to Lucifer.

When the angel left Lilith came into view.

Lilith: What were you doing?

Adam: Huh? I was just talking to Luci.

Lucifer had nearly forgotten that nickname.

Lilith glared: Why would he want to talk to something as unimportant and stupid as you?

..... What?

He could feel Adams fear, he tried explaining that they were just friends.

Lucifer watched as her features twisted into anger. She started hitting him and calling Adam every name in the book.

Then he saw the worst one of all. One night Lilith bound Adam with vines and ra-.........

Lucifer had to go to a different memory that one was too hard. It made tears come to his own eyes.

Fast forwarding he found a recent memory of Lilith.

Adam: The fuck do you want?

Lilith: Oh Adam, is that anyway to speak to your wife?

Adam: EX wife. You chose that short ass remember?

Lilith rolled her eyes: Yes I remember, I chose the short, very clingy angel. Ugh, I still can't believe he made me have a kid.

MADE her!?

Adam crossed his arms: I don't have all day what do you want?

Lilith: I want a spot in heaven away from Lucifer and Charlie. I can't fucking stand them anymore! He's too in my face and she's like I had a literal fucking rainbow for a child.

Adam: And you thought I would just let you in here? If you wanted to be here you shouldn't have sucked someone else's dick. Why would you bother asking me?

Lilith got closer to him: Because I know you won't turn me down.~ Now, be a good little golden bitch boy and give me what I want.

She reached down and gripped Adam's nuts making him squeak.

Lucifer winced, that would fucking hurt.

Adam: Ow! Those aren't stress balls bitch, let go!

Lilith sneered: How about I sweeten the pot? I won't continue an uprising and in return I can stay here? But if you turn me down I'll pop your pathetic balls like a god damned grape.

Adam had tears in his eyes, the fear spiking again: Okay! Okay! Fuck! You can fucking stay just let go!

Lilith smirked and dropped her hand and patted Adam on the cheek: Good. Preferably somewhere on the beach? Oh and I think it goes without saying, Lucifer doesn't need to know any of this. Now be a good bitch and show me where my new home is.

Lucifer had to pull away that was way too much.

Lucifer: What the fuck......

Adam the Exorcist

@beef-brisket

Lute looked up wide eyed as her commander was giving his speech and there was a little sinner coming up behind him.

Lute: SIR BEHIND YOU!?

Adam stopped and turned, he gasped and grabbed Nifty by the neck and threw her at the hotel crew and Lucifer, glaring at the lot of them.

Adam: THIS ISN'T FUCKING OVER!!

Lucifer: I think it is bud, you should go home.

Adam glared more, he was leaving because he wanted to not because this little fucker told him to. He waved his hand giving them the signal that extermination day was officially over.

Adam: Exorcists fall back!

Lute: But ..... Sir -

Adam: NOW Lute!!

She nodded and glared at the King and princess of Hell along with her friends. They all flew back to heaven and Adam flipped Lucifer off before he was fully back in.

Adam groaned when the portal closed, they had never had it go that wrong that fast. This wasn't going to end well.

-

Adam: Retire!?

Sera sighed she knew Adam wouldn't take this well.

Sera: Yes Adam, it's time you step down as the commander of the exterminators.

Adam: Is this about what happened!? Because it won't happen again.

Sera: You're right, it won't.

Adam sighed: But Abel? My boy is too soft to do that job.

Sera: There's no one else to do it. You nearly died down there we....... We can't lose you.

On one hand he understands where she's coming from, but he was meant to do this! The only reason things went bad was because Lucifer showed up.

Lute just HAD to kill the princess's pet.

Adam: I don't want him to die.

Sera: He won't. We will be doing a more regimented training routine. You deserve a rest Adam.

Adam: ..... Yes Sera.

She smiled and held out her arms, Adam hugged her. She was only doing this because she loves him, he knows that. Doesn't make it suck any less.

Adam went back to his room to lay down, he didn't realize how tired he was until he did.

There had to be a way that he could still be an exterminator.

Some how.

[film-in-my-soul]

The Face of Hextech | 1,957 | AppleSharon / @applesharonfiction

Summary: Jayce likes serving Viktor’s sweetmilk in the Man of Progress mug because sometimes Viktor looks down at the picture and laughs. He makes it a point to ensure that Viktor’s brown mug becomes a holder for pens, pencils, his compass, and other assorted stationary. It’s unfair that Viktor doesn’t have a mug, Jayce thinks. It’s unfair that people don’t recognize Viktor for the brilliant person he is. After receiving a mug with his face on it at their hexgate celebration party, Jayce wants to make sure that Viktor receives the recognition he deserves. Based on this art commissioned by the LoL Germany account where Jayce drew Viktor's face on a mug.

your heart was on fire bright | 4,667 | adoctoraday / @crownofstardustandbone

Summary: It's just Sunday dinner, it shouldn't be this hard for Jayce to open his mouth and ask Viktor to come, but somehow it feels even scarier than it'd been to stand before the Council and risk banishment.

Your Past is Always Close Behind | 7,442 | Miikado

Summary: After his time in the wastelands of Piltover, Jayce is thrown back further in the past then he intended, and finds himself standing in front of a version of his partner, before they invented Hextech. Maybe he has more options than he'd thought. And maybe, just maybe, he can allow himself to be cared for, for once. “There will be time for questions later… Come.” Viktor holds out a hand, helping the other man to his feet with some difficulty. “You need a bath.”

High Hawk Season | 9,959 | JeanLuciferGohard / @thefaustaesthetic

Summary: Three weeks, and the south-facing side of his apartment is still missing, and they won’t even let him sleep there with a tarp tacked over it, because the ‘structure of the building was compromised’ and it’s ‘not fit for habitation’, as if student housing, even student housing on the Kiramann’s dime, ever had any claim on habitability in the fucking first place. “I've been sleeping at the lab, Viktor.” (which he probably would’ve done anyway, but it’s matter of principle–it’s–okay, it’s fundamental question of free will and fair housing practices and not having to live with his mother, who publicly called him a lunatic) Sometimes, you are a genius, and a sizable explosion knocks out most of your living space, and you end up living with your research partner, and it's only weird if you make it weird.

(see more recommendations below!)

Another Bite for Our Hextech Dream | 12,969 | virtualbugs

Summary: “Have you eaten recently?” It seemed to catch Viktor by surprise. The man paused, his eyes getting glazed over for a moment as the gears in his head started turning again and he thought about the question. “I, uh, cannot recall.” Viktor had been getting thinner and more exhausted throughout the years, replacing basic human needs with magic and metal. Jayce couldn't help but get worried.

All that I am | 20,441 | FatherBroken / @fatherbroken

Summary: The distant look in the Mage’s eyes snapped to the gap of the roof, to the near-silent tuttering of other, watchful machines down below. “No, it doesn’t matter. You will be safe up here. It should be simple enough, to lay protective wards into the earth of the tower. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he vowed. Promises held no impetus in this world, where nothing happened, nothing changed. The Machine reset its position on its knees and replaced its hands on the weapon of a fallen era. I can’t stop you from making useless promises, can I? Somehow, without doing anything, the Machine had gained a visitor and protector.

Observational Studies | 7,573 | begaydocrimes10001

Summary: It is difficult to understand a person like Viktor. He is the smartest person Jayce knows, that's for certain, but it's difficult to say anything for certain beyond that. He's proud of his work, but he outright rejects any opportunities to brag about his work at galas. He's cold and sharp when he interacts with people, but he makes time to think about every child in the Undercity. He's mesmerizing, but he's also the guy who will whack Jayce in the shins if Jayce makes one more wrong remark about an equation. Jayce can't help but fall for him. (A collection of moments where Jayce learned more about Viktor as a person. It is hard not to observe someone as unique as Viktor; it is harder not to fall in love with him.)

Run It Back | 11,224 | spqr

Summary: The first thing Jayce sees when he wakes up is Viktor, frowning at him. “Jayce,” Viktor says, with that same cautious patience he gets when he wanders into the lab to find some contraption of Jayce’s half-built on the table and he doesn’t know whether he can touch it without running the risk of blowing himself up. “What did you do?” (or: Jayce builds a time loop after the council attack, and Viktor dies again. and again and again and again.)

Better Hypothetical | 15,186 | Miikado

Summary: Jayce Talis joins the Piltover Academy to work on his research, and meets his new lab partner. It’s all downhill from there. OR : Jayce and Viktor start working together under different circumstances, the struggles of getting along and the inevitability of finding each other

Ivory Tower | 30,051 | aban_asaara / @aban-asaara

Summary: Knowing that Viktor’s dying anyway should’ve made it easier, but it doesn’t. They should’ve had their entire lives spread out in front of them. Should’ve kept changing the world one eureka at a time. Should’ve returned the favour and made Viktor’s dream a reality. Helped him. Helped Zaun. Jayce waits. And waits. And waits. Following Jinx’s attack on the Council, Viktor slips into a strange, unnatural coma. It falls to Jayce to release him.

Imagine Being Loved By Me | 8,285 | FourOddApples / @fouroddapples

Summary: “If I didn’t know any better I would think you are trying to make me blush.” Behind Viktor’s ostensibly joking tone, their eyes meet again, and Jayce’s throat goes a little dry at the focused intensity of them. Alright. This…is admittedly not quite the direction he was originally planning to take this. Doesn’t mean he’s not willing to take a chance like this if it is offered to him so freely. “Is it working?” Or: Jayce, a young man from Zaun with no prospects and a scientifically inclined mind, decides to take his future into his own hands. In a stolen academy uniform at a party, he meets a Councillor’s son named Viktor who makes him question what he thought he knew about topsiders—and who is just overall very distracting.

the only living boy in piltover | 11,215 | weatheredlaw / @weatheredlaw

Summary: There is a beautiful stranger sitting on Jayce’s favorite bench. or: jayce and viktor meet. time passes and it doesn't. not everything is as it seems.

And It's Called Black Magic | 12,068 | beta_mackerel

Summary: Hogwart's potions master Viktor could never have expected this. How was he supposed to know that Jayce Talis, genius, golden boy extraordinaire, and fellow professor would be foolish enough to eat the love potion-filled chocolates he'd confiscated from a student? But he can fix this. All he has to do is slip Jayce the antidote without him knowing and forget about the love-sick puppy looks he's been giving him all day. It should be fine. Right?

High-Viscosity | 12,629 | capyshota

Summary: Jayce knows having a plumber over is like… the sex cliche, but he’s never even thought about fucking a client, let alone actually done it. His job isn’t sexy, it’s dirty, and kind of boring, and those things don’t usually spur hot fantasies for him. But smartly dressed older men with indiscernible European accents, he’s come to realize, definitely do.

maximum capacity | 14,537 | Sinister_Queer

Summary: Jayce is everything Viktor ever wished for in a partner: intelligent, kind, strong, handsome and — … well, he has everything Viktor ever hoped for and he fully intends to enjoy it to the fullest. (AKA the fic where Viktor is a size king and Jayce happily indulges.)

singular focus | 14,797 | Sinister_Queer

Summary: Jayce has always back-burnered relationships in favor of chasing his dreams - putting the possibility of love and connection aside again and again until the day he looks up from his work and realizes with sudden clarity that he is a 30 year old virgin. And Viktor has some thoughts on how to fix that. (AKA: the virgin!Jayce fic that needed to be purged from my mind like an exorcism.)

Your Hands on My Body | 15,274 | UndercityViktor / @undercityviktor

Summary: *Viktor voice* "I present to you...": A Modern AU with Jayce working as a physio and sports massage therapist after crashing out of medical school, and Viktor, who works at the university and researches and builds bionic prosthetics etc. After he is referred to Jayce for a sports massage, Viktor unwillingly goes and finds that it’s not as much hokum as he was expecting… Chill Modern AU where everyone is pretty happy, and no one gets hurt and there's no big drama, just found family taking care of each other. *Rating has gone up from Teen to Explicit, so please be mindful of that.*

the 7 years between (and a bit of the after) | 16,440 | yellow813

Summary: Jayce falls in love with Viktor in the small moments tucked within those seven years together. He doesn't realize until it's too late. Or; The events of Arcane told through Jayce's eyes.

And They Were Roommates | 18,252 | Neibba

Summary: “That is just how Jayce is, Sky.” Viktor argued. “There is nothing about him that even hints he is anything other than straight. He brought home literal Barbie last night, she did the walk of shame out of our apartment this morning.” “Well I said he was queer not that he had bad taste.” Sky mused and Viktor shot her another glare. “Viktor, when am I ever wrong? You don’t even need to answer that because the answer is never and you know it.” Or: Viktor is helplessly in love with Jayce, but Jayce is straight…or is he? This is just supposed to be a quick, short project to get the creative juices flowing. It is not supposed to exceed 20k words! We’ll see if I hold myself to that.

I've Been Thinking of All the Little Things That You've Been Missing | 19,664 | FourOddApples / @fouroddapples

Summary: “Just a note. If someone is in love with you and you don’t want them, the kind fucking thing to do is to let them go.” Or: Viktor takes a chance that Jayce doesn’t know what to do with. Things are different after that, and slowly but surely Jayce begins to second-guess his response.

advanced practical physics (the laws of attraction apply) | 26,045 | Sinister_Queer

Summary: Jayce has five months left until he finishes his undergraduate degree. Five months until he could start his real life, until he could start doing what he wanted. The only thing standing in his way is one group project and the partner he'd slept with two nights ago. (Jayce and Viktor have a one night stand, then end up as group project buddies.)

Bad Machinery | 27,239 | Tlon / @tlonista

Summary: It's as predictable as the laws of physics: a Piltover golden boy should despise a starving inventor from the undercity. But when Viktor's tipped off to a scholar buying strange materials in the Lanes, he's desperate enough to sneak topside and propose a deal. He's not expecting to break every rule he's learned to live by for a man who needs him just as much. Or, the Arcane Act 1 AU where Viktor never left the undercity, but he found Jayce anyway.

Blog Info ☆ 2025 Reclists ☆ 2024 Reclists

[bellysoupset]

The Fun Police

Max blinked, dizzily, rolling on his bed as much as the casted foot allowed him and trying to make sense of which way was up or down. He was consistently sleeping past his alarm these past 3 days, since he had gotten full 10 days off work and Vince was there around the clock, before class and afterwards.

He had never been more well fed in his whole life.

His phone beeped and Max drowsily sat up, wincing as it caused a jolt of pain to go up to his knee, and reached for the device. It was around 2 PM, great. There was movement outside his room and Max stumbled up, grabbing the crutch and wobbling out of the bedroom.

He fully expected to see Vince there or maybe even Wendy, what he did not expect was to see a full head of curly auburn hair. Max blinked several times, frozen on the doorway of his tiny kitchen, trying to figure out if he was still dreaming or not.

Bella turned around, she was crouched down under his sink, searching the cabinet and her eyebrows jumped up, "oh hi!" her voice was a whole octave higher and softer than the last time they had seen each other, when Max had made a fool out of himself in the cabin, "you're up!"

"Hi..." Max frowned, not entirely convinced this was real, and jumped on one leg to the stool that separated the counter from the living room, "uh... What-"

"Vince had to go over to Boston today so he wouldn't be able to come after class," Bella answered, standing up straight and holding the sponge and dish soap, "and Wen's still recovering from the flu..."

Max's cheeks burned at the implication he was some sort of toddler who needed constant supervision. He let out a scoff, "I appreciate their concern, but I'm an adult, you really don't-"

"I don't wanna stay home," Bella blurted out, shutting him up. Her cheeks turned pink and she looked away from him, turning her back around as she washed the few dishes inside his sink, "I had a day off and staying home is driving me crazy and I- You can barely walk around, I figured you'd be bored."

Max's eyebrows went up all the way to his hairline. He had the sensation he had just been told something big, but he couldn't quite pin point what it was. There was a beat, then he shrugged, "sure... Suit yourself. But if that troglodyte of your husband appears here to accuse me of kidnapping you, we're gonna have proble-EMHEY!" He squealed, as Bella threw the soap soaked sponge directly at his forehead.

He nearly fell from the stool, staring at her wide eyed, "what the fuck, dude?!"

"Don't call Luke that," Bella glared at him, before circling the island in order to retrieve the sponge, "anyway, I figured we could go for a walk or do something? What do you do for fun?"

Max grumbled over his breath, Bella had some fucking nerve. Still, he couldn't bring himself to be mad at her. She was there, when she certainly didn't need to be, willing to keep him company and get all the stuff he wanted from across the room, and really... It was quite refreshing.

"I'm getting a little stir crazy," he admitted, "Vince brought me over to the community sport's center a couple times and it was a lot of fun, we could go over? I guess I'm out of hiking for an indefinite amount of time."

Bella snorted at that, "yeah, but hey, you apparently suck at it, so that's a good thing," she said smugly, then pointed at his bedroom door, "you need to change if we're gonna go out. Unless you want your students' parents to see you in boxers."

Max rolled his eyes, stumbling up and waving her away as she followed him towards the bedroom, apparently unaware of privacy just like Wendy was, "sorry, ginger, I really can't afford to get my teeth punched in right now, you'll need a permission slip in order to see me naked."

"You're such a prick," Bella wrinkled her nose, flicking at his ear since he couldn't pull back fast enough, "I'm going to wait in the living room, just yell when you fall."

Changing was always more than a little bit of a struggle. The shirt was easy, but his closet was made up of mostly jeans, ripped jeans and getting that past his cast foot was nearly impossible.

He hadn't gone out of the house yet, so he had been wearing sweatpants, specifically one pair Vince had brought over that was very oversized, but now he had no choice...

"HEY Bell!"

"I was joking about you falling-" she burst into his room immediately, then paused, "you're not fallen."

Max snorted, "no, I'm not," he pointed the jeans. He had put on one leg, the other was sitting on his lap, "I need the scissors from the kitchen, please. First drawer."

"On it," Bella didn't even question, coming back in less than a minute, "here you go."

Without hesitating, he grabbed the right leg of his jeans and cut a vertical line on the side, making bell bottom. Next to him, Bella let out a whistle.

"You rebel," she teased, "very punk."

Max rolled his eyes, before sliding the jeans on now seamlessly... Wasn't it for the fact now the ends of it fell like flaps, "uh..."

"Hold on," Bella moved around his room, grabbing one of his boots and removing its cords, "let's actually make it punk," she sat down on the carpet by his bed, grabbing the scissors and making small holes on each flap of the pants, tying them together like a corset around the cast, "hell yeah."

Max was smiling from ear to ear now, he couldn't help it. He thought of how horrified Wendy would've been if she saw him getting out of the house with those pants.

Bella grabbed his arm, pulling him up and Max stumbled, "alright, let's go?"

The community Sport's center wasn't the best option of activity when one could barely walk around, but they didn't just have field sports. There were foosball tables, as well as a ping pong and an air hockey table, so they headed straight to those.

Bella was competitive, something Max sorta had already guessed by watching her with the group in the cabin and the fact that Lucas certainly was very competitive. She had to have a strong personality to handle that asshole, Max decided, grinning as he patted the side of the foosball table and said, "prepare to get fucked over, Bella."

He hadn't expected her to suck, Max was fully prepared for Bell to be competent at everything she decided to do, so it was much to his amusement that she lost three matches in a row, her whole face turning red as she stomped like a toddler, "What the fuck, Max?!"

He chuckled at her expense, "how can you suck so bad at this!?" he said in a gleeful way and Bella flipped him off, looking around the place. There was a small smile tugging at the corner of her lip.

"I guess this town isn't that bad," she grumbled, then gestured to the vending machine, "oh they have White Claw, do you want one?"

Bella didn't wait for his answer as she jogged away and Max let out a happy sigh, rolling his eyes and leaning against the table. His foot was starting to throb, but it wasn't that bad, he just needed to get off of it soon. Maybe they could play cards?

Bell returned with the two cans, handing him one and leaning against the table as she drank, "so what else do you do around here for fun?"

"Get drunk at Stache's," Max leaned in to tell her, "it's a shady bar, at the corner of my street."

Bella snorted, grinning, "sounds great," she said, continuing to drink, "anything else? Because that's sad."

"Well, I hiked, but I clearly can't," he gestured to his foot, "I date around, too, I've been to one million first dates."

"Voluntarily?" The ginger frowned at him, "why'd anyone go to a million first dates by choice?"

"Spoken like a married woman," Max rolled his eyes, "first dates are fun, good food, fun chat-"

"No connection," Bella pointed out, "good sex, no emotional responsibility. I see you, Daniels."

Now his face turned red and Max shook his head quickly. Not that Bella was wrong, but he didn't... He couldn't even deny it, so he slammed his mouth shut and glared at her smug smile.

In all truth, he wasn't expecting the wave of shame that overcame him, as if he was doing something wrong for being single and hooking up around.

As if reading his mind, Bella frowned and poked his ribs, "hey, nothing wrong with sleeping around," she shrugged, "I just can't imagine willingly wanting to meet so many strangers."

He chuckled at her sour tone, then pointed at the air hockey table, "do you suck at that too?"

"You're such an asshole," Bella shoved his arm, hard, causing him to stumble and almost fall.

It wasn't a surprise that she was pleasant to be around, Max had already figured that out back in the cabin. He didn't expect it to be so much fun, though, truth be told.

They were both drunk, playing cards now, although the throbbing of his ankle was long forgotten due to the alcohol.

Bella's cheeks were red and she was muffling little burps against her fist as Max mopped the floor with her at UNO. How she was so incredibly bad at literally every game in existence was beyond him.

"Do you wanna end this? It's getting sad to watch you lose over and over," Max teased her, chuckling, and also because his stomach growled and his head was swimming. He had woken up late, so they had missed lunch and it was certainly catching up with him.

There were dark clouds in the sky, ready for a thunderstorm to start and the temperature was dropping quickly, and Max was not looking forward to limping through the parking lot- Oh no, Bella had driven to the community center. Ugh.

"Uhmmm, maybe," she slurred, planting an elbow on the table and cupping her forehead, "I don't feel so good."

Well, duh. Max rolled his eyes, he felt woozy and he was taller and bigger than Bella and hadn't drank as much as she did. In fact, if he didn't know know any better, he'd think she was drowning out feelings.

"Yeah, I can imagine," Max fished out his phone, "let's go outside and I'll try getting us an Uber."

He could count in one hand the amount of times he had successfully caught an Uber, there weren't many in Doveport and they always cancelled for some bloody reason.

Bella was blinking quickly, swaying on her feet as she got up and tried to help him with the crutch, "a ride? I drove here..."

"And you intend on driving us back, ginger?" Max winced as he didn't have a good handle of the crutch and it caused his foot to hit the ground, "so you can kill us?"

"You're so dramatic," Bella scoffed.

As soon as they were outside, Max leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths against the pain and steadying Bella by putting a hand on her elbow, "don't fall," he instructed, "so are you going to fess up on why you're here or...?"

"I told you," Bella frowned, her words sticking together. She let out another burp, wrinkling her nose and not seeming even the slightest bit embarrassed, "out of work... Bored."

"Why are you out of work?" Max asked, glancing back down at his phone and sighing heavily as the purple dot went from one side to the other in search of a driver. Bella stumbled next to him.

"Had a doctor's appointment in the morning, Luke insisted I take the whole day off," she scoffed, pressing her forehead to the wall and taking slow breaths, "mental health break."

Uh.

Max frowned, eyeing her up and down. She didn't look depressed or sick. But then if his years of teaching had taught him anything was that there was no "depressed" look, but less a "sick" look either.

"Do you need a mental health break?" Max asked, letting out a long suffering sigh as the app cancelled their trip.

Bella scoffed, shrugging, "Lucas certainly thinks I do," she said sourly, then her eyes lit up and suddenly she was straightening up, "Mr. Monacelli!"

Although they looked nothing alike, Max couldn't help but for a split second think it was Vince. Not only because Mr. Monacelli was how his students called Vin, but because Giuseppe was just as tall as his son was. However he had light brown hair, silver at the roots and with a bunch of grey strands peppered around, a grey beard and sparkly blue eyes.

"Isabella," he walked closer, with a soft smile, but a wrinkle between his brows. Again, nothing like Vince, but exactly like him too, Max thought, "what are you doing here, sweetheart?"

Bella gestured in Max's general direction, swaying a little on her feet, and Max immediately knew this didn't look good at all in the older man's eyes. Him, with a married woman, clearly drunk, all alone, in the middle of the week.

"Oh hi Max," Giuseppe offered a tight smile, planting a hand on Bella's shoulder and steadying her, "what's going on?"

Yeah, he was fucked.

"Vince sent her to babysit me and Bella's doing a poor job of it," Max said sardonically, deciding his best option was to rope in the man's son in case Giuseppe wanted to fact check this.

Bella let out a scoff, "I'm not babysitting," she grumbled, stumbling once more, "I'm visiting."

"Yes, alright, Isabella," Giuseppe's voice was soft, but his grip around Bella's shoulder tightened, he moved his arm to wrap around her waist, "you're drunk, bambina."

"It's Max's fault," Bella argued, easily falling into the older man's arms.

"OI?!" Max shrieked, "she's the one who got me drunk!"

Giuseppe pinched his nose bridge, "Max, zitto," he closed a hand in a shut up manner and the blonde scoffed, snapping his mouth shut and crossing his arms as the older man turned to Bella, "is Lucas here too, sweetheart?"

Bella shook her head, vehemently and stumbling as it caused the world to twirl. Max jumped to grab her before she collapsed, which was a bad move as he slammed his cast foot on the ground and his vision went white with the pain.

When he managed to get his senses back, now dizzy from the pain, Giuseppe was staring at him in a worried manner, holding Bella up with one arm, his free hand on Max's shoulder.

"Max?"

"I'm fine..." He rasped out, whole face burning from embarrassment. He didn't need Vince's dad babying him...

"Uh-hu," Giuseppe rolled his eyes, "I'm driving you home," he decided, turning to Bella with a frown on as she squirmed in his hold, "Isabella, quit it."

As if he was her father, Bella's face blushed and she immediately stopped struggling, mumbling an embarrassed, "sorry, Mr. Monacelli..."

Max sat in the front, while Mr. Monacelli put Bell in the back of his car and she collapsed immediately, curling up. The older man had a big frown on, lips pressed in a thin line, but he didn't say a word.

Only when ten minutes passed did Max realize that the older man was not driving back to his place, but back to the Monacelli's house. He let out a groan, "Mr. Monacelli, I need to go home-"

"Shut it, Max," the man snapped at him, "you're staying for dinner and then you can explain to Lucas what happened."

Oh. Great.

"It was not my fault! She's a grown woman-" Max started to defend himself, only for Bella to let out a little groan in the backseat at the loud noise.

"M'dizzy..." She slurred and Giuseppe's hold on the steering wheel tightened as he threw a worried look back.

"Are you going to be sick, bambina?"

Bella shook her head, forcing herself to sit up and promptly nearly smacking her head against the window.

"No..." She leaned forward, so she was sitting directly behind the driver's seat and pressing her forehead to it. A hiccup shook her, "don't think so..."

Max cringed, he didn't believe her for a second.

"She's absolutely gonna hurl," he said and Giuseppe let out a scoff.

He parked in front of his house, rushing to help Bella out of the car, but she wasn't sick. Instead, her knees gave up on her and the older man let out a Oof as he caught her, picking Bella up bridal style and huffing.

"Max, can you get the door?"

He could, although it was a struggle to limp ahead with the crutches and the nauseating pain that was starting to wrap all the way from his foot to his knee. Max was ready for this day to be over.

Instead of trying the keys, since his hands were sweaty and shaky, he simply pressed the doorbell. There was movement inside and then the door opened, to Livia's face.

"BABBO- Ah," she jumped back, spooked, "you're not babbo..."

"LIVIA HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO GET THE DOOR-" Ma yelled, rushing to the front door just as Giuseppe caught up with them. Her eyebrows jumped up and she mouthed around nothing, before asking, flabbergasted, "che cazzo è questo?!"

Giuseppe responded also in Italian, his voice strained, and Bella let out a little groan as they entered further the house and she was deposited on the couch.

Livia made a movement to follow her parents into the living room, but Max planted a hand on her shoulder, "hey kiddo," he said softly, "aren't you supposed to be in class?"

Her face lit up at being directly addressed and she shook her head, "babbo said I could skip," she wrinkled her nose, "Soph did, to go on a trip with Vinny."

Max snorted, rolling his eyes and pushing the front door closed, ushering the little girl inside, "you wanted to tag along?"

She was a Monacelli through and through, because Livia didn't need any incentive to start blabbing, taking him by the hand and guiding him around, unbothered by Max's limping.

"You, sit down," Giuseppe said roughly, moving a chair from the dining room with his foot and scooping up his youngest child, pointing at Max.

He obeyed, whole body collapsing as the pain made his head swim, and Max gulped down the nausea prickling all over him. He wasn't sure if this was due to the White Claw wanting revenge or just the constant throbbing pain.

"I called Luke," Ma announced, walking into the dining room, "and she's sleeping- You look sick, sweetheart," her dark brows connected as she took in Max, "are you drunk as well?"

Livia let out a gasp, pulling back so she could look at her father, "Bella's drunk?"

Max cringed, then shook his head and gestured at his cast, "just need to let it rest."

"And he's also drunk," Giuseppe rolled his eyes, while Ma planted her hands on her hips. Max wanted to vanish, he couldn't remember a single instance in his whole life where his parents had cared this much and he had no idea of how act around the Monacellis. Besides that, there was the undercurrent of shame, over the fact Bella had drank herself into passing out.

"She's fine," Ma said as if she could read his mind, walking out of the room and returning a second later holding a tiny plastic chair so Max could rest his leg up.

He leaned back his head, trying to wipe the clamminess off and then felt Ma's hand coming to cup his cheek, "are you alright?" she sounded very soft, but Max didn't buy that for a second. She was hot blooded, he knew from all the parent-teacher meetings and from how Vince talked about her.

"I'm fine," he nodded, only for Ma to squint at him.

"I'll get you some water," she decided, buzzing around.

Max craned his neck, letting out a sigh, so he could see Bella curled up and asleep. What a day.

It was way later at night when Luke pulled up.

They had just finished dinner and Max no longer felt like he was intruding, or like he was going to be sick. His ankle was still killing him, but neither Ma nor Giuseppe let him get up at all, so that helped.

Bell had woken up just thirty minutes before and she looked beyond embarrassed. It was clear she wished the ground would open up and swallow her as she whispered with Mr. Monacelli, repeating herself in what Max could tell was a chanting apology, even from afar.

She refused to meet Luke's eyes as he walked in the house and hugged Ma, planting a kiss on her temple.

"Thank you, ma," Max overheard his deep voice and curiosity got the best of him as he used the table to pull himself up, pain be damned, and limped to the living room.

Lucas' eyes sparkled as they saw him, clearly furious, but he didn't say a thing, waiting patiently for his wife.

"And her car?" Max asked, taking a sip of his cool water, leaning heavily against the wall, "it's at my place."

"I'll get it this weekend," Luke's didn't even look at him, grinding his teeth, "Isabella?"

"I'm going," she finished putting her shoes back on and then hugged Ma, apologizing once more... Then stood in front of Max and he raised his eyebrows, surprised. He fully expected her to leave without saying goodbye.

"I'm sorry I put you in this situation," Bella's cheeks were red, her voice small and embarrassed, "but we had a great day today... So thank you, for helping me take my mind off."

"No problem," Max shrugged, "too bad the fun police got here so soon," the words were out of his mouth before he could think them through and from the corner of his eye he saw Luke's face blanching, fists rolling up.

Bella scoffed, "don't say that," she grumbled, before leaning in and kissing his cheek, "I'll see you around, Daniels."

Then she stepped closer to Luke, who didn't put his arm around her at all, only waved to the older couple and stepped back so Bell could step out of the house and into the car.

Max let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and felt a pat to his back, Giuseppe squeezing his shoulder, "come sit back down, son."

---------

Bella knew Luke was pissed.

And that he had every right to be, so she didn't even try to say a word as they got in the car and drove off of Doveport. His shoulders were so tense, they were up to his ears and Luke was squeezing the steering wheel, looking straight ahead.

Her head was still swimming, even though she had eaten some crackers at the Monacellis, and Bella felt grossly hungover. Morally and physically.

She had acted like a teenager and the embarrassment was killing her.

It was only when they crossed the limits of Welton, three hours later since Luke had been speeding, that Bella dared to speak up. She was feeling beyond carsick, head spinning and stomach sour, but there was a much more pressing issue at hand, which was apologizing.

"Luke-"

"Uhm?" He grumbled, not looking her way, and Bella gulped down the knot in her throat.

"I'm sorry," she said, turning on her seat in order to squeeze his arm, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make a total fool out of myself, I didn't-" she swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth and Luke let out a scoff.

"I'm not pissed because you're drunk," he shrugged her hand off his arm as if it was burning him and Bella's eyes prickled, "we'll talk tomorrow-"

"No," she shook her head quickly, "I don't want to talk tomorrow, I want- I'm sorry, Luke, I really am-"

"You didn't leave me a fucking note, Isabella!" Lucas whisper yelled, as they stopped at a red light, "you just up and left!? Do you have any idea how worried I was!? All I knew is you had the doctor's appointment and then I come home and you're not here, hours later, was I not supposed to be terrified!?"

Bella let out a sniffle, "I didn't think- I was going to call you, I just- I lost track of the hour and Max wasn't looking at me all worried like you are recently and it felt nice-"

"So it's my fault?" Luke echoed, shocked, "don't you fucking try to-"

"I'm not saying that!" Bella snapped, hitting the glovebox to shut him up, "I'm saying- I'm saying I'm sorry! Okay? I'm really sorry I worried you and I'm sorry I acted like a drunk teenager and I'm sorry I'm putting you through this right after everything, I- I'm sorry!"

Behind them a car honked, causing the couple to jump and Luke to curse silently at the green light.

He didn't say anything and Bella curled up even more on her seat, feeling a pang on her chest. She wanted to comforted by him, but guilt was eating at her.

"Luke... Please say something..."

"How was the doctor's appointment?" his voice was hoarse and Bella flinched at the sound, mentally beating herself up for making him so sad.

"It- It was fine..."

He leveled her with a glare and Bella tried to gulp down the knot in her throat once more, but couldn't.

"It was scary," she said in a tiny voice, avoiding his eyes, "it was scary and she did an ultrasound and a- a pelvic exam..." and she deeply regretted not asking Luke to tag along, as Bella had not at all be prepared for the emotional impact of having the pregnancy loss confirmed, the invasiveness of the follow up exams and the questioning about her family history, as if it was her fault. She shook with a little hiccup and pressed her knuckles to her mouth, looking out of the window, "and it sucked."

Luke stopped the car, pressing his hands to his face and letting out a frustrated groan, clearly thorn between being caring and being hurt, "is that why you left?"

Bella did a little nod, "a day off was not a good idea," she explained, carefully keeping any accusation from her words, although it had been him who pressed her to take the whole day off, "I couldn't stay home, I was driving myself insane... And you were at work, so was everyone else, and- And then Vince sent a text about being worried that Max was alone and I figured-"

"He texted you about Max?" Lucas sounded dumbfounded and Bella let out a watery chuckle as he choose this to latch on, out of all things.

"We have a group chat without you," she mumbled and her voice wavered. Bella looked out of the window, they were in front of their house. Her stomach churned once again and she threw her door open, but didn't get out fully, only turned on her seat so she was facing the grass, trying to breath through the nausea.

"Oh baby..." She heard Luke whisper, then felt his hand on her back and the guilt bubbling inside of her stomach spilled over, causing Bella to lurch forward as she retched up the foamy White Claw.

She shrugged his hand off her back, coughing up another rush of burning liquid, "go inside-"

"Bell-"

"Please," Bella sniffled, muffling a burp against her hand and groaning as she wiped the liquid off her chin, "please, go inside."

He hesitated, but then she heard the noise of the driver's door opening and closing, followed by Luke's footsteps disappearing as he entered their house.

Bella let out a groan, using her free hand to grab at her hair, before shoving two fingers inside her mouth and forcing up the rest of the alcohol still burning inside her stomach. It took two more retches, before she started to empty heave, the tears she refused to drop burning her eyes.

Bella sniffled, wiping her hands on her jeans and using the car to steady herself as she got out, walking back home. The front door was not only unlocked, obviously, but open wide and Bella sighed as she leaned on it to close it.

Luke was nowhere in sight, so she walked upstairs, straight to the bathroom to take a shower and get rid of the alcohol smell and the shame.

Lucas was sitting on their bed when she walked out of the bathroom, wearing his shirt and some loose shorts, and he opened his arms for her to come closer, despite the frown he sported.

Bella didn't need any further invitation, crawling on the bed and throwing herself over him, wrapping her arms around his neck, "I'm really sorry," she mumbled against his shirt, "I didn't mean to hurt you..."

She felt him nod, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "I know... I'm sorry I forced you to take the day off," Lucas wrapped his arms tightly around her, "I didn't think you'd be all alone here, stewing on it..."

Bella sighed, clutching his shirt, "doesn't justify my behavior, Lucas."

"Yeah, I know, I'm pissed," he scoffed, but his hand rubbing up and down her back disproved that, "I love you, okay? Even if I'm pissed."

Bella's whole body melted, all the tension vanishing as she curled up against him, "I love you too. Even when I'm an idiot."

"Uhm," he chuckled, vibrating deep in his chest, "but you'll deal with Ma when she calls for the rest of the gossip."

"Yeah, alright. Deal," Bella opened a little smile, pressing a kiss over his shirt.

[according2thelore]

ageswap!au, continuation of these two things.

"i used to daydream about dying," dean blurts.

as soon as he fucking says it, he wants to swallow the words back down. his only excuse is that he is absolutely smashed, sam actually letting him drink tonight, in light of it all.

sure, dean's nineteen, and sam is always super uptight about his "normal" milestones, but considering dean's eternal soul is about to be dragged into hell in five months, sam's been letting him have some allowances.

it's a quiet night, pulled over in a mid-size town a few hours outside of davenport. their motel is right next to the highway, and dean can hear the swish of cars and the rumble of motors as they speed past their despondent tableau.

dean's big brother doesn't even look at him for a long moment, both hands tight around his beer bottle on his bed, shoes and jacket still on like a nutcase.

dean thinks it's because he's going out tonight, but he doesn't know where sam even has to go. maybe that's why he said it. another weak, selfish grab for attention. trying to get sam to stay. he takes another swig of his beer. it tastes like a granary's armpit.

dean is slumped against the motel table, the bottle opener and the graveyard of bent bottle caps litter the formica surface.

sam's tilted away from him, and dean can't tear his eyes away from him, even has dean's shoulders relax. yeah. he must not have heard him.

"what?" sam says, and dean's stomach seizes, almost a full six pack of cheap ass beer about to make a reappearance. dean's heard his big brother sound like that maybe four times in his entire life, and he'd be happy to never hear it again. the last memory he has of it, he was crawling back to consciousness while their dad lay dead on the floor.

"nothin'," dean babbles, taking another swig, and almost forgetting to swallow before he talks again. "i just...y'know. i just meant."

sam turns to look at him, movements slow. his eyes are sunken, cheeks hollow, and he has aged decades in the time since they popped the first tin cap off of these bottles. dean wants to leave. he needs to get the fuck out of here. but sam's implacable eyes pin him to the bed, and dean swallows thickly.

"y'know. i mean. you and dad used to fight. and fight and fight and fight. it never ended." dean closes his mouth so he doesn't emit a nauseous belch directly in sam's direction. "the only thing you'd ever get along over was me. sometimes."

sam doesn't react. his eyes are as hollow and blank as they have been since they pulled over to sleep a few hours ago.

"y'know." dean chuckles awkwardly, forced. "in--in my head, you'd always. i don't know. i'd save your asses on a hunt or s'mthing. you'd both uh. shake your fists at the sky and rue the day and agree to get along and be a. i don't know. a team."

dean tries to grin viciously, for effect, but it feels rubbery on his cheeks.

"avenge me good and bloody, y'know?" sam still doesn't react, so dean continues, "and of course i'd be like 'i told you so.' in my halo or whatever."

sam's eyes slide right past dean, over his shoulder, like dean isn't even there. dean's starting to feel defensive, starting to feel annoyed. sam hasn't let him out of his sight, but dean can feel him already pulling away. sam has to have dean within arms' distance, but can't look at him for longer than a few minutes at a time.

maybe it'd be easier that way. can't be too torn up about your baby brother in hell if you try to forget you even have one. or if you barely care he exists.

"it'd keep me busy while y'all were going at it." bitter. too bitter. dean takes another large swallow of his drink. too large. he chokes on it a little bit and coughs, taking another swallow. "anyway. it's ironic. my death won't even bring y'all together anymore. 'swhy i mentioned it."

sam's eyes slide back to his face, dazed, but his blank expression doesn't so much as twitch.

whatever.

dean doesn't say that these fantasties often had sam pulling dean's tragically limp body into his arms and wailing, peppering dean's hairline with kisses like he hadn't done since dean was young enough to be picked up. he'd haul dean into his lap and curse at the sky, big wet tears hitting dean's cheeks. maybe he'd try to give dean CPR. maybe it would be raining. regardless, it'd be very cinematic.

maybe dean would jump between dad and a werewolf claw, or shove sam out of the way of a drowner's grasping hand. his favourite, though, was blowing up a building with a bunch of ghost artifacts. it'd be over quick, he'd save both of them, and he'd kill a bunch of sons-of-bitches with him. it'd be very die hard. or independence day. very cool, is what dean's saying.

in that particular scenario, sam didn't get to wail over his body, but hey. nothing's perfect.

sam jerks to life, suddenly, but it's just to put his beer on the nightstand woodenly. he turns, rising. his knees creak and crack. he's twenty-three, too young for his bones to sound like that. dean realizes, as he stands, that sam hadn't even taken his wallet or keys out of his pockets. he just sat down in his heavy coat, three layers of shirts, jeans, boots, and all.

dean's palms break out in a cold sweat as sam approaches him, hands limp at his sides. dean's hand spasms around the warm beer bottle, mouth opening but unsure what to say.

sam's close enough to smell now, warm sweat and leather and outside air and that unique something that makes dean's brain light up like a switchboard.

dean's ready to say it, he has the two words on his tongue sitting pretty like a gift: i'm sorry, and is trying to get his throat moving. dean looks up at his big brother, feeling five years old again, as sam's bangs shadow his eyes and make the hulking outline of him blot out the light of the lamp completely.

sam doesn't look at dean when he falls to his knees, the sharp thuds of his knees slamming into thin, worn motel carpet over the concrete foundation making dean jolt in reflex pain.

dean's heart shoots up into his throat, but his brain doesn't even have time to process the image of sam on his knees, or the implications that have haunted dean since he first saw his first pair of work boots sticking the wrong way out underneath a truck stop bathroom door stall.

because sam leans forward, into dean's open knees, and wraps his arms around dean's middle. sam's so big, and dean is so not, that he touches his own armpits. he buries his head deep in dean's stomach, so deep that he can probably feel dean's heartbeat thudding against his temple.

sam's been doing everything he can to pack pounds on dean since they reunited, and succeeded on moving dean up a weight class, but dean is still more wiry than bulky. dean can feel it now when sam's entire hand spans his waist. dean was reckless with his money when dad wasn't around, and lived for about a month on nothing but gas station slim jims and energy drinks. it was only in the few months before dad's disappearance that they found a way to keep doing their credit card scams after the nationwide crackdown on fraud. dean had been eating three hamburgers a day when he finally showed his face through sam's window, but sam still got onto him about eating "actual food."

and clearly, the time with dean has been doing some good to sam, too.

dean's thighs are awkwardly spread around his big brother's bulk, a few inches underneath his arms. he can feel the shift of sam's growing muscles underneath the thin, sensitive skin of his inner thighs. dean's arms are raised high like he's wading through waist-deep water, and afraid to get his arms wet. he can't see sam's face, only feel his slow, shuddering breaths against the sliver of his bare stomach that sam bared when he slid his arms around dean.

he awkwardly puts the bottle on the table, so dazed that he puts it on top of one of the bottle caps and the bottle tips over, right off of the table, and spraying its last few mouthfuls over the carpet. the bottle rolls, and rolls, and hits the metal leg of sam's bed.

dean puts a hand on sam's hair, confused.

and sam begins to cry.

his chest heaves, once, and dean hears the high, wheezing whine of his lungs as they squeeze around a wail. sam's face is so warm, nose so hot that it takes a second for dean to distinguish between the wet, hot gasps of his breath and the feeling of dripping tears, soaking into dean's shirt.

dean blinks down at his big brother, in his arms, in his lap. dean's frozen. something roiling and sickly and nauseating makes his stomach twist, as sam tries to burrow his way into dean's abdominal cavity.

sam used to let him play with his hair for hours when he was younger, dean twisting the strands between his pointer finger and thumb. sam asked a girl at school to teach him how to braid hair, and he came home and showed dean one night. dean pshaw-ed and called it girly shit, but would braid little plaits into sam's shaggy hair before unravelling it, for hours. from when dean was seven to thirteen, he'd often wake up with strings of sam's hair in his fist, half-braided. dean can only think of that, now, as sam shakes apart in his lap, and dean's fingers twist through limp, greasy hair.

it's pathetic to hear and see sam sob, in the truest, purest definition of the word. it's pathetic in the way a sick, mewling puppy is, in the way a child lost in a park is, in the way a lone person sitting in a graveyard is.

sam has always been bigger than life--dean's perfect, brilliant, beautiful, strong, brave big brother. sam taught him how to tie his shoes and how to throw a punch and how to love a world that has taken so much.

and sam sits at his feet and wails. it feels like something dean should've never been allowed to see. it feels like finding out swayze and grey hated each other the entire time. it feels like stripping the beloved exterior of an animatronic off and seeing all of the inhumane, mechanical pieces that make it up. like finding out batman is just some scared guy in a mask.

dean bends over sam's body, making a cave out of his torso for sam's head, and wrapping his arms around the top of his back. sam grapples for him desperately, one of his arms coming up to go around dean's back and hold him there, so they're pressed together like two 'c's.

"it's okay, sammy." dean says, brokenly.

his body hurts. his mouth tastes like shit. he's exhausted, and he's sweaty, and his head is spinning from too much terrible beer, too fast. dean's in the middle of nowhere, iowa, and the room smells like old cigarettes and lonely sex. and dean's an orphan, at nineteen. and the only other person in the whole world that cares if he lives or dies is in his lap, sobbing like the world is ending.

his eyes burn, and before he knows it, dean is crying, too. he tries to keep his breath even, letting burning, acidic tears roll out of the corners of his eyes, and onto his crossed arms.

sam's hands shake against dean's sides, his fists balling until he's holding handfuls of dean's shirt, that's actually sam's. dean stole it out of his duffle earlier, instead of taking a shower.

dean moves so one of his hands is completely flat on sam's back, and feels the bones that make his brother up, the calcium and marrow and collagen. feels how his bones grind together and separate as he gasps dean in, the smell of sam's shirt on dean's skin.

dean quickly wipes a tear before it can fall onto sam's shirt. he doesn't want sam to know that he's crying. he doesn't want sam to know that he's scared shitless. he doesn't want sam to know that he's barely holding it together. he never thought he'd last long, but dying a few months after his twentieth birthday makes him shake and quail and feel ice-cold adrenaline down to his toes.

sam doesn't need to know that. sam might get angry again. sam had already been through the anger stage, and dean can't die if his big brother is angry at him. he just can't. and dean also doesn't want sam blaming himself, which he will if dean falls apart now.

dee, dee, dee, sam mutters into his stomach, more teeth than human speech. it sounds like a death groan, the last breaths of a battlefield body. dean had snapped at him a year ago for saying it, when sam had tried to wrap an arm around him in his apartment complex's parking lot, his girlfriend upstairs. don't call me that. dee is a chubby twelve-year-old, he spat.

it chokes another few tears out of him, and he aches to be a little boy again, the one that sam would run out of first grade to swoop up in his arms and swing around. he tries to picture himself at age six, wants to shake him by the shoulders and tell him to take more time, because he only has fourteen years left.

dean wipes the tears away again, harsher this time, and it makes his eyes burn. the pain sharpens his gaze a little, and sam, head still buried in dean's stomach, lets loose a lung-rending wail. his arms tighten, and he holds dean impossibly closer, their bones grinding together uncomfortably.

dean inhales sharply, trying to chase his snot away. he swallows thickly, and clears his throat.

tears are over.

he'll have time to be scared later. for a long time, dean can be as scared as he wants. sam has been brave for dean for nineteen years. dean can be brave for sam for five more months.

he pets down sam's back, his sides, sliding soothing fingers into his hair, like sam used to do when he had a fever.

"it's okay, sammy," dean murmurs, as sam trembles apart underneath his palms. dean's voice doesn't shake. not even a little. "it's going to be okay."

[chungledown-bimothy]

well now i'm thinking about the cultural impact of jaws and how glad i am that i was taught to interact with it differently.

like, to me, jaws isn't "sharks are malicious man-eaters!!". it's "sharks are wild animals and need to be respected. if *you* fuck around and disrespect them, you will find out. but that's on you, not them."

and there is text backing that up! (this is gonna be specifically pulling from the movie, as that's what i'm more familiar with off the top of my head and was the far more influential work. no one's read the book. and that's fine- the movie's better anyway)

in the scene where hooper, the first character we meet who knows anything about sharks, looks at what was found of christie's body, he says something along the lines of "sharks are perfect machines. all they do is eat, sleep, and make baby sharks".

when he and brody cut open the tiger shark, he emphasizes how they'll eat absolutely anything as he pulls out license plates and other trash. in both scenes, there's not even the slightest implication that there's any thought into what they're eating. they aren't malicious. they don't seek out people to eat.

when he first gets to amity, his suggestion is to close the beach. it's not an enemy that needs to be killed, it's an indiscriminate predator. cut off the food supply, and it'll leave. the shark doesn't specifically want to be hanging around and eating people.

it's not until the mayor puts profits over people refuses to do that that that things escalate. it's human greed and disrespect that cause further loss of life. and that's backed up when mrs. kintner confronts the mayor, specifically saying that her son died because the mayor refused to close the beach. she didn't blame the shark. she blamed the mayor, and that's framed as a justified response.

even quint, with his beyond traumatic experience surviving the uss indianapolis, doesn't attribute malice. his description is haunting as it doubles down on hooper's earlier description of them as mindless. they have dead eyes. like a doll's eyes. those men didn't die because they were human and the sharks liked that, they died because they were horribly unlucky and easy prey.

yes, there were still things the movie did to undercut that, like michael in the boat, bc it is still a thriller, but the vast majority of the "sharks are man-hunters" was all from uninformed hysteria. the people who have dedicated their lives to sharks, in their own ways, were like "that's not how they work."

there's also how brody fits into all of this as a stand-in for the audience (for better and worse), but this is already so long, i'll just wrap it up.

the movie is very clear in its message of "if they had closed the beaches, the shark would not have stuck around for the sake of hunting people. it would have moved on in search of other prey. because it is a carnivore and that is what they do."

it is (mostly) not the fault of the film that that's not what people at large took away from it.

thank you for coming to my ted talk that literally no one asked for

[ribbonsncherries]

The Contract

Warnings: Lots of smut, P in V, Oral (both m and f receiving), BDSM!, Sexual Assault, Stalking, Angst, Alcohol mentions, Dominant and submissive plot, Drug Mentions, Virgin user, mentions of drugs.

Chapter 4

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x inexperienced! User

Summary: When her roommate and work partner gets sick, she is in charge of interviewing famous billionaire businessman Dean Winchester for his new bar's grand opening which leads to a passionate and tumultuous affair where she discovers his dark sexual desires, marked by control and dominance. The one catch? He doesn't do romance.

Based on the trilogy Fifty Shades of Grey.

(4530 Words)

Divider credits: @dollywons, @anitalenia, @selysie

(y/n) had woken up, She felt something warm next to her only to realize when she adjusted her eyes a sleeping Dean. She relaxed on her respective side worrying if she even touched him he might jolt awake. Her thoughts were winding over the memories from last night, the people were right. He is a sex god as people assumed. She quietly got up from bed and put on his dress shirt to cover everything up, she buttoned up the buttons halfway and rolled up her sleeves. As she began walking out the door the bright light made her squint. She looked down her legs to get her face away from the light, when she looked down she saw many Hickeys on her inner thighs. She didn’t even want to think about that. Her heart began racing the more she saw on her lower chest. She took a deep breath, adjusted her eyes to the bright sun, and walked to the kitchen. (y/n) wasn’t much of a cook but she sure knew how to make a “good breakfast” as Jess calls it. 

It took a while for (y/n) to look for the proper things she needed to make the food, like pans, utensils, and all that junk. When she opened the fridge she saw many ingredients for cooking. She smirked knowing she had everything she needed. When gathering all the items she found a radio so she didn’t hesitate to turn it on and lower the volume so Dean wouldn't hear the ruckus going on down in the kitchen. The only thing (y/n) knew from this house was that she was poor. He had so many mechanical uses in the kitchen it felt like deciphering a code. It couldn’t be this complicated. She took her phone and looked up the certain uses for the stove. This stove to her looked like the fucking space shuttle for all she knew. Then she began cooking, cutting up some chilies for spice, and adding some seasonings for that nice flavor. She turned on the radio and began tapping her feet to the beat and swaying her hips softly to the rhythm while humming. 

Dean heard some clattering in the kitchen and the smell of fresh breakfast around the room. He looked to next him and saw the empty side, he silently frowned. Why did he have this sudden urge last night that he was almost looking forward to waking up next to her? He put on some sweatpants and a random shirt he had lying on the floor. He came out of the room and heard some slight clattering and music. “Whole Lotta Love” By Led Zepplin was playing softly around the kitchen, he saw her putting the vegetables in a glass bowl while she was shaking her body softly. Dean smirked and sat down at the kitchen island with his arms resting on the table. She turned around and jumped. “You’re awake?” she asked still a little shocked he suddenly showed up. He smirked and scoffed, “You seem very energetic this mornin’ sweetheart.” He said. “Sorry to intrude, just wanted to make you a nice breakfast.” she smiled hoping he would be okay with it. He nodded while looking up and down her body only wearing his dress shirt with nothing underneath. 

“It’s alright, I don’t really make a lot for myself anyways just diners, especially the ones that look like are hanging on by a thread and looks like it hasn’t been certified by the FDA are the best in town.” He smiled. “So what are you makin’?” 

(y/n) smiled, “Well I’ve just finished making omelets, sausage, and bacon. What did you want?” she asked holding up an empty plate with one hand and a utensil in the other. Dean was almost starstruck, no woman he’s ever had this contract with has ever really done this for him. He smiled with his green eyes and told her he wanted everything. She immediately took note and began serving his plate, Once she put it down in front of him she poured some orange juice in a cup and placed that next to him before she served for herself. As they sat side by side together they never spoke about last night. As amazing as it was she couldn’t say anything. What was she even to say after he basically signed her to be his personal submissive and took her virginity? Thank you?  “How is it?” she asked him while chewing on her bacon. 

“This is delicious,” he said with a full mouth of eggs. She laughed at the scene and used her napkin to wipe some egg off the side of his mouth, “You know for a multi-billionaire you are pretty messy.” she said giggling. When Dean swallowed the rest of his food he smiled. When breakfast was finished and (y/n) was gathering up the dishes Dean stopped her. He took her hand and led her to the bathroom “Let’s get you cleaned up.”. Dean took off his shirt and sweatpants, (y/n) immediately took the signal slowly unbuttoned the shirt she had on, and stepped into the tub of warm water. Dean stepped in behind her as took a clean sponge and began cleaning her back slowly. His hand came upon her waist. Hi shand went lower and lower till his fingers were at her core. She gasped from the sudden sensation, Dean put the sponge down and leaned her against his chest. Her head laid back on his shoulder as his fingers began going in and out of her pussy. Her hand went to his wrist but he immediately grabbed it and pinned her hand behind her. “Oh fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop. She moaned quietly. He went faster and curled up his fingers to hit her G-spot. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he released his fingers before she was about to cum. He got up from the bathtub and gave her a towel before getting his own. He led her to his bedroom and told her to wait. He went to his closet and opened a drawer. This drawer had cubicles that stored his ties, one particular one struck out. It was a nice grey tie with a few dark blue stripes coming down the tie. He came back to her only a towel wrapped around her. “Do you trust me, Princess?” he said to her roughly. 

“Yes,” she breathed out. He took the towel off her and laid her down on the bed, “Give me your wrists.” he demanded. She did what she was told and tied his tie around her wrists making them bound. He got on top of her and placed her hands above her. He began nipping at her ear down to her collarbone while his other hand was groping her tits. His open mouth kisses went down to her breast and he started sucking her nipple. Her gasps from the sudden pleasure echoed in the room. She began twitching her hands wanting to grab something, his hair or his back. “Be a good girl and stay still,” he whispered in her ear. “Okay.” she moaned out. 

“Dean!” yelled out “Dean get out of bed I know you’re still asleep!” Yelled out women from the distance. (y/n) was confused, “who’s that?” she asked panting as Dean grabbed her wrists and began untying the bound. “Ellen, a family friend,” he said. She began giggling at the situation, “I’m here on your bed naked.” she whispered. Dean smirked at her while he softly threw his shirt and her jeans from last night. “Get dressed,” he said before kissing her forehead. (y/n) quickly threw on a bra and buttoned up the shirt like she did this morning. As she put on her jeans the voices were getting louder. “

Ellen was waiting at the entrance of the penthouse looking for Dean, she knew damn well he was probably sleeping, especially at this hour. “Ah, good morning sleeping beauty.” She joked. Dean smiled and hugged her, “Hey Ellen, what brings you by?” 

“I can’t stop by? Your father’s brains soaked into that pretty head of yours or what?” she said. (y/n) walked out of the hallway and into the room, “Hi.” she smiled politely. Ellen looked almost shocked to see a girl in Dean’s house. “Oh my god…” Back when Dean was a teenager he would hook up with every girl in town whenever he moved schools, but when he became serious about his business and had a reputation to uphold he stopped and hasn’t introduced the Winchester family to any women in years. Not since… 

“I didn’t know you were seein' someone, Dean you dog. And you didn’t say she was pretty.” (y/n)’s smile widened, “Oh thank you so are you.” She said shaking her hand. “Well I really just stopped by 'cause I was in the neighborhood,” Ellen began walking out while Dean followed her. “Well, Sam just got a promotion and we’ll be havin’ a celebratory dinner at your dad’s house. You’re more than welcome to join us.” Ellen said to (y/n). (y/n)’s phone rang in the middle of the conversation, “Go ahead take it, Ellen I’ll walk ya out.” he said gesturing to her phone. (y/n) nodded and mouthed ‘thank you’ before walking into the hallway and answering the phone. “Hello,” she answered. 

“So, you stayed the night, how’d it go?” Jessica responded smugly. (y/n) laughed, “I can’t talk about it right now Jess,” She said, “I’ll call you back ok?” she said before hanging up. As she walked down the hallway, she walked into the room that was ‘hers’ like Dean had mentioned last night. As she sat down on the vanity, took her thumb, and licked her finger, she then began taking away the mascara that was under her eye and began fixing her hair which was still a bit damp from the bath and activities earlier. She saw Dean in the reflection of the mirror. (y/n) kept a straight face as he came up behind her. “Tell me the truth…how many women have been in this room?” she said looking at herself in the mirror. 

“15,” He said, “I can understand if you want out-” 

“I don’t want out.” she clarified. “It’s just, not looking forward to getting smacked and whipped in your red room of pain,” she said quietly looking at him through her reflection. “The room is more about pleasure…I promise. Try to keep an open mind sweetheart.” He took her chin and turned her away from the mirror to face him, “If you agree, then I will be fully devoted to you…no one else. This is what I want And I want it with you.” he said. (y/n) got up from the vanity and began pacing the room from thinking, “But what about sleeping together, we slept in the same bed last night what makes other times so different?” she asked, Dean took a small breath, “Try not to get so beat up with the sleeping arrangements, if you do this you’re gonna want your own room.” He said. (y/n) looked down and scoffed, “Why? Cause I’ll just be used for sex?” she said. Dean pinched between his eyebrows in frustration, “Let’s not talk here, let’s discuss downstairs.” he said taking her arm which she immediately snatched back. “I would like to use the rest of my freedom thank you,” she said before walking away. “Actually no, I want to go home. Take me home.” she smiled before getting her jacket and walking out. Dean secretly smirked. She was feisty, she was not all the way submissive to him. He liked the game she was playing and wanted to play more. 

A couple minutes later Dean took her to the garage. It looked like a parking garage you would find in those shopping malls. It was lined up with beautiful Classic Cars, including the Chevy Impala he drove her in. “All these are yours?” she said in disbelief. “Yes,” he responded. He took her to a 67, Mercury Monterey and opened the door for her, she got in the car and Dean began making the long drive back to (y/n)’s apartment. After a few hours (y/n) was asleep peacefully, Dean looked to his side and found her leaning on the window. So he decided to tell her someplace special. He took her to a small pit stop, He took some hair away from her face and she began moving and opened her eyes. “C’mon, let's go for a walk,” he said. (y/n) stretched out her arms and legs and got out of the car. As they began walking through the small trail she smiled, “Is this the place where you’re gonna kill me or something?” she joked. He didn’t say anything so her smile went down. After a few minutes of quietness she spoke up, “Why did you decide to do this anyways?” she asked. 

Dean became tense, “My father was always controlling of my brother and me. When my mom died he treated us like soldiers when I was 6 and it never stopped, all I wanted for once was to tell him what to do, tell people to do my bidding like he did, He was my father, and I looked up to him. So…apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. No one, not even Sam knows about this part about me” (y/n) was a bit shocked yet afraid. “So he introduced to be a leader? Mr. Sergeant.” she half-joked. Dean chuckled, “I'll tell him you said that.” he said. They stopped walking when they found a small river and a bench. (y/n) sat down on the bench and looked out the view. Dean sat down next to her. “He still sometimes treats me like a mini him, but I’m sure he did it only to protect me and my brother. Listen (y/n), I know this plan is very intimidating I understand.” 

(y/n) looked at him, “I’ve never asked Benny to take anyone in the Helicopter, never had sex in my own bed, and never slept next to anyone…but you.” She looked at him and smiled softly. “Well isn’t that comforting.” she sarcassed. Dean pushed her strands of hair back behind her ear and kissed her lips softly. When they broke apart her eyes were still closed and opened them up slowly for Dean to look at her and kiss her head. He took her hand and led her back on the trail and into the car to take her home. 

An hour later they finally arrived, Dean went to her side, opened the glove box, and took out a yellow file slip filled with a packet. “Here is the contract, read it carefully. E-mail me if you have any questions.” He said. “Dean I already told you my computer is acting all weird.” 

“Just consider it ok. I genuinely hope you say yes,” he said. (y/n) nodded and got out of the car.  “Thanks for everything,” she said. “Later’s darlin’” (y/n) smiled whenever he mimicked it brother. When she opened the door to her apartment. “Alright, and you are all set.” a male voice echoed the apartment. (y/n) immediately walked into the living room and saw a man in a polo shirt on her laptop, “Your roommate let me in.” he smiled 

“I just figured you forgot to tell me someone was coming to fix up your computer, do I look okay?” Jess said. “Wait Jess hold on, I’m sorry I think you may have the wrong apartment,” she said. The man looked into his clipboard “(y/n) (l/n)?” (y/n) looked a little shocked yet confused. “Sign here please,” he asked. She took the pen and signed the paper. “Thank you enjoy,” he said walking out the door, 

“So, another gift. Whatever happened to flowers, teddy bears, and chocolates?” Jessica laughed. “Tell me, I’m dying to hear about last night. And this time let's speed this up because Sam is taking me to dinner in 10 minutes and then we’re seeing a movie” she smiled. “Oh I almost forgot, James called you like three times yesterday and one time this morning.” (y/n) let out a breath.” Hey, you got a package or something?” she asked looking at the yellow folder in her hands (y/n) panicked but kept it smooth. “Oh no, Castiel wanted me to go over a few articles before we publish them so he sent me a sample for this month’s issue,” she said. Jess had a worried look on her face, “That seems like a lot. Want me to help you?” she asked. (y/n) shook her head. “Oh no, no, it’s ok I got it.”Jess smiled, “Well anyways here’s yesterday's mail.” she said gesturing to the small pile of envelopes for (y/n). (y/n) began going through them while Jessica just smirked at her. (y/n) looked up and laughed, “What? Why are you looking at me like that you weirdo.” she said. “I’m going to ignore that insult. But you look different, in a good way,” she said genuinely. The girls turned their heads to the window when they heard a car horn. Jessica went to the window and saw Sam waiting downstairs for her. She smiled and gave him a small air kiss. She immediately got her purse and ran to the door. “I’ll see you later (y/n), I might stay late so don’t hold up,” she said before closing the door. (y/n) saw her laptop on the table and went to it. It was fixed and looked almost brand new. Until she found out it was new, the box for it was underneath her chair. A ping from the laptop went through. It was from Dean. 

Thank you for a very interesting weekend, This laptop is yours and yours only. I’d like you to use it for research. 

 -Dean

(y/n) bit the inside of her cheek trying to think, she began typing back. 

So this is how it’s going to work out? You order me around?” 

After a few minutes, he responded 

Yes, and there’s more, you’ll like it. 

(y/n) smiled to herself. She looked to her side and saw the folder. She pushed the laptop away and opened it. It was a small packet which was the official contract. As she was reading it she got undressed and onto her bed. 

The following are the terms of a binding contract between the dominant and the Submissive. The fundamental purpose of this contract is to allow the submissive to explore her sensuality and her limits safely. The dominant and the submissive agree and acknowledge that all that occurs under the terms of this contract will be consensual, confidential, and subject to the agreed limits and safety procedures set out in this contract. The submissive will agree to any sexual activity deemed fit and pleasurable by the dominant excepting those hard activities outlined in Hard Limits. The submissive agrees to procure oral contraception from a physician of the dominants’s choosing. The submissive will not enter into sexual relations with anyone other than the dominant. The submissive will eat regularly to maintain her health and well-being. The submissive will not excessively drink, smoke, or take any recreational drugs. The submissive shall always conduct herself in a respectful manner to the dominant and she’ll address him only as “sir” or “Mr. Winchester.” or such other title as the dominant may direct. The submissive may not touch the dominant without his express permission to do so. The safeword “yellow” will be used to bring to the attention of the dominant that the submissive is close to her limit. When the safeword “red” is spoken, the dominant’s action will cease completely and immediately 

Does the submissive consent to being restrained, with hands bound in front?

Does the submissive consent to being blindfolded? 

Does the submissive consent to being gagged?

(y/n) put the packet away in the folder, she took a deep breath and decided she would think about it. A few days later she and Jess were cleaning up and packaging boxes in their offices to move to the floor up. “So have you been speaking to your little friend,” Jessica asked. (y/n) smiled, yes I have, it’s been casual mostly.” Jessica smiled, “Well I'm going to the cafe to get us a small break coffee.” (y/n) nodded and took out her phone to text Dean. 

Dean was with his brother and John at a shooting range. He felt the vibrations in his pocket and saw the message, 

“Currently busy packing for that new office. Missing that tie.” Dean smirked and liked the message. But there were no other messages for (y/n) accepting the contract. “Dean let's go!” John ordered. He put his phone away and pulled out his gun to shoot some rounds. 

After a few more days, Dean was in a business meeting and saw no other messages from (y/n). Later that night (y/n) was in bed watching a movie while Jess was out with Sam. 

“I’m not getting any younger. Have you read the contract yet?” (y/n) liked that he was impatient, and thought she would give him a taste of his own medicine. Although she was pleased she wanted to search up more of the submissive stuff. So she looked it up online and saw the many examples. She immediately blushed and closed the laptop.

The next day at work she got a new email. 

“Growing impatient. Have you thought about it?” (y/n) smiled. 

“Yes. It was nice knowing you,” she responded in a teasing manner. When Dean saw the message his jaw clenched.

When (y/n) went home Jessica was gone. She and Sam have been going on so many dates she basically lives with him. (y/n) decided to do a little spring cleaning and clean her room. She was humming a song while she was bringing in a basket full of laundry. Dean came in with a bottle of his own wine brand and two glasses, wearing his regular getup of flannel and jeans But when she turned around she gasped out in fear putting her hand on her chest, “God Dean you scare me. H-how did you even get in here?” she smiled. 

Dean had on an angry look, “It’s been knowing me?” He said in a low voice clearly angry. He put down the cups took her wrists and pulled her close to him. His hands went to her hair and down to her back. “Let me just remind you how nice it was princess,” he said slowly.

He pushed her onto her bed and climbed on top of her. He pulled out the same grey tie. “This is what you wanted, I’ll give you what you want,” he growled. (y/n) put her wrists out for him and tied the tie to her wrists and onto her headboard. He began getting off her and took off her leggings and panties in one go. “Don’t even make a sound,” he said. She looked at him and nodded. He climbed back on her and lifted her shirt up to her face to cover her eyes. He began massaging her tits and kissing her collarbone. He got off her and took off his shirt and pants. He took some wine and drank some before getting back on top of her. He began kissing her roughly before grabbing a piece of ice from an empty wine glass and holding it in his rough hands before putting it in his mouth. He dragged the cold ice from her collarbone to the nipples of her tits. She gasped at the sudden sensation trying to keep quiet like he told her to. He continued dragging it down to her lower stomach before stopping. “Is this nice?” he said. 

Before (y/n) could answer he flipped her like she was nothing, and smacked her ass hard before grabbing her hips and lifting her legs making her arch. He grabbed a condom and ripped it open with his teeth and put it on himself. His rough hands smoothed over the skin of her ass before he inserted his dick through her glistening wet folds. He began going rough, his thrusts were like he promised, it was quick. She moaned out loud but she covered her mouth with the pillow underneath her. Dean fanned out his hand and placed it on her back to push her more into the mattress which made her arch even more from pleasure. “‘M fuck, go harder.” she pleaded. Dean smirked giving her what she wanted, It was almost primal the way he fucked her. The sounds of skin slapping against each other echoed echoing her small bedroom

"fuck, sweetheart," he rasps, voice thick. Her legs were shaking unable to hold onto herself much longer. He was relentless at this pace she begged for. She couldn’t say anything anymore except for broken whimpers and half moans she could barely let out. Dean pulled out, took off the condom, and cummed on her back and her ass. He let out a groan as he saw the ropes of cum land on her lower back. She let out a moan once more as Dean cleaned her up. He flipped her on her back and untied her. 

A few hours later Dean was in her bed at night, their legs were entangled together as his hand was on his chest. They just were looking at each other not making any small talk. It was a comfortable silence. “That was nice.” she smiled. Dean could only smirk and look at the features on her face. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he said softly. (y/n) put her hand on his cheek and ran her fingers through his messy hair. Dean put his hand on her wrists and put her hand down. She looked down for a bit. “Sorry,” she whispered. She looked at his chest, it was sweaty from a few minutes ago, besides the flashy tattoo on his peck she saw scars on his body, they looked like burn marks and scratches. “Are you ok?” she asked touching his chest in worry. Before she could even put her full-on hand on him he stopped her. She gasped at the sudden movement. “I’m sorry, is it breaking the rules?” she asked. Dean looked at her softly, “Have you made up your mind yet.” he asked. 

“I-I don’t know yet” he didn’t let her finish, he got up and took her legs off him before getting dressed. “You’re not staying?” she asked covering herself up. “I told you I don’t sleep with anyone.” He said. “I’ll negotiate that.” She responded. Dean smiled and kissed her cheek before walking out the door. When she heard the door closed she immediately sighed and fell back on her bed. She had a plan.

Taglist: @applelovesposts @ladykitana90 @cevansbaby-dove

A/N: First of all, my bad for keeping this chapter hostage. I promise I'm writing it's just lots of stuff going on right now so I've just been putting this off. Forgive me lol. Anyways, yay new chapter, so fun. Hope you guys enjoy this one, and once the first book is finished I will be posting a master list of all my stories so you guys have easy access to find them. bare with me yall. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter let me know if you like it! :)

[truelotus]

You're All I Want ᢉ𐭩Kurosaki Ichigo X reader

𓂃۶ৎ warnings: time-skip ichigo (18+), nsfw, masturbation, smut content/lemon , Female reader + slight angst :P

𓂃۶ৎ context: Ichigo lies in his bed, his mind consumed by the thoughts of you after breaking up with you every. inch of his mind is filled with memories of your touch. Eventually, one thing leads to another.

a/n: this was fun , lols

𓂃۶ৎ The room was dim, there was nothing bur silence in the as Ichigo lies in his bed, thinking about you. He was recalling every moment of you, each moment consuming him more than the last. He couldn’t shake the image of you smiling out of his head, the sound of your voice echoing through his ears.

Almost every night was like this after he broke up with you, he’d go home after a long day of work, lying on his bed for maybe even hours, thinking about you. He’d think about how your perfume would smell when you walked past by him, the way your hips swayed, your hair flowing behind you as you walked by.

He hugged his pillow, imagining that it was you, having regrets for even leaving you. He wanted you to be here oh so badly, he wanted to hold you closer to his chest, smell the scent of your shampoo in your hair. Why did he make such a dumb choice..

It drove him insane that he couldn’t talk to you, how he couldn’t know what you were up to.

Even though you guys were no longer together he saw you everyday—at work—he hated seeing the other guys at work starting to flirt with you after finding out you two were separated. Why was he feeling this way? He’s the one that broke up with you.

Just then, another memory of you flashed through his mind, a lewd one.

He remember seeing you drop papers onto the floor on accident, he was just about to help you pick them up until you bent over, revealing your red laced panties. He stand back, shocked by the pair.. he’s never seen those panties before, were you already seeing someone else? And you were wearing those panties just to impress them?

That’s what he thought after he finished touching himself to you in his private space.

But anyways,

You drove him absolutely nuts, there would be times he wouldn’t sleep because of you, he couldn’t eat comfortably without you, he can’t even feel without you.

He turned side to side in his bed, uncomfortable and ashamed of the throbbing feeling down his crotch. He was ashamed of his erection, he shouldn’t be feeling this way.. he shouldn’t be remembering your sweet ass bending over right in front of him, almost like it was intentional.. but he couldn’t help it.

“Fuck it.”

almost immediately, ichigo pulls down his pants before grabbing his phone from his nightstand. He went through his camera roll, wanting to find a specific video..

He respected you, he really did. But he couldn’t delete a video the two of you made together, he had desires and you were the only person who could fulfill those desires. You gave him permission of course to let him record you while you were riding him, Ichigo said he’d use it when you’re not around, to remind himself that waiting for you would be worth it.

Eventually—after scrolling so far— Ichigo found the video he was looking for, the video he needed for this very moment.

He spat into his own hand to use as lube, he pressed play finally.

He began to thrust his cock into his hand, slowly at first. But soon enough as the video continued to play further—to his favorite part— his hand began to move up and down at a faster rate.

It was the part where he filled your pussy to the brim with his cum, seeing you roll back your eyes, biting your lips to prevent making any noise, but slight moans continued to flow out of you.

After he finished coming inside of you, he lowered the camera down, making sure to video his cum leaking out of your destroyed pussy, when he thought that the cum was about to completely ooze out of you and onto the sheets, he took his figure, shoving his finger into your cunt to shove his cum right back inside of you.

“I-Ichigo!” you moaned out, your back arching just by his finger. He shushed you up politely, “I’m just making sure you take all of my cum.”

Oh how Ichigo missed you.. if only you were here jerking him off. You always did a much better job than he did. Ichigo furrowed his eyebrows together, he stopped the jerking movement of his hand and grabbed his pillow.

He sat up on his knees on his bed, he placed his phone aside, letting the video continue to play as he was going to fuck his pillow.

Soft grunts and groans could be heard from his room, he fucked his pillow as if it were you. Thrusting his cock into it at a rapid pace, he gripped the pillow as if they were your hips, helping you bounce on his dick much better.

Imagining and remembering how your ass jiggled on top of his dick, how your walls gripped onto him, your sweet lustful moans, the way his balls slapped against your ass..

How the room you two would be fucking in, be filled with moans, grunts, whimpers as well with the sound of skin clapping on each other.

“A-Ah fuck..” He whimpered out as he came all over his pillow. Annoyed that he’d have to clean his pillow once again this week.

He pulled back his pants, putting away his still hard and twitching sex. He was just about to leave the room to get ready for bed, until..

Y/N <3, calling.

When he saw his phone ringing, he jumped in place. He grabbed his phone as quickly as possible, afraid that you’d end up ending the call or the call would end up ending itself because he took too long to answer.

In a shaky and almost scared voice—as if you somehow caught him masturbating— he said, “H-Hello..?”

“When were you planning to call me?!” His body stiffened up when hearing your voice go through his phone, he was planning on calling you but he wasn’t sure if you wanted to even get a call from him.. so he was just procrastinating on it really.

“I didn’t know if-”

“You idiot! Of course I wanted a call from you?! don’t you see how much I’m in pain?” He pulled his phone away slightly by how loud you were yelling over the phone.

“You know it wasn’t easy letting you in.. so how’d you leave and be able to go to sleep without me..” Your voice became quieter and softer over the phone, he could hear your voice crack, letting him know that you were on the verge of tears.

“Y/N.”

“Y-Yes..?”

“Will you please take me back.. I’m so sorry. I have no idea what I was doing, I was so lost, lost without you. I need you, and I need you bad. Will you please forgive this idiot of yours? and maybe even take him back.”

“You idiot..

Of course I’ll take you back.”

yayy

[aquaticsoul]

He doesn't ever need to be told twice to do anything anymore, but it's especially true when it has to do with his prince.

Unfortunately, Sitriini has context and more to say. He's halfway between the beds when the words start to sink in, one after the other, anchors that cause his feet to drag against the tiled floor until they stop entirely.

So he wasn't just making up the smell.

Whatever happens to him if you leave is your fault, darling. You know you're filling his place.

His heart jumps up to his throat. The floor feels unsteady.

Still, he inches closer to the sleeping form, dragging himself through the air that now feels as thick as a wall.

The smell is fucking unbearable this close. Unbearable and familiar.

That damned sedative. And she was around Sitriini too - had she hit him with it?

Can his body even take it?

He knows his own can. It's done it at least a few dozen times.

It should have.

It should have, but he's been selfish. He's been running and now he's let her hurt the two people most dear to him.

Now none of them are safe.

Revon is going to be so angry. He has every right to be. Of course he does.

He's angry at himself. He's supposed to protect his liege with everything in him. He's supposed to keep him safe like he always promised, but he just keeps making everything worse for his precious boy. He should have just stayed there. How could he hurt his own bind? How could he let this happen?

He could have taken more. It wasn't to the brink of death yet. It wasn't to a point he couldn't handle another dose of some drug or another day without food. It wasn't bad enough to where he had to leave. He'd just convinced himself it was because he's selfish.

He'd just been tired, but there's not that much of a difference between being tired there and tired here. It's just that when he's tired here, he can curl up in a bed.

Bed isn't that great, is it? Bed isn't worth hurting his Pilvi. Neither is free access to water. And he doesn't actually really need comfort from anyone, does he? He doesn't need to snuggle anyone when he's scared. He doesn't need showers either. Or food, that much - he's used to going without it. He can go back. He doesn't need anything here.

He can go back and she won't hurt Pilvi until his time is actually expired. It isn't as if he's had very much to live for anyway. At least protecting them gives him something to do with himself.

Blue eyes shift up to the window. He hates it out there. He hates the plants. He can feel the vines that dug into his arms and legs, contorting his form at their will for nearly a decade. He can feel them creeping back again. He can hear how they beckon him. He has to leave, yet all he can seem to do is kneel as the sobs overtake him.

"But I don't want to go back," he cries.

What a stupid thing to say. It's not about what he wants. Pets don't get to have wants.

They are allowed whatever their handler chooses to give them.

And yet, he has desires anyway.

"I don't want to be the replacement anymore. I want -"

Care. Attention. Kindness. Sleep. Freedom. Company.

He shuffles further, past where his liege sleeps and closer to the window. His hands are shaking too hard to get the latches open.

"- it doesn't matter," he tells himself, though it still doesn't convince him to stop being so afraid to open the damn window. "Just fix it. Just go back and fix it and stop fucking everything up."

⋯✧・♪♫♪・✧⋯ He's assuming a bath is a bit of a compromise to keep this damn thing in his arm. It can't be sugar. It can't be that easy. Finding sugar in this fucking world has been damn near impossible except for a few times when it sent his nose into an overdrive so he got as careful and sneaky as possible when he stole it. It can't be so easy that the one thing his body has been craving all these years - the one thing that has been stopping him from fading outright - was just given to him. It seems a precious resource in these lands and the Soil Souls consume it for luxury and pleasure.

They don't need it to survive apparently.

Disgusting.

Somehow it makes him hate the children of Bahamut even more than he had before. They don't even need it but yet they consume it anyway. Meanwhile he needs it. He needs it to live and the things he's had to reduce himself to in order to obtain it-

He can think about those things later or in all honesty never again -he has more important things to think about in the form of one weeping man made of the richest of blue hues. The hue that fills up his eyes and submerges him into the ocean. The hue that brings him into it's depths in a comforting sort of way only he could.

He feels like he's searched for him for lifetimes. Over and over again until he found him. Only to search for him lifetimes more. They keep finding each other and then getting torn apart over and over again so now that he has him in his arms again - well arm with this fucking thing stuck in his arm - he doesn't have any intention of letting him go.

"Rakastan sinua niin paljon." (I love you so much.)

He'll behave. He'll behave if only to make Sielu's life easier. He's glancing over across the room for a moment to the sleeping body of white laying silently in the other bed. Small puffs of mist leaving him as he lay.

"Check on Pilvi." He sounds with a groan of pain. "He - he was slurring his words and acting weird before he passed out. I - I don't know what she did to him. That stupid bitch threw something in his face and it made him get all weird. I'm not going anywhere. He'll be okei, right?"

·:¨༺ ✩★✩ ༻¨:·. He's nodding as the small human speaks. He wants to know if he can go get a few things from Pilvi's nest to bring them to him while he rests. He doesn't see why it would hurt. Having things of comfort has always helps his Liege and he doesn't see why they wouldn't now - even if he is an adult. He's barely an adult.

"I don't see why that would hurt but he's sank like the night sun right now. He was passed out when Sinfonia brought him to us. Sinfonia said he was acting strangely though."

The knight shifts from one side to the other as he crosses his arms over his chest in worry.

"I was going to go back and sit with him. Perhaps, having his bond might also do him some good."

[paperlignes]

WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS (2019-2024) SEASON 6, EPISODE 5: NANDOR'S ARMY