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viennakarma · 1 year ago

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Everything I Wanted I.

LESTAPPEN X READER (Part 1)

Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Word count: 7.1k

Tags: Driver reader, mentions of crash, abusive parent, daddy issues, trust issues, character death (not reader), cursing, strong rivalry, misogyny in motorsport, invasive media, aggressive fans, reader suffers with cyberbullying and hate, smut, female reader, +18, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with plot, queer! everyone, polyamory lestappen, bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader

Notes: this is full of motorsport categories inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. I know I said it was a oneshot, but the thing got out of hand, and I had to split it in half. Soon there will be a part 2! English is not my first language, so please ignore any mistake!

Find me on Twitter!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“They’re not friends, you understand? They’re rivals, and that’s all they’ll ever be.”

You stand, hugging your helmet firmly against your chest, your dad’s words louder than the ringing in your ear from the way he slapped the side of your head. You were 9 and it was your first time competing in a karting competition. You tried to befriend the other kids your age, but as soon as your dad called you away, fuming, you knew it was a mistake.

You followed your dad’s orders, and didn’t talk to any of the boys again. Max was already cold towards you, so he pretty much ignored your existence. But Charles was more talkative, and as you stopped answering him, he became taunting, annoying, but you didn’t fall behind, you used to clap back at him with the same intensity.

Sometimes you eavesdropped on their conversations, initially it wasn’t intentional, but they were always complaining about you, calling you names, and you realized your dad was right, they would never see you as a friend or equal, only as a rival.

One day you’re walking by when you hear your name in their conversation.

“Nah, don’t worry about Y/N,” Max shrugged, his accent thick, as he pointed to the side of his temple “she’s a little slow, but maybe she’ll catch up.”

You stood there, his words echoing in your head, she’s a little slow, that was a kind way to call you stupid, which, compared to the way your father called you that many times, it was much sweeter. You shouldn’t have let that get to your head, specially said that way. But then again, you were 11, and you kept hearing those words again and again in your head. You never considered yourself dumb, your grades in school were average, and whenever you had time off of karting to study for your exams, your grades became even better, a little above average.

And despite knowing that, after going back home after the competition, you spent the whole Saturday at the local library, studying everything you could find on motorsports and Formula One. You lent books on strategy, history, and even mechanics. Every spare time you had, you spent reading those books, or lending others. You didn’t want to be slow as they had called you.

After that, you stopped talking to Max completely.

“This is a waste!” Your dad shouted, and you flinched, taking a discreet step back, away from him, trying to avoid him getting physical.

You had argued with him, which made him more furious. You tried to tell him it wasn’t your fault, you were just as good at racing as everyone else, maybe better, but no one was willing to give a girl a chance. It made him even angrier.

“You had one job! You get into F4 on your first try!”

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t your fault. That they weren’t willing to give a girl a chance, even if you were better than half of the boys who made it to F4. But your dad didn’t care about any of it, he wanted you to succeed or nothing. He used to always say that anything below first place is failure.

So he decided you, at 14, weren’t worth the money he spent on karting. And he simply left. Making peace with the fact that your dad never saw you as his kid, but more like an investment, was hard.

“You’re never going to be a Formula 1 champion.” Was the last thing he said to you, before dropping you at your mom’s to never come back.

Living with your mom ever since your dad gave you up was something else. She had lost everything after the divorce, thanks to a prenup she had naively signed without knowing anything about it. So when you moved in with her, you noticed how the house was smaller than your dad’s, you two slept in the single room that was there. Your mom worked two jobs living paycheck to paycheck, and you barely saw her. But she was kind, comforting.

You soon realized that she wouldn’t be able to provide for your karting career. So you lied, you told her your dad was still paying for the karting, and you found two part time jobs to pay for racing. You mom worked so much, she didn’t notice your absence in the afternoons, when you went to work in an auto repair shop. Sometimes, on the rare occasions she was off work in the afternoons, you lied and told her you were out with friends, or studying in the library or even doing extracurriculars. You had the best intentions, you used to tell yourself at night whenever you laid awake, you knew she would blame herself or even work herself to death to provide for you.

The entirety of the next year was a constant struggle, and you worked, and scrapped and lied your way through the entire karting competition. It was one of your last chances to get into F4, and you weren’t sure you could live another year that way, without a sponsor.

When the competition ended, you were second place overall. Your kart had problems during the race and you were sad that it affected your performance in a race you could’ve won.

You walked closer as you saw a few of the other boys gathering around some adults, you eyed them curiously. As soon as you noticed who they were, you swallowed. They were probably scouts, it was very common in finals of these competitions, you were used to it. You also were used to being ignored by all of them scouts. You had tried many times before to make connections and make yourself known, maybe even meeting a potential sponsor, but they always ignored you. They weren’t interested in a girl, they didn’t care about a woman in motorsports. Your only hope was that one day you would meet a female scout and she would see your potential.

But meanwhile, there were only men, and they didn’t give two fucks about you. So you didn’t even get close enough to join, you heard Charles and Max talking with them, and you just turned around, going back to your kart.

You pulled a few tools from your backpack, working to fix the difficulties you felt during the race.

“What are you doing?” A man approached you, crouching close to watch your work. You briefly looked up, the guy was wearing sunglasses and a cap, just a normal guy, looking like someone’s dad.

“I’m fixing my steering wheel, it was a bit stuck during the race so I had to double the force used to be able to make it work,” you explained, and he nodded.

“You finished second, right? Why are you here by yourself?” The man asked.

“The other kids don’t like me very much. And they’re talking to the scouts,” you shrugged, trying not to think about all the opportunities they would get and you wouldn’t.

“You should be there, no? Meeting scouts is important for your career.”

“They’re not very interested in a girl racer. Believe me, I know.” You muttered, finishing with the steering wheel, testing to see if it was working all right. You turned, fixing your left rear tyre. The tyre wasn’t responding very well to the braking, “besides, my kart won’t fix itself, right? Look, you see how this tyre is slower to respond to my braking? It messed up with my balance during the race. I could have won.”

“Shouldn’t you take your kart somewhere to get it fixed?” The man asked, helping you unscrew the tyre.

“Can’t afford it,” you said, “I’m saving to try and get into F4, so I can’t spare any money on this one.”

You weren’t usually this talkative with new people, mostly keeping to yourself. But maybe you were missing a grownup figure in your life since your dad had dipped and your mom was always busy. And that man sounded really interested in your stuff, so it felt natural explaining to him.

“So, no one sponsoring you?” He asked, which made you look at him again, hesitantly.

“No, uh, I had one but he dropped me last year” you said, leaving out that part that it was your dad.

“You know who I am?” The man asked and you looked at him, shaking your head.

“Someone’s dad? I mean, I haven’t been introduced to all the kids and their parents yet, but you’re kinda familiar, so-” As you were babbling and trying to explain, he took off the cap and sunglasses, and you immediately recognized him, “oh my god!”

“Shh, shh” he silenced you, putting the disguise back.

“You’re Kimi Raikkonen!” You whispered, and he nodded.

“I’ll be your new sponsor, eh? What do you say?”

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," he nodded.

"How do you know I'm good enough for a sponsorship?" You asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, are you good enough for a sponsorship?" He asked. He had been keeping an eye out at that very category, and you had caught his attention as seemingly smart and emotionally controlled with the kart.

"I'm the best of the bunch," you smiled at him and you won him over with that answer.

Kimi became your lifeline, in a way. His family was quick to embrace you in an affectionate way you would’ve never expected of them. They invited you for their little New Year’s party, and you eventually told everything about your life to Kimi. His wife Minttu had also taken you as one of her own and their kids liked you a lot.

Under Minttu’s suggestion, Kimi also enrolled you in language classes, so besides English, you spent the next years learning French and Spanish, and you also caught a little Finnish from being so close to them.

You kept pushing your way up from F4 to F3 and so on, but instead of climbing it steadily like the boys, you had to win two or three times more than them to prove you were worth taking the next step.

You were 16 when your paths crossed with the boys from your childhood again. They recognised you, but they never really talked to you, so they didn't this time around either.

Coming out of the bathroom you once again caught a conversation, and you stopped dead as soon as you heard your name.

“No, not really… I don’t see her like that at all- she’s- uh-” Charles was speaking, probably looking for the words in english, “-she’s more like one of the boys.”

You paused, your breath hitched.

“Yeah,” that was Max, “I don’t see her like that either. I guess she doesn’t care about the things girls her age do.”

You felt a lump in your throat, retreating back to the bathroom. You stood in front of the mirror, watching your face as the tears fell down on your cheeks. You were dressed in your regular racing day attire, cargo pants and a sweater. You didn’t wear makeup and your hair was all frizzy because of the helmet.

The next time you went to the Raikkonen residence, you pulled Minttu aside one moment.

“I want to be pretty. Will you help me?”

You two went through a long chat with Minttu reassuring you that you were pretty in your own way and you insisting you wanted to be pretty like other girls, more feminine and girly.

When you entered F2 after the winter break, you felt and looked like some better version of yourself. Minttu had helped you set a skincare routine that was already helping clear your face from teenage acne. She also took you to a hair salon, where you trimmed your hair and made a few highlights. She upgraded your wardrobe, and even if you tried to refuse saying it was too much, she said it was a Christmas gift and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Your path until reaching F1 was slow and steady, and you were a reserve driver for two years before finally getting a seat at McLaren. You knew Kimi probably had a hand in getting you a chance, but he denied every time you asked.

Kimi told you the raw truth before the season started. He and Minttu sat you down and talked about how the world and Formula 1 would expect more of you than of any other rookie. How they would stress your mistakes tenfold. How they would diminish your achievements with the same intensity. You weren’t afraid, really.

“I’ve lived with my greatest hater more than half of my life, I can handle strangers” you had laughed to the couple.

Still, Kimi taught you everything about his Iceman persona, and told you to pick whatever you wanted from it. Minttu also convinced you to start therapy, which you accepted.

The hate started as soon as you were announced. Beyond the regular misogyny, they were calling you too old to be a rookie at 24, they were questioning your abilities even with numerous championships from other categories to back you up, even with the fact that your mentor was Kimi fucking Raikkonen. But you didn’t let any of that get under your skin.

Sebastian Vettel was quickly drawn to you, and he became your first friend in Formula 1. He had been close with Kimi from the time they were teammates, and he kinda adopted you.

The guys your age didn’t want to get too close to you. The very few times they talked or walked with you, it sparked romance rumors, and soon they pretty much ignored or avoided you. You knew their intentions weren't to be mean, they were probably just avoiding problems with the media and their girlfriends or wives, but it didn’t hurt any less every time they walked straight past you.

One of those times you were going to the group press conference and all three of the guys walked past you as you tried to chat with them. Your shoulders slumped, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“What was that?” You jumped at the sound of another voice. You looked behind you to see Fernando Alonso walking up to you. Up until that point, he had been polite to you.

“Oh,” you stumbled over your words, “being seen talking to me is bad press, apparently.”

“Una tontería,” he muttered, shaking his head, which made you laugh, surprised. He put a friendly hand over your shoulder and led you to the media session.

Simples as that, Fernando too became your friend.

You asked your PR manager, Amanda, to bend a few rules to make sure you would always be at the press conference with Seb and Nando or at least one of them. Most of the time, you did. But sometimes you were unlucky and had to sit stiffly through rounds of absurdly odd (and downright misogynistic) questions by yourself.

Soon you gave up on befriending the other drivers and being charming to the media. You realized the Iceman persona of Kimi looked like a good way to protect yourself from the clutches of the motorsport world. By the sixth race of the year, you gained the Lioness nickname. An agile hunter in your driving style and just as fierce in your answers.

“You’re always seen more comfortable with either Sebastian or Fernando, who are way older than you” some reporter said, “why is that?”

“I believe we’re closer in maturity age,” you said, face expressionless. You heard snickers around the room and you looked to Fernando who was visibly holding a laugh.

“So you’re saying the other drivers are immature?” The reporter pressed, but you didn’t want to talk anymore.

“No,” it’s all you answered, putting your mic down.

Everyone already thought you were arrogant, selfish, and superficial, and as you embraced your cold persona, you just fed into their assumptions. You couldn't care less, it was a good way to protect yourself, to be distant from the media who were constantly trying to drag you to the dirt.

“You mentioned the other day that you believe you should’ve joined F1 around the time the guys your age did. Why do you think that didn’t happen?”

“Because of what’s between my legs, Brian” you deadpanned.

You had to prove yourself two or three times more than the boys every single step of the way, to get into F4, F3, F2 and now F1. You made it, you were there, between the 20 best of motorsport in the whole world… and still… Still you had to hear questions about how you managed to race with a period, questions about boyfriends, questions about hair care or skin care, or whatever. You wouldn’t mind any of that if those were common questions, if they were asked of every driver, but they were only asked of you.

“I would like to express that, from now on, I will only answer questions that would be asked of the male drivers too, about the sport, about the cars, about strategies and everything that revolves around racing,” you warned one day before the end of a media conference when someone asked if your PMS interfered in your racing.

You started to not give two fucks about the media. Every time someone asked you a misogynistic question you just stared at them and put your mic down. So those types of question died down a little bit.

“Do you think you would’ve already been world champion had you entered Formula 1 earlier, let’s say at age 19/20?”

“Yes.”

Most of the guys ignored or avoided you, but your path always clashed with Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen. They always hinted at not liking you in the slightest, and the media and the fans started catching up to it, throughout your rookie year. They would shamelessly shade you, and you never backed down, giving it as hard as you got.

You walked to a reporter, still using a towel to dry your face at the post race interview.

“Did you hear what Leclerc said about your move as you left the pits?” The man asked you.

“No, I didn’t. Do I look like I care about a man’s opinion?” You said, loud and clear.

You got as many fans as you got haters, especially as you messed with Leclerc’s and Verstappen’s loud fanbases. It wasn’t really on purpose, but one of them would usually jab at you in interviews, and when word got back to you, it would anger you to no end, and you would shade them back, and in an insane amount of back-and-forths until your rivalry was in articles, the news, twitter threads, and in the mind of every single reporter in a race week.

“Verstappen talked about your overtake at lap 49, he said it was a dirty move.”

“Like he did to me back in Silverstone?” Your eyes held a mischievous glint as you scoffed, “Funny, you didn’t see me whining about it back then.”

You had the best rookie year ever since Lewis Hamilton debuted. You almost reached the same overall numbers as him, getting six podiums and your first ever Formula 1 victory. You finished the driver’s championship in fifth place, over older drivers that were literal champions of the world.

The first time Lewis Hamilton really engaged in conversation with you was during the FIA Prize Giving Ceremony by the end of the season. You were proudly smiling, holding your Rookie of the Year trophy. He had been polite to you before, but he always looked unattainable, in a way. He was beyond the world of Formula 1.

“Congratulations!” He smiled at you, sitting by your side. Your heart thrumming in your chest, trying not to fangirl too much. Sometimes it was unbelievable sharing casual conversation with legends you grew up admiring from afar.

“Thank you, Lewis. Congratulations on the championship!” You said.

“I’m sorry for not realizing most of the boys were excluding you. I chatted about it with Seb, and he told me your only friends are him and Fernando.” Lewis whispered, looking genuine, “I guess I was so focused on the championship that I didn’t bother to check on you. I’m sorry, really.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you raised your trophy, “I made it, right?”

“Succeeding despite the adversities… I see traits of a champion in you, congratulations” Lewis got up, raising his flute in a toast for you, “see you around, Lioness!”

Soon the next season you realized you had a competitive car. More than the year before. As for the first few races of the season, you had a win and podiums, which put you as a contender for the driver’s championship. Unfortunately the other people competing closely with you were none other than Charles and Max. Your rivalry had died down a bit when they noticed that you only shaded them when they provoked you first. So as their jabs became few and far between, it meant your clap backs did too.

The season was as good as it could get, that is until Monza.

You had felt the problems braking specifically during qualifying and your team tried to fix it but there wasn’t much anyone could do due to parc fermé. So you spent part of the night before the race working with your strategist to find a way around your braking problems and the best way to preserve your tyres.

The data had shown it would take a bit more strength to brake, which would eat up at your tyres quicker than usual, but other than that, everything seemed normal.

You all were wrong.

As the race went on, your brakes got progressively worse, to the point that curves were taking your body strength so much you could feel your muscles sore.

“We are considering retiring the car,” Jace, your engineer said. You inhaled, trying to calm down.

You were barely holding your P5, when you saw a Red Bull approaching you. You weren’t in position to fight, so he overtook you turning in a chicane. But your brakes didn’t work as you tried to slow down behind Max’s car, you tried not going into him but your tyres locked as you tried to avoid his rear. You drove straight into his rear, making the two of you lose control of your car. You braced for impact against the wall but luckily the gravel slowed you enough that you just touched the barrier.

After checking with your engineer, you left the car and saw Max leaving his, both DNFs.

You knew of your fame of being a reckless driver, often known for risky maneuvers and overtakes, but you never dove into someone intentionally because you knew trying to take someone out would mean yourself getting taken out too. As a marshal took you back to the garage on a motorcycle, you were ready to swallow your pride and apologize to Max for accidentally taking him out.

But as soon as you stepped down from the motorcycle, Max was in your space. His face was red and his hair all sweaty and disheveled, when he fronted you, chest to chest. You knew there were dozens of cameras pointed to you, so you tried to diffuse the tension for once.

“Are you insane?! Why did you drive into me?!” He kept advancing and for each of his steps ahead, you took one back to try and explain. But he didn’t give you a second screaming all kinds of curses and blame, “you should’ve never made it to Formula 1!”

His words were like a slap to the face, and you stopped trying to apologize or explain. You put both hands to your back, inflating your chest to face him.

“You don’t get to fucking decide that! You dipshit! Who the fuck do you think you are?” You said to his face, that’s when someone from the RedBull garage ran closer and stood between you.

You watched as he was taken away from you and inside his garage. At the same time your PT found you and walked you back to McLaren.

Changing from your race suit, you tried to cool down before going to the media. You gulped down your water as you watched Charles leading the race, and getting closer to the championship than you.

“There was an altercation between you and Max Verstappen, can you comment on that?”

“He was visibly upset with the racing incident.” It was all you said, after chatting with your PR manager before stepping out to chat with the journalists.

“And what happened at that incident? Can you walk us through it?”

“Yes, uh, we’ve been feeling something wrong with our braking system since yesterday. The data showed us it would require me to be more forceful during braking, which seemed feasible. But the brakes were wearing off during the race and we were about to retire when I completely lost the brakes. I really tried to avoid him but my tyres locked and I ended up hitting Verstappen.”

“Are you sure this accident has nothing to do with the ongoing rivalry between the two of you?” You got offended by the reporter's words.

“Of course! I would never intentionally do something to put myself or other drivers at risk. I have all the data to back me up and anyone can check my onboard.”

The FIA investigated your altercation with Max, and you ended up getting an unsportsmanlike behavior penalty. Two points in your super license.

“What the fuck?! Why the fuck would I be punished for that! There are fourteen different angles from that argument and all of them show how Verstappen aggressively came on to me first!”

It got worse when you heard that only you had gotten a penalty and Max didn’t even get a reprimand.

Everyone close to you noticed how you were on edge next week. During media day your answers were short, dry, and every single journalist seemed to want to talk about the penalty.

“Yes, I do have opinions on my penalty. But no, I won’t talk about it, only the FIA’s opinion is relevant” Your words during the press conference were enough to express a little dissatisfaction and to put an end to those questions. Everyone was surprised at the fact you chose to be quiet about the whole ordeal, they were all expecting your complaints and harsh words.

When you went back to your driver’s room, you went straight to lay your head on your mom’s lap, feeling a bit down. You stayed quiet as she ran her hands through your hair softly untangling it. She knew you were upset and why, so none of you bother to voice anything, bashing in the comforting silence.

The best thing about Formula 1 was being able to retire your mom from working, now you didn’t have to worry about her burning out and she didn’t have to worry about bills or mortgage or debts. Now she had a new, bigger and better house, everything was paid for and you even gave her a credit card for hobbies or whatever she wanted. She sometimes went to the races, but she usually stayed at home, relaxing.

“I know things are hard right now,” you mom started, her voice soft, caring, “but I know you can do it, honey. You’ve faced pushback since the beginning of this dream, but you always came out on top.”

“Thank you for believing in me.”

“You will be a world champion, honey. I know it.” She smiled down at you.

You sat up as your mom removed her watch, handing it to you.

“I wanted to give it to you on your birthday, but I feel like this is the right moment,” she turned the watch, showing you the inscription that read strong woman, and you felt your eyes water, “this was my grandma’s. She gave it to my mom, who gave it to me, and now it’s yours.”

That week you got a victory, raising your P1 trophy for your mom, who was watching you with a hand on her heart, crying happy tears.

As the season progressed the championship became even tighter between the three of you. Mere points set the three of you apart, and with each week result, the P1, P2 and P3 shifted between you. It had become one of the most competitive seasons in the sport.

When the third to last race came in Qatar, you were P3 in the championship, and you needed at least P4 in that race to keep fighting for the championship. You didn’t care about anything other than getting a podium, focused on your racing mindset, no distractions. If you only got that win, it would mean getting back that P1 in the championship and you would go down in history.

You were P3 after your last pitstop of the race, you had a small window of time to take advantage of being with new mediums while everyone else was with old softs. You had to pull ahead and open at least ten seconds, so you could become first when Max went to the pits. You had the perfect opportunity for an undercut.

That was until you overtook Charles’ Ferrari for P2. You passed him easily, he hadn’t gone to the pits yet, so he had old tyres. But you frowned as Jace warned you about Leclerc trying to take the position back. He couldn’t fight against your new tyres, everyone knew that. You accelerated to open a distance, but as you went fast into turn 4, you only felt the hit to your side, making you lose control of the car.

It was barely a few seconds that you couldn’t wrap your head around, so shocked you couldn’t brake, only feeling your stomach churn as you braced for impact. The second hit came against the barriers even harder than the first, it shook your whole body, leaving you dizzy and out of breath.

You talked with Jace, telling him in a shaky voice that you were okay but out of breath, and you unlocked your seatbelts with trembling hands. After removing your steering wheel, you tried to get up but you were dizzy and your legs felt like jelly. A marshal helped you out of the car, but as soon as your feet were on the ground, you stumbled to your knees. The nausea got the best of you and you puked against your balaclava and inside the helmet. The marshals made a small shield around you, as one of them helped you remove the helmet and balaclava, still dry heaving. The marshal gave you a towel, and you cleaned the best you could as the ambulance was coming.

You looked behind you to your destroyed car.

And just like that, you had lost any chance at the championship.

You held your tears as you went through the medical procedures and examinations. The world had been muted in the background and you could only hear the noise of the crash, visualizing your ruined car, and your dreams being crushed once again.

But as you came back to the hospitality, you found your mom, and sobbed quietly against her chest.

“It’s ok, honey. It’s okay,” her voice was so soothing and the pain meds were working, so you cried yourself to sleep while she held you.

Later that day, you watched the replay of your crash. Leclerc had gone way too close to you, but in turn 4 he hit the curbs and lost control, hitting your car right in the middle, full force. Your car had spun out a lot then hit the barriers. It was lucky that you had come out of the crash relatively unharmed, it was ugly and could’ve been a lot worse, from the way you spun and the G force your car hit the barrier with.

“You’re still watching that?” Your mom’s voice sounded in the middle of the night.

“He shouldn’t have tried to fight for the position back, he didn’t even have enough tyres for that! And he was way too close, look!”

Your mom closed your laptop, putting it on the coffee table. She took your hands in hers and smiled gently.

“I’m sorry about the championship. But I’m glad you’re okay, that was one of the scariest couple of seconds of my entire life,” she whispered, teary eyed.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, ashamed that it didn’t cross your mind how worried she might have been.

“It’s okay, honey. There’s always next year, I’m sure you will be world champion. And will be there cheering for you.”

The next week in Jeddah, you felt like the world was out to get you when they put you in the press conference with both Max and Charles, as well as Lewis and Sebastian.

“Y/N, how are you feeling after last week’s crash? It looked pretty bad.” Someone asked.

“I am doing ok, thank you,” that’s all you said into the mic.

“Unfortunately, the crash ultimately took you out of the championship, what do you say about that?”

You were so tired of that question, so tired of your PR manager talking in your head about not blaming Charles publicly, despiste your desire to scream to whoever may hear that the monegasque just wanted to take you out of the competition, so he could fight only Verstappen for the championship. You just wanted the season to be over, in all honesty.

“There’s always next year, right?” You echoed your mom's words, that were also your rehearsed answer. You looked to the side, feeling Sebastian’s hand softly on your forearm, a silent show of support.

You left as soon as it was over. You knew Charles had been trying to talk to you. You supposed it was to apologize, but you weren’t having it. You were still so angry at him that you worried you’d punch him as soon as he was in your face. So you just avoided him like the plague. You didn’t want to see him, and you couldn’t afford another punishment if you acted on your anger.

“Charles has been looking for you,” Sebastian said, walking up to you as you were finishing braiding your hair for the race.

“I have been avoiding him,” you said, not looking at Seb, still focusing on your braids.

“He just wants to apologize.”

“And I want to punch him in the face, so what? We can’t always get what we want” You clenched your jaw, using an elastic band to finish.

“Y/N…” Sebastian sounded tired.

“Don’t Y/N me. I just want this season to be over, ok? The championship was in my reach, and now it’s not. And it wasn’t even my own fault. So no, I won’t see him.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything as he walked to you and pulled you in an affectionate hug that made you want to cry again.

During the driver’s parade, Fernando acted almost as a guard dog, not letting anyone close to you. You talked with him and Lewis about the crash, explaining how it felt to you.

When the season ended, you got a third place trophy during the Prize Giving Ceremony. You remembered your dad’s words throughout the entire night. Coming down from the stage, and you met with Minttu and Kimi, they congratulated you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of failure. You looked at Charles on the stage with his P2 trophy.

“Anything other than the first is failure, right?” You sighed, eyes glued to the stage, where Max got the trophy of Champion of the World.

“What crap is that?” Kimi said, suddenly.

“My dad used to say that when I was a kid.”

“Well he was an asshole,” Kimi said matter-of-factly, “and he never made it to F1. He didn’t even make it to F4, he has no reason or power to get in your head. You were just a kid. You understand?”

“Yes, Kimi," you swallowed, feeling some kind of wheight being lifted from your shoulders. Kimi had done many great things for your life with very few words, and his succint way of being was great to pull you back to the present whenever you anxiety got the best of you.

You ended up getting the Personality of the Year award too, which was such a surprise that it worked wonders to lift your spirits and to end the season with a sweet note.

Even being in a better mood, you didn’t stay at the party too late, saying your farewell to your friends as you dropped Kimi and his wife at the hotel. You were removing your makeup after a shower when there was a knock on your hotel room door. Thinking it was an emergency, you rushed only to be faced with Charles Leclerc.

“What are you doing here?” You looked around the hall, confused.

“Can I talk to you?” Charles was still dressed in his formal attire, black tie. He fiddled with his fingers as you let him in, afraid someone might see him at your door.

“What?” You crossed your arms as you closed the door.

“I’m really sorry about the crash in Qatar,” he waited for your answer with bated breath.

“Can we have this conversation when next season starts?” You proposed. You knew you weren’t ready for that talk yet, too much anger was still clouding your judgment for a level-headed talk.

“It wasn’t my intention to take you out-” He started but you cut him off.

“Look, you’ve never liked me, I’m aware, and you cost me an entire championship, so I don’t know if I believe you.”

“It really wasn’t intentional, the accident cost me the championship as well,” you could see in his eyes that his patience was wearing thin. But so did yours.

“No it didn’t. You still had a chance even after that DNF, you just didn’t win anyway,” your anger simmered again, making you raise your voice.

“Fuck you! You treat me like this because you always felt like you were better than everyone-”

“I treat you like this?! Be fucking for real, Charles! You hate me so much you took my chance at the championship away!”

“If you had more wins during the season maybe this wouldn’t be a problem right now!”

“Unbelievable! Because you are so much better than me, all you got was second place!”

“Shut up.”

“You’ve always hated me for absolutely no reason-”

“Shut up.”

“And now you think you can barge into my room and tell me you think I’m a shitty driver? I’m not standing for-”

“Shut up!” He shouted, which was so surprising you actually stopped talking.

The both of you were breathing heavily, in one second you were sure you could strangle him, in the next, his lips were against yours and his hand gripping your hair. The kiss was nasty, all teeth and lips and tongue, his hands going down your body, pressing you into him, and your fingers tugging at his suit, ripping the buttons. You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but Charles’ lips found your neck and he bit into your pulse point.

“Fuck you, Charles” you said, breathless, opening his trousers and he ripped your little sleep top with his bare hands.

It was so hot as you stumbled backwards and he followed you, tossing your top behind him, you took off his shirt and undershirt and he helped you kick out your shorts.

Charles pressed you against the wall, kissing you aggressively again, and you moaned as he placed his thigh between your legs, and you ground against him, turned on, dampening his trousers with the wet of your panties. You pressed your hand against his bulge, and he groaned, pressing into you even harder, humping like horny teenagers.

You didn’t even bother to get him naked, with his trousers half undone, you just pulled his cock out, heavy in your hands. You watched his pained expression as you spit on your hand so you could masturbate him.

“Fuck it,” you moaned, knowing grinding on him was not nearly enough.

You pulled your panties to the side, and lined his cock up into you. It was so tight as he slid into you, that your eyes rolled in pleasure, and he raised one of your legs against his waist to make room for his hips. He pulled back and snapped his hips into you again, his cock stretching you so good you were shaking. You put one arm around his shoulders holding on him and the other hand you held his ass under his loose trousers, your nails biting into his flesh as you pushed him even deeper.

“Fuck, ah-” he moaned in your ear, “so hot- putain-”

The loud, wet sounds of his hips pistoning into you were obscene. You angrily bit him, his shoulders, his chest, his jaw and he went even harder, your back hitting the wall behind you, and you pulled his hair, sweat starting to form all over your body.

“Fuck, Charles!” Your moans got even louder, and Charles stuck two fingers into your mouth, muffling your sounds as he fucked you.

He was hitting the perfect spot inside you, and it was enough for you to know you would come that way. You slapped his cheek, taking out some of your anger and he groaned, going harder. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and held your neck, pressing your torso against the wall and choking you a little bit.

“I can’t hold much longer” he warned you between gritted teeth, relentlessly fucking you.

You pinched your own nipples and it didn’t take long for you to come, your cunt clenching so hard around him, it was enough to send him over the edge too.

Shaking, the two of you slid to the floor, breathlessly lying down, half naked and sweaty.

None of you said a word.

When he was ready to go again, he put you on your knees, your torso against the mattress, and he pounded into your cunt mercilessly from behind.

The third and last time was lazy, slow missionary and he held your wrists above your head with one hand, pressed your clit with the other, sucked a few hickeys around your tits and his cock pressed over and over your g-spot.

When you woke up the next morning, Charles was still asleep by your side. You went into the bathroom and showered, hoping he would catch the hint and leave. But as you came out showered and dressed, he was still out cold. So you quietly packed your bag and left for the airport.

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #lestappen x reader #lestappen #Spotify

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wonderjanga · 26 days ago

Note

So there is that headcanon where Captian Marvel looks a lot like teth Aman (Black Adams kid) and him mistaking cap as his kid and trying to reconnect in a way making people think that Black Adam is Captain Marvels dad

*throws this idea at you and runs away*

*idea smacks me in the head*

Teth was furious. For good reason too. The Wizard literally sealed him away for nearly five thousand years. Then, the old man replaced him with some, from what he’d heard, bumbling idiot. So yes, he was furious, and he also wanted his job back. Something he could only get if the current champion was put down. Which he was on his way to this place called Fawcett to do.

When he got there, he could practically feel the magic emanating from the city. Were there magic ley lines here? Then it’s a no wonder the Champion chose to set up base here rather than one of the major cities. As of now, Adam was above the city surveying the terrain. Meanwhile, Billy in Marvel form is sitting on a roof, wondering who that weirdo hovering above the city.

Solomon: “Oh… Billy you have to kill that man.”

Marvel: “WHAT?” *gobsmacked and concerned because other than a couple times, Solomon has never been one to hop on the ‘kill that villain’ train*

Achilles: “Yeah, we’re sorry, but like, no joke, you actually gotta kill him.”

Marvel: “The other times were jokes?”

Mercury: “Kinda, but you absolutely have to kill this guy or he will kill you.”

Marvel: “Oh. Uhm… okay?” *sounds extremely nervous as he stands up* “So what do? Do I just…?”

Hercules: “Yeah, just like charge him, and beat him. To death.”

And that’s how Adam literally blinked and the next thing he knew, he was hurtling through the air and to the ground, far from the so called Fawcett. Damn it. The current Champion had found him first. When Adam crawled out of his crater, he was met with a face he didn’t think he’d ever see again. Aman.

Had that blasted Wizard brought his son back from the grave? Adam didn’t know whether he should be grateful, or enraged. On one hand, the Wizard brought his boy back. His boy whose life had ended too early. On the other hand, his boy had been thrust back into a life of danger as the Champion. Gods, how long had Aman been the current Champion? How long had the Wizard waited until he decided that doing this was acceptable?

As for Billy, he just stared down at the guy wearing black in confusion. Why did the Gods want him to kill this guy so bad? He isn’t attacking anyone. He’s kinda just there, staring up at up at Billy with the same confused expression Billy has. He also has the same lightning bolt? Billy had thought that was only reserved for people connected to the rock. The Wizard had never mentioned this guy before if that’s the case.

Black Adam: *mistakes Billy’s confusion as recognized* “…Aman?”

Marvel: *heard “a man” and just thought Adam just had some type of accent* “Yes…?” *now extremely confused*

Black Adam: “I can’t believe it.” *flies over to him and tries to reach out to him*

Marvel: *moves out of his reach because he does not know this rando*

Black Adam: *sounds slightly annoyed* “What did the Wizard tell you?”

Marvel: “Nothing? I just don’t know you.”

Black Adam: *looks absolutely disturbed* “He erased your memory?”

Marvel: *just about to answer when some monster starts attacking Fawcett* “Look, I gotta go. We’ll talk later.” *flies off to the monster*

Zeus: “How interesting.” *probably stroking his beard* “He didn’t immediately kill you.”

Solomon: “Be on watch Billy. He could still attack.”

Now, Adam obviously didn’t do that. He immediately went to Kahndaq, made himself pharaoh again and remodeled the palace as best as he could in such a short time. It wasn’t until about a week later that Adam came back to see his boy again.

Marvel: *finishes helping an old lady cross the road*

Black Adam: *lands beside him and clears his throat*

Marvel: “Oh, it’s you again!” *smiles*

Black Adam: “Yes. It is I.”

*silence*

Marvel: *desperate to fill the awkward silence* “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I caught your name the last time we met.”

Black Adam: “I am Teth Adam.” *is super hurt that his boy doesn’t remember him and is plotting on the Wizard*

Marvel: “Cool. I’m Captain Marvel. I’m fine with Cap, or Marvel, or whatever you can come up with.”

Black Adam: “So that’s what he has you going by…”

Marvel: “What?”

*another silence*

Black Adam: *clear throat again* “When… are you coming home?””

Marvel: “Home?”

Black Adam: “Home. Kahndaq. If you’re worried about becoming a slave again, after your…” *clears throat* “The point is, I worked to get rid of it.”

Billy honest to the Gods just assumed this guy was both lonely and another Champion.

Marvel: *confused at the mention of slavery* “Sure, I’ll come by. That’s in like Africa, right?”

Black Adam: *a little relieved that he’d visit, but also filled with a little dread because Marvel not knowing where Kahndaq is kind of supports the memory wipe theory* “I believe so.”

Marvel did visit. And sure, he might’ve had to work himself up for the awkward afternoon, but it wasn’t that bad. Teth seemed a little happier after the whole thing. Billy’s pretty sure at least. It’s a little hard to get a read the guy’s emotions.

Also, someone caught the end of their conversation, more specifically the coming home bit. Thus, the rumors of this new guy in black being Marvel’s father were born. These rumors were fueled by Adam trying to be fatherly, albeit awkwardly, and Billy just accepting it because he just thinks Adam is being nice.

Like the time Adam brought him a modernized version Aman’s favorite food because he thought he might still like it.

Achilles: “WAIT BILLY IT MIGHT BE POISONED-”

Marvel: *takes a big munch* “Wow, this is really good!”

Black Adam: *relieved* “It’s good you still like it.”

Yeah, Fawcitizens are like ninety percent sure Adam is their hero’s dad. And they’re here for it. They just want their big guy to be happy.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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naughtyneganjdm · 5 months ago

Text

Bad Girl

Summary: Billy Butcher & Joe Kessler take you to a motel room where you end up handcuffed to the bed with them using your body in whatever way they please.

Characters: Billy Butcher, Joe Kessler & the reader (Female OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57390406

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, No Plot, Daddy Kink, Unprotected P in V, Oral, No Use of Y/N, Dirty Talk, Threesome, DP, Name Calling, Choking, Spanking, Slapping, Rough, etc.

Notes: We're going to pretend that Joe is actually real and not an imaginary friend lol. Or this can be before he died. Who gives a shit really. This is pure filth. Probably the filthiest thing I've ever written. I think so at least. So yeah, pre-warning.

“I don’t think you had any idea what you were in for when you agreed to this sweetheart,” Joe Kessler’s voice was deep, raspy and it had you whining from where you were stretched out naked on the bed with your wrists handcuffed to the headboard. “I know you said you wanted both of us, but you can barely handle one of us.”

“And I’ve only just gotten started,” Butcher’s thick accent filled the air having you pant when you felt his thick fingers thrusting firmly into your wet pussy. It had your hips arching up toward his movements with Billy snickering out. Joe was sitting in a chair beside the bed. His baby blue button-down shirt was open to the center of his chest exposing the dark curls of hair over his flesh. The sleeves of the shirt were unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows while he observed Billy having his way with you. Now Billy was sitting at the edge of the bed shirtless with just his black slacks still on. “Lack of being pampered I think with this one.”

“I think you’re right,” Joe hummed, his eyebrow arching up in amusement when you whimpered out with the strength of Billy’s fingers plunging into the depths of your core. By the expression over Joe’s face, you could see that he was entertained with his dimples prominent from his smirk. “Hasn’t had a proper fucking in a very long time.”

“We’ll have to straighten that right up for her,” Billy decided, grunting when he worked hard to forcefully shove his fingers into your wet cunt. Your cries were loud with you throwing your head back into the pillows and a wolfish smile tugged at Joe’s lips.

“Keep it up Billy my boy,” Joe urged Billy on when Billy got on his knees above your body. Billy’s left hand squeezed firmly at your hip to keep you in place while his right hand continued to thrust away with the wet sounds filling the small motel room that the boys had taken you to. “I feel like she’s just about…” your back arched, your eyes slamming shut with your whole body tremoring as Billy managed to get you to a powerful orgasm that had your thighs tremoring. “There.”

“Good girl,” Billy praised you, smacking at your hip when his fingers pulled from your sopping pussy. With how hard your heart was already hammering in your chest, it made you wonder how you were going to last through this. “Tight little cunt this one has.”

“Mmm…I see that,” Joe dragged his thumb across his bottom lip when you dropped your head to the side. Behind heavy eyelids, you could see that Joe was eyeing you over as if he was planning on what to do next with you. “She looks spent already Butcher. And she hasn’t even had a cock in that tight little pussy of hers. I’m thinking we should stop. What about you?”

“No, please,” you begged noticing the wicked smile that followed when Joe snickered. Getting up from the bed, Joe moved in beside Billy at the bottom of the bed and scoffed. “I need this. I want this. So much.”

“Begging lil’ thing,” Billy rumbled with a crooked smile, nudging Joe firmly with his elbow. “I think we should give her what she wants.”

“I think we’ll start slow. Work our way up. See if she deserves it,” Joe moved in beside the bed, reaching out to hook his fingers tightly into your hair. Pulling your head up from the bed, he teased his lips just in over yours. Heat radiated over your lips from the warmth of his breath. It had a breath catching in your throat. The way his eyes locked onto yours took your breath away. “Eat her out Billy.”

“I was getting hungry,” Billy commented with a snort, getting back onto the bed. Forcing your legs apart had you gasping and Joe’s thumb swept over the swell of your plump bottom lip. Wincing, you felt the grasp of Billy’s hands strong on your thighs, squeezing at them to pull you where he wanted you. Going to look when Billy lowered himself down between your thighs had Joe hooking his fingers firmly around your neck to force your head back down into the pillows. “Oi, you should get a good look at this Kessler. Such a pretty little cunt just begging to be pampered.”

“In due time Butcher,” Joe slurred forcing you to look at him. The pressure on your throat was enough to make a point and you didn’t question it. Biting down on your bottom lip, you felt the rough fingertips of Billy tracing over your wet slit with the coarse sensation of his beard teasing at your flesh while he kissed at your inner thigh. “Are you a bad girl or a good girl?”

Whimpering out, you felt the warmth of Billy’s mouth pressing in over your most intimate parts and it had you shaking. Once Billy’s tongue began to pamper your already sensitive clit with slow, focused movements it had a rush flooding your body.

“Answer the question,” Joe sneered making you wince when the grasp of his fingers got tighter around your throat. Joe’s fingertips from his other hand danced between the valley of your breasts. Sweeping his rough fingertips over your nipple had you purring out and he pinched faintly at the taut bud.

“Bad girl,” you answered drawing an amused rumble from Joe’s lips and he gave you a firm nod.

“Good answer,” Joe started pressing faint kisses over your jawline having you purr out. A growl had your hips arching up when the strength of Billy’s tongue and his kisses over your damp heat grew. “Because bad girls want to be punished. You’re only a good girl when you do what daddy wants from you.”

Finally, as if giving you a reward, Joe’s lips covered yours hungrily kissing you. It took your breath away, your lips parting when his tongue gifted you with the warm sweep of it over yours. Crying out in Joe’s mouth, you felt Billy slurping at your sensitive flesh and you wished you could have reached down to sink your fingers into his hair, but you couldn’t move. They made sure of that.

Cooing out at the sensations, Joe bit at your bottom lip giving it a small tug before standing up straight. Pulling open the rest of the buttons of his shirt, he pushed the material aside revealing his slender abdomen to your sight. Attempting to take everything in all at once, you were impressed with the tattoos and the v-line at his slender hips. Dragging his fingers across his belt, Joe started to part the material making the metal cling when he got it apart.

“Fuck,” you gasped when Billy forced two of his fingers back inside of you, delving deep inside of your warmth in attempts to hit that sweet spot he had already found. Matching the pace his mouth was already delivering over your sensitive bundle of nerves had you bouncing up toward him. Growling against your flesh had you tremoring with the way it vibrated against your folds.

“See, the good thing about Butcher is he does whatever I tell him,” Joe explained, undoing the button in his slacks before firmly tugging down the zipper. It had your mouth going wet at the sight and you were doing your best not to close your eyes. “Ain’t that right Butcher?”

“Fuck off, cunt,” Billy’s lips pulled from your mound with a wet sound. It had Billy snickering and you whining when Joe looked to Billy with an amused expression.

“Back to work,” Joe ordered and Billy gave you a smirk before lowering his head back down to go back to pleasuring you. It had you moaning out and Joe shrugged. “So, as you can see, if you don’t do what I want I can make him stop at any time. Understand?”

Nodding your head, you could barely form words when Joe pushed the material of his pants apart. Reaching inside, he seemed to touch himself for a minute before pulling his lengthy cock out to your sight. It had your mouth water eyeing over his rigid manhood that had prominent veins going up the shaft to the swollen tip. Joe’s long, slender digits were curled around his erection stroking over it in slow movements.

“Now do what daddy tells you…” Joe moved in over you on the bed lowering down just enough for him to press the tip of his cock to your wet and ready lips. “Suck my cock…and you better make it good.”

Chills ran down your spine when you outstretched your tongue allowing it to flick out against the tip of his thick cock. It had a groan falling from Joe’s lips while he watched you. His left hand braced against the headboard while his right hand urged around the back of your neck to get you to lift up better.

Parting your lips enough for him to press his hips forward and sink his cock into your wet mouth had him letting out a deep, raspy moan, “Just like that…”

It was difficult to focus while Butcher’s movements were so fierce making you have to work twice as hard in giving Joe a blowjob, but you were doing your best. Drawing out your movements, you pushed your head forward as much as you could to take Joe in your throat before pulling your head back. It seemed like Billy knew what you were doing and he would tease you having you moan against Joe’s cock when the flicks of Billy’s tongue grew wild against your flesh.

“Relax your throat,” Joe demanded and you did your best to oblige with Joe thrusting his hips forward. You were doing your best not to choke when he filled your throat, pushing your head further down his cock until your nose was buried against his groin with the dark curls of hair that surrounded the base of his thick cock. Tears developed at the corner of your eyes knowing that your airway was cut off until Joe snickered and pulled his hips back. A long line of saliva trailed from the tip of his cock to your lips with him stroking his hand over his slick arousal. Giving you a minute to breathe, he moved forward again and started fucking your mouth the way he wanted and you did your best to give him what he desired. You didn’t complain, hell you wanted to be his best little sex slave that did as he pleased because you didn’t want this to end with the two of them. Even though you tried to focus, your body started tremoring again. God, Butcher was working you up to another orgasm that had you crying out against Joe’s cock. It had Joe moaning out with him pulling it from your mouth with a wet sound. “Fucking hell.”

“Can we switch now?” Billy requested lifting his head up from between your legs to wipe at his lips with the back of his hand. There was a sense of arrogance in Billy’s eyes with the way that he was able to make you come so easily. “I’d like to get my dick wet someday soon too.”

“Have at it,” Joe moved from over you sliding out of his shirt, allowing the material to drop to his wrists. Dropping it onto the ground, he kicked out of his pants and the sight of his cock bobbing about as he moved had you tremoring. “Get on your knees.”

You wanted to ask how, but instead you just did your hardest to twist your arms. It hurt like hell with the way the cuffs tightened around your wrists, but you did what Joe asked of you. Beside you at the edge of the bed, Butcher was swiftly pulling apart the material of his slacks. Unlike Joe, he wasn’t taking his time in pushing his pants down his hips. Billy was quick and fierce in the way that he did things. Once the material of his pants were pushed down, his uncut cock bounced in your face and he chuckled.

“We’re not making it easy for her, are we?” Billy sheathed his girthy flesh with his fingers, testing the member in his grasp making sure that he was completely solid. Hopping up on the bed, he carefully lowered down onto his knees in front of you and swept his fingers over the side of your face. “Here we go…”

Leading the tip of his cock to your lips, you allowed Butcher to sink his arousal into the warmth of your mouth. Grumbling out, Billy swept your hair out of your face and held it back so he could watch you while he thrust his hips unhurriedly toward your throat.

“Well fuck me,” Joe’s raspy voice was heard, the warmth of his hands palming in over your bottom spreading your cheeks apart. “That is a pretty pussy. Wet and just begging to be fucking destroyed. Look at you.”

“I told ya. And there you are wasting your time talking her through things,” Billy’s accent accentuated something of the words. A firm smack over your right cheek was felt and it made you purr against Billy’s cock. “Fuck Kessler…”

��Enjoy it,” Joe commented when he smacked at your ass again before caressing at the flesh. “Fuck, you really are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

Closing your eyes, you enjoyed the warmth of Joe pressing up behind you along with Billy using your mouth however he wanted. Faint kisses were pressed up over the small of your back from Joe before lowering down again. Leaving you with small little bites over your flesh and over your ass. Humming out, Joe’s hands pressed at your thighs, getting them to separate better.

“Look at that pretty little hole,” Joe dropped his head forward, his tongue dragging a line along the length of your sex. When it circled the warmth of your entrance it had your eyes slamming shut and you noticed in that moment that Billy started to thrust his hips harder up toward your throat. His fingers were hooked in your hair, controlling the movements of your mouth over his length leaving the wet sounds to fill the small room with what he was doing.

Joe’s tongue prodded at your hole, his fingers squeezing at your thighs while he feasted on your body. Both men were using your body the way they wanted to and it was so hard to focus. The handcuffs were digging into the flesh of your wrists and you knew it would leave a mark, but you thought it was worth it. You tried to pull your head away for a breath when you gasped at the sensation of Joe’s long, slender digits pushing into your slick body. Just like Butcher, the forcefulness of his fingers thrusting away inside of you had you trembling back against his movements. You were having trouble staying on your knees and they both knew that, but it didn’t stop them from being rough with you. When Joe’s fingers pulled from your body and went back to flicking and teasing over your entrance along with your folds, it had you whining. Tugging your head back from his length had Billy’s cock twitching when his fingers traced over your chin.

“Come on honey, get it together,” Billy’s fingers tapped at the side of your face, giving it a little smack while you tried to take in as much air as you could. “Get that throat relaxed for daddy here so we can keep up the fun.”

It wasn’t long before Butcher was forcing his cock back into your mouth and down your throat. With a slurping sound Joe pulled his head back and snickered against your flesh. Giving you one final wet kiss at your core had you whimpering around Billy’s cock and he threw his head back letting out a delicious moan that had chills flooding your body.

The bottom of the bed dipped with Joe’s weight moving in behind you and your back arched enjoying the warmth of him near, “So many holes just begging for attention.”

The sound of Joe spitting was heard and you felt the warmth of it sliding down over your ass. Collecting it with his thumb, Joe circled it over your tight pucker and it had you bouncing forward. With a rumble of an amused laugh, Joe pulled your hips back to him. Forcing his thumb into the ring of muscle had you pulling away from Billy’s cock, dropping your head down and whimpering out. It was foreign the feeling that he was doing. You weren’t completely ready, but Joe was testing your limits.

“Fucking hell Butcher,” Joe groaned from behind you, enjoying the way your body bounced back toward his. Billy’s fingers grasped onto your jaw forcing you to look up at him. Your eyes were watery and you no doubt had spit dribbling from your lips with what they had been doing to you. “Her ass is perfect too. With a pussy and an ass this tight, they are just begging for endless amounts of creampies.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t ya?” Billy slurred, lowering down just enough to brush your hair out of your face and he smiled. “The two of us filling you up?”

“Yes,” you panted, whimpering out when Joe pulled his thumb from your body. Hearing him getting off the bed had you whining and Billy let out a sound of awe.

“She misses you already Kessler,” Billy mocked you slightly dawning a frown with his thumb sweeping over your bottom lip. “Wants you back in that tight little ass of hers.”

“I won’t be gone long,” Joe assured you digging for something in his pants before returning with a tiny little bottle. Getting back on the bed, Joe dropped the bottle on the bed beside him and hummed. “Don’t be a greedy little thing. You’re gonna get what you want. I’m just preparing for the future here.”

“You have no idea what you’re in for,” Billy alerted you with a bounce of his eyebrows and a devious smirk. Gasping out, you felt Joe moving you around where he wanted you. The way he threw you about made you feel like a rag doll when you felt his thighs pressing in over the back of yours. It had you cooing out when you felt the length of his solid cock resting over your bottom. “Why do you get to go first?”

“Because you ate her out first Butcher my boy,” Joe snorted seeing the frustration in Billy’s face when Billy curled his fingers around his cock, teasing the flesh in his grasp. “Don’t fucking worry. We’ll share. We always fucking do.”

“Come on honey,” Billy led you back toward his cock, teasing the tip over your wet lips. Sticking out your tongue for him, you flicked it faintly at the ridges of Billy’s manhood. It had him growling out, his fingers yanking at your hair drawing you to wince. Allowing his length back between your lips, you heard the sounds of Joe tapping his erection at your ass. The soft smacks had your eyes slamming shut and you wiggled your ass a bit showing him that you wanted what he was about to deliver. “You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth.”

“Aw. Ain’t you sweet?” Joe mocked Billy from where he was behind you and you could see from the corner of your eye that Billy lifted his hand to raise a middle finger at Joe. It had Joe chuckling behind you before you felt the sweep of the tip of Joe’s cock over the length of your sex. Moaning against Billy’s cock had him groaning out when Joe smacked his member up against your flesh. Joe was teasing you at first while you did your best to pleasure Billy, but Billy could pick up that you were having a hard time focusing so he started thrusting his hips, fucking your throat with wet sounds falling from you. You felt the swollen tip of Joe’s cock at your entrance when he pushed forward swiftly, not giving you much time to get used to his size when he filled you completely. It had your hips bouncing forward, a cry falling from your stuffed throat, but Joe forced you back onto him. “Fuck, that’s nice…”

Joe squeezed at your hips before he started thrusting behind you, not taking it easy in the way he pounded into you. Every bounce forward of his hips had you gagging more on Billy’s cock. A pathetic half attempt at a moan escaped the small spaces of your throat while the wet sounds of Joe pounding into your pussy echoed throughout the room.

“That’s it,” Joe growled, his hand spanking firmly over your bottom again. Your flesh was hot, burning with the sensation before another smack over your flesh drew you to whimper. “Such a perfectly wet tight little pussy.”

Once again, Joe’s thumb was back at your pucker pushing it’s way back into your ass while he fucked you. It was a feeling you weren’t used to, but by the sounds Joe was making behind you, you would have let him do anything. In fact, you moaned like the perfect little slut they wanted you to be. God, what you would have given to touch both of them. To feel the flexing of their muscles while they had their way with you.

“Oi, let me try,” Billy pulled at your hair, getting you from his cock and you panted for air. Tugging you forward had Joe’s length pulling from your wet core. You hated that empty feeling it left you with. Billy dropped down on the bed, managing to get you on your knees over him. Your hands were braced against the headboard when Billy reached between the two of you to thrust his hips up sinking his manhood into your tight canal. “Fucking hell…”

“Told you,” Joe’s breath was warm against the side of your neck when he kissed over your jawline from where he was on his knees behind you. Joe’s erection was pressed against your back while Billy pounded into you from below. His hips bouncing up toward you filling you again and again with his length. Curling his fingers firmly around your throat, Joe urged you to tip your head back while your cries and moans filled the air. Covering your lips with his, Joe feverishly kissed you, his tongue brushing past your lips to flick against yours. Sucking faintly at his tongue had him growling out, the grasp of his fingers around your throat growing stronger. Mewling out, you felt your whole body shaking with the way that Billy was smacking up against you, his testicles slapping up against your ass with every thrust. “Enough.”

Curling his arm around your waist, Joe lifted you enough to pull you from Billy’s cock. Joe kept his finger wrapped around your throat, having your head tip back against his shoulder. His other hand reached down to lead his cock back into you with a loud smacking sound. Between Billy and Joe they were filling you and stretching you in ways that you could never imagine.

Crying out, you closed your eyes while Billy’s hands caressed up and over your sides. There was a big difference between Billy’s hands and Joe’s hands. Billy’s fingers were rougher, scratching at your flesh while Joe’s fingers were softer. You could tell that one worked more in the field and the other did more of the directing. Billy’s palms squeezed at your breasts, his fingertips circling your nipples.

“Gorgeous set of tits really,” Billy grunted, his hot wet kisses tampering off over your breasts. Once his mouth surrounded your breast, it had you crying out into Joe’s mouth. Joe wasn’t wasting a moment with you, having you the way he wanted. Filling you completely, having you shake with every forceful thrust upward he made behind you. Twisting his tongue around your nipple, Billy nipped at the flesh before sliding out from under you. “My turn.”

You whined. You felt like Joe had been hitting all the right areas inside of you to lead you right to the edge of an orgasm, but Billy didn’t give you the time to reach it. And that ached. Bad. Joe snickered, pulling his hips back and you felt Billy forcing you down onto your back again. Breathing loudly, you could feel your heart pounding away inside of your chest. Your body wasn’t used to all of this and all of this at once.

Crawling in over you, Billy settled himself between your thighs after forcing them open. Hooking his arms around your shoulders, Billy held tightly to you when he looked between the two of you. Lining his solid dick up, he thrust firmly forward which had you bouncing upward on the bed. Every thrust was rough, causing the bed to squeak with every movement he made over you. The headboard was smacking against the wall loud. It made you wonder if anyone else was in the rooms near you. If there was, there was no question what was happening in here.

“Look at that face,” Joe sat on the edge of the bed. Your face was hot. You knew you looked spent and he was completely amused. Billy gave you a few wet, sloppy kisses, but you liked the way they felt. You liked the contrast between Joe and Billy. Sucking at his bottom lip, Joe seemed to enjoy watching Billy fucking you with the way that he was watching the two of you. Joe’s cock twitched with anticipation when he smacked at Billy’s shoulder. “Don’t be greedy Butch.”

“Fine,” Billy scoffed, dropping his head back, pulling himself up and away from you which had you whimpering out. Again, you felt like you were cheated out of an orgasm. There was a tingling at your core, you were soaking wet and the boys knew what they were doing with you. It felt like a game at this point. Billy threw his hand out and pointed down at you. “Have at it.”

“Thank you,” Joe shook his head, licking his lips when he looked you over. “I can see by the desperation in your eyes you want to come. So bad. Don’t you?”

Joe traced his fingertips over the length of your folds, collecting your slick onto his fingers before he traced his fingers back down. It had you nodding, your hips bouncing up toward his touch when he snorted, another amused rumble falling from his throat, “Can you squirt?”

You could barely form words when Joe grunted and moved in over you on his knees. Urging your legs up over his shoulders had your ass lifting from the bed and he braced himself with his left hand settling beside your hip. Using his right hand, Joe reached down to lead his throbbing erection swiftly back into your body. With a smack forward it had you crying out and an arrogant smile pulled at Joe’s lips.

“Feel good?” Joe slurred, his eyebrows furrowing when he braced his right hand beside your other hip to balance his weight. Nodding, your lips parted and you whimpered. In this position Joe filled your right up to the brim. It had you feeling fuller than ever and your hips involuntarily arched up because you wanted more. It had his long eyelashes fluttering with him taking in a sharp breath of air showing that he liked it. It was like he was cherishing the sensation of the warm walls of your core surrounding him before he started rolling his hips. Each movement Joe made, he was paying close attention to how you reacted. The bed dipped with Billy laying down beside you, his kisses pressing in over your shoulder. Once Joe found a position he liked, his eyes were focused on his cock starting to piston inside of you. Joe’s jaw flexed, the lines in his forehead growing with his moans becoming louder.

“Joe,” you cried out and it had Billy tsking in your ear, his fingers grasping tightly to your jaw while your hands tremored in the position they were in. Your arms were going numb with how they had them handcuffed to the bed. The pleasure overpowered the pain with the tip of Joe’s cock hitting all the right places inside of you. It had you shaking, your hips quivering with you arching up close to him wanting him to keep doing what he was. There was a rush going to your head and you bit down on your bottom lip.

“Keep it up Kessler. Looks like this one is about to burst,” Billy praised Joe with the smacks of Joe’s flesh against yours setting a steady rhythm. Sliding his palm down your abdomen, Billy’s fingers centered in over your clitoris circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. It had you crying out their names. A proud laugh fell from Billy’s throat. Behind heavy eyelids you could see the determined expression over Joe’s face when you wailed out, pulling your hips back and away from Joe. A hot liquid warmth rushed to your core and your whole body shook. An amused breath fell from Joe with him licking his lips. “She is a squirter. Well lucky us.”

“Fuck,” you tremored, your throat tensing up when Joe moved off the bed and ran his fingers over the wet lengths of his lower abdomen. Sitting at the top of the bed beside you, Joe propped his back up against the headboard when Billy swiftly got up onto his knees. Once again he had you flipping over onto your stomach. Adjusting your bodies, Joe had you laying over him when Billy moved in over you. Your head rested against Joe’s abdomen with his fingers stroking at your shoulders. Forcing your legs together, Billy rest his knees beside your thighs and reached down to forcefully shove his thick cock back into you. It had you sobbing out. You were so fucking sensitive as it was and Billy wasn’t going to give you a break. No, now that Joe had managed to make you squirt by focusing purely on your g-spot, Billy was going to do the same. Rough, powerful thrusts followed with your face burying further against Joe’s lower abdomen. “Billy…please.”

“Nah, no. Butcher is doing a great job,” Joe hushed you, stroking his fingers over the side of your face. It led you to start pressing faint kisses over the area under Joe’s navel and it had him smiling. “Let him do what he wants with your pussy. You won’t regret it.”

“It’s almost like a challenge you see. If he can do it, I know I can too,” Billy grunted in your ear, his mouth pressing in over your shoulder while biting at your flesh. Adjusting his hips, Joe curled his fingers around the base of his lengthy cock and teased the tip of it over your bottom lip. Parting your lips allowed him to start thrusting his hips up in lazy movements. You tasted yourself on him while he surprisingly praised you. Every plunge of Billy’s cock inside of you had you crying out against Joe’s flesh, but by his moans you realized he liked the way it vibrated against his manhood. By Billy’s loud breaths, you could tell he was determined and he was getting there with wanting to make you squirt too. That same familiar fire flooded through your veins, but this time you couldn’t pull away. All you could do was pull your mouth away from Joe’s length, burying your face against the center of Joe’s chest when Billy swiftly pulled his hips back and a wet sound followed. “Fucking Perfect.”

“I think it’s time for the finishing touches,” Joe allowed you to lay over him while he stroked his fingers over your shoulders. Curling his finger under your chin, he persuaded you to tiredly lift your head from his chest. “You can take both of us at the same time, right? You want to be our perfect little slut and make us happy?”

“Of course she does,” Billy retorted from behind the two of you going back to kissing over your shoulders. “If she wants to keep this whole thing up, I know she can handle it. Ain’t that right sweetheart?”

Licking your lips, you knew that your body was already exhausted. You had been ran through incredible amounts of euphoric pleasure time and time again. Pushed to the brink, but when it came to these two, you were willing to do anything. Nodding slowly had Joe’s smile growing and he tipped his head down. The light from the motel room brought attention to the scar that went down the side of his face. You had always been attracted to both Joe and Billy. But now even more so with the way their bodies showed how they went to war in the past.

The bed went cold with both Joe and Billy getting up from the bed. Shocked, you felt one of them unhooking your wrists from the headboard. You didn’t think they were going to let you have your hands. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see them talking. Pulling your wrists closer to your body allowed you to observe them. Your skin was raw and red.

“I’ll play you for it,” you heard Billy stammer and it had Joe chuckling. Turning your head, you watched Billy hold out his fist. It looked like the both of them were doing rock, paper, scissors as if trying to figure out who was going to go where. When they got to three, Joe beat Billy with paper when Billy picked rock. “Best outta three?”

Rolling his eyes, Joe allowed them to play again with Joe winning the second time, “I know the way you think Butcher.”

“Alright you fucking wanker. You win. But it’s mine next time,” Billy declared dropping down to the edge of the bed before laying down. Urging you in over him took time. You weren’t moving all that well. You were weak and rightfully so. Now Billy was kissing you this time more focused, gentle. It surprised you.

“Here we go,” Joe got on the bed behind you, grabbing your waist and pulling you up to your knees. It had you gasping out, but Billy had your face cupped in his hands with him nibbling at your bottom lip. “I’m gonna get you ready. Cus’ while we’re assholes, we’re not fucking assholes.”

“Yes you are,” Billy snickered, his lips pressing over the side of your neck to your jawline where he bit. It had you whimpering and you heard the sound of a bottle being opened. Soon the slick, cool fluid began to slide between your flesh over your ass hearing Joe let out a proud sound.

Closing the bottle up, Joe tossed it back beside you and you felt him squeezing at your cheeks, testing the flesh as if to relax you. Tracing his fingers over your body, Joe collected the lube that he had poured and you felt him prodding at your tight hole. It had your eyes slamming shut tightly when you felt his finger pressing inside of you. This time he was slower, working to open you up for him when he added a second finger.

“You’re working your way to the good girl label,” Joe commented, his lips pressing between your shoulders. Billy’s hands curled around your body, smacking firmly at your ass which had it bouncing back toward Joe while he thrust his finger inside of your tight canal. Working a second finger in had you grabbing tightly to Billy. Your fingers sank into Billy’s flesh, the nails breaking the skin, but by the sound that he made he liked it. “Your perfect little ass was made for this. Y’know that?”

“He has me all jealous and shit,” Billy snorted, his brow line creasing when Joe reached for the bottle again after pulling his fingers from your body. It had you panting, clinging tightly to Billy like you wouldn’t let go. You had to brace yourself and prepare for what was going to happen. Looking over your shoulder, you watched Joe pour a significant amount of lube into his hand before coating his cock with it. Slick sounds fell from his hand jerking off his throbbing length. Crawling toward you, Joe pressed into your hips to get them lowered slightly with your ass in the air. “I thought we were sharing.”

“Let me get her used to it first and then we will share,” Joe snapped, his fingers digging into your hips when you felt the swollen tip at your tight pucker. Clenching up had Joe hushing you his lips kissing at your shoulder with the warmth of his body radiating against your back. “Clenching is going to make it hurt. I’m not trying to hurt you here. So fucking relax.”

Doing as you were told, you tried to get your body to loosen up. In that moment, Billy was caressing at your body, his mouth demanding kisses from yours. You wanted to focus on the kisses, but you heard the slight popping sound of Joe successfully sinking the tip of his manhood into your tight hole.

Don’t tense up. You had to repeat that to yourself as you buried your head against the side of Billy’s neck. Cradling your head, Billy hushed you with Joe urging the rest of his lengthy cock inside of you. You felt full. It ached, but you didn’t want him to leave. An involuntary moan fell from your throat.

“Fuck me,” Joe bit at your earlobe, his nose nuzzling against the side of your face when he filled you completely. “Your tight little ass feels like it was made just for me.”

Bracing his hands, Joe took his time pulling his hips back and then thrusting forward. It surprised you that he was taking his time to open you up and get you used to this whole thing. His moans were pretty loud and you bit down on your bottom lip.

“You’re going to creampie her before we even get started,” Billy scoffed with the weight of both you and Joe over him. “Now who is being the greedy fucking one.”

“Stop bitching,” Joe snarled, reaching out to smack his hand at the side of Billy’s face which seemed to enrage him a bit. “You don’t want to rip the poor girl in half. You’ll get what you want you jackass.”

Gradually Joe’s thrusts stopped and you felt him pull from your body which had you whining out, “I know, I know. You want me balls deep in that pretty little ass of yours, but we have to please Butcher here too before he loses it.”

“Fuck you wanker,” Billy scoffed with Joe trying to get you up onto your knees. You were weak, your hands pressing in over Billy’s chest.

“We need your hips to stay up so Billy can fuck you from below while I do it from behind,” Joe’s words vibrated against your flesh and you lowered your upper half. Bracing your weight over Billy’s body, you felt Billy grabbing your hips. With a firm smack upward, Billy was back inside of your already dripping cunt. It had him growling out, his teeth biting at your neck undoubtedly leaving marks. “And now…”

Billy was holding you in place when Joe adjusted his legs. You felt the hair from his thighs pressing against the back of your thighs when he pressed in behind you. There was that bulbous tip back at your tight pucker again. This time he wasn’t as gentle as before. Sinking his cock into you with a firm upward thrust had you crying out. Having the both of them inside of you left you feeling fuller than you ever had.

“Have you ever had a double creampie darlin’?” Billy muttered, his head lifting up to press kisses over your breasts that were in his face. With a nip it had you crying out and he let out an excited breath. “We’re going to have our spunk dripping out of both of your holes.”

“Good girl,” Joe reached around you to palm up over your body, squeezing at the breast that Billy’s tongue wasn’t currently circling. Starting to roll his hips, Joe was smacking up against your ass with his slender hips while Billy desperately started to thrust up toward you. Their movements were uneven at first and it had you breathless. Clinging to whatever you could. After a while they seemed to find a matched tempo that you actually quite enjoyed. You felt both of their testicles smacking up against your flesh. It was a good thing they were friends because everyone was touching everyone at this point. “You were made for this.”

Hearing both Joe and Billy’s moans had chills filling your body. This was incredible. This was everything you dreamt of and more. You knew you would be feeling it for a long time, but you didn’t care. They both marked you and you would wear those marks with pride.

“Beautiful little slut, ain’t ya?” Billy smacked a bit firmer than he did previously at the side of your face before claiming your lips in a hungry kiss again. You were shaking between the both of them. A variation of cries and moans falling from you while they both absolutely had their way with fucking you. Gasping out, you felt Joe’s fingers back at your neck with the pressure that he had placed on it earlier. “Look at you.”

Faint smacks at your clit were felt with Billy smirking a wickedly entertained smile. Your hips were tremoring between the both of them. You were all covered in sweat. This was the dirtiest, naughtiest thing you had ever done and they were letting you know that.

“Are you going to come?” Joe’s fingers were still tight on your throat when you started moaning louder. You could only nod slightly. You wanted to come and you were close to it. You could tell with how good everything felt. That same fire was building inside of you and you felt faint. “Do you like having both of our big cock’s inside of you at the same time?”

“Yes daddy,” you could barely get your words out, your head light from both the pressure of his fingers around your throat and the oncoming orgasm that you were about to have. “I love it. So much.”

“Does your tight lil’ cunt and ass belong to us?” Billy wanted an answer while his fingers were more determined to match the tempo their cocks were setting inside of you.

“Answer him?” Joe demanded with a firm tug, his words hot against your ear making you wince.

“It belongs to both of you,” you promised them, your eyes slamming shut with how powerful Billy’s thrusts seemed to get beneath you.

Billy’s moans were constant when you felt the first twitch of his cock inside of you. He seemed to hold you still, his nails now digging into your flesh while he pumped you full of his cum. You felt it seeping down your inner thighs, enjoying the sight of Billy’s pleasured filled face with his head tipped back into the pillows. His jaw was flexing, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes closed tightly. Billy’s lack of movement only seemed to make Joe’s movements harder. Joe’s breathing loud and hot against your flesh. A small bit of energy filled you. You wanted that orgasm that they were both working up inside of you. It had you bouncing back toward Joe’s thrusts, while still pulling back and forth enough to use Billy’s cock the way you needed it.

“That’s it,” Joe sounded pleased with you and Billy lifted his head to watch you fucking yourself over his cock and Joe’s. With a wail, you felt your thighs tremoring. Your whole body shaking with the euphoric sensation flooding your veins. Your heart was pounding in your chest. With Joe’s fingers still curled tightly around your throat, it seemed to enhance your orgasm all the more. “Fuck…”

Joe’s moans grew louder, his thrusts more prominent and harder. It had you bouncing forward with Billy’s moans still matching yours. With a dominant thrust over you, you felt the warmth of Joe’s release inside of you, his damp chest pressing firmly against your back lowering you closer to Billy. With a few final thrusts, Joe’s hips finally came to a stop and he laughed against your jawline. Finally releasing your neck had you inhaling sharply. The room was spinning. Your vision was slightly blacked over, but in time came back to you. Both men were still inside of you, holding onto you like they weren’t going to let go.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Billy was the first to say something, smacking at your hip before lowering his hips. The sensation of his cum sliding down your body was felt with some of it dripping onto his lower abdomen. If anything? Billy was proud of it.

A faint kiss was pressed against your temple as Joe grunted, straightening his body to get back to his knees. His fingers squeezed at your ass cheeks, spreading them when he took his time pulling his softening cock from your tight canal. Once he did, you heard the wet sound that followed by the proud rumble from Joe’s throat.

“Watching our cum oozing out of your pretty little holes turns me on all over again,” Joe claimed, hissing out when he squeezed at your flesh. You felt his cum sliding down over your folds before dripping from your body. Tapping your hip, Joe suggested you to lay down and you fell in over Billy who grunted. Falling in beside you, Joe’s chest was rising and falling while he tried to catch his breath.

“You okay there old man?” Billy mocked Joe, kissing at your shoulder after. Gazing over Joe, you saw his softening cock resting at his lower abdomen, twitching slightly and it took your breath away. Between Billy and Joe you didn’t know where you wanted to be.

“Fuck you,” Joe scoffed, rolling over onto his side curling his arm around you to pull you closer so that you were between the both of them. Joe’s hand caressed over your thigh, his lips kissing at the side of your neck while Billy kissed at the opposite. Between their rough beards, it had you purring out. You enjoyed the pampering that came after that welcomed abuse you went through between them. “You did good. Very good.”

“I hope it was everything you wanted,” Billy breathed out, a laugh falling from his throat when he stretched his hand out over your breasts to drag it across your flesh. “Because the next time? It’s gonna be so much more intense than this.”

----

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 1 month ago

Text

❝ That heavy breathin' on the floor ❞

warnings: violence against a sw, police brutality, r! is nearly assaulted but is saved, r! is a prostitute, brothel mentioned, mentions of addiction, spanking, fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex, strap-on, minor daddy kink (sevika), pussy-eating, choking, slapping, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, terms like boypussy, pussy, boycunt, cunt are used), murder, graphic depictions of violence

masterlist; pt. 1; pt. 2

authors note: this kind of gets a bit heavy at the end with themes of injustices against s*x workers along side police brutality and r! nearly getting assaulted by a haughty rich dude from Piltover. If its it's too heavy, please prioritize yourself ! *song on repeat: Billie Boss Nova by Billie Eilish *YN is described as being shorter than Vander (202cm), Sevika (185cm), and Silco (182cm) in this fic.

"So, how'd you decide this career was the best course of action in your life?" your lips twitch at the question. Well, less of the question and more of the person asking; there was an accent these Topsiders have. Dripping with condescension and haughtiness. It was like they were bred to have their noses pointed up, as if there was some sort of treasure up those pin-holes.

"You're asking for my life story?" you drawl, watching as his hands crawl up your thighs. They were splotchy with age spots, but plumper than the old timers from here. Figures. You split your legs for him and he wets his lips. "You get off on that sort of things?" you throw an arched brow his way, a look he dismisses with a wanton grope of your unclothed cunt.

"If I say I do, you'd have to indulge, correct?"

Even the way he asks his questions felt like he was talking down to you.

You hated events like these. The brothel hosted them for the handful of clients who could afford to rent out a whole floor for themselves, usually they were sleazy Topsiders with their stupid little kids who'd come of age.

Easier to pop all sorts of cherries in the underbelly of Piltover because 'they'd do just about anything for some coin!'

You take a long drag of your hookah while the old fuck grinds his palm to your dick. It's strange how soft his hands are. You're used to callouses, palms that strike with power behind them and grips that bruises. This was pathetic.

"My dad bailed on my mom before he knew I was even conceived," his eyes glimmer with morbid curiosity. He rubs his hands up and down, a tepid rhythm that sincerely lacks in any semblance of pleasure. "My poor, young, dumb, mother. She tried really, really, really hard." "Did she?"

You nod, looking off at the floor where a whore was sucking off another Topsider; laid on her belly between his legs on the cushions and duvets. The theme of this event had been some dumbass ancient civilization. With white toga's and golden wreaths some of their kids spent a week working on.

"She worked her ass off. Determined to make life worth living for me."

"Did she work...here?"

There it was. That sick fascination. He didn't even know if this story was real, you could be bullshitting him but it doesn't matter. As he strokes your cock, his eyes gleam with a cruelty that only men of his status could possess. Pain was a fetish; it was a welcomed one even. But this? This fetish that he has, of listening to sob stories and fulfilling his torture fantasy. Did he think he was better than a sexual sadist because his hands were soft and wimpy?

He must. Perhaps he even thinks this line of questioning elevates him from your usual customers. Makes this all feel more 'ethical'.

It was funny seeing a predator file their teeth down into shiny sparkling stubs (his veneers were blinding) but forget they still had claws. Your lips curl away from your teeth, in disgust and rising anger.

Then Doe appears in front of you. Her hands stroking up your thighs as she blocks the Topsider's face from yours. The twitch in your brow is hidden behind your mask, but the corners of your mouth twist in confusion. She slips her fingers into his hold, giggling as he greets her.

"Mr. Erikson," she returns the flirting he dishes out, slipping his finger under the strap of her toga and tugging it down. When she brushes her hair over her shoulder, she gives you a pointed expression.

Calm the fuck down, was written all over her face. When she flits her eyes to your trembling hand, you loosen your grip on the hookah and click your teeth. She climbs smoothly onto that old fuck's lap, distracting him with her perky tits while you walk away.

The beaded curtains rattle angrily as you sulk past the threshold. Glaring at every privileged little fuck there on your way out of the hall. When a blonde man tried to grasp at your wrist you tug it away with a snarl. Fucking Topsiders. Going to the Undercity to get their dicks wet, maybe even delude some poor shit into thinking that they could be more. As if they'd ever marry anyone from here, or claim the children they fathered.

Because that's what Topsiders do. They take. All they know to do is take and take and take with no regard nor care —

A hand grabs at your wrist, harshly tugging you back and when you spin you grab the brooch at your shoulder and unclasp it to press the point to Sevika's neck. Your eyes widens and she lets out a low whistle.

"Hello to you too."

"Fuck, Sevika," you hastily bring your 'weapon' down, mindlessly clipping it to the golden make-shift rope-belt at your hip. She lets your wrist go while you lean in to make sure you hadn't actually drawn blood.

"Don't just grab me like that," you chastise. She takes notice of your get-up then glances towards the muffled noises of the hall behind you. "You finished in there?" she asks.

You should tell her no. You'd been asked for by name from the Topsiders, having done well at a previous party like this.

"Yeah. You want me for the night?" she shifts the tooth pick to the other side of her grin, reaching another hand to tug you in by your waist. "C'mon baby, say it nicely."

Sevika tilts her head, her rough hands making your lashes tremble. Both of her hands grab firmly at your ass, hitching you up and close. Her firm body, the scent of smoke and ash and alcohol easing you down as they mingle with Sevika's naturally smoky cologne. Judging from the bag of coin she has hidden in her jacket — that you can feel from under your hand — she was most likely in a good mood from winning a game.

"Say it sweet, how'd you'd ask those Topsiders to fuck you?" she's just getting a rise out of you. It wasn't a secret to Sevika that you despised the Topsiders. Even if you never ranted to her about it, every time they walked into the establishment your mask could barely keep your expression of dismay at bay.

You narrow your eyes at her. Smoothly slipping a hand into her jacket and taking the bag of coins out and holding it out of her reach when she tries to grab it.

"You think you deserve to fuck me?" you play along with her game. Leaning your face in to hers, your mask brushing her cheek. "Little limp dicks like you can barely make me hard, much less cum." Sevika's grip is bruising. The fabric of your toga nearly giving away to her harshness. Sevika was going to fuck you just the way you needed. Fast and hard; a true Zaunite in every way.

Your mask had been tossed aside, most likely on the floor of your room somewhere. The spray-painted golden wreaths, brooch, and belt were safely placed onto one of the dressers. The toga did not get that much grace though. Having been ripped away from your body as Sevika spun you around to pin you down on your stomach at the edge of the semi-circle bed.

"Sevika!" you exclaim in genuine alarm. She can still hear the smile in your voice so she just stares at the cloth material in her hands and breathes out a laugh. It lands next to you while she takes off her cloak.

"That cost money?" she questions mindlessly. You turn over on your back, staring up at her, stark naked. She'd spit out the toothpick before she smashed your lips together up the stairs, yet somehow she's found a cigarette to put between her teeth.

"Yeah," you replied in a matter-of-fact tone, reaching up to your nightstand to grab your box of matches. Striking one to light. She leans over you, her rough hands feeling up your split thighs and you light up her cigarette for her.

"I bought the damn fabric." "Cheap fabric," she replies as she pulls climbs on the bed. Her clothed body pressed against yours.

"Or maybe you're just freakishly strong," you retort with a huff.

"I'll pay extra," she laughs when you raise your brows.

Whores. So easy.

"Fuck, Sevika." She strokes your dick with her fingers which makes your breath hitch. "Yuh - You're gonna...You have to slow down."

"I know you can take more than this." You scowl at her, she just presses down on your poor dick. "I'm talking about gambling, dumbass. You're getting the extra coin from it, aren't you?"

She rolls her eyes, grabbing you face in her other hand and smushing your cheeks — involuntarily making your lips purse out like a fish while she stares down at you. The white smoke slithering up into the air making her grey eyes shine like a vengeful spirit.

"You don't want me here spoiling your ass?" she says gruffly, her fingers now slipping down to your winking hole and smearing your slick over it. "Who else is gonna remind this hole how rough you need it?"

Your eyes soften. She can see your resolve melt as she slips a finger inside of you, she groans just as your brows twitch and knit together. Anal was Sevika's wheelhouse. She always made your entire body shiver and shake when she gets in the mood to fuck you as if you were nothing but her personal flesh light.

"Fuh - fuck you," you hiss out. She knows you don't mean it. Because your customer's moods was your own wheelhouse. You know how they like to play, how much chase they want, how much biting they love. It's why your roster of clients were oddly attached to your fox mask.

She brings her hand to your neck and watch as your back arches of the bed as she fingerfucks your ass while she has her thumb inside of your cunt. Her cigarette was beginning to burn too much and when the ashes drop onto your thigh, you squeak in alarm but don't tell her to stop. So she simply doesn't.

Sevika occasionally slips her fingers back inside of your cunt to gather more lube and you only give her a whine of displeasure.

"You're fine," she reassures, "I'm the first Jane of the night, right?"

When you give her a quizzical look she laughs.

"Your ass is way too tight. Either I'm the first of the night or there's some micro dicks at that party."

"You're way too fuckin' cocky, you know that?"

When Sevika has you fully stretched out, she gives you a moment to catch your breath. Watching your chest raise and fall as you're splayed out on the bed whilst she takes off her clothes and grabs at the cloak and bag she dropped on the ground. Your thighs were wet from your own slick and the lube she'd fished out from your drawers, you watch her move when you lift your arm away from your face.

She's putting on her strap. Just the sight of it has both of your holes clenching. Sevika smushes the cigarette in an ash tray and whistles, twisting her wrist to point down and you hate how much your stomach flutters at the casual dominance. You get on your hands and knees, face pressed to the bed. She grabs the globes of your ass, stroking her dick in the other hand.

"...Are you waiting for me to beg?" you wonder after a moment.

"Might be nice to hear." Your laughter makes her grin. Not that you could see it. You take a few breaths, then look at her from over your shoulder.

"C'mon, daddy. Fuck me." You whine out. Sevika stares on. Unimpressed. You curl your lip, twisting your upper half a bit further to stare back.

"That's a classic."

"I've heard better."

"Hah! From who? Doe?" you fully lay on your side now, smirking as you look up at her. "You're real sweet on her, huh?"

When Sevika grunts, you throw your head back to laugh. She grabs at your ankles but you kick her efforts away and drag yourself further up the bed. She calls out your name flatly but you just giggle.

"You are," you purr. "Thought you said falling for whores are for chumps."

Sevika narrows her eyes, grabbing at your calf and tugging you back down. You squeal, still smiling even when she grabs your ripped toga to tie your wrists together and pull it between your legs as she bends them so far forward your knees are nearly touching your chest.

"Struck a nerve, daddy?" you challenge. Her dick catches on the rim of your asshole, pressing but not breaching.

"You're such a fucking brat. Just a fiend for this kind of shit, huh? Like it rough?"

The thick head of it presses in and you groan. The noise airy — as if she'd knocked it out of you by simply pressing in despite the resistance.

"Your wolfman fuck you like this too?"

You make a noise. Half-squeak and half-gasp, brows furrowing and jumping in alarm when she just slams in more than half of her cock inside.

"Fuck!"

"He fucks your ass like this?"

She readjusts her stance, the bed creaking as she keeps your body at her complete mercy. Pinned under her frame, hands tied up and pulled by her strength while her thick cock is intently filling your ass up. The position makes her hit all the right spots, and you want nothing more than to drown in the overwhelmingly delicious pressure she's pulling you into. But her questions has caught you completely off guard.

"Sevika," you moan out, pushing at her waist with your weak fingers, trying to relieve some of the pleasure. She slopes her brows in faux concern.

"Yeah, you're sweet on him, aren't ya'?"

She slides into you some more, the veins on her cock making your toes curl as your hole clenches around her. She groans as though she can feel it. And you toss your head back.

"You're fucking huge," you whine out.

"Is he bigger or smaller?"

You roll your eyes at her and she smirks. She inches back a few then just drops all her weight down. The moan you let out is nonexistent, mouth opened in a silent scream as your back arches and your vision goes white.

"He make you feel that good?" You suck in a quick breath, as if remembering you could but she doesn't let up.

"I definitely touched something there, huh?"

She starts thrusting. Shallow but quick, just pistoning in and out of your poor ass while your cunt weeps out for a sliver of attention. She ignores it all in favour of waiting for you to flutter your pretty eyes open.

"Duh - daddy," you hiccup out and she just pulls your tied hands out from between your thighs to instead pin above your head.

"S'little too late to act nice, sweet cheeks." You mewl, hips bucking as she continues her onslaught. "Daddy, plea - ah!" The smack of her palm against your ass has your entire body jolting.

"It's a yes or no, baby."

Tears darken your lashes, you bring your hand to her face and use any bit of core strength you have to press your lips with hers but she simply pushes your face down. Not by your neck. No. She's intentionally cruel as she has the space between her thumb and pointer right under the top row of your teeth.

As she thrusts out moan after moan, all you can do is let her hear it. It's humiliating. The noises you make are all choked up, saliva is beginning to pool from the corners of your mouth. No matter how much you thrash or push or try to buck, she just continues to rail you.

You know Sevika would stop if you tapped at her four times in a row. It was something the both of you had long established as a non-verbal safe-word when there's a craving for something harder.

She knows you know how to stop her if you need to. You don't. So she ploughs into you, groaning as she watches you struggle.

"C'mon baby, that's it." She's purring, sweat beading down her face as her hair comes undone. She's a vision like this. Her strong arms flexing under the low lights, her firm stomach clenched as though you were truly milking her cock. It makes you a bit delirious, especially when she's chewing on her lower lip and looking down at you like this.

"Cum around my cock. Like a proper bitch," you groan, knowing she's close from the way her grip on you tightens.

You're feeling the building pressure finally reaching its peak and you bite down on her hand, glaring at her as you moan around her flesh. She just smiles, wide and proud. A true predator.

Her teeth sharp just like her claws.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel your cunt pathetically squirt, the wetness just urging Sevika on as she forces you to bite down harder.

"You alright?"

Vander's voice feels like an ice pack against bruised skin. An apt metaphor considering he was putting an ice pack to your bruised ass.

"Mmm," he chuckled at your muffled response. After Sevika and you got scolded by your madame, you sought refuge at The Last Drop. Of course, Sevika simply thought you wanted a drink and you had. You hung around her side until she got swept up into a game of poker and slipped away to the back. All under Vander’s watchful eye.

He had grabbed an ice pack just as you slipped through the back, tapping another bartender’s shoulder to take over while he went upstairs. Which is where he found you. In his bedroom, shimmying out of your outfit and looking at him with those pleading eyes.

“You’re off early,” he kneaded at the back of your thighs, watching as your muscles jumped and twitched. “You tapped out?”

He sounds rightfully surprised. You’re not the type to just get off work early because of a bruised ass. You’re tougher than most of everyone here. You stare at him, face smushed against your crossed arms. He reaches to brush some hair away, and you melt further on his mattress.

“Darling?” you frown but finally confess. “I ran away from some dumbass party that the madame was hosting for some Topsider fucks.”

“You thought I’d be angry knowin’ that?” Vander arches a brow. Laying down next to you, trusting that The Last Drop could handle just a few more minutes without him. “You’re allowed to be angry at them. Shits bloody unfair.”

You get on your elbows, placing your chin in your palm while he looks down at you.

“Aren’t you angry at them?” you watch his expression shift. It’s a barely noticeable twitch, really it could be written off as a muscle spasm if anything.

“Aren’t you tired of being angry at them?” you continued.

“I put those dreams on the shelf a long time ago,” he attempts to soothe you by cupping your face. It works, just barely, but you lean into his warmth. “I’ve got too much to lose. This place, the kids.” He pauses and brushed his thumb across your cheek, his pinkie tilting your head up.

“You.”

The comfortable silence washes over. You take a breath and sigh, nuzzling into his large palm. The sweet act has him smiling, glad you drop the topic and using his strength to pull you to lay on his front.

“Sorry, I’m a little dirty.”

“Mm, I like you dirty.”

He laughs. The action jostling you a bit but you simply wrap your arms around his neck while he holds you firm.

“You could just work here.” He runs his hand down your back, kneading his thumbs in at a few knots. You groan into his ear, shaking your head. “You dunno’ what you’re sayin’”

“I’m serious,” he adjusts the ice pack and you shiver a bit as the its sweat drips down between your thighs. “Bar could always use a nicer face than mines.”

“Derek’s pretty enough.” Vander laughs. It rumbles in his throat this time and you grin just hearing it.

“B’sides, you’re plenty handsome.”

“Yeah, but not one of us compare to you, darling.” You hum in agreement, sighing as he works more knots loose.

“Don’t have ta’ come here to lick your wounds if there’s no wounds to lick. Could spend more time with Powder and Claggor, the kids are fond of ya’”

Your eyes slip open. Heart squeezing fondly at the mention of those little rascals. Vander and you aren’t exactly a thing, not said outloud anyways, but he introduced you to his kids. That meant something. He taught you how to sneak into his room too. When your landlord had to kick you out for a few weeks to accommodate for her lame ass nephew, you sheltered at The Last Drop and well, you all bonded.

The guilt in your heart stabbing into you night after night as more feelings poured into this already tumultuously boiling pot of emotions.

But Silco thought it was a good thing. He’d probably be telling you to take Vander’s deal on becoming this weird stay-at-home bartender/boyfriend/babysitter to get more information. Whether it be from Sheriff Grayson or the ever restless Vi.

“Think about it?” Vander blinks up at you when you lift your head. When your lips meet, it’s sweet. Slow and sensual, more lips than tongue. Pecks and real long-lasting ones. You murmur his name and he whispers yours back.

“You not sore?”

“Fuck me slow?”

He smiles and claims your lips again. Vander drifts his hand to the ice pack and removes it. The thud it makes when it falls to the ground makes you giggle, so he attacks your neck next; you give him free reign, gasping when he switches your positions to have laid down next to him.

You’re not even sure what happens next. One moment he’s clothed and the next he’s not as he practically snuggle fucks you on your side. He doesn’t have a bed frame but the springs in his mattress makes a few jostling noises as his cock slid in and out of your cunt.

“Vander, ah-mmphf, fuuuuck,” you press your face into the pillow and simply let him move you around. Completely at his mercy as he holds your waist.

Sevika glanced up at the faint thuds she was hearing above her. But refocuses on the table before her, scoffing at her competitor's lame poker face. Someone turned up the juke box and the noises are a distant memory.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he lifts one of your arms to wrap around his neck, kissing the underside of your arm and brushing his teeth there. The sensation of his beard makes you shiver.

“Deeper, please, Vander. Need you s’much deeper.” He kisses you, pulling out to readjust his position. You’re still laid on your side and he straddles your left leg and slides his thick cock inside of you again. Your voice trembles.

“There, darlin’?” you nod, whimpering when he rocks his hips in and out of you. You clutch at the bedsheets, turning your face into the pillow again as your cunt clenches down around him.

“Fuck, c’mon. Don’t push me out,” Vander threads his fingers through your hand and gently, as if you were made of glass instead of jagged metal, turns your head to him.

“Easy, loosen up a bit. Can’t fuck you how you need me to if you’re too tight.”

You whine, taking a few breaths and trying your best not to clench around him. Fuck, he was so thick. Even if you weren’t clenching, you were sure he’d still feel snug. He thanks you with a kiss to your forehead, gently shushing you when he moves again.

“Vuh...Vander...fuuuck, baby, please.”

“I’ve got ya’, come on, cum f’me.”

“You — Are you —”

Vander grunts, nodding as you once again clamp down on him. He knows you’re close, right on the edge and he wants to follow and dive with you. He kisses you, practically straling your breath away as his thrusts get sloppier and harsher. You mewl, nails digging into the back of his hands. Your orgasm washes over like a wave, your hips bucking as Vander feels your cum spurt around his dick and balls. He’s close behind, filling your insides with thick ropes of cum. He’s murmuring something into your skin. Something you can’t make out.

“Shit, shit.”

When he pulls out, your cunt clenched around nothing but air. Twitching and pulsing just like your little dick, aftershocks of pleasure running through you. His cum begins oozing out between your legs and he pants at the sight. You do nothing to stop him when he places you on your back — putting a pillow under your ass — and dives his head between your legs.

“Vander,” you moan out. Breath hitching as he licks a fat stripe up your cunt. “Let me do this for you,” he mumbles, groaning at the taste of your cum and his mixing together on his tongue. “Just let me take care of you.”

You stretch your arms above your head while he eats your boypussy out like he’s a starved man. His beard wet with your juices as your writhe on the bed. He doesn’t even tease, just intently cleaning and eating you out. You moan weakly for him, voice hoarse from servicing the Sevika and now fucking Vander.

You pinch your brows, squirming on the bed and gasping airily as Vander eases you into your nth orgasm of the day.

When you reach that peak, he eases you back down from the clouds. Carefully stroking over your thighs as he watches you catch you breath.

This is where you belong, he thinks. On his bed, legs spread and boycunt leaking with his cum; his name coming out your lips and his hands on your thighs. Vander presses kisses up your hips and chest, finally giving you a kiss on the lips.

“You alright?”

“Mmm.”

He chuckles and you trust him enough to slip your eyes closed.

“Just rest,” he tells you. “I’ve got you.”

Quitting was a sordid affair. There'd been a few passive aggressive claims from your madame about you crawling back and you calling her a cunt. Despite that, the both of you still acknowledge each other when she does walk into The Last Drop — it's hard to hate the woman who'd been generous enough to teach you everything you needed to know to survive.

The month that passed had been smooth sailing. You've gotten closer to Vander and his kids, even Benzo's little protege Ekko had come around to you. Which interests Silco, so you get close to Benzo. When Powder needs help with carrying stuff to his shop, you help. The guy was loyal to a fault and stubborn just like Silco had mentioned.

The first lesson you'd been taught in your ex-profession had been not to get feelings involved. Don't even dare to associate with customers who begin to get emotionally invested — it was bad for business in the long run. Sex isn't complicated but once you tangle in feelings? Bad mix for you. But when it came to listening in and relaying information, that career devastating choice is a powerful weapon. To turn trust into a dagger and thrust it under their ribs, tilting the blade up to hear that poor sucker suffer with each inhale.

So why is it so different this time?

How could you tuck in Powder at night and then sneak off to meet Silco in the docks to tell him what you'd overheard from Vander, Benzo, and Sheriff Grayson's discussions?

Were you that heartless?

Revolution is messy, Silco had once told you. It takes blood, sweat, tears, guts, and more guts. You don't ask for permission and you certainly don't ask for forgiveness after. Violence was necessary for change. Vander had lost sight of that, gotten soft.

But isn't it too cruel to play with his heart this way?

Would he love you if he knew what you were fighting for?

Would he condemn you for how you want respect?

He'd given you free roam of his home. Let his kids get attached to you. Gave you a job. All because he loves you.

"Is this really okay?" Vi says, which pulls you out of your thoughts. Your pupils shrink, turning to face her with your brows near your hairline.

Right. You were at the river with the kids.

The water gleamed and glimmered with metal wreckage in the bottom. There was also the unmistakable sheen of oil in it, but it honestly just added colour to the teal. The kids had breathed in worse, besides, it wasn't everyday they get to swim and just act their age.

"What? It's harmless," you snicker out, smoothly recovering as you lean back on your hands. She frowns, standing next to you on the banks. Vi constantly looks up at every little noise. Even if her head didn't turn, it was like the tip of her ears would just flick up like a vigil cat.

"Vi, it's fine. We're allowed to be here," you peer down at Claggor teaching Powder how to squirt out water between their palms while Mylo is on the shore. Wet and a bit glum looking as he shakes off the water from his hair.

"It's good to get a bit of sunlight," you tell Vi as you swing your legs over and smile as Powder accidentally shot a stream of water up Claggor's nose with amazing accuracy. Mylo laughs and Claggor splashes the water back over him. Her furrowed brow softening the tiniest bit.

It quickly returns as she turns her attention to the tall buildings with their golden ornaments and expensive detailing. You lean on your hands, nudging her leg with your elbow to pull her back.

"Hey, bet if you aim just right you can splash Mylo, Claggor, and Powder when you dive." She raises a brow, smirking at you.

Vi and you didn't have the best beginnings. She knew what your profession was and Mylo didn't exactly help with his long tales of the 'rumours' he's heard. Vander could protect himself, she knows this, but she got prickly when you had unceremoniously moved in during your landlord-nephew fiasco. Over some time though, she finds herself liking your more cynical nature. Although you acknowledge that they're kids, you also give them more credit than most adults do. It's nice feeling respected as a person.

"Hah! What are you betting?" You open your mouth to put an offer of some coins when the yell of an enforcer makes you twist your head and instantly clamber onto your feet.

"You! Stay there!" He yells, his blue uniform gleaming under the light. It's so rare seeing them all armoured up above ground. The sight should mean that you were well within your rights to be here, if he wore the armour that meant you were close enough to the Lanes to get him uncomfortable.

"C'mon, let's go! Let's go!" Vi nods and instantly hurries to gather her siblings attention, Claggor lifting Powder out the water and rushing to the shore while Mylo gathers their clothes. You know the enforcers would take some time climbing down — especially with his dumbass protective wear — so you use those precious minutes to ensure every one of them were ahead of you.

"(Y/N)!" Powder and Mylo call out when they hear you yell behind them. Vi skids to a stop, eyes wide when you find yourself pressed to the brick wall.

"Just go! Go!" she hesitates and you grit your teeth. "GO!"

The enforcer turns his gaze to them, his harsh breathing against your ear making you shudder. Vi is helpless as she grabs Mylo and Powder's wrist to tug them forward.

"We didn't do anything wrong!" you seethe out as you feel him patting you down.

"Not loiterin', not skulking, we were just - Fuck! Take it easy!" he kicks your ankles apart and you try to spin around only to get backhanded by your faceless attacker. He covers your eyes with his gloved hand, moving your head here and there as though he was inspecting you.

"Yeah, you're him," his mask makes his voice sounded inhumane. A machine-like quality that zaps out any bit of remorse or compassion from him. "You fuckin' slut."

Crumpling to the floor, you quickly cover your head and curl up when you see his boots flying in your direction.

Powder can only see glimpses of this violence as she turns her head back. Vi tells her to focus but she can't. Because all she sees is you on the floor, torso bare because you'd been swimming, bare foot too; hair wet, completely defenseless. Your grunts of pain echoing through the tunnel and your eyes having relief in them as the kids narrowly escape.

"What happened?" is Vander's first question when they all tumbled into The Last Drop. Instantly straightening up at Vi's distraught expression. It was still too early for anyone to have stumbled in, even by the Lanes standard, so he gave them all his attention.

"Vi?"

"We - we were just - we were just swimming," Mylo breathes through his nose, knees nearly buckling at the fright and rush of adrenaline. Their run through the underground, barefoot, and wet had certainly brought enough attention as is. Vander ushered them to get in, locking the front doors as they all suddenly find their voices.

"He said it was safe, they just, they grabbed him!" Vi is beginning to stomp, and Claggor nods along.

"(Y/N)?" Vander asks and Powder nods, eyes brimming with tears as she turns her attention to the doors. You should be bursting through it right now. Why weren't you?

"We were just swimming," Mylo repeats. Vander grabs his jacket. "I'm going with you!" Vi announces.

"Your feet are bleeding," he points out. "All you'd do is get in the way. Everyone of you stay here. I'll fix this."

Powder watches on as Vander rushes out the front door. Vi is still arguing, attempting to follow along either way but whatever shit she got trapped in her skin causes her to wince and falter. Claggor catches her, attempting to guide her to the chairs while Mylo is repeating the same thing.

"We were just swimming."

Topsiders had a weird thing for grudges. You understood that better than most. Eye for an eye and all that. But for Topsiders? It seemed rejection was worthy of a grudge. When you come to from the haze, you're on the wooden floors of a familiar face's house. His figure comes in fours, then twos, and finally come together in one.

Mr. Erikson. From that dumbass toga event at the brothel.

He's much more hideous in brighter lights. His plump cheeks and beady eyes more prominent. You cough, attempting to get up onto your feet only to be kept down as a familiar boot presses down on your shoulder. The bruise that was already blooming there made you grit your teeth while he harshly stomped down. Erikson winces, waving his hand to make the enforcer stop.

"Not so rough now. If he's too broken, it'll be painful to look at."

Glaring venomously at him as you stubbornly peel yourself off the floor and onto your staggering feet. The world spins but you stomp your foot to get some sense of equilibrium. There's a pounding in your head that pierces through your eyes and there's blood in your mouth; but all you can feel right now is the numbness in your limbs and the rapid pulse in your neck,

"I named you to your madame. The fox with the sweet (S/C) skin and pretty lips. The boy with the tightest cunt I've ever felt. You were there at a previous party, my other son's birthday."

You spit out some blood, wiping it away with the back of your hand as you sway in your spot. He curls his nose but continues.

"I had been hoping to give you as a gift to my youngest, Troy. But then you left, and when I asked for you again your madame wouldn't tell me just where you went. "

"You fucking kidnapped me because I wouldn't fuck you and your son on his birthday?"

The incredulity of the entire situation makes you choke out a laugh. Even with your spinning vision, this office was clearly that of someone who made decent money. With its mahogany bookshelves and leatherbound covers. Some books here were probably older than your ass, much more priceless too. Hell, you bet even that stupid fucking nameplate with the name Stephen Erikson carved into the gold had costs more than you.

"She said you quit. It was very hard to find you, considering the masks and all." He sniffles derisively. Off-put by your brash display. You were so nice and tender at the brothel, now you were acting like a completely different person.

"There's other guys with cunts, you geriatric chaser —" The enforcer backhands you again and it sends you flying to a shelf, a few books tumbling down while you desperately try not to fall on your ass.

"Troy," the old man reprimands with a drawl. He turns his attention back to you; "We'll pay you handsomely for a night."

You shake your head, digging your nails into the wood as your vision spins again. Troy, that shit, takes off his helmet and he's much more honest compared to his father; his fetish for pain was evident. Perhaps Stephen hadn't filed his teeth like you'd thought. Maybe they were just made to grind bones to dust, prolong their preys pain because unlike a predator with their fangs these teeth aren't for a merciless death.

Clearly he had learned this from his father who was enabling this behaviour. He probably taught him everything he needed to know anyways. You pant as you notice the painted family portrait on the wall of the study. Mr. Erikson and his three sons, all wearing their Enforcer's badge with pride. You recognized them all, each stupid event flashing through your head and each memory makes you more and more nauseous.

"I'm a fucking bartender now, I don't do that shit anymore" you growl out. Stephen sighs, leaning back in his leather tuft chair, looking completely bored by this entire insane exchange.

"Troy tells me he found you with a few kids. Yours?" When you say nothing in reply, he takes your seething silence as a yes. "Following your mothers footsteps, are you?" He shakes a bag of coins. Then tosses it onto the floor, golden pieces spilling out in front of you.

"You can work your ass off. Make life worth living for them."

There was a knock at the door. You waste no time and yell but get the breath knocked out of you as Troy swiftly pins you to the book shelf, a gloved hand over your mouth as he holds your hips in place with his own. Your skin prickles, just his weight on you has your stomach feeling sick.

"Who the hell is that?" Troy hisses at his father, his blue eyes panicked. The old man, as cool as a cucumber, simply tells the person on the other side to state their business.

"It's just the bloody maid," he scoffs out.

But the maid does not state their business. It's just pure silence on the other end until there's suddenly pounding. It makes the old man stand and Troy loosens his grip so you bring your knee between his legs. As he curls over you shove him away and retreat into a corner just as the door bursts open.

You recognize them. Ran, Lock, a few other nameless goons who you don't quite remember, and in the center of it all?

"Silco," you move and you fall to your knees. His expression darkens. The men and women fill the room, crowding Troy and his father to the other end while Silco makes his way to you. He offers a hand and you take it, leaning against him as he looks you over. Your lip was cut and one side of your face was scratched up, bruised and sore. The fact that you were dressed for a swim, torso bare, and feet scratched up from being dragged, made his ire raise.

"They did this to you?" He shrugged his coat off, and slipped it around your shoulders. You drew the front closed, nodding as you tuck your head under his chin.

"I wouldn't fuck them and they got pissy," you whisper to him. Silco growls, the rumbling noise soothing you just like Vander's chuckle would. He cups your face in his hand, his pinkie sliding under your jaw and his thumb across your cheek.

"What is this? Who are you?" Stephen stands, reaching for something on his desk but getting slammed face first onto the hard wood. There's a loud crackling noise that follows and you flinch out of shock. Silco simply guides your head to his neck, one hand smoothing over the back of your head and sighing in relief as his palms lift with no crimson.

"Dad!" Troy's yell gets cut short when he's forced onto his knees. There was a scuffle, fists meeting face and knees slamming themselves into his diaphragm. A small smile twitches to your face as your eyes slip close. Silco squeezes you, jolting you a bit.

"Stay awake, come. Sit."

Silco moves casually. Setting you to lay down on the lounge chair in the study, taking his coat off your shoulders to instead drape it over your. He pulls out his handkerchief to wipe away your blood while he kneels next to you. He takes his sweet time with you, his men keeping the pigs still as they both find themselves pinned down.

"I'd heard an enforcer had been snooping around the brothel. Asking for someone, demanding even" His voice makes your heart calm down, adrenaline ebbing away as he presses down on the cut on your eyebrow. The pain keeps you awake, but he still purses his lips at your hiss. Silco stands up, sighing softly. A kid comes to your side, offering you a flask of water. He's careful as he tilts your head up, watching intently as you sip it down.

"You're a proud man, aren't you Stephen?" Silco admires the family portrait, taking it the details of each face before he turns his attention to the table of trinkets below it. "A family of enforcers. Protecting the city you love." Silco tilts his head as he hears them struggle once again.

"While the city you constantly take from suffer from your greed."

"Fuckin' trencher," Troy spits out. His cheek pressed on by the heel of a boot. His blue eyes were shaking with indignation. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Fissure Folk, Sump Rat, Undercity scum," Silco answers. He steps over Troy's head and jerks his chin to signal Lock to step away from Stephen. He does and Stephen inhales, his entire body shaking as he coughs and coughs. The impressive table creaked under the old man's rattling breathes.

Ran brings Silco the fallen leather tuft chair and he crosses his legs as he sits.

"I'm sure you boast about being a near native to the undercity. With how often you visit our brothels with your men and sons. Using our bodies for your sick desires then beating it when you have the uniform on. Pretending to be a saint as your city fills your pockets. As if you've actually done anything worthwhile."

Stephen continues to hack, wheezing and whimpering. Every breath he took felt like a blunt blade was scratching up his lungs. His ribs were broken, he was sure of it.

"Yet, despite how many hours you've spent with our men and women, you still fail to understand the most important thing about us." Silco spreads his legs, elbows on his knees as he leans in so Stephen was looking right into his eyes.

"We protect our own."

"Please," Stephen's voice sounded strained. Like air escaping out of a broken pipe, the pitch ear grating. "I'm sorry."

Silco openly observes Stephen's splotchy red face. Cheeks full and plump, his brows trimmed and his dyed hair shining unnaturally cherry red. The family potrait was recent, but the artist had covered up their earlier renditions of Stephen's wrinkles while his blonde sons all looked their current age.

"No, you aren't." He states dryly, motioning for the man to slam Stephen back onto the table, him howling in pain just as Ran switches the radio on.

A jaunty tune plays. The singer sighing about puppy love as the melodic background singers and stringed instruments accompany his voice. He leans back in the chair, nodding as Stephen's captor wrings his hands back.

"But you will be."

"No!" Troy twists and bucks like an animal. His eyes wide with horror. As if he hadn't intended to strip you of all your dignity just moments ago. The sight of that fear on their face, that dawn of realization; even when they don't realize that they're only getting what they deserve, it soothes a part of Silco's soul.

"No?" Silco repeats.

"What do you want?" Troy is pleading now. The sight of his old man's hand pulled behind his body, ready to be broken in half, causing him enough distress for tears to fill his eyes.

"We'll give you anything!"

"Troy!" Stephen wheezes out in retaliation. Silco looks at the golden nameplate on his desk and scoffs. Anything? This house wasn't in any impressive neighbourhood. The portrait maker had been shoddy in their cover-up. The trinkets had a fine sheet of dust across them and the books weren't kept in the best conditions. Their maid had been an old woman with her back hunched, making her shrink down to the height of a pre-teen. Tired, slow at work; not the best money could get.

They weren't rich by Piltover standards. It's why they go to the Undercity for their parties. Things were cheaper there and get even cheaper when you flash your badges.

"You've nothing I want." He says simply, making sure Troy felt that pit of dread consume him entirely.

"We didn't know, we didn't know he was yours" Troy squirms, but the thug above him with the lazy eye simply stomped down on him harder. Knocking the air out of him and making him bite down on his tongue hard enough it fills his mouth with blood.

"No, because all that mattered was he was a trencher and he'd rejected your money. So predictable."

Lock smirks as Silco jerks his chin again and begins pulling Stephen's arm the wrong way. He screeches like a sewer mouse. You find yourself coughing as you laugh, reaching a hand up to cover your eyes at the noises. The song kept playing, the contrast of its sweet melody and words to the scenario before you simply adding more fuel to your delirious humour.

"PLEASE!" The youngest son doesn't even try to fight when his enforcer badge does nothing to intimidate others. When he's in a room full of people who wanted nothing more than crush him, he tucks tail and shows off his underbelly.

You try to hear what Silco says next, but the headache begins to grow stronger and the blonde kid next to you panics when he notices your eyes fluttering close. "Hey," he hisses, drawing Ran's attention as they kneel by your side.

Their voices become a blur and unconsciousness beckons you so sweetly. As hard as you try to fight, you find yourself sinking into that dark embrace, floating into nothingness as the pain shrinks away.

There's an incessant purring next to you. Just under your left armpit, warm and comfortable. It's the only thing you can feel and hear, your senses still dulled. While your mind runs a million miles a second, your limbs feel heavy and locked; as if they'd turned into lead. You're trapped in your own mind. Your eyelids feel like bricks and as your eyes move under them, left to right and right to left, you feel his hand slip into yours.

"Easy now," that voice, that honeyed drawl. You breathe sharply through your nose and he squeezes your hand. "I'm here. Easy."

Silco lifts the darkness from your eyes and your vision takes its damn sweet time returning to you. You see him though. Shifting from a blurry figure to that face you adored so much. He offers a ghost of a smile, bringing your knuckles to his lips as he sees the wildness in your eyes tame itself. The damp rag across your eyes is placed back into the bowl.

"You're alright. The Doctor says your adrenaline just ran out," he pushes you down gently when you try to sit up. It was for the best, considering how much your body was aching. Not even in the sexy, satisfied, way. You wince, grunting when you fall back onto the mattress. The purring machine next to you lifts its head and you raise a brow at the furless cat. It yawns, looking a bit disgruntled at your movement but stubbornly staying put as it curls up.

Breathing ball sack aside, you ask Silco what happened.

"What do you remember?" he lets your hand go to squeeze out the water from the rag, wiping away the cold sweat on your neck. "You giving me your coat, then some girl squealing, but don't remember much after."

Your retelling makes him scoff, clearly amused. The sight of your bruised lips and face twists his mouth into a frown. "I should've been there sooner."

"Don't start with that, come on." You wince as your sides pulsed in pain, a boot shaped bruise already beginning to darken. "How'd you even find out about the Eriksons?"

"The kids were running down the Lanes barefoot and wet - " you gasp and cut him off.

"The kids!" You lurch up, the cat growling in discontent as it sprung up into an arched back pose from the sudden movement. Regret is instant and striking, your muscles screaming in pain and head pulsing once again. Silco steadies you by your shoulders, brows furrowing.

"Fuh - fuck, are they alright? He mentioned seeing them, Silco. Tell me those assholes are - "

"They're dealt with."

His tone makes you pause, you peer at him through your eyelashes. "Did you...?" he smiles but shakes his head.

"Him and his father are more useful alive. But a few bones were broken. He was in the academy with Sheriff Grayson's second in command, Marcus."

Silco leans in, pressing his forehead with yours. Uncaring of the dampness of your forehead or your hair. The tip of his nose brushes agaisnt your cheek and you flutter yours eyes at the feeling.

"So he's in your pocket?"

"I was worried," he dismisses the questions so blatantly you wring out a breathless laugh. "Your madame said she had a feeling who the enforcer was, if it weren't for her..."

"I would've been fine," you cup his marred cheek, allowing him to slip his arms around you. "I'm tough."

No, you're not, Silco wants to say. The fever you've developed from the stress and cold and the wounds on your body — you were a statue made off jagged metal but it didn't mean you couldn't get scratched, bent, melted. You would have survived but that didn't mean you should be going through such injustices.

"I plan on staying here until we're free," you promise to him as you slip your eyes closed. "I wanna see Zaun with my own eyes."

You feel him lean in closer and then his lips are on yours. Your brows knit together, the cut there stinging but you don't mind it. Silco kisses you like he wants to devour you. The heat he brings is like a glowing dagger; the silver steaming and glowing orange from the fire. Cutting you and cauterizing the wound at the same time. Painful, seeringly painful, but not deadly.

You part your lips, twisting your head as he clutches the back of your neck. The calloused pads of his hands making the hairs on the back of your neck stand, applauding him almost. You clutch at his vest, whispering his name as he tangles his tongue with yours.

Feeling you, holding you; Silco can't remember the last time he's felt this light and grounded at the same time. He was truly worried, you know. His heart dropping to his stomach when Deckard informed him about Vander's brats rushing through in complete panic. It was a random act of violence. Piltie's finest once again throwing their weight around.

You lean back and he chases. Your teeth clack together and you wince, so he kneads at your nape and lowers you back on the bed.

You should stop. This wasn't right. Your grip on Silco's vest loosens as you remember sweet Vander. Whose kisses felt like burning smoke going down your throat, filling your body with warmth that is entirely too phantom-like and too suffocating all the same. You shouldn't go further, you shouldn't. Silco slips a hand to your chest, pulling your thin blanket down and you wince, pulling away from the kiss to gasp. Silco and you pant heavily, the heat dissipating the longer you do.

"I'm sorry," he shakes his head and assures you it's alright.

"How long have I been out?"

"A couple of hours. He's been looking for you. His accomplices too." Most patrons of The Last Drop had been anxiously waiting to hear your return. We take care of our own. Those just weren't pretty words. Benzo had told them to calm down, saying Vander will handle it but it was evident that a pin could drop and they'd turn over every little rock to find you.

Their respect for Vander's leadership is the only thing holding them back. It's holding you back too, he can tell. Ever since you'd moved in, you stray away from his touches. You've grown a sort of affection for Vander. Just like he had.

"Shit, I should head back then." Silco nods, helping you sit up. "The boy he says he's at the edge of the Lanes. Asking around."

It makes your heart flutter.

Ran looks you over when you walk up to them, a question in their eyes.

'You okay?'

"Could be better," you tell them. Dressed in an oversized shirt and your pants from earlier. They nod, reaching to slip their hand under your arm and you wince.

"Thanks for this and the save," they shrug and look ahead.

'Don't mention it.'

When you do spot Vander, your face brightens up. But Ran frowns, suddenly hiding behind a couple of crates. You don't quite get it until you see blue.

Vander was talking to an enforcer. Not just any enforcer either, the fucking sheriff.

"Grayson, I'm not askin' for much here," he growls out. She looks away, shaking her head. "You're not giving me much to go off on, Vander. The kids say he got taken by an enforcer for no reason in broad daylight but they can't even tell you any more details?"

"They were terrified, I'm sorry if they didn't come t'have a chat with 'em!"

Vander's muscles were tense, shoulders drawn and jaw clenched. He looked exhausted. His hair tousled from him constantly running his hands through them. The greys in his beard looking more prominent all of a sudden.

"Grayson, please."

Please.

He's begging for help from an enforcer.

You dislodge from Ran, giving them a nod as thanks before you limp towards them. The sound of your uneven footsteps makes their head snap your way. Vander whispers your name, then says it again with more volume as he rushes to hold you. He scans you, from top to bottom as he holds you in his arms.

"Shit, shit, you're okay." You're not, but your anger does calm the tiniest bit as he pulls you into a hug. Grayson looks at you and from over Vander's shoulders, you glare daggers into her. That fucking uniform, that breathing mask hung around her neck.

You still hear it. Vander pleading for help from her.

"Are you alright?" Sheriff Grayson says, coming close as Vander lets you go. You push him away, fists trembling as you walk towards her. Her eyes harden, lips pursing at your unrestrained strife.

"Screw you," you hiss, digging your pointer finger to her chest. "Screw everything you stand for."

Vander calls out your name, placing a hand on your shoulder that you shrug off. Even when your life had been in danger. Even when he could've done something. Vander remained a docile pet to Topside, begging for his masters help like a good lap dog.

Your lips tremble, tears filling your eyes.

"I'm here for you, (Y/N). If you could just tell me the name of the enforcer who'd done this to you, I can help you," Grayson tries to reason. Even when you were patched up, it was clear you'd been smacked around.

"It doesn't matter," you seethe out. "I just want to help, I can't if you don't tell me," you shake your head and walk past her.

"Fuck you."

"(Y/N)," Vander offers Grayson a glance but she shakes her head, turning away as he rushes after you. She watches the both of you, the anger in your posture so evident it makes her mouth twist.

Vander is quiet as you get inside the elevator. As it rumbles to life, you grip onto the railings instead of him and he tires to soothe you but you flinch away from him. "Darlin'" he places a hand on your shoulder and you spin, gnashing your teeth as you yell.

"Sheriff Grayson!? You went to her!?"

"What else was I meant to do?" He grits out.

"Fight! Vander! Fight back!" you throw a fist at his chest, he lets you.

"I was fucking terrified, do you - do you know how fucked it was!? He grabbed me off the damn street! He fucking -" you inhaled sharply as your ribs screamed in pain. If you closed your eyes you could hear the thudding noise of his feet flying to your body.

Vander feels his heart drop and he tilted your head up. His large hand cupping your face as tears streamed down your cheeks. You're running hot, fever returning as your emotions ran high.

"I was so scared, Vander." Your sob pierced through his chest. Nothing had compared to that pain of letting you down. Nothing. Not when the skin of his knuckles ripped apart or when enforcer bullets whizzed past his ears and made his hearing tune into a high pitched ring or when he'd been stabbed. He gathered you in his arms, despite your weak pushes and protests. He holds you to his chest and tucks your head under his chin, just holding you there.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry."

Heads raised the second the doors opened. You blinked in surprise at the sight of the usual patrons. A blue blur rushed towards you and you grunted at her tight hug but smile down at her.

"Hey, Powder..." you pressed her face to your stomach, rubbing her back as she sobbed in relief. Vi approaches you next, showing a rare moment of softness as she slips under your open arm. Milo and Claggor rush in as well and you wince a bit but just laugh softly. Ekko sighed out in relief, Benzo's eyes softening at the sight.

"You all worried about me?" you give the patrons a coy smile that they scoff at but the relief was evident. "Cut the bullshit and stop smiling," Sevika says, crossing her arms. "What the fuck happened?"

Vander drapes his jacket around your shoulder. "Story for another time. How about some free drinks, yeah?" the mood lightens up a bit, despite the question hanging heavily in the air.

Powder is glued to you, sniffling as she clings but you don't mind. "C'mon, let's go down," you tell the kids and they nod. Milo rambles about what he'd done if you weren't caught off-guard. Vi shaking his head at him while Claggor just helped you down the stairs.

"He alright?" Benzo asks Vander when he comes around to the bar. Derek waves Vander away, pouring everyone a drink and Vander nods appreciatively his way as he sits. "No, he isn't" he confesses, glaring at the bottles of liquor, at his reflection in them.

"Fight! Vander! Fight back!"

Benzo slides him his pipe and Vander simply holds it in his hands. The look in your eyes. That disappointment etched into every line on your face. The rage that flowed down your cheeks. Vander brought the apparatus to his lips, lighting a match and inhaling to calm his shot nerves.

"He'll be alright. He's the tough sort, yeah?" Benzo places a heavy hand on Vander's shoulder, tilting his frame down a bit. "He was scared, Benzo."

"He was scared and I couldn't do anythin'."

"Powder, I'm okay," you reassured for the fifth time in a row. You don't dare try to peel her away from you but you do make an effort to calm her trembling frame. Poor thing was shaking like a damn leaf as she laid besides you on her bottom bunk. Vi smiles wryly, just watching the scene with more emotion than a kid her age should have. Ekko peers down from the top bunk, asking if the cut brow hurt and you just scrunch your nose and laugh.

"Nah, come on. I'm not a wimp, Little Man."

Mylo nudges Ekko, echoing your statement in his own words. Claggor appears, holding a cup of some warm water and offering it to you. "Here, you must be tired," you thank him and hitch Powder up with you as you sit up a bit.

"You guys, I really am okay."

Powder just tightened her grip around you. All she could hear was the sounds of that scene. You sprawled onto the floor, half-dressed, bare foot; a fully armoured enforcer above you with his legs swinging back as you yell at her to go.

"Don't leave," she whispers against your stomach and you brush your fingers through her bangs. "I won't, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

"Where are you four going?" they stiffen up, twisting their heads to look at you as you leaned against the railing leading to Vander's office and bedroom. You were dressed in a large shirt that reached your knees, eyes still puffy from sleep as you held a mug of something warm. Mylo gawks, mouth gaping like a fish as he tries to find the words; hands coming to scratch the back of his head. Claggor just stiffens up like a board and Powder hides slightly behind him.

Vi lowers her hood, looking a bit smug. "A morning walk," she says cooly. You arch a brow, bringing the rim of the mug to your lips. Last night had been a busy night for the bar, a few scuffles ignited because some dumbass didn't know when to cut himself off when he needed to. So Vander was fully conked out and you wanted him to take as long as he needed to recuperate.

"Mhm," you glance at each of their faces for a moment then sigh and close your eyes. "What's the job?"

Vi's shoulders fall. Damn you and your perceptiveness. It was unnerving how good you were at reading people at times.

"Little Man gave a tip," that woke you up a bit more. "You sure you can pull it off?" Vi nods firmly, her shoulders squaring confidently.

"We're ready."

"Stay safe and stay out of sight," they grin up at you and rush out through the back. Powder gives you a wave that you return before silence washes over the empty bar. You crack your neck, grunting as the satisfying popping noises echo then make your way down the stairs.

You prepare to set-up for the noon crowd. Leisurely moving around as you swept and wiped down everything. When Vander does lumbers down, he gathers you in his arms by wrapping them around your waist. Those damned arms. You swear his bicep was as big as your damn head.

"Mornin'" you chuckle as he rubs his beard to your cheek. "You weren't b'sides me, not a very good start" you roll your eyes at him, patting his arm so he lets you go and you can turn around to look at him.

"Kids awake?"

"They left to get breakfast," you turn and plant a kiss on his lips, smiling as he groans into it. "I made you coffee, c'mon. Gotta start the day right." Vander groans again, firmly cupping your ass in his hand and lifting you onto a table. You laugh, glancing at the windows but he simply blocks your body from view.

"If we're talking about starting the day right..." "Vander!"

"You said the kids are out, right?" You squeal when he brings his face to your neck, moaning as he kisses over the previous hickeys he'd left. He brings your crotches together and you chew on your lips as you feel his morning wood against your clothed cunt.

"Fine, let's start the day right." You feel him grin against your neck.

“Atta’ boy.”

Huck is chipper today. Greeting you with that flush on his cheek that never fails to remind you of a blushing maiden. "Closing that deal, Huck baby?" you asked, smiling sweetly his way. He sputters but nods, asking for a pint to sweeten the deal.

"Coming right up" Vander presses a hand to your waist as he walks behind you, asking if you could wipe down a table and you nod. Sevika bumps her knee to yours as you clean the table next to hers.

"Is he a damn vacuum?" she says as she eyes the hickeys on you. "You jealous, Sev?" her nose crinkles at your teasing but she doesn't deny it. She just laughs at it, turning her attention back to her cards. You lean down, making a grimace as your stare at her deck that makes the others start double guessing.

Who were they to believe? Sevika's calm expression or your grimace?

She huffs through her nose, watching your profile from the corner of her eyes. Though that's cut short by the tense scene in Huck's corner. You straighten up, brows furrowing as you watch it unfold.

Though everything goes smoothly once Vander sends them a simple message, something about that interaction makes your stomach twist. The news about an explosion happening Topside didn't help ease this pit of snakes and they only knot themselves into worse shape when the kids walk in.

Vander and you share a look as he walks to their room, you can't leave the bar unattended so you trusted him to ask. But this feeling just wouldn't leave you. When Vander pops back put with a sack over his shoulder and Claggor following behind, you slip out the bar to stop in front of your boy.

“Who did this?” Claggor shifts under your gaze, trying to cover his bruise with his hand. Pretending to scratch at his cheek. “One of us,” Vander answers for him. That brings up more questions than it does answers. So Claggor just shrugs.

“It was some blonde kid and his goons. Said something about us crossing his turf.”

You frown but let them pass after ruffling Claggor’s hair. Turning your attention back to the bar. The rest of the night goes by smoothly enough, a few verbal scuffs but nothing you couldn’t handle. When Vander returns, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“What’d Benzo say?” he tightened his grip then sighed. It was a heavy one and you make a questioning noise.

“What? What happened?”

Vander poured both of you a shot and silently handed you the glass. You take it but the frown does not disappear. He clinks your glasses then throws his head back, you copy his motion. Not grimacing as it burns down your throat, simply staring Vander down as that feeling in your gut worsens.

“They need their slab of meat for the explosion today.”

Deckard bumps into you as he gets escorted out by Lock. Who does not waste anytime in flirting with you: “Hey, hot stuff,” Lock calls out and you scoff. “Keep on dreaming, bud.”

“Every night, baby!” his reply makes you smile, shaking your head as you open the door to the lab. The squealing pink vines on the floor never failing to make you shudder as you avoid stepping on them. You know they’re not technically alive but you swear, every creak and whine this rundown factory makes is just these things making their way out.

“Ah, (Y/N),” your smile tightens. “Hey, Doc.” he shares a glance between Silco and you then walks to his station. In his own way telling you to just ignore his presence. Silco continues to stare at the rat cage, entranced at the squealing and yowling. The splatter of blood against the glass makes you flinch but you stand next to Silco and pale.

“What the hell is that?”

“An upper hand,” Silco traces the planes of your face with his eyes. The micro expressions you display — twitches, spasms, tugs. Even when contorted in disgust, you were a marvel. Especially when backdropped by the creatures of the depths. The speckles of light piercing through the water just add to your allure. He knows you’re not fond of his affections, not without feeling guilt, but he reaches for your hand and presses your knuckles to his lips.

You steel your emotions, expressions turning neutral. As if you could hide the way your lips quiver to hide that grin.

“Silco. Did you ask Deckard to jump my kids?” The softness of the moment is broken by the accusation. He lets go of your hand and glances at the savage rat tearing into the corpse of the cat.

“I told the boy to simply observe. I gain nothing from hurting them.”

You purse your lips, crossing your arms as you walk away from the gruesome view. You glance at the table, picking up the gun-shaped needle device, testing its weight in your hands.

“You doubt me?” You frown at the tone he takes. “No, I don’t.”

Because no matter how you spin it, Silco was right. There was no scenario where Deckard trying to beat the shit out of your kids gave him an upper hand in the grand scheme of things.

Silco watches your fingers tinker with his device. Lost deep in thought while you flip it over and trace your touch down every scratch or bump it had. It's on the tip of your tongue, he sees the way your jaw is clenched. How your shoulders are tensed up despite wearing that thick jacket, hood drawn up to hide your face.

A bitterness ebbs its way to Silco's rationale. That look in your eyes, that contemplativeness. It was doubt.

"I won't be able to give you an answer if you don't ask," he turns around to the underwater scene instead. The sight of you weakens him too much. Silco can't allow you to be a distraction, no when the pieces are falling just where they need to.

"There's nothing to ask." You place the device down and slip your eyes closed. No matter what he says, how he tries to reassure you; it wouldn't change what was already set in motion.

"You said the kids would stay out of it, right?"

"Yes."

He wouldn't look at you as he says it. His figure casting a long shadow on the scuffed floors of the lab and the hairs on the back of your neck pricks. The Doctor calls out your name and you reluctantly tear your eyes away from Silco to tilt your head questioningly at him.

"It's getting late. Best to get back before suspicions raise." The unrest was worsening. The Undercity folk have been walking on a tight rope made off steel for years now. The rope digging viciously into your feet, slicking up the material while you held your hands out to your side. This so called 'peace' that the Topsiders called it was laughable.

With how hard the enforcers were hitting now, that tightrope walker's knees were beginning to buckle as their blood gushes beneath them.

You openly glare at their masked heads, nails digging into the wooden crate of goods. Waiting for them to pass you before you stepped out from the tight alleyway. You worry for a moment about your kids. They were in a more secluded part of town, in their little hideout and you hope they're keeping their heads down like Vander had told them too.

A pair of boots appear in your vision, that obnoxious mechanical breathing lifting the edge of your hood. You scowl, lifting your head to glare into those bug-like lenses.

He says your name, you can tell his face is scrunched up as if even muttering it annoys him. You curl your nose, standing your ground. "What the hell do you want?" Troy scoffs, his gloves creaking when his hands curl into fists.

"Just being thorough in my search, we're looking for four sump rats."

You glance over his shoulder, noticing a few other enforcers asking others who do little to hide their anger. Topside really doesn't know how much restraint it takes to continue this 'peace' and they still insist on poking the bear.

"A councilor's kid almost got hurt."

"So they need four kids to get their lick back?"

One kid almost got hurt and Topside is asking for justice. Yet they turn a blind eye to the kids who were breathing in toxins and starve day after day. Because it's never been about unity, it's about subservience.

Troy glances at your crate and you scoff. "Piss of, Piltie," you shoulder through him and Troy lets you. His fathers arm would never bend right anymore so he knew better than to put his hands on you again. But he still glared at the back of your head, burning holes into you. You turn, walking backwards and lifting one hand to flip him off before you make your way back home.

Sevika's voice is the first thing you hear when you walk in. You place the crate down, slipping your hood down and glancing at the small crowd of people. Vander regards you with a nod and you stand besides him.

"We should hit them back. We got the numbers to beat them." Sevika's words makes a few head nod, soft cheers of agreement echoing through the room.

"Yeah. Let's teach them what it means to mess with us." Another voice says, you cross your arms, leaning your hip against the bar. Sevika is looking right at you, tilting her head at the apprehension on your face.

"You sure that's what you want? We crossed that bridge once before, we all know how that ended." Vander is trying to reason with an angry crowd. An exhausted one. You do nothing to hide your frown at his words. He pretends not to see it.

"You're just protecting your kids," she retorts. A vein jumps in Vander's neck, his jaw clenching the tiniest bit.

"I'm protecting our people. I'd do the same for any one of you. We look out for each other. It's the way it's always been. This will blow over. We just need to stand together."

His sentiments were noble. But the tightrope was beginning to tremble and the walker on top of it was now desperately crouched to grip at it with their hands instead.

"The Vander I knew, the one who built the underground, wouldn't be afraid to fight."

Vander stands and you feel a smidge of fear in your heart. He was pulled taut, all of this stress showing through the tightness in his posture. He towered over Sevika, a rumbling growl building in his throat.

"Do I look afraid?"

Sevika doesn't falter. She scoffs, meeting his challenging gaze with no issue.

"No. You look weak."

Marcus walks in with a purpose. His men following behind him making sure to puff their chests with each stride in. The Last Drop patrons find their fingers twitching, readying itself to grab at the blade near their hips. You level your gaze with Troy, he meets it head on and in a blink-and-you'll-miss motion he glances at the stairs leading down.

You straighten up, heart jumping to your throat.

Marcus' arrogance is like rubbing salt into an already festering wound. He doesn't need to say but he does it anyways and your little tightrope walker is now gone. Just two poles standing in the darkness, with no evidence of the rope or the walker ever existing.

You rush down the stairs, the door flying open and calling out for your kids. You instantly gather Powder and Ekko into your arms, checking over Claggor and Mylo while Vi talks to Vander.

"We need to fight back!" her fist slams into the wall and you meet Vander's eyes from over her shoulder.

Still.

Still, he remains stubborn. He tells Vi he has to show her something and you feel that same disappointment build in you. That day you saw him pleading for help from Sheriff Grayson after she had asked if the kids were truly getting their facts right.

Vander was too soft to protect anyone. Your heart squeezes at the revelation, but you numb yourself out to it. Even when Piltover was calling for the blood of your kids, he still deludes himself into this fantasy of peace.

He was weak.

You bring your lips to Powder's forehead, keeping Ekko close to you while Mylo and Claggor shift uneasily as Vi follows Vander out.

"Come on, help me close up early." Mylo and Claggor uncross their arms, nodding. You pull away from the embrace and cup Powder and Ekko's faces in each hand.

"Ekko, you should get back to Benzo's, it's getting late." He pauses but nods, so you stroke over the back of his head and press a kiss to his temple. "Enforcers are gonna be crawling all over, want me to drop you off?"

"No, I can be sneaky!" Ekko beams up at you and you return his grin, standing to send him off. Powder stands next to you, watching as Ekko disappears into the alleyways with an agility of a street cat.

"Why won't Vander fight?" she looks up at you, brows furrowed. "They're ruining everything. The enforcers. They threw a guy through a window, they're -"

"Monsters." You finish for her. She sees the scar running down your brow and inches close, so you wrap an arm around her. Man, she's grown like a sprout, limbs all lanky and awkward.

She couldn't grow up in a world like this.

"All of them are monsters," she whispers under her breath and your silence just cements this further into her brain.

"All of them," you continue.

When Vander returns with your eldest, he knows he's pissed you off. You won't meet his eyes, nursing a drink in your hand while you stare at a card in between your hands. He stands next to you and plucks your old business card from your fingers. It was wrinkled, yellowing with age and some words already fading. But your writing on the back remains.

'Come see again soon'

"Revisiting memories?" that was the theme tonight it seems. You'd slipped that into his jacket after he pulled off a drunkard away from you. Vander still remembers the seat you were sat in, what you were wearing, and that gleam in your eyes when you catch him staring at you for a bit too long.

He sits next to you and glances at the cast iron gloves. Those memories do little to make him happy. You take a swing of your drink, slamming the cup down and moving to stand. Vander calls out your name, grabbing at your arm to tug you in. You grunt when you land against his chest.

"You're pissed at me."

You roll your eyes at him, using your hands to push away but he does not relent.

"You honestly think we should go to war with Topside?" there's a bite to his tone. His patience with Vi had been in abundance, she was young and hurt. But out of everyone else, he thought you should understand him better.

"You want her to live like this her entire life? Keeping her head down and taking every beat down for a noble purpose?" You slur out, ripping yourself from his arms to grab at your coat.

"I want her to stay alive. I want all of you to stay alive" his voice raised the tiniest bit but he restrains himself and it pisses you off more. You put on your jacket and he sighs. "Where the hell are you going?"

You smack his hand away, stumbling a bit as you turned to face him.

He wants to hear it. A scathing 'fuck you' or 'leave me alone, asshole'. But you just narrow your eyes at him, lips trembling as its set in that frown, then just shake your head and turn away to walk out.

You don't know where you planned on going. You let your legs carry you around, aimlessly wondering through the alleyways until you find yourself at a familiar backdoor. You push the heavy door open. The busy wallpaper and creaky floorboards give you more comfort than you expected.

"(Y/N)?" Doe blinks at the sight of you. She takes off her mask and you stare at her concerned face. "Are you okay?" you shake your head and lean in. Her eyes widen when your lips meet hers, she places firm hands on your chest and push you back.

"You're drunk."

You shake your head, cupping her face again and kissing her. She groans, murmuring your name before she bites down. You hiss, back hitting the wall as she shoves you. "You're with Vander." The reminder makes you laugh. You slide down the wall, putting your head between your knees as your tears well up.

Sevika thanks Doe for telling her where you were, crouching to grab a fistful of your hair to raise your head. Your empty gaze makes her sigh. You don't even fight when she slings your arm over her shoulder and lifts you onto your feet.

"The hell are you two taking me?"

"Silco's." Doe answers flatly.

Sevika feels you stiffen up. "I knew you hated them, but never figured you'd been working with him the whole time," she gruffs out. "Wish you would've told me about it sooner."

"Sorry, I'll be sure to invite you into my super secret group club the next time, okay?"

You're sober enough to be sarcastic without slurring words together. She just adjusts her grip on you and makes her way to the factory by the docks.

The Doctor greets you as Sevika drops you onto a chair. A dark shadow moves idly by the windows and you clutch at your neck as you crack it again. "Why am I here?" you mumble, pinching your brows. "To keep you safe."

You look at him through squinted eyes. "Why wouldn't I be safe?"

You had no idea what had happened. Not Benzo's murder and not Vander's kidnapping. Call it luck or a happy accident, Silco doesn't care. He's glad you're not looking at him with an ounce of hatred, just simple confusion.

"Stumbling around drunk," he begins "late at night." He was worried you'd run away. Ran and Lock had looked for you at the bar, even asked around for you. Thankfully, Sevika had found you.

"I'm a big boy" you reply, leaning back in the chair only to smack your hand onto the edge of a table when you realise it was a stool.

"Sober him up," he tells the Doctor who reaches for a small jar on the shelves. "This won't make you sober," he tells you as he unplugs the cork from the top, you grimace and bring your face close. "But it'll wake you up."

The sharp sting that wafts up your nose makes you groan, backing away from his outstretched hand. Doe keeps you from falling backwards, steadying you while you making hacking noises.

Silco and Doe nod at each other. She's got you, he can trust her with this. He turns and Sevika follows in step. They step out, the door thudding close.

It was better to keep you away from this. You cared too much about Vander, he can't let you get distracted from the freedom that's right there. Shimmering like a desert oasis in front of him. Hate him if you must, but Vander had done himself in the second he decided to put on those handcuffs.

The hound of the underground was nothing but a lapdog now. He can't keep his people in check anymore, it's why they've turned to him instead. They need this. Zaun needs this. Vander will be known as a coward who ran away with his kids. Leaving the undercity to save his own skin, so his hands remained clean from anymore blood. Like the true coward he was.

You'll forgive him for this. You'll have to.

You're standing now, peering into the rat cage while Doe stared at the test tubes full of creatures on the shelves. Every time you even glance at the direction of the exit, Doe steps subtly in your way. He wanted to keep you in here? Seriously? You weren't that damned drunk.

You hear muffled voices from outside and as Doe picks up a test tube, you take your chances wrestling with her. She blinks in alarm, nearly dropping the tube as you suddenly dash towards the door. The Doctor stands as the the glass breaks and splatters green glowing liquid onto the floor. She calls out your name and you twist the handle open, slamming it closed in her face. She pounds on the door, cussing you out for being a bitch and you would've replied with your own string of colourful words but a body crashes next to you.

It's Lock. He groans, jaw loose and mouth bloody as he his head limply falls backwards. You notice the shadows from the bridge and look up.

"Vi!" she feels ice in her veins. She chances a glance down and yells out your name in confusion. Silco tightens his grip on the railing so Sevika whistles sharply. You yell as a few of her men try to grab you.

"(Y/N)?' Mylo repeats, his hands trembling even more. Vander's heart drops to his stomach but he snaps Mylo back into focus.

Why was she wearing those gloves? No, what the hell was she doing here in the first place?

"Silco!" you avoid a pair of burly arms, ducking away and bumping into the crates filled with Shimmer. "What are you doing!? You promised!"

He motions for more of his men to rush the bridge. Vi doesn't have enough time to process your words fully. She shakes her arms, cracking her neck as she prepares to fight. She must've misheard. She must have.

"SILCO!"

Your yells are making Vander's heart race. He can't see you. Only hear you. If Silco was ready to get rid of his kids just to ensure his control over the undercity, he doesn't dare to imagine what he'd do to you. Vi is determined, she cannot let her fathers die here. Not when she was the one who'd put them in this situation in the first place. These series of events, this domino effect all began from that damn explosion.

She can't let herself be orphaned again. She can't let Powder be orphaned again.

You continue to evade them, grabbing a wooden plank and smashing it over a few heads to put enough distance. When you reach the stairs, you yell out for Vi again. Silco doesn't dare look your way as you rush towards the bridge. He cannot get distracted. He can't.

Sevika grabs at you, her arm wound around your waist and you snarl. You aim your elbow at her head, making her flinch enough to loosen her grip. It still isn't enough though. Even then, she squeezes you like a damn snake.

"Let him go!" Vi growls out, adrenaline pumping through her veins. You dig your nails into Sevika, slamming your fist onto her arms while you struggle. Deckard watches this half-dazed, purple liquid oozing out from the corners of his eyes as he's bent over the railings.

"Ready to rise to the surface?" Silco holds the glass vial of Shimmer to his face. Deckard's breathing quickens and he downs it.

It happens quick. One second Deckard is just another boy and the next he's a monstrous figure rushing towards Vi. You yell, finally managing to elbow Sevika right in her face. She drops you and the second your feet are on the ground you sprint towards Vi.

You gather her in your arms and damn near skid to a stop once you past the threshold of safety. "The door! The door!" Vi yells, grabbing the handle and you help her. It slams close just in the nick of time, Deckard squealing from the other side as he pounds his fists so hard, it makes you and Vi bounce away from the door. You dig your heels in and grip onto the handle, sweat beading down your nose as you try to catch your breath.

"(Y/N)! You alright?" you cuss under your breath but let out a breathless laugh.

"Never better."

Vander sighs, looking to Vi next. He feels the rush of cool air as Claggor finally makes a hole big enough for them to escape from.

"You did good, Vi."

She feels hope stir within her.

You don't remember what happens next. It's a fiery blur, only flashes of images bursting through every time you open your eyes to blink. The smoke was so thick and the metal door ontop of you was so heavy. Vi is crying.

Vi is crying and Vi never cries.

She calls for your name, her body trembling underneath you. When you wheeze, she sobs. Whether out of pain or relief, you can't tell. Ahead of you, you see the most horrifying sight.

Claggor. Mylo.

Dead.

"I want her to stay alive. I want all of you to stay alive."

You brace yourself onto your elbows, straining out a yell as you try to lift yourself up enough for Vi to shimmy out. It groans above you, scraping against the floor inch by painful inch as you feel your eyes water. Vi calls out your name again, finally looking her age as she tries to crawl out.

What have you done?

When a hulking figure comes close, you yell in an attempt to scare him off. But it wasn't Deckard, it was Vander. Your Vander, with his veins glowing purple and his body nearly double its size. There's heat coming off from him, his rapid growth most likely putting his body through torture. You swear you can hear his enlarged heart as it beats like a war drum.

What have you done?

Vi finally crawls out and she turns to hold the door up so you can too. You stumble and kneel right in front of Mylo's outstretched hand, grasping at it while your other hand tries to dig him out.

"C'mon, c'mon baby. You're okay, you're okay." You sob, lifting your eyes to look at Claggor next and begin shaking your head. It was just ash and debris, he wasn't that pale. He was strong, he was your strong boy. You wipe away some of the dust from his face and choke back a sob when all he does is loll his head to the side.

"No, no, no. Claggor, Mylo."

There's a loud explosion. The building rumbles, the roof creaking as it sinks down. Vi is clutching at your shoulder, crying as she stares at her brothers. Vander gathers you both in his arms and flies through the escape plan. You scream, feeling the heat lick at your back.

Vander takes the brute force of the fall. Cushioning you and Vi as his last act of love. You hear it, his heart as it slows. You shake your head, looking down at him, cupping his face as rain descends onto you.

"Vander," Vi whimpers out.

"No, baby, please. I'm sorry," you brush your thumb over his cheek, one hand remaining on his chest. The shimmer was wearing down, his pounding heart begins to get slower and slower.

"I'm so sorry, Vander."

He leans into your palm, feeling the tiniest bit of happiness that you two were still alive. He'd always joked about dying, how he wanted to have you over him like an angel. And you'd always laugh, telling him he was ridiculous.

"Take care of Powder."

Vi screams next to you. You hang your head, sobbing as you hold his face in your hands. You press your foreheads together, kissing him one last time before you pull away.

"Vi, it worked!"

Who was that?

"Did you see me? My monkey bomb finally worked!"

Vi gets up and you turn your head to follow her. The sight before you is strange. Vi and Powder were fighting, yelling at each other but you can barely hear it over the rain and crackling fire.

Vi hits Powder and you shakily bring yourself to your feet. As Powder begs for her sister to come back, you stumble towards her. She turns to you, crying nonsensically about how she just wanted to help and you nod, trying to form words but your tongue feels like lead.

Silco finds her desperately shaking your shoulders as you sprawl out onto the ground. He sees your chest going up and down so he concerns himself with the girl.

"Hello, little girl. Where's your sister?"

Then the strangest thing happens. She lunges at him, brings him to his ass, but hugs him so tightly he's confused at her intentions.

"She left us. She's not my sister anymore."

Silco brings a hand to the back of her head, understanding just to well about what she was feeling. He glanced at Vander's grotesque body then at yours.

"It's okay. We'll show them. We'll show them all."

What have you done?

He knows you're pissed at him. Actually, pissed doesn't even begin to describe how you're feeling. But Silco remains cool in your presence, standing in Vander's office, looking at the stack of papers. Stock intakes, accounting bullshit, Powder's doodles. You're sat on the couch, staring at your lap with a blanket over your shoulders. Powder's head in your lap as she twitches and sniffles in her sleep.

"You promised me you wouldn't hurt them."

"I didn't."

You bring your hand over Powder's ears, glaring at him. Your face angled down, eyebrows so tightly knit he swears he sees a vein pop out on your forehead.

"You killed my sons."

"She did."

Your expression hardens. Powder shifts for a second and instantly your anger fades, you smooth out her bangs from her head and pat her back rhythmically.

"We share the blame, (Y/N). I didn't do this alone."

He sits on Vander's chair, reaching for his cigar. Vander's body hadn't even gone cold yet and here Silco was, already intending on desecrating his grave by smoking his cigars, as if intently chasing away the scent of Vander's smoking pipes.

You carefully move Powder, shushing her as she stirs and draping your blanket over hers to keep her warm. Silco watches, lighter in hand, poised to burn. You spin the chair, Vander's chair, and kick his legs apart.

He should be more cautious. Foxes are known to get close to their prey, associated with daggers and tricksters because unlike a wolf they couldn't use brute strength to bring down their enemies. You could choke him out, try to pin him down and reach for a pencil to shove through his eye.

But he uncrosses his legs and you sit on his lap. You reach for the box of matches, and strike it. Silco watches you watching him; the orange glow of the cigar not quite piercing through the darkness in your eyes.

"When Powder drinks from the bar, she has her own cup and metal straw. She likes to make gadgets, she gets restless sometimes and snoop around. She's smart, so you'll have your hands full."

Silco arches a brow, inhaling and exhaling out the smoke. Your eyes flutter, burning a bit but you can't even muster a single tear.

"You're offering to babysit?"

"She's my daughter."

You wrap your arms around his neck, your smudged and soot-stained face tucking itself to his neck. You could rip his throat out right now. But where would that leave you and Powder. Running from his men, constantly looking over your shoulder. No. You made your bed. You lay in it.

You said you wanted a better future for your kids. How could you rip Powder away from the only shot she has at being safe?

"I'd do anything for her." You shift your position, bringing your lips to his ears.

"I'll even keep your bed warm. I know you like how I do you."

Silco isn't stupid. He knows how dangerous you are; he hired you to infiltrate and gather information and for years you did just that. Now Vander was dead. You were as wicked as he was.

And now, you had every right to kill him next. So sleeping with you? Sharing a bed, and keeping you close where you'd have access to his operations. You subtly thrusting Powder into the fray, telling him about her needs and how to take care of her. Saying you'd stay if her safety was guaranteed.

This was a bad idea.

But Silco is intrigued. He'd thought you'd be yelling at him. Screaming bloody murder, wrap your teeth around his neck and try to tear it off.

Cunning little fox. You're planning something. Painful and meticulous. You'd make your revenge something people would whisper about as a warning.

He wants to see how far you're willing to go. He's glad that you share the same obsession with him as he does with you now.

Fine.

If the both of you were going to destroy each other, let it be known that Silco allowed it to happen in the first place; if you need to be broken down to be his, then he'll gladly place his chess pieces on the board with you.

Vander and Benzo's death shocks the undercity. You imagine people glancing at each other, confusion and lost written across their faces. Their protector was gone and in his place was the disgraced Silco.

But what truly sends people reeling is you standing besides him. You, Vander's boyfriend, the one his kids called dad among others. The slut that Vander had given a home too. Had given a job to and loved.

No, adored. He adored you, did you forget that?

He looked at you like you hung the damn moon in the sky.

How could you?

You fucking traitorous whore.

You had prepared for this. Steeled your emotions and walked among Silco's entourage with your head held high. Let them hate you, you know you deserve it. You expect the spit thrown your way, wiping it away with no emotion. You expect the harsh words, the cusses and threats.

But you're frozen in place when a man comes running at you, a knife held in his hand. You recognize him; a stall owner who Vander liked to do business with. Often trading fruit peels for this or that. He used them to do an array of things, though Vander recounts that he often used it as a way to smell fresh.

You smell it. That citrusy scent as he rears his hand back. "You whore!" he yells out.

Sevika kicks him square in the chest and as she leans too far back from the lack of balance (you think the loss of her arm was well-deserved) you keep her steady.

But it invigorates the crowd of grieving people. They throw things at you, trash and dirt at first. But then someone flings a brick and you barely dodge it in time before it smashed against your head.

Silco couldn't have people thinking that his entourage was weak.

So he brings you back to that walkway, the stalls now ransacked and the owners all kneeled before you. Hushed whispers come from the windows above you, children peeking curiously and mothers rushing them away.

These people were all Vander's friends. They did business with him, ate with him. You'd been there, eating with them. You glance away, sighing out a shuddering breath.

"Getting queasy?" Silco muses out.

"I've never been fond of butchers."

"Someone has to get their hands dirty. We can't all be expensive whores." You glare at him reproachfully.

"I want to leave."

"No."

Silco motions for Sevika and you scoff; "Look at you. Asking for another person to suck a John's cock for you. Expensive whore, is that what you called me?"

Silco gives you a tepid look, but then pulls out a dagger. He stares down at Vander's friends. Silco then stands behind them, bringing the blade to their throats. They look at you, nothing but pure hate in their eyes.

"You fucking traitor."

#s3thwrit3sstuff #male reader #reader insert #male reader insert #male!reader #arcane x reader #arcane x yn #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane x male reader #bottom male reader #sevika x reader #silco x reader #vander x yn #vander x reader

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misctf · 2 months ago

Text

The Haunted House II

Back with another Halloween themed story to celebrate the month! This is an indirect sequel to The Haunted House. Enjoy!

“You’ll wanna use these for pie and those for eatin’” Cal says with a warm smile. And just like several customers before, she thanks him for his kindness, “Aw shucks, jus’ glad to be here.” Each word rich with his country accent.

Today was the local college’s annual Autumn Festival. Cal’s father would have him man their stand. It was something the young farmer enjoyed each year and the locals always looked forward to seeing him. But once a year was good enough for him. He never went to college, but didn’t feel he was missing out. He loved the countryside and his life on the farm.

“Besides,” He thinks eying a group of college guys, “They’re all a bit backwards ‘round here.”

The group of bros were talking about a Halloween party that night. Their obnoxious laughter filling the air as they discussed ‘future conquests’. Their vocabulary rich with words like “rizz”, “bro”, and “lit.” Cal couldn’t wrap his head around it. Outside of being from the countryside, he figured being 30 years old contributed. To him, they all seemed immature and rude. A stark contrast to the values instilled in him by his god-fearing parents.

“Well, that was the last of it. Guess I should pack up.” After finishing, he looks down at his watch, “Well I’ll be, there’s still time before supper. Might as well explore.” He figures he might find a gift for his parents and girlfriend, Anna.

Cal walks pass various stands and attractions- enjoying the sense of community and the cool autumn breeze. And as he reached the end of the festival, he saw it- a large, wooden, and derelict house.

“That wasn’t here last year.” He mumbles, walking over to the plaque near the entrance, “Scariest experience you’ll ever have.” He reads. He scratches the hairs on his chin and grins, “A haunted house, huh?”

His neighbors would turn their farmhouse into a haunted house. And it was scary. Cal remembered the first time he took Anna. He damn well near pissed himself. If he wasn’t trying to impress her, he actually might’ve.

“Scariest, huh? I’ll be the judge of that.” He chuckles.

Without another thought, he enters. The inside was dark, illuminated by a few candles. The musty smell of mothballs and mildew invaded his nose, but he reassured himself it was nothing compared to the cows on a hot summer day. Eventually, he found himself standing in front of a large mirror.

“I see.” He smiles, “It’s one of them fun mirror houses.”

He feels somewhat relieved. This was nothing compared to his neighbor’s haunted house. He follows a creaky flight of stairs, until arriving at a somewhat familiar looking door.

“Well I’ll be.” He raises an eyebrow.

From what he could tell, it was a replica of the door to his room back home. He opens it slowly, his eyes widening as he enters what appeared to be a total copy of his bedroom.

“There’s no way.” He whispers, only to jump as the door slammed shut behind him.

He looks around finding his neatly made bed, his desk littered with equipment manuals, a pair of his work boots, and pictures of animals and the outdoors. Even his fishing gear sits nicely in the corner of the room. The only difference being the large mirror propped against the wall. Cal took an apprehensive step forward.

“Call me crazy...” He mutters, approaching his desk.

And as he picks up one of the manuals, he feels a shock. He watches closely as the manual starts to shift and change. The cover now showing off a nude man, flexing his muscles. Cal gasps and drops it as the remaining manuals reform into all kinds of lewd magazines. And he watches as a laptop materializes on his desk, immediately opening to gay porn- the sounds echoing loudly.

“What on Earth?” Cal gasps, feeling his cock tenting in his jeans, “Naw, this ain’t...”

He backs away, falling onto his bed. And when he does, images flash through his mind. He can hear his neighbor Billy. He’s moaning, begging for more. And Cal grunts from a sudden warmth around his cock.

“This don’t make sense.” Cal huffs, holding back a moan as he bucks his hips.

Billy was never near his room. Cal’s parents warned him about Billy’s sexual preferences. Yet he could hear Billy’s voice now, clear as day. His moans a symphony in Cal’s head as he absentmindedly massages his tented cock.

“Wasn’t that a good fuck?” A voice said.

“Fuckin’ was.” Cal slurred, recalling Billy’s firm ass.

He shakes his head and leaps from the bed, sweat trickling down his face. He never... not with a guy. Not even with Anna. He was waiting until marriage.

“Huhuh remember Anna’s face when she caught you?”

A new unwanted memory appears. The day Anna walked in on him and Billy. Her look of disgust. How his parents didn’t even know what to say, just going on about how disappointed they were.

“Whatever...” The voice continued, “At least we got bragging rights.” Cal groans as he remembered telling his friends about banging an older woman. But wasn’t he the same age as Anna?

“Nah fam, you’re 21.”

Before Cal could respond, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He couldn’t explain it, but he looked younger. He runs a hand along his smoother skin and watches with amazement as his facial hair falls to the floor. He moans as rush of hormones and energy fill his body.

“No, this isn’t right...” Cal’s eyes widened, “My voice... what...?” His country accent gone- now more akin to the bros from outside earlier.

He retreats from the mirror, awkwardly tripping over his work boots and falling into his closet. He looks up at his flannels and denim hanging neatly. And before his eyes, they morph. His clothes shifting into oversized hoodies, joggers, and tank-tops. He even catches a glimpse of his work boots as they become slides.

“Bruh, that drip ain’t hittin’ right.” The voice said, “Gotta ditch that fit.”

“What are you even...” Cal stops, hating how similar their voices sound.

But he quickly finds out what the voice meant. He yelps as the cool air caresses his now naked form. His rock-hard cock exposed and throbbing from the cool draft.

“But how...?” His eyes inspect his naked form.

He no longer sports a farmer’s tan. Instead, every inch of his skin was sun kissed- a rich bronze. And even his chest and belly hairs fall out. He frowns at the loss of the tokens of his traditional masculinity.

“Fuck this.” He curses, stumbling out of the closet, “Wait, no way.”

The pictures of animals and nature have been replaced by pictures of half-naked men and women. He groans as memories of jerking off to these pics fill his mind, and he shudders as the moans from his laptop seemingly got louder.

“I gotta bust.” He mumbled, thinking back to Billy’s ass, “But... no, fuck...”

His voice drips with smugness- deep and dull now. And nothing he did could prevent him from sounding like a typical douchebro. Taking a step back, he trips over a dumbbell.

“Bruh, where’s my fishing gear!?”

Instead, there’s a full set of dumbbells and a bench press. And his jaw drops when he caught his reflection again. Gone were his lean muscles. He now sports broad bis and tris. His pecs now a pair of meaty muscle tits. He slowly runs his hand along his six-pack abs, an unwanted pride filling him.

“Being jacked's a vibe, bro, no cap.” The voice said as Cal bounces his pecs.

“Facts bruh, a little extra muscle never hurt nobody.” Cal bites his lip, “No, oh fuck... my head...” Memories of guys and girls drooling over his muscles make his dick twitch. He loves the way those sluts would salivate over him, “Please... no...”

He winces as an intricate forearm tattoo engraves into his skin. And he gasps as a few bracelets materialize on his arm. There was no way... he would never buy shit like this. He was saving his money for more important things, right?

“Bruh, when you’re on OnlyFans, the bag’s there, no cap.”

Cal watches as a ring light and video camera materialize on his desk. Memories of his content flooding his weakened mind. The modest part of him blushing as he recalled the lewd content he created. Cumming on camera, teasing his cock, fucking Billy...

“They love watchin’ this dick in action.” He smirks, giving his monster a few tugs.

Yet, part of him was terrified- his values and kind-hearted nature resisting the persona that was taking over. And he quickly released his cock and grabbed his head.

“You gotta let that go, fr.” The voice said.

“Deadass, I’m not lettin’ this slide.” Cal shot back.

And as he turns back to the mirror, he saw himself. His real self. Still naked. But a reflection he was more used to- his farmer’s tan, lean muscle, and body hair. Not sporting a tattoo or fake jewelry. The kindness still in his eyes, albeit fearful.

“It’s me...” He whispers.

But when he looks down, all he sees is his newly bronzed skin, two slabs of chest meat, cobblestone abs, and his 12 inch, throbbing cock.

“No... I don’t want this...”

Desperately, he reachs out to the mirror- to his old self. Wanting nothing more than to go back to being himself. But as his hand touches the mirror, it shatters. Cal cries out and tumbles through the opening, falling to the ground just outside the haunted house.

“Oh fuck...” He curses, pushing himself up.

He looks down at his tanned, meaty hand. His tattoo and arms on full display in his tank-top. His pair of joggers doing little to hide his raging boner. In a dazed panic, he grabs his phone and opens snapchat.

“It’s me, bruh. For real.” He keeps staring at the photo, his eyes dulling, “Damn.. I got that rizz today.” He swipes through a few filters and grins, “Lit.” His selfie now framed by the entrance to the haunted house, “Scariest experience you’ll ever have.” He chuckles, “No cap.” He uploads the selfie for his thirsty followers.

“Bruh, you good?” Cal looks up at the group of guys from earlier.

“Ghost play with your cock, CJ?” One quips, nodding towards the outline of the boner in his pants.

“CJ?” Cal mumbled. Yeah... He likes that... CJ, “Bruh, that house was straight-up bussin’, no cap.” CJ chuckles and readjusts his dick, “Ayo, quit staring unless you're gonna do something about it.” He stands up, “Like, don’t we have a party to hit up?”

Later, CJ stands in his dorm room, flexing after his shower. His dick needed some attention- not like he ever had a problem with that. That’s why he went to fuckin’ college in the first place. His basic ass parents could waste their lives on that farm. Nah fam, CJ had bigger and better things ahead of him- as did whoever guy’s ass he was baggin’ that night. CJ chuckles, already feeling his cock hardening.

#male tf #male transformation #mental change #personality tf #straight to gay #jock tf #dumber tf #unwilling tf #age regression

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localemofreak · 6 months ago

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I Could Eat That Girl For Lunch.

(Joost Klein x Fem!Reader)

Based on the song:

LUNCH - Billie Eilish

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Story: Joost Klein eats you for lunch 🤷‍♀️ (I know this is a lesbian song but shhh- can we just let this slide for Joost??.. happy pride!! 💙)

Warnings!!: RPF!!!, little bit of smut, heavy fluff, reader gets eaten out, a little bit of Dutch (Dutch is not my first language but I’m trying my best to learn it, if I get anything wrong I’m sorry!!), little bit of cursing, Joost is a sweet man but tbh he sounds kinda cocky in a good way- only a little though, etc. (if u missed anything pls tell me!)

(Special request by: @viozxe )

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“I could eat that girl for lunch, yeah she dances on my tongue- tastes like she might be the one..”

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Heavy huffs of breath fell from your lips as your back arched off the mattress, your hands instantly moving down to grab roughly at the light blonde locks of your boyfriend’s hair as he hid under the sheets and covers.

Your legs shook a little as Joost just seemed to dive his mouth farther down onto your cunt, taking anything he could like it was the last thing keeping him alive.

“Babyy! Fuck~” you managed to moan out, your nails slightly scratching at his scalp as you held onto his hair for dear life, your head falling back as you continued to arch off the mattress.

Joost’s large hands gripped onto your thighs as they squeezed around his head, keeping him in place like he was going to move anytime soon- he was in a trance at this point, refusing to move away from your pussy as he absolutely went at it, leaving no breaks for air.

“smaak zo lekker schatje~” you could hear him hum out between your legs, causing your hips to jerk up against his face desperately.

The more you felt Joost’s tongue dive into your pussy, the more closer you felt each second.

And Joost could tell- and that only caused him to get even more rougher, his face getting deeper in between your legs.

The way your body tensed up as you met your release- a loud moan mixed with his name fell from your lips as your eyes rolled back, his hair scrunched between your tight fingers, the heels of your feet digging into his back.

Heavy gasp of air fell from your mouth as your body just seemed to melt into the warm mattress under you, your vision blurry and spotty as you tried to comprehend your thoughts.

Your body weak as you felt your hands slipping from the grip they had on the back of Joost’s head as he slowly started sitting up, tiny chuckles falling from the man’s mouth as you looked down at him.

“You with me, mijn liefde?” Joost spoke, his voice soft and a little raspy as he sat up on his knees, looking down at you.

Your vision was still a little blurry as you looked up at him while he basically hovered over you.

Even though you could barely see the best- you were still able to take in his appearance.

His light blonde- almost white hair was a little messy and all over the place, his lips were slightly pink and glossy, as well as the rest of the lower half of his face and chin from going down on you- and his bare chest was slightly heaving up and down as he tried to catch his own breath.

The white blanket sitting around his shoulders from sitting up soon ran down to sit around his waist as he let out another deep chest filled chuckle while looking down at you- which once your vision turned back to normal, you were met with a stupid little amused smirk on his lips.

“I mean-“ you stated, taking a moment to pause and gulp down a heavy chunk of saliva pooling in your mouth before you talked once again.

“I can’t really feel my legs.. but yeah, I’m here..” you huffed out, your shaky hands moving to rub at your face a little as Joost let out another chuckle while shaking his head.

“I’m sorry liefje… but hey- that means I did good, yeah?” Joost smirked as he leaned forward to press a few kisses on your jawline- his Dutch accent still managing to spill in through his English, but that just made you more attractive to him.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully at his words as he rested his head in the crook of your neck while laying his warm body on top of yours- your arms wrapping around his neck to gently play with the ends of his soft hair.

You didn’t have the energy to say anything, the only thing you could get out was a soft hum and a tiny nod as your eyes started to flutter shut.

“Get some rest.. mijn engel” Joost whispered out against your skin, his warm lips pressing soft- almost featherlight kisses against the skin of your neck, which caused you to just melt into the mattress as you laid there with him.

#localemofreak #joost #joost klein #joost klein fanfiction #joost klein fanfic #joost klein x reader #joost klein x fem reader #joost klein x fem!reader #joost klein fluff #joost klein smut #joost klein blurb #joost klein one shot #joost klein imagine

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claramelooo · 7 days ago

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Hey, my lovers! How are you guys? I hope you're good! As for me... I'm in my fertile period and that's why the chapters are so naughty and I won't say sorry for that!

Enjoy and hold your little hands for yourselves Lmao <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warning: +18, NSFW, ANGST, DEEP JEALOUSY

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem Reader x Tough Natasha (don't get too excited about it)

Summary: You decide to take revenge on Wanda out of jealousy, you just didn't expect her to have the same plan as you.

VELVET CHAINS

Revenge

Wanda’s Sunday started early. The clock barely struck six in the morning, yet she was already up, moving through the house with the precision of a well-rehearsed orchestra. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the kitchen as she prepared toast for the twins, mentally checking off the day’s obligations. Sunday service was the week’s main event, and Wanda took her image—and that of the Maximoff family—very seriously.

Getting the boys ready was the first step. Tommy and Billy, still groggy, took turns complaining while Wanda, with unyielding patience, adjusted their shirts and straightened their ties. She made sure they looked impeccable: starched shirts, shining shoes. After all, they were the sons of the woman who led the choir. They had a reputation to uphold.

“Billy, stop messing with your collar. It’ll end up crooked,” she warned, raising a pointed finger at her son, who rolled his eyes but complied.

Vision was next. He entered the room with a restrained yawn, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. Wanda was already prepared, holding two tie options. One was dark gray, sober and classic; the other, navy blue with small geometric details that conveyed seriousness without being overly rigid.

“This one.” She handed him the navy tie with firm decisiveness, her gaze assessing every detail as though deciding the fate of a delicate negotiation. “Serious but approachable. You know how people notice everything.”

Vision accepted without question, smiling at her with a hint of admiration. He knew Wanda had a special talent for these things, for controlling the atmosphere and ensuring everything was perfect.

But Wanda had her own preparations. Choosing her outfit was a different ritual, something more intimate, imbued with a kind of excitement she wouldn’t dare admit, even to herself. The Sunday dress had to convey purity, elegance, and a touch of authority. She settled on a navy-blue dress with lace accents, paired with discreet heels and pearl bracelets.

However, when she entered the bedroom to retrieve her outfit, she couldn’t help but smile at what she had laid out for you.

On the bed, your clothes were folded to perfection: a simple yet elegant dress fitting the occasion’s style. Beside them, meticulously arranged, were your undergarments. And placed dead center, almost like a calculated provocation, was a discreet, silent vibrator, still encased in its translucent silicone packaging.

Wanda stood still for a moment, her eyes fixed on the object. It was intentional, of course. Everything she did always was. The vibrator wasn’t just a provocation; it was a message.

“Remember who you belong to,” it screamed without words.

You entered the room seconds later, the sound of the door announcing your arrival. Your eyes fell on the bed and then on the vibrator. Your face flushed instantly, which only made Wanda’s smile widen, subtle but laden with intent.

“I thought you might need a little... encouragement,” Wanda remarked casually, adjusting the pearl necklace around her neck as though she were commenting on the weather.

“Wanda... this is...” you began, but the words failed you.

“It’s appropriate, darling,” she interrupted, stepping closer to you. “Because even when we’re in the sanctuary, even when we’re surrounded by hymns and prayers... you shouldn’t forget who you belong to.”

Wanda reached out, holding your chin gently but firmly enough for you to feel her control.

“Now, go get dressed. I want you ready in fifteen minutes,” she instructed, her voice a low, authoritative whisper.

As you left the room, your face burning, Wanda turned back to the mirror, adjusting her necklace once more. Her expression was serene, but a shadow of dark satisfaction danced within her. There was something deeply gratifying in knowing that, even among prayers and sermons, your mind would never stray far from her.

The living room was impeccably tidy, a direct reflection of Wanda’s meticulous nature. Vision stood near the door, making final adjustments to the tie she had chosen. Tommy and Billy, seated on the couch, chattered about something only they found hilariously funny, filling the space with a lightheartedness that seemed to contrast with the growing tension Wanda felt.

She had her back to the stairs when she heard the soft sound of your footsteps descending, and immediately, something inside her stirred. Turning, she raised her eyes toward you — and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

You looked stunning, as always, but there was something more in that moment. Wanda knew exactly what was hidden between your legs, knew the sensation you carried with every hesitant step, and, more than anything, she knew it was because of her. Her gaze slid almost imperceptibly over your body, lingering for just a fraction of a second longer than it should have on your legs before meeting your flushed face.

There was hunger in her eyes. A hunger she suppressed instantly, lifting her chin with the elegance that was almost her trademark. But the flame in Wanda’s eyes didn’t lie — and you felt it hit you like a blow.

“Wow, you look amazing!” Tommy exclaimed, jumping up from the couch to get a better look at you. “If you don’t get a boyfriend at church today, I’m giving up on humanity.”

“Tommy!” Billy rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back his laughter. “She doesn’t need a boyfriend. Women can be happy without men these days.”

You smiled, the blush on your cheeks deepening. “Thank you, boys. But I think I already have enough to worry about without having to think about... boyfriends.”

Vision’s soft laugh filled the room. “It’s good to stay focused, Y/n. Yale isn’t going to accept anything less than your best self.”

But Wanda didn’t laugh. She kept watching you, her dark, unwavering gaze fixed as she crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly, as if assessing every word you said and every movement the boys made.

“She’s right,” Wanda finally said, her voice calm but carrying a sharp note that drew everyone’s attention to her. “Boyfriends are distractions. Especially for someone with goals as important as Y/n’s.”

Her comment seemed to end the conversation, with Tommy and Billy suddenly shifting their focus to their shoes or their phones. But you felt the weight of Wanda’s stare, locked on you, as if daring you to entertain even the thought of shifting your focus away from her.

The tension was palpable. You knew the boys’ comments had irritated her. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was something deeper, something more possessive. Wanda hated the thought of you imagining yourself belonging to anyone else.

When Vision finally declared it was time to leave, Wanda moved with her usual elegance, but as she passed you, her hand subtly grazed your arm, her delicate nail lightly scratching your skin.

“You look beautiful, bunny,” she murmured so quietly that only you could hear.

Your heart raced as you followed the group out of the house, hyper-aware of every step, every sensation, and especially Wanda’s gaze burning into your back.

The church was steeped in reverent silence, the kind of heavy stillness that amplified every little sound. The pastor spoke with a firm yet calm voice, his words captivating the congregation. Occasional murmurs of agreement and the rustling of Bible pages were the only sounds accompanying his sermon on righteousness and devotion.

You sat next to Wanda, trying to maintain the impeccable posture she always demanded in moments like these. Your hands rested in your lap, fingers tightly interlaced in a futile attempt to mask the nervous energy bubbling beneath the surface. You were already uncomfortable—not just from the rising heat within you but from the constant awareness of what you carried between your legs.

And then, it happened.

The almost imperceptible hum of the vibrator roared in your ears, deafening despite your certainty that no one else in the church could hear it. The sensation was immediate, a wave of heat radiating from your core, spreading through your body and raising goosebumps on every inch of your skin.

You swallowed hard, eyes wide, but kept your gaze fixed on the pulpit, as though the sheer effort of appearing unaffected might save you. But your body was betraying you. A faint tremor ran through your legs, so subtle that only Wanda, sitting beside you, could notice.

She noticed.

Her fingers slid slowly across the wooden pew until they barely brushed against your hand. The touch was gentle, almost casual, but the deliberate pressure made your heart pound even harder. She knew.

You shifted slightly on the bench, searching for a position that might ease the intensity of the stimulation, but it only made things worse. The vibrator pressed against your most sensitive spot, and every movement amplified the pulsing vibrations. Your entire body felt ablaze.

“Shh…” Wanda whispered, so low that only you could hear. The tip of her fingers traced a slow, calming circle over the back of your hand—a gesture that, to others, appeared comforting, but to you, was an inescapable reminder of her control.

You were sweating now. Fine beads formed along your hairline, trailing down the back of your neck as you struggled to breathe deeply and steadily, but every vibration seemed to steal the air from your lungs.

Your knee trembled, and you pressed it against the pew to disguise it, but Wanda noticed. Always perceptive, she leaned in slightly, just enough to whisper once more: “Be a good girl for me, bunny.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted to beg her to stop, to give you a moment of relief, but her calm gaze, fixed on the pastor, said it all. She had no intention of stopping. Not now.

Every second seemed to drag. The sermon, which you usually barely paid attention to, now felt interminable. Your body was so tense that your thighs ached from trying to contain the spasms. Shame burned on your face, but you couldn’t—dared not—make a single move that might give away what was happening.

When the pastor asked everyone to stand for prayer, your heart stopped for a moment. You could barely manage to get to your feet, your legs trembling as Wanda, with an almost imperceptible smile, took your hand and helped you up.

“Good girl,” she murmured again, and the vibrator finally stopped.

The relief was as intense as the torment, but you knew Wanda had won once more.

Wanda watched everything with a calm that was unsettling, almost impenetrable to anyone observing from the outside. While the pastor spoke about redemption and morality, her attention wasn’t on the sermon but on you—every small tremor, every ragged breath, every bead of sweat trailing down the side of your face. It was a sight that fascinated her in a dark, almost intoxicating way.

She was in control, and the control filled her with a shadowy pleasure that rivaled anything else she could feel. It wasn’t just the power to activate the vibrator pulsing between your legs or to dictate your submission in such a sacred and public space. It was the cruel satisfaction of watching you wrestle with yourself, seeing your body surrender while your mind begged for relief, for an end to the torment.

When your knee trembled, Wanda noticed before you even tried to hide it. A cold smile threatened to touch her lips, but she restrained it, maintaining the flawless mask of a devout wife and respectable mother. Even so, her eyes betrayed something deeper—a latent hunger, a predatory gleam that intensified with every sign of your suffering.

She adored the contrast.

You, so young, so vibrant, trying to be strong while slowly unraveling beside her. With every nervous adjustment you made on the pew, every breath you held in a futile attempt to conceal your vulnerability, Wanda felt a dark warmth grow in her chest. It was a dangerous mix of possession and cruelty, something she would never admit to anyone—not even herself.

But she knew.

The control she wielded over you was a secret shared only between the two of you, a bond she had forged and now held tightly. The mere fact that you couldn’t react, couldn’t scream or beg in that environment, made the experience all the more delightful for her. It was as if every one of your sighs, every drop of sweat, was a silent offering to the power she held over you.

When she whispered “Good girl” while helping you stand, Wanda couldn’t hide the malicious satisfaction that coursed through her. Seeing you on your feet, trembling, struggling against the weight of your own desire while everyone around remained blissfully unaware, was the confirmation of her victory.

She turned her gaze back to the pulpit, maintaining the serene façade, but inside, a dark and hungry part of her roared with pleasure. Knowing you had endured all of it for her, that your body responded so perfectly to her provocations, filled Wanda with an almost cruel satisfaction.

“You look beautiful like this,” she thought, catching a glimpse of the sheen of sweat on your forehead and the subtle tremor in your legs. “Beautiful in your fragility. Beautiful when you know you belong to me.”

When the sermon ended, Wanda held your hand firmly as they walked out of the church. To anyone watching, she was the picture of kindness and compassion—but inside, the dark pleasure still burned like an inextinguishable flame.

[...]

The midday heat made the glare from the pool water almost blinding, but nothing was more intense than the uncomfortable burning sensation in your chest. You were sitting in the shade with a glass of lemonade in your hands, but your attention was entirely on Wanda.

She was on the other side of the yard, next to Vision. Her laugh was light, almost musical, as she made a comment that drew laughter from Agnes and the other neighbors around her. Wanda seemed perfectly comfortable in her role as a devoted wife, the ideal woman: attentive, affectionate and… affectionate.

So affectionate that her fingers ran down Vision's arm in a way that made you squeeze the glass in your hands hard enough that the plastic rim threatened to crack.

You tried to look away, tried to focus on the blue sky or the unimportant conversations around you, but your eyes always returned to Wanda. She had a magnetic presence, as if the whole universe was conspiring so that you couldn't ignore her.

And then came the worst.

Vision leaned over Wanda, and she returned the gesture, smiling as she caressed his face with a delicacy you knew all too well. He said something low, inaudible, and Wanda let out a soft laugh before leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips.

You clutched the glass in your hands. The anger and jealousy bubbling up in your stomach. Thoughts so bad and irrational running like a loop in your mind, you just wished you could disappear.

Agnes was a woman of Wanda's age, she seemed just as admirable. Both important women in the neighborhood and married to their respective husbands.

Agnes was the kind of woman who exuded charisma effortlessly. Her words were always carefully chosen, her laughter always at the right moment. She had an almost hypnotic charm, like Wanda, but in a different way - less subtle, more direct. You couldn't tell for sure what it was, but there was something about her that didn't seem to fit perfectly with the image of exemplary wife and neighbor that she projected.

She was standing by the pool, holding a glass of white wine, her lips painted an impeccable red that contrasted with the pearly shade of her teeth. Her dark eyes were expressive and shone with an energy that seemed to hide a secret or two. From time to time, she cast curious glances at you, but not in an uncomfortable way - at least, not at first.

As you watched Wanda and Vision once again exchanging falsely affectionate endearments, you noticed Agnes tilting her head, as if studying your reaction. When your eyes met, she smiled. It was a small, almost enigmatic smile, as if she could see something you didn't want to show.

“You look… thoughtful,” she commented, approaching with elegant steps. Her voice was soft, but there was a hint of something else - an insinuating tone that made your skin shiver slightly.

“Oh, I'm just tired,” you replied, forcing a smile as you tried to control the emotions boiling up inside you.

Agnes didn't look convinced. She sipped her wine, keeping her eyes fixed on you. “Tired of what? The party or… something else?”

The question made your throat tighten. You looked at her, trying to decipher the expression on her face. There was something about her that seemed to understand more than she should. Before you could answer, Wanda's voice cut through the air, clear and controlled as ever.

“Agnes, why don't you come and help Vision put more ice in his drinks? He insists on doing it anyway,” she said, laughing softly.

Agnes's smile widened, but she didn't seem in the slightest hurry to obey the invitation. “Of course, Wanda,” she replied, but not before casting one last glance at you, full of something that seemed both curious and… amused?

When she finally pulled away, you let out the breath you hadn't even realized you were holding.

But the discomfort only grew.

Wanda's jealousy was suffocating, but now it was mixed with a growing irritation towards Agnes. There was something about the way she spoke, as if she was always analyzing everything, dissecting the dynamics around her. And you hated to think that maybe she could see what you were trying to hide.

As Wanda continued to play her role as the perfect wife, a laugh echoing here and there, Agnes rejoined the group, now at Wanda's side. They seemed to be chatting animatedly, and suddenly, you noticed something that made you uneasy: the way Agnes' eyes slipped to Wanda when she thought no one was looking.

It was subtle, but you saw it.

Your heart squeezed, jealousy intensifying in waves. Vision wasn't enough. Now Agnes? What was so irresistible about Wanda that everyone around her seemed to want something more? And then, as if sensing your gaze, Wanda turned her head towards you again. This time, there was no disguise.

She held your gaze for a moment too long, her lips curving into a smile that seemed to be just for you. A smile that reminded you exactly who was in control.

You wanted to run. Run and cry like a baby. For a moment you even thought it would be better if you'd never left that stupid fucking convent. You looked up at the sky to try and stop the tears from falling.

No. You wouldn't cry.

You clenched your fists, feeling your nails dig into the palms of your hands. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Wanda had the power to dismantle you with a single glance, while she stood there, laughing and exchanging fake caresses with Vision, allowing Agnes or anyone else to approach her as if they were worthy of it.

What hurt most was not just the jealousy, but the frustration of knowing that, however much you wanted her, she would never be completely yours.

She had a life, an image to preserve. Vision was the exemplary husband. Agnes was the nosy but harmless friend. You? You were just a secret. A sin that she whispered to herself at night and pretended not to carry with her in the morning.

You took a deep breath, but the knot in your throat only seemed to tighten. Everything around you seemed to mock you. The sound of laughter, the clinking of wine glasses, the lively conversation that didn't include you. You needed to get out of there. Now.

Without saying a word, without looking at anyone, you placed the empty glass on the nearest table and walked quickly out of the yard. Every step felt heavy, as if the weight of your heart was anchored to your feet.

You stepped out onto the sidewalk, breathed in the fresh night air, but it didn't bring you the relief you were hoping for. Why did you subject yourself to this? Why did you still insist on getting hurt by someone who could never be yours?

Your cell phone vibrated in your pocket, and when you pulled it out, Yelena's name flashed on the screen. She had sent you a message earlier, asking if you were available to talk.

Yelena. Of course, she'd be there. She always was.

You started walking, without looking back, without even considering going back. Your mind was already made up. It didn't matter what Wanda thought or said afterwards. She was good at making you feel special, but she was also good at forgetting you when she didn't need you.

The walk to Yelena's house was quick, but it seemed to last forever. You thought of everything you wanted to say to her, but the words seemed blurred, lost amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

When you finally arrived and knocked on the door, it opened almost immediately. Yelena was barefoot, with messy hair and a surprised expression that was soon replaced by concern.

“Are you all right?” she asked, without even waiting for you to explain. You tried to answer, but your voice failed you.

The lump in your throat that you'd been holding in since the party finally loosened, and the tears began to flow. Without hesitation, Yelena pulled you in and wrapped you in a strong hug, which you hadn't even known you needed until that moment.

“Shh, it's okay. Tell me what happened,” she said, her voice low and reassuring.

But how could you explain? How could you tell her about the insane jealousy, the obsession, the forbidden love for Wanda? Yelena was your refuge, but would she be able to understand? Or worse, would she try to convince you to give up, to move on, when all you wanted was to sink even deeper into that destructive feeling?

She carried you by the hand to her room. Looking around, the room was so… Yelena-dark walls, 90s rock band posters pasted up, a desk with books lazily thrown on it. The place smelled of cigarettes, “nothing more Russian than that”, you thought with a chuckle.

“Okay, now talk. What happened?” She stared at you, sitting facing you on the sofa, her legs crossed and her eyes full of expectation and concern.

“I… I don't even know where to start.” Your voice came out shaky, almost a whisper. You pressed your hands against your knees, trying to calm the trembling that seemed to take over your body.

“Try, at least. You came here as if the world was falling down.” She leaned over, touching your hand gently. “And the way you are now, it feels like it's still falling.”

You took a deep breath, but the air didn't seem to fill your lungs. The words were stuck, as if admitting them out loud was a greater crime than carrying them inside you.

“It's her. It's always her. I can't…” Your voice failed, and you bit your lip hard, trying to hold back the tears that insisted on coming back.

“Wanda.” She said the name as a statement, unsurprisingly, but with a weight that made your heart sink even deeper.

“I know what you're going to say. That I should stay away. That it's wrong. That she'll never…” You stopped, the words breaking like glass in your throat.

With a laugh, the blonde continued: “I'm not going to say anything like that.” Her answer took you by surprise, and you finally raised your eyes to meet hers. There was something there-a mixture of understanding and pain that you couldn't interpret.

“You're not going?” Your voice was weak, hesitant.

“No. Because I know you already know all this, I'm sure.” She sighed, running a hand through her messy blonde hair. “But I also know that telling you to give up on her is like asking you to stop breathing. And I'm not going to be cruel like that.”

Her words were a relief, but at the same time, an even greater weight. Because it was true. You knew you were trapped, that this love was a trap you yourself had chosen to walk into.

“I wish… I wish I could hate her. I wanted to be able to look at her and feel anger, contempt, anything other than that.” You made a vague gesture, as if you could explain with your hands what words could not.

“But you can't. Because, somehow, she's managed to make you believe that her love is worth anything. Even if you never really have that love.”

You swallowed, feeling your throat burn.

“She doesn't love me. Not the way I love her.” The words were like knives coming out of your mouth, each one cutting deeper.

“And yet you're still here. Running after crumbs.” The silence that followed was deafening. You had no answer, because you knew she was right.

“What do I do, then?” Your voice was desperate, almost pleading.

“Do you want an answer from the young and irreverent Yelena or the centered and mature Yelena?” She asked, causing you to frown in confusion. And then she continued: “The irreverent Yelena says that we should introduce you to the night, take you to a loud party with drinks and good music. The centered Yelena says that I should welcome your tears with ice cream, hugs and silly movies.”

You looked at Yelena, still frowning, trying to process the options she had just given you. Party? You'd never been to a party before. You were the kind of person who preferred to spend a quiet evening reading a book or listening to music in your room. But now… the idea seemed to carry something extra.

“What if I choose the irreverent Yelena option?” Her voice came out hesitant, but there was a new sparkle in her eyes, a spark of curiosity and… something more.

Yelena flashed a wide grin, the kind of smile that made it seem like she was plotting something that probably wasn’t the best idea.

“Ah, Malysh… then let’s toss the tears aside and dress up to break hearts.”

You laughed, despite everything, and shook your head. But as you laughed, the idea began to take shape more clearly in your mind. Wanda. How would she react if she saw you at a party, surrounded by people, maybe dancing with someone? Would she be able to keep that cold control, the façade of the perfect wife? Or would it crack, even just a little?

Your smile slowly faded as you mulled over the thought. What if this was your chance? Not to hurt her—you would never do that intentionally. But to make her feel a fragment of what you felt every time you saw those touches and smiles meant for Vision.

“And... if I do this, do you think she’d notice?” You bit the corner of your lower lip, asking softly.

Yelena tilted her head to the side, her grin morphing into something more subtle, more analytical. “If ‘she’ is who I think it is... she wouldn’t just notice. She’d be livid. But the question isn’t whether she’ll notice. It’s whether you’re doing this for you or for her.”

You bit your lip again, looking away. It was a fair question but a hard one. The truth was, you didn’t know. Maybe it was for both reasons.

“Maybe I just need to remind myself that there’s a world outside... of her.”

Yelena nodded, her gaze fixed on yours, studying your expression like she was trying to decipher the layers of what you were feeling.

“If that’s what you want, I can help. But be warned: getting into this kind of game can spiral out of your control quickly.”

You pondered for a moment, but the decision was already made deep in your heart. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe it wouldn’t change anything. But the idea of seeing Wanda react, of seeing that perfect facade crack, was irresistible.

“Take me to the party, Yelena.” Her mischievous grin returned in full force, and you felt a rush of adrenaline building within you.

For the first time, it felt like you were about to reclaim a fragment of power in a game that always seemed out of your hands.

[...]

The pounding music made the floor vibrate, and the air was thick with a suffocating mix of sweat, cheap perfume, and alcohol. You were already regretting agreeing to Yelena’s idea. The overstimulation was pushing you to the edge—every sound, every smell, every flashing light felt like a shove closer to your breaking point.

Leaning against a wall near the bar, you crossed your arms and stared at the drink in your hand, now warm and unappealing. Yelena, naturally, was in her element. She danced and laughed loudly, completely unbothered by the chaos around her.

Then, as if sensing your growing impatience, she appeared at your side, a sly grin tugging at her lips.

“Okay, clearly you’re not having fun. But don’t worry—I brought backup.”

You raised an eyebrow, ready to complain, but froze the moment you noticed the woman standing beside her. It was impossible not to notice. Natasha Romanoff had a presence that seemed to cut through the noise and chaos. Her gaze was sharp, cold, and piercing, like she was dissecting every detail about you in mere seconds.

“This is my sister, Natasha.”

Natasha inclined her head slightly in a wordless greeting—no handshake, no smile. Just a curt, weighty “Hi.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Natasha was intimidating, not just because of her stiff posture and unreadable expression, but because of the quiet authority she seemed to radiate.

“Nat,” Yelena continued with a grin, “this is my friend—the one I told you about.”

The redhead’s gaze didn’t waver as she spoke. “The shy one who ended up here out of pure stubbornness?”

The jab sent a flare of irritation through you. Your mood was already sour, and now she was treating you like some lost child?

“I might be a lot of things, but stubborn isn’t one of them.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips before her neutral expression returned.

“Hmm. Debatable.”

Yelena laughed, clearly enjoying the tension crackling between the two of you. “Alright, I’m getting another drink. You two play nice, okay?”

Before you could protest, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone with Natasha.

The silence between you was taut but not entirely uncomfortable. Natasha thrived in it, exuding a quiet control without needing to say a word. You, on the other hand, felt like a cornered animal, searching for a way out without showing weakness.

“So,” she said finally, her voice low and even, “what are you really doing here?”

You exhaled sharply, letting your shoulders relax as if surrendering to her scrutiny.

“Trying to forget someone.”

Natasha didn’t respond right away. She studied you with that sharp, unreadable gaze, like she was trying to unearth the truth buried in your words.

“Bad idea. If they’re important, it won’t work.”

“And who says I want it to?” you shot back.

Natasha tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as if reconsidering something. “Interesting. Usually, people come to parties like this to pretend they have control over their own lives. But you don’t seem like the type.”

Her statement was blunt, almost brutal, but there was something intriguing in the way she spoke. No fluff, no unnecessary niceties.

“And what does that say about me, then

“I’m still deciding.”

Despite the irritation still bubbling inside you, there was something about Natasha that held you captive. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed impervious to any kind of charm or pretense. There were no games here—at least not the obvious ones.

“And you? Did you come here to forget someone too?”

Natasha let out a low sound, maybe a laugh or just a long exhale. “No. I just came to make sure my sister doesn’t cause a catastrophe.”

Her answer pulled an unexpected laugh from you, and Natasha finally allowed a small, discreet smile to play at the corners of her mouth.

“Maybe you’re not as unbearable as I thought.”

Was it a compliment? A jab? You weren’t sure, but for the first time that night, you felt like maybe the party wasn’t so bad after all.

Later, you were tipsy from the alcohol. Your body felt light, and your laughter came easily... especially around Natasha. The redhead wasn’t so bad after all, always complimenting your eyes and how soft and shiny your hair looked.

You found out she was an important agent in a national security agency, though she wouldn’t reveal the name, saying it was “against the terms of her contract.”

You didn’t know what time it was, but you knew it was past 10 p.m. What about Wanda? Had she already put the twins to bed? Had she already made love to Vision in the same bed she’d fucked you in? The thought made you grip your glass tightly and tense your jaw.

You downed the shot and made a cute grimace.

“Hey, little girl... slow down.” Natasha gave you a calming look, making you snort and roll your eyes. “Sweetheart, watch your manners...” she warned.

“Fuck it, I wanna dance!” You jumped off the stool, which was a bit too high for your height, your feet dangling just above the floor as you swung them when you got anxious with your thoughts. Adorable—though Natasha would deny it until the end, obviously.

The redhead followed you onto the dance floor, momentarily forgetting about Yelena. The sway of your hips, brushing against hers, dared her to move in rhythm with you. The way you tossed your head made your hair bounce, sending its scent directly to her.

"Your hair smells like grapes," she murmured in your ear—her voice tinged with something almost distracted, like she was lost in the scent and the way your body moved. It made you turn to face her.

Her gaze was intense, but there was something else beneath it. Fear? Why?

Natasha seemed to snap back to reality, her posture stiffening as she masked her expression, retreating into her usual taciturn demeanor. “I… I’ll go find Yelena,” she said before walking away.

You nodded, watching her until she disappeared completely from sight. A few minutes later, you found Yelena sitting at the bar, chatting casually with the bartender.

“Hey, Yelly!” you called out, your voice bright and cheerful from the alcohol buzzing in your veins.

The blonde turned to look at you, her eyes scanning you up and down, clearly gauging just how drunk you were. “Y/n, please tell me you don’t get hangovers,” she said, closing her eyes in mock prayer.

“Yelly, your sister…” You started to speak, but before you could finish, a voice cut through the noise, freezing you in place.

“Y/n.”

That firm, authoritative tone made your heart stop for a moment.

You turned slowly, and there she was—Wanda. Impeccably dressed as always, but with an expression sharp enough to split the air. Her eyes were dark with fury, and her chin was slightly raised, a telltale sign of someone who either had control of the situation or was desperately trying to regain it.

“What are you doing here?”

You tried to respond, but the words were tangled in your mind. The alcohol wasn’t helping at all. Before you could form a coherent reply, Yelena stepped in.

“She’s having fun. You should try it sometime, Maximoff.”

The provocation was deliberate, and Wanda shot a venomous glare at the blonde.

“And you thought bringing her to a place like this, filling her up with alcohol, and letting her dance with strangers was a good idea?”

Yelena crossed her arms, puffing out her chest as if to intimidate Wanda—not that it worked.

“She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions.”

Wanda laughed—a sharp, incredulous sound laced with scorn. “Terrible decisions, clearly.”

You could feel the tension rising like a tide around you. You wanted to step in, but the words still wouldn’t come. Wanda took a step closer, now fully focused on Yelena, ignoring you for the moment.

“If you think you can toy with her like one of your one-night flings, you’re sorely mistaken.” Her eyes glinted dangerously.

Yelena didn’t back down, stepping forward to meet Wanda’s challenge. It was like a dance, both of them fighting for control, neither willing to give an inch.

“Do you even hear yourself? Who’s really toying with her here, Wanda?”

The answer made Wanda blink, just for a second, before her expression hardened again.

“I don't need to justify anything to you.” She said between breaths.

“You don't. But maybe you should to her.” Yelena shot back, pointing the glass of vodka in your direction.

Wanda's gaze returned to you, and your heart raced. She was furious, but there was something else in her eyes - a mixture of concern and possessiveness that seemed to struggle to hide behind the mask of anger.

“Let's go, Y/n.”

It was an order, not a request.

You hesitated, looking at Yelena, who just shrugged as if to say: It's up to you. But the weight of Wanda's gaze was overwhelming. You lowered your head, biting your lip and holding back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Okay...” You whispered softly, giving one last look to your friend who just nodded.

Walking out of the party, you felt your body being pushed into some dark place and hitting the corner of some sharp iron, making you squeal in pain. However, Wanda seemed to care much more about killing you with one look.

Wanda was standing in front of you, her breathing heavy and her eyes glowing with a mixture of anger and something darker. You instinctively backed away, but the metal spike in your back reminded you that there was nowhere to go.

“Do you realize what you did in there?” Her voice was low, but charged with fury. “Dancing, drinking, rubbing up against anyone who paid attention to you.”

“I was just… trying to have fun.” Your voice came out shaky, but you tried to keep it steady.

Wanda let out a dry, humorless laugh, taking a step towards you.

“Have fun?” The word came out as an insult. “With Yelena pushing drinks at you and Natasha looking at you like she's going to devour you? Is that what you call fun?”

“And what did you want me to do, Wanda?” The words escaped before you could stop yourself. “Sit at home, waiting for you to decide that I deserve some of your attention? Be content to watch you be the perfect wife while I run myself ragged inside?”

The intensity of the silence that followed was suffocating. Wanda stopped, her eyes narrowed, as if she were measuring the impact of your words. Finally, she took another step, her proximity taking your breath away.

“Watch your mouth, young lady.”

“Why?” You lifted your chin, tears starting to form in your eyes, but your voice was defiant. “The truth hurts, doesn't it? I love you, Wanda, but you only know how to play with me! Use me whenever you want and then go back to your perfect life with Vision!”

Wanda didn't reply immediately. Her face hardened, anger flowing from her eyes like lava. Then, almost unexpectedly, she grabbed your chin firmly, forcing you to look at her.

“You're a spoiled brat,” she hissed, her sharp tone cutting through the air. “A selfish little girl who thinks the world revolves around her.”

You tried to wriggle out of her grip, but her gaze seemed to pin you in place.

Do you know what you need?” Her voice was lower now, almost a whisper. “A lesson. Someone to teach you to control that insolent mouth of yours and stop acting like you're the center of the universe.”

You swallowed, your heart beating wildly. There was something in the way she spoke, in the darkness of her eyes, that made you shiver.

“And you're going to be that person?” The question escaped your lips before you could think, defiant despite the tremor evident in your voice.

Wanda let go of you abruptly, as if the touch had burned her hand, her eyes blazing. The woman pulled your hair back, so violently that your head was taken with it.

“Attention. That's what you wanted, isn't it, little tramp?” Wanda turns you to face the wall while she still has a handful of your hair in her hand.

Wanda leaned towards you, moving closer until your faces were so close that you could feel the warmth emanating from her, along with the soft perfume that always accompanied her. Her heart seemed to be pounding in her ears, each pulse echoing like a drum.

“Do you want to know if I'm going to be that person?” Her voice was a whisper laden with something dark and irresistible. “Do you really want to test me, Y/n?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but couldn't make a sound. Before you could react, Wanda ran her fingers down the side of your face, tracing the outline of your jaw in such a delicate way that it seemed to completely contradict the brute force you had felt just a few minutes before.

“I should. I should teach you the difference between wanting and deserving. Because, honestly, you have no idea what you're asking for.” The words came out slowly, almost lazily, but loaded with a weight that made her legs weak, even though she was sitting down.

She pulled her fingers away from your face and held your chin firmly, forcing you to look into her eyes. They were dark, almost black, and there was an intensity there that made something in you freeze and boil at the same time.

“Do you think you're brave, teasing me like that? Playing with something you can't control? Little…” A smile curved her lips, but it was a cruel, predatory smile. “You have no idea what I can do to you.” Wanda rubbed against you, making you feel a roughness, something stiff in her pants.

Her hand went down to your neck, her fingers lightly touching the base of your throat. It wasn't a squeeze, but her mere presence there made you feel as if the air was being stolen.

“You know what the problem is?” She continued, leaning in even closer. “You think you can control this, but the truth is that you're already mine. Every thought that goes through your head, every time you try to challenge me, every part of your body-all of it already belongs to me, even if you won't admit it.”

She rubbed herself more and more, making her pussy feel gooey and sticky.

“I'm inside your head, your heart. Inside your skin, Y/n.” She laughed against your ear-as if it was silly of you to think you could change that.

You tried to say something, but her hand on your neck came up to cover your mouth, interrupting any words. Her smile widened, but her eyes were more serious than ever.

“Shhh… Don't say anything. Don't try to answer me. You've said enough, and look where it's gotten you.”

Slowly, Wanda pulled her hand away, but she didn't move from her spot, still close enough for the weight of her presence to be almost overwhelming.

“You want my attention, don't you? Well, congratulations. Now you have all of it. But I'm going to give you a warning, bunny…” She tilted her head, her eyes burning into his as she squeezed his neck. “If you keep challenging me, I promise you won't like what happens. Because when I lose control…” Squeezing, squeezing and squeezing. Wanda savored it when you ran out of air and gasped for it. “…no one will save you from me.”

You felt your panties being ripped brutally, and you bucked, already craving the woman's rough touch. The head of the belt caressed your entrance, like a kiss - or torture.

Lunch at Agnes' house should have been a simple distraction, a chance to sustain the Maximoff family's impeccable façade. Wanda knew how to play the role of devoted wife and loving mother to perfection. Vision at her side, always so polished, the twins running around the pool, laughing loudly, while she served drinks and exchanged cordial words with Agnes. A perfect picture of normality.

But you.

You were there, trying to disappear among the other guests, but

Wanda always found you. Her gaze had an unerring way of finding you, even when you didn't want it to. Especially when she didn't want to. The way you looked at her - full of something intense, something forbidden - made her burn from the inside out.

And then came the twins' innocent, or perhaps not so innocent, comments. They were sharp, as only children could be. “Y/n, you're so pretty. You'll get a boyfriend at church, I'm sure!”

Wanda froze for a moment, the glass of lemonade in her hand almost slipping. Their laughter seemed to echo in her ears, and then she looked at you. Her expression was a mixture of embarrassment and something else. Something that only Wanda seemed to see.

You blushed, stammered something to change the subject, but it didn't work. Wanda saw the discomfort, the hurt in your eyes, and something inside her clenched tightly. But it was different from what she had expected. It wasn't empathy. It wasn't compassion.

It was anger.

Anger at herself for wanting you in a way she shouldn't have. Anger at Vision, who seemed so oblivious to the storm roaring inside her. And, above all, anger at you. For being there. For feeling so much. For making her feel so much.

When you disappeared from the party without warning, Wanda tried to ignore it. She tried to convince herself that she didn't care. But the thought of you wandering around alone, your thoughts in turmoil, made her grit her teeth. Then, when night fell and you didn't show up for dinner, Wanda lost her patience.

She didn't have to ask where you were. She didn't have to search. A cold, sure intuition led her straight to you. Yelena. Of course it would be her.

The sound of loud music and laughter echoed through the night as Wanda parked her car in front of the club. She felt her chest tighten, the air in the car becoming heavy. Her hands were shaking slightly, but she wasn't sure if it was from anger or the anticipation of seeing you again - and bringing you back under her control.

As she entered, the atmosphere almost suffocated her. The smell of alcohol, the sweat of dancing bodies, and the throb of the bass in the speakers were oppressive. But it was the sight of you - in the middle of the dance floor, dancing with Natasha Romanoff - that really destroyed her.

The way you laughed, the way the light reflected off your hair, the closeness between you and the other woman… it was unbearable. Something feral and possessive grew inside her, darkening her vision.

Now with you here, in front of her. All Wanda wanted was to make you pay. Looking at your trembling, demanding body - already so ready for her… The woman releases you, stepping back and making you look at her with puppy dog eyes.

Wanda smiles darkly.

“Aren't you a precious little whore?” She asked herself. “Kneel.” You were so well trained by her, being her good girl.

“Suck my cock, make it juicy for you, little girl.” Wanda ran the base of the strap-on over your lips, making you open them slowly, taking the toy into your mouth, savoring the flavor.

“That’s right, honey…” It excited Wanda to see you like that, humiliated, subjugated, sucking the cum off your plastic cock after you disobeyed her.

Grabbing your head, the woman pushes it deeper into your throat, making you cough. “Shh… breathe through your nose, Dekta.” The excitement was all there. In commanding, directing your steps, humiliating you and then welcoming you.

“Stand up and turn around again. Face forward this time, as much as I love your ass, I need your eyes for myself.” Wanda said, already positioning the strap-on at your entrance, however she only introduced the toy when you said she could.

Arching your back and breathing hard as Wanda's cock stretched you wide, you murmured, "Mommy, harder!" Wanda's eyes, which had previously been filled with rage, shone with the definition of the purest, rawest desire.

"Oh, look at that… My little slut is showing her claws… She likes to be taken hard, huh? Fucked until that tight little pussy of yours is all swollen, huh?"

The woman began with the thrusts, making you delirious. She placed you on top of a table so that you could wrap your legs around her waist—loving this position.

You moaned loudly, crazy, and Wanda increased the intensity in response. "Scream! That's it, scream! Let everyone hear who you belong to… Yelena, Natasha… They're no one to you, they could never make you moan like that."

Wanda murmured unconsciously, crazy with desire. You howled when you felt Wanda's cock go deeper inside you.

"Yes, baby. Only mommy knows how to do it, right? Only mommy knows how to hit your hot, juicy spot, right?”

“Mo-mommy!” You gasped, feeling your legs tremble—announcing the strong orgasms you were going to have.

“Oh, do you think you deserve it, Dekta?” She asked, her mouth sucking on your neck. “After everything you’ve done…” Wanda dug her hands into your hips, leaving finger marks on your immaculate skin.

You whimpered, desperate.

“No, mommy! Don’t deny it, please! I can be good! I ca—” You cut yourself off in a strangled scream as you felt the woman’s index finger caress your clit, prolonging your orgasm.

“But I didn’t even deny anything…” She laughed, enjoying your desperation, “You’re such a smart bitch, aren’t you?” Wanda breathed. “Apologize… apologize to your mommy!”

“Yes! I’m sorry, mommy! I’m sorry! I'm a needy little slut who needs your attention all the time.” You said against her lips, grabbing the lower one and giving it delicious little bites, making her moan into your lips.

“Mine!” She squeezed your clit between her fingers, making you scream and burst into a strong orgasm. “Cum, sweet girl, cum on my cock.”

You trembled around her, throwing your head back, making it irresistible for Wanda not to bite the spot hard. When you returned to your natural state, Wanda gave you no rest—making you kneel again.

“I need something, Dekta…” She let out a shaky sigh, finally exposing her real needs. “Mommy's pussy is sore seeing her baby girl so naughty and needy, fix it now, Y/n.”

You were mesmerized by the way Wanda was rocking her hips in front of you—your excitement gradually building again.

You could smell the woman’s arousal in front of you, intoxicating you. Hungry, you attacked Wanda’s pussy—as if you were kissing her. Hearing the woman exasperate in approval, you continued to do it harder.

“A little more pressure, darling… Oh!” She exclaimed as you reached her burning point. With her eyes rolled back and a deep, guttural moan, Wanda came—having to sit down quickly because her legs were shaking.

You sat up and looked at each other—the insecurity still growing in your eyes at not knowing her thoughts.

“Let’s go, little one.” She said, her voice still hoarse. You followed her, of course—but no words were exchanged on the way home.

[…]

The hot water cascaded down, filling the bathroom with steam. The sound was soothing, drowning out the world outside. You sat in the bathtub, your knees pulled up to your chest, while Wanda gently washed your hair. Your eyes were downcast, avoiding hers, your face marked by the weariness of the turbulent night.

“Do you want to tell me what happened today? Last chance.” Her voice was low, without the harshness of before. She was calm now, and her tone sounded almost motherly, which only made the knot in your chest tighten more.

You hesitated, feeling her hand slide through the strands of your hair, her fingers methodical as she applied the shampoo. “I don’t know where to start,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Start with what bothered you,” she suggested, unhurriedly, her fingers still working gentle circles on your scalp.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes to let yourself feel the comfort of her touch. “It was lunch. It was… you and Vision.” The confession came out shaky, and you hated how vulnerable it sounded.

“Me and Vision?” She paused for a moment, her hands stilling before returning to work. “What exactly?”

“I don’t know…” you began, trying to gather your thoughts. “I know he’s your husband. I know that. But I can’t…” Your voice trailed off, and you bit your lip, trying to stop the tears from falling. “I feel like I’m alone… here. Like a shadow. Something you use when you want, but that will never be enough for you.”

Wanda stopped washing your hair and knelt beside you, ignoring the hot water that was soaking your clothes. She took your face in her hands, forcing you to look at her. Her eyes were softer now, but they still held that intensity that always made your heart skip a beat.

“Look at me, Y/n.” The order was gentle but firm. You obeyed, even if reluctantly. “I never want to hear you say that again. Do you hear me?”

You blinked, surprised by the seriousness in her voice.

“Do you think I would do all that for just anyone? Do you think I would lose my control, risk everything, for something that meant nothing to me?“

But I—” you tried to argue, but she interrupted, her voice lower, almost a whisper now.

“You’re not something I use. You’re… my refuge. My chaos and my peace at the same time. And yes, I’m selfish. Because even though I know it’s wrong, I can’t let you go.”

Her words disarmed you, taking you completely by surprise. You’d never heard her speak like that before, so open, so raw.

“But Vision, the twins… They’re your life,” you whispered, doubt still heavy in your voice.

“I love my boys, I would die and kill for them… But they, all of them, are my responsibility,” she corrected, her eyes burning into yours. “You are my choice, understand?” You felt the tears start to run down your face, mixing with the water from the shower. Wanda wiped them away with her thumbs, never looking away.

“I know I can’t give you what you deserve,” she continued, her voice almost breaking. “But you need to know that, to me, you are not replaceable. You are unique. And I would do anything for you, darling.”

You wanted to believe her, wanted to hang on to every word, but the doubt still lingered. Wanda seemed to sense this, because she leaned in close, her lips touching your forehead.

“Stop thinking.” She whispered, “Let me be in charge of everything, darling. Mommy will take care of everything.” Wanda helped you up from the tub carefully, holding your hands tightly as if you were going to break at any moment.

The water was still falling, warm against your skin, but you felt the heat of her hands more. She turned off the tap, wrapped a towel around your body and, with infinite patience, began to dry the wet strands of your hair.

The silence between you was filled only by the sound of the fabric rubbing against your skin, a moment as intimate as anything else you had shared.

“Raise your arms,” she asked, with a softness that contrasted with the undeniable authority in her voice. You obeyed without question, letting her put on a light nightgown on you, which seemed too big, probably hers.

As soon as she finished, Wanda took you by the hand and led you to her room. The bed was impeccable, the room perfumed with the soft scent of lavender. You hesitated for a moment at the door, but Wanda, noticing, gave a light tug on your arm for you to follow.

She laid you down carefully, adjusting the blankets around you, and then sat on the edge of the bed, watching you as if she were checking every detail to make sure you were comfortable.

“Am I still going to be punished?” you asked softly, your voice filled with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Wanda’s smile was barely noticeable, but you saw it. She tilted her head, her fingers caressing your cheek with the same lightness as a feather.

“Without a doubt,” she replied, her tone soft but full of promise that made your heart race.

You swallowed hard, but before you could think of a response, Wanda lay down next to you, pulling you closer. Her arms wrapped around you, firm and protective, and she began to run her hand through your wet hair again, an almost hypnotic rhythm.

“Now, close your eyes for me, kitten,” she murmured, her lips close to your ear. You obeyed, feeling her warmth envelop you completely.

She began to rock you with slow, deliberate movements, small, gentle pats on your bottom, following the rhythm of your breathing. It was an unexpected gesture, but strangely comforting, and you felt your body begin to relax.

“You are mine, Y/n,” she said softly, as if she were speaking more to herself than to you. “And I will make you understand that, in every way possible.”

Your eyes grew heavy, the tiredness and the feeling of absolute security finally overcoming the tension of the day. The last thing you felt was Wanda’s comforting touch and the soft melody she hummed, almost imperceptibly, before falling into a deep, peaceful sleep.

In that moment, as she bathed you, Wanda felt her own anger melt away, transforming into something more tender, but equally selfish.

The care she offered you was not just out of compassion; it was confirmation that you were hers. Every touch, every soft word, was a way of reaffirming that dominance.

And as she rocked you, she felt a peace that almost frightened her.

There was something deeply comforting about seeing you so surrendered, so vulnerable. As if, in that moment, nothing else in the world mattered except you, there, in her arms.

But at the same time, Wanda knew that she still had a long way to go.

Because as she tucked you in, she was also making plans. Plans to show you, slowly and deliberately, that you would never need—nor should—seek comfort anywhere else.

~*~

Y/n don't cry, your mommy is here.

UREVISED CHAPTER

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580 @valentine585

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @bees-for-brains @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @i-luv-w1menn @lesbiansweet

#mommy wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #mommy k!nk #elizabeth olsen x reader #lgbtq #lgbtqia #mommy k1nk #wanda x you #wlw post #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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lqveharrington · 4 days ago

Text

Timeless | T.B.

summary: tom said that in every timeline, you would find and love each other

pairing: all tom blyth characters above (plus alex) x fem!reader

includes: FLUFF, kissing, allusions of sex mentions of killing, threats, teasing

a/n: i just love me some tom blyth 🩷 also, all the other universes mentioned are the ones connected with my own writing for them, so see if you can spot the similarities between coryo and billy’s parts 😉

Ever since you began to date Tom, you've felt more love than you have in years. He was the kindest, most caring, and protective man you have ever met. He made sure every single interaction wasn't crossing any boundaries — not wanting to make you uncomfortable — and he made every interview and press conference never spoke badly about. It was all so courteous that it didn't take long until he decided to put a ring on it — hiding the engagement until you both posted wedding photos for your anniversary.

"It's your day off, stop scrolling through Instagram comments." You set down the cups of hot chocolate on the coffee table before taking away his phone, hiding it away in the drawer. He raised his brow as his hand found the curve of your hip, tugging you to sit beside him. "I'm taking away your phone privileges for the rest of the day."

"A day off with my wife if I stay away from the internet?” He tapped his chin in thought as his free hand went under your calves, pulling yours legs over his lap. “I think I like that idea, Mrs Blyth.”

His accent nearly made you swoon. You loved him for who he was, and the additional accent was a bonus you got lucky with.

You would never get tired of how kind Tom was to you — even after two years of dating, one year of engagement, and one year of marriage — you still were head over heels for him.

Meeting his iridescent blue eyes, you lean in for a proper kiss and smile when he pulls you closer. Tom tilts your head up to his with a finger, kissing you with the same passion he always used. You follow suit and only separate in surprise when he nips at your bottom lip.

"Rude much." You giggle and rest your head on the cushion behind you, hand coming up to touch your lip. “Such a tease, Blyth, such a tease.”

"It’s not my fault you’re so irresistible." Tom took your hand away from your face and began to individually kiss each and every finger, slowly moving higher and higher until he was back to your lips. “Would kissing you make you feel better?”

You pretend to think about it for a second, holding back a smile when you see him impatiently waiting for you to say yes. But the second he heard the beginning syllable of the word, he cupped your face with both hands and met your lips, enjoying your short yelp of surprise.

Tom pressed short kisses to your lips and smiled when you pressed a hand against the left side of his chest. He knew exactly what you were listening for, you did this every time you felt so much love from him.

When he finally pulls away, he glances down at your lips and smirks when he realizes that your lips were a shade deeper than they were earlier. He thumbed your cheek and tucked a piece hair behind your ear, kissing your cheek.

“You know what I’m thinking of?” He murmured, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder.

You shrug and look up, “What are you thinking of, Tom Keir Blyth?”

He rolled his eyes at the full name and kissed you silly again before speaking, hiding another smirk from your dazed look before you shook it off. "I think we would find each other in every universe. Fall in love just like we are now."

You hum and play with his sweater, thinking about the possibility. Even if you did exist in different universes, the chances of finding each other in every lifetime was slim, maybe even zero. But your love for one another was a flame — a magnetic force that always attracted.

After a few beats of silence, you finally say something in regard to the thought with a benevolent smile, wedding and engagement ring shining from the sunlight hitting it.

"I think so too."

“Hey, how was— What’s that for?” You start to ask him about his daily ride when you look up and see the bouquet of wildflowers, an array of pinks, blues, and purples. You grin at him and take the flowers from him, fingers gingerly touching the petals while silently questioning him.

Billy grinned back and his hand found its home on the curve of your hip. “Saw em’ by the forest as I was coming back. Figured m'pretty girl deserved all the pretty flowers.”

Your cheeks were starting to hurt by how hard he was making you smile. He was so infinitely lovable and you just knew when you got married to him, it would double by millions. He slowly began to thumb your hip and tilted his head down to accommodate your height with how close you were both standing.

“You’re sweet for an ex-outlaw.” You whisper and cling onto the flowers, eyes lighting up in mischief. You pull yourself impossibly closer, your lips dangerously close to his. "You are so in love with me, Bonney.”

“Am I now?” He murmured and noticed the hint of mischief in your eyes, a small smirk gracing his lips.

You went to answer but got cut off when he pressed his lips to yours, your initial shock fading into desire. One of your hands finding its way to his chest, feeling the heartbeat you felt so much love from. But as Billy’s hand slowly traveled south, your brother made the unfortunate decision to enter the living room.

“Didn't you say Billy was— Oh, ew!” Adam’s recoiled and turned around, gagging into his hands. The memory was forever going to scar him. He heard gasping and quick steps away, making him shut his eyes in revulsion. “Why are you touching her like that!”

“Adam—“ You try to speak over him, but he just kept going on about all the different things he would never do when he got older and how your parents would totally freak if they were the ones to walk in. How your dad would kill Billy if he ever saw whatever he was doing to you.

He continued to babble and babble, eyes wide in sickness. “Does pa know he touches you like that? He would have a day with Billy! I—“

“Adam, turn your ass back around and head into the kitchen. We’ll be over in a second.” You clamped a hand over his mouth, voice strict and eyes annoyed. Adam nodded swiftly in horror and quickly made his way back into the kitchen, wincing when you shouted again. “And you don’t say a word!”

You turn back around to find Billy standing there with the bouquet, his brows raised in full amusement. He sent you a wink — which you rolled your eyes to before approaching him and his smug face.

“William Bonney.” You stood in front of him and crossed your arms, tapping your foot on the wooden floor like a mother.

He tilted his head to the side and handed you the bouquet again, grinning when you snatch them out of his hands. Billy crossed his own arms — noticing your eyes drift down to his exposed arms. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.”

You scowl and yelp when he pulls you in his arms. Looking up at him, you push a finger to his chest and reprimand him. “Pull a stunt like that again and our shooting lessons will be turned against you.”

“I didn’t think he would walk in here, sweetheart.” He buried his head into your neck and pressed soft kisses to your neck. "I'm sorry,"

“In every universe, I’m sure someone would’ve walked through those doors, Billy.” You mumble and accept his kisses, running your free hand through his brown hair. "Trust me."

Knock Knock Knock

“Come in.” Coriolanus' voice rang out in his office. In the few seconds the door open and shut, he didn't hear the person announce who they were, his jaw ticking in annoyance. He looked up from his paperwork to maybe see an Avox until they softened at the sight of you. You were in the dress he just bought you, making him smirk in satisfaction.

“I brought lunch.” You smile and move to place the tray down on the side table by the small library in the room. "You didn't come down for lunch and I was getting worried."

Coriolanus sighed and ran his fingers through his blonde hair for what seemed like the nth time in one hour. “I needed to finish reading all the paperwork the Districts mailed earlier and I couldn't just discard it in the middle of completion. Even if it's all complaints." His piercing eyes watched as you grabbed a plate and handed it to him before you pulled yourself to sit on top of his desk, careful not to disturb the organized mess of papers. "How are the twins' studies?"

You crossed your legs and play with your rose necklace, watching the white snow coat the trees and ground outside. “Their governesses said they are doing exceptionally well today. Celine’s working on her long division and Lio is working on his poetry; which, by the way, is about you."

He hummed and took a bite out of the steak, his free hand finding your knee and thumbing the skin there. Coriolanus looked over your face, watching you mess with the necklace he got you all those years ago. Even after he offered to buy a new one, you refused to let go of the old one. It was your favorite thing he ever gave you.

Well, besides Celine and Aurelio of course.

"They'll be as smart as their mother in a few years." He glanced over at you, raising his brows when you shake your head, pearly whites peeking through in doubt. "What? You and I were practically tied for the Plinth prize before they changed the stupid rules." You still gave him an unimpressed look. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Your soft smile falters and your eyes darken as old memories resurface. “You really want me to answer that?”

You didn't mean to say that out loud — regretting it instantly and internally wincing when you saw his own eyes darken to the dark azure you knew all too well.

Coriolanus raised his brows at you and carefully stood, full six feet standing in front of you. He firmly grasped your jaw in his hand and tilted your head up to meet his eyes. You hid all fear away, knowing he wouldn't do anything to hurt you after you reduced him into nothing but a mess after leaving him long ago.

“You really want to ruin my day, beautiful? Because I can make this day worse.” Coriolanus murmured as his lips lightly grazed yours — almost daring you to continue.

“Noted.” You murmur back and earn a quick peck to the lips as a reminder that you solely were his before he removed himself from you. You watched him with careful eyes — almost like you were handling a stray cat — and continued to play with your necklace until you saw the storm clear from his eyes.

"Tigris is coming over tonight to fit us for the annual Christmas gala. She wants more leeway in case Celine hates her dress again." Your finger feels for the intricate details of the necklace as you remember the memory of a screaming five-year-old tugging at the dress her aunt took ages to make.

Coriolanus pursed his lips at the thought and shook his head. It was an absolute mess of a day, but luckily Tigris had made a spare dress for her. He pulled your crossed legs to lay across his lap, hand running up and down the space there without any care about the heels digging into his thighs.

“I thought we had a party to attend to tonight?” He tilted his head back and shut his eyes, still contemplating whether or not to even hold a gala this year.

You could feel his emotions radiating off of him. This time of the year was always bad for him, especially when he was already swamped with so much work. Slowly, you move closer to him until he opened his eyes again to find you sitting right in front of him, legs on either side of his.

“It's just Livia's get together, she won't care.” You murmur as your hands find his tie, tugging it ever so slightly. “Besides, tonight's a night.”

He brought his hands up to you waist and dragged you closer until you were sitting on his lap, eyes darkening once more. It was rare for you two to even have a night once a month, but it seemed like this month was going to have more than one.

"I thought we still had a week left." He rested a hand on your thigh, dangerously close to anything underneath your beautiful dress.

You put a hand on his chest and feel the rhythm of his heart, the one you knew loved you despite every obstacle you both faced. “Tigris is taking them afterwards, she wants bonding time with them.”

“A night it is.” Coriolanus murmured and met your lips, smirking when you let out a noise of surprise when he bites your bottom lip. Separating, he places on last kiss to your lips before helping you stand, adjusting your dress until you were decent. “I have a meeting in five minutes, I’ll come find you later.”

“I’m helping with decorating the manor. Again." You complain and adjust the ends of your hair, making sure they were perfect before adjusting Coriolanus' appearance. "The stupid Avoxes don’t know where the garlands go. They go in the same place they always do.”

“So picky, my love.” Coriolanus stood and placed another kiss to your lips, feeling you smile. He placed a few more kisses until you pulled away and rubbed the lipstick off his lips. “You just have to have your way no matter where you are, yeah?”

“Imagine in a different timeline I never got to decorate our house properly. It would be tragic.”

“Tragic indeed.”

When you went to get Alex from his room, you expected him to be ready to leave and just have a wonderful break from the school. But when you got there, he was still sitting at his desk, reading papers his students wrote. You roll your eyes at the man before knocking on the door frame.

“Alex, you realize today is the last day before winter break, yeah?” You give him a weird look from the doorway to his classroom, leaning against the frame.

“I do.” He flips the paper and reads the back, chuckling to himself at the sentences written down.

“Then what are you grading? They were due Wednesday.” You walked over to him and looked over his shoulder, huffing when you realize the papers were being covered by his frame. You waited a second to see if he even realize you were next to him before calling out his name again. “Alex?”

He looked up to the door only to jump back in surprise to see you standing next to him with an annoyed look. “Yeah?”

“If you don’t answer me properly, I will leave you here and decorate our place on my own—" You try to speak again when he looks down at the paper again, making you smack his shoulder with the back of your hand. “Alex Nilsen!”

Alex jumped again and packed away the papers into his messenger bag, standing to pull on his winter coat. “Sorry, done, I’m done.”

“You’re incorrigible.” You cross your arms and stare at him with an unimpressed look. As you watched the sun begin it's descent down, you didn't realize Alex took the opportunity to sneak behind you and press a kiss to your cheek. "Hey!” You whip your head around and send him a startled look before it softened into a joking pout. “That’s unfair. You didn’t even tell me what you were looking at.”

Alex hummed and let you rest your head on his shoulder, swaying side to side softly. “If you really want to know, I was reading letters my students wrote to you.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, pulling away slightly to meet his eyes properly. “To me?”

“Yes, you.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek again and smiled when you gingerly rested your forehead on his cheek. “They love when you come and visit me in the middle of class.” Alex nudged you softly. “Well, that and I stop teaching to talk to you.”

“Surprised you haven’t gotten fired for that yet, Nilsen.” You joke and squeal when he spins you around so your chest was against his, both of you wearing bright smiles.

“Maybe because I’m one of the best English teachers here.” Alex tilted his head to the side and sat down on his desk, letting you slot yourself between his legs. When you scrunched your nose at his comment, he sent you a confused look. “What?”

You shrug and you run your fingers through his hair, the small brown curls soft under your palms. “You have too big of an ego already for me to say.”

“Now you have to tell me.” He took your free hand and traced the lines adorning your palm. He waited for you to say anything, but when you didn’t speak and chose to continue running your fingers through his hair, he became impatient. “Come on.”

“I was going to say that you aren’t wrong. You’re one of the best English teachers in Linfield, Ohio.” You murmured and instantly regretted it when you say his eyes light up and a smirk grace his face. “Alex—“

“Oh, my ego just grew by a million.” He kissed the back of your hand.

“Shut up, I was being nice.” You complain and cover your face before realizing why all his students wrote you letters. “Besides, most of your kids do theater. They all come back to me at the end of the day.”

Alex pauses his teasing, thinking about his roster. “Holy shit, you’re right.”

You laugh softly and move to sit beside him on the desk, lacing your hand with his. You rest your head on his shoulder once more, squeezing his hand before you hear he speak in a much softer, loving tone.

“That may be why they love you so much,” Alex started and thumbed your hand, his warm smile reaching his eyes, crinkling their corners. “But never as much as I love you.”

You perch your chin on his shoulder and smile, blush coating your cheeks “You’re such a sap.”

“That loves you.” He turned his head and pecked your lips over and over and over until you put your hand on his mouth to stop him.

Your eyes brighten with so much love, your smile true to every word you uttered. “Love you too, Nilsen.”

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hotvintagepoll · 8 months ago

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Propaganda

Greta Garbo (Camille, Anna Karenina, Queen Christina)—Enigmatic and alluring and made me bisexual. The perfect example of the eroticism in silent films that literally transcends text. Could literally not change anything about her expression but you knew by looking at her eyes what she was thinking. She’s so gorgeous.

Audrey Hepburn (My Fair Lady, Sabrina, Roman Holiday)—Growing up, Audrey Hepburn desperately wanting to be a professional ballerina, but she was starved during WWII and couldn't pursue her dream due to the effects of malnourishment. After she was cast in Roman Holiday, she skyrocketed to fame, and appeared in classics like My Fair Lady and Breakfast at Tiffany's. She's gorgeous, and mixes humor and class in all of her performances. After the majority of her acting career came to close, she became a UNICEF ambassador.

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Garbo:

A cold-ass Swedish WLW Sphinx. Had plans to murder Hitler that she never got around to. "She will remain always a child of vikings, moved about by a snowy dream."

First of all, she's on the money; that's how much of a treasure she is. She's beautiful in such a distinct way you need very few lines to draw her. (Drawing by Einar Nerman) She managed to be mesmerizing in both silent and sound films. She kissed a woman in Queen Christina (and probably several more in real life). She was super dry and really funny in Ninotchka. She got the hell out of Hollywood and stayed out, living for almost 50 years after her retirement.

Garbo is one of the many reasons why I'm gay. If you haven't seen Queen Christina please do, She is so gender in that film. Also her accent makes it sound like she's always talking in cursive and it's so hypnotic (or at least I think so).

She's a gay introvert, like all of us here on Tumblr.

Probably a lesbian, absolutely a mood when she retired

Mysterious and aloof, charismatic and enigmatic, with beautiful androgynous characteristics, Garbo is undoubtedly the most eccentric and unique Hollywood vintage star. Her aversion to fame and stardom makes her even more desirable to the audience, and her insane chemistry with the camera, an actress one of a kind! Her particularity and her oddity is what discerns her strongly from her hollywood co workers at the time, noone was like her and would never be like her. I think, to the utmost extent, that she deserves the title of the hottest vintage star, even though that would be an understatement of what she is!

SO gorgeous, her thick Swedish accent makes will turn your brain into pudding

Audrey Hepburn:

"She may be a wispy, thin little thing, but when you see that girl, you know you're really in the presence of something. In that league there's only ever been Garbo, and the other Hepburn, and maybe Bergman. It's a rare quality, but boy, do you know when you've found it." - Billy Wilder

Raised money for the resistance in nazi occupied Hungary. Became a humanitarian after retiring. Two very sexy things to do!

where to begin......... i wont her so bad. i literally dont know what to say.

My dude. The big doe eyes, the cheekbones, the voice. The flawless way she carried herself. She was never in a movie where she wasn't drop dead gorgeous. Oh, also the fact she raised funds against the Nazis doing BALLET and she won the Presidential Medal of Freedom for her humanitarian work.

"It’s as if she dropped out of the sky into the ’50s, half wood-nymph, half princess, and then disappeared in her golden coach, wearing her glass slippers and leaving no footprints." - Molly Haskell

"All I want for Christmas is to make another movie with Audrey Hepburn." - Cary Grant

I know people nowadays are probably sick of seeing her with all the beauty and fashion merch around that depicts her and/or Marilyn Monroe but she is considered a classic Hollywood beauty for a reason. Ironically in her day she was more of the alternative beauty when compared to many of her contemporaries. She always came off with such elegance and grace, and she was so charming. Apparently she was a delight to work with considering how many of her co-stars had wonderful things to say about her. Outside of her beauty and acting ability she was immensely kind. She helped raise funds for the Dutch resistance during WWII by putting on underground dance performances as well as volunteering at hospitals and other small things to help the resistance. During her Hollywood career and later years she worked with UNICEF a lot. Just an all around beautiful person both inside and out.

youtube

No one could wear clothes in this era like she could. She was every major designer's favorite star and as such her films are time capsules of high fashion at the time. But beyond that, she had such an elegance in her screen presence that belied a broad range of ability. From a naive princess, to a confused widow, to a loving and mischievous daughter, she could play it all.

Look at that woman's neck. Don't you want to bite it?

#audrey hepburn #greta garbo #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 5 #Youtube

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muldermuse · 5 months ago

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An Unlikely Hero (ex boyfriend!Billy Butcher x reader)

this is going to be a multi part series!!! i love exboyfriend!butcher and he is on my mind constantly. if u would like to read more about him here’s some more posts! if you wanna talk about him pls send me your thoughts ❤️ dividers by @saradika ❤️

part one: the first date

the first time you meet Billy Butcher

You swore to yourself that this was the last Tinder date you’d subject yourself to. Last week, you matched and met with Jack who had a Homelander sleeve tattoo and cried to you about how hard it was to be a ‘true American’ nowadays. The week before that, it was Shay who seemed sweet but kept trying to ply you with drinks and invite you back to his place (he bragged that his ‘folks were out of town’, which would be impressive if you were a hell of a lot younger than you actually are). This week’s date is named Harry and he’s just not right for you. You thought it over texts but as soon as you sat down with him tonight; it was confirmed. It’s not even like you have a great previous relationship as a point for comparison, all romantic love has been fleeting and, with how things are going currently, you imagine it always will be.

It's a few hours later and Harry’s suddenly a lot drunker than you. You’ve moved from the overpriced restaurant to your favourite bar. The drinks are questionable in that they’re both incredibly cheap and very strong. You grab two stools at the bar which is overwise empty, apart from one man nursing a whiskey. You’re sure Harry’s drunker than you because he’s currently sobbing into his craft beer about how he hasn’t felt a connection with anyone since his ex-girlfriend, who left him 3 months ago for a co-worker.

“Like, you’re nice y’know. You seem like a nice girl” you try not to recoil at the phrase “but my ex? She was great. There’s no one else who’s ev-hic-ever been like her and there never will be”. The guy sat next to you at the bar mutters a “fuckin’ ell” under his breath as he gestures towards the bartender for another neat whiskey. His accent is completely out of place in this local dive bar; he sounds European. No trace of an american accent so you consider that he could be a tourist who’s wandered into a bar looking for a cold drink and some respite.

You try not to smirk at the utterance and tune back into what Harry’s saying, “I think we’ve both just gone through the motions tonight, don’t you agree? I can tell you’re not really into me and to be honest, I’m not into you”. You kind of admire his candor because he’s right, you’re not into him in the slightest but the next thing out of his mouth quickly dispels any misplaced respect you held for him. “I’ve been real lonely since she left though…maybe you could come back to my place-hic-she’s uh…some of her stuff is still there but there’s not a lot of it in the bedroom”. He’s that plastered that what he assumed would be a casual hand slide up your thigh becomes a full push, hurtling you into the whiskey sipping man next to you. You fall into his chest, it’s strong and kind of feels like slamming into a wall.

“Right, tha’s fuckin’ it” the potential tourist speaks and it’s only when he stands up that you realise how broad he is. He’s tall with thick black hair and the beard to match. His outfit is seemingly prepared for a spectrum of weathers with a Hawaiian shirt clashing with a thick overcoat. He’s older than you, definitely older but absolutely attractive. More attractive than anyone you’d seen on Tinder or, probably, ever in your life. “You alright there darlin’?” his dark eyes bore into yours as you nod and cough out a meek ‘yes’. You silently curse yourself, the first thing you say to this strong man makes you sound like a small frightened mouse.

“’M jus’ gonna get rid of your little pal there and then I’ll buy ya a drink- alright?” his hand rubs your bare arm and sends a flurry of goosebumps across your skin. The whole interaction feels more charged than anything you’ve had before with another human, you wonder if he’s feeling it too and pray that he is.

“Oh nice one man, I’ll have uh…another craft” Harry gestures towards the tap, completely oblivious to the situation in front of him

“All you’re fuckin’ gettin’ cunt is a helpin’ hand out that fuckin’ door. Now, I’ll ask ya politely one last fuckin’ time…fuck off” he elongates the 3 letter word. A comically confused look spreads across Harry’s face. “’M on a fucking date here man and she’s coming back to mine, aren’t you?”

“No” you quickly deadpan, shaking your head at the still unnamed man.

“There’s your answer then cunt, off ya fuck”

“Butcher- no fuckin’ blood on my bar this time man” the bartender shouts whilst idly checking his phone. Butcher? Is that the guy’s name?

Harry stands up, pushing out his chest which, if anything, only exaggerates how small he is in comparison. “I’ve bought her meal, paid for her drink and I’m go-hic-gonna take her back to my place and fuck her”. He finishes his sentence in Butcher’s face. Whilst you see a flicker of fear cross Harry’s expression; Butcher’s look borders on hysterical.

“Alright then big fella, I’ll tell ya what’s gonna happen” he slams his hand down on Harry’s shoulder, his eyes now boring into his. “You’re gonna fuck off back to your shitty little home, grab some lube, cry and wank to ya heart’s content about your ex who is probably ridin’ some big fat fuckin’ dick right now-yeah?” Butcher nods as if Harry’s going to agree with him.

Your date goes to interrupt but Butcher presses a finger to his quaking lips before he can start, “what’s not gonna happen, my sad little mate, is that you’re going to fuck her. She’s hadta listen to your fuckin’ whinin’ about your ex all night whilst you’ve fuckin’ insulted this gorgeous woman. So, get out before I throw ya through the fuckin’ window”. Harry’s lost for words, he doesn’t make eye contact with you as you stand silently behind Butcher. You see tears brimming in his eyes as he smacks $20 on the bar top.

“Fuckin’ old asshole” Harry spits as he shoves past the pair of you.

Butcher smirks at the remark, watching the door swing shut behind Harry before turning to you. “Right darlin’, whatcha havin’?”

It’s the best date you’ve ever been on and it’s not even a real date. You finally got his full name. Billy Butcher. Your heart races just to say it. He’s from London but has been in the States for a while. He asks all about you and you surprisingly find you’ve got a lot in common. He’s funny, charming and really fucking exciting- you have to admit. By the third drink, the chat goes from conversational to more flirty.

“The bartender said ‘this time’, do you do this a lot? Love saving a damsel in distress? Are you a hero, Billy Butcher?” you smirk at him and he returns it back to you. There’s lust in his eyes and you see him take your appearance in for what feels like the upteenth time since you sat down.

As he goes to speak, the bell rings for last orders and he takes your hand to help you off the bar stool. You down the remnants of your drink together and he puts his arm around you and escorts you out of the bar.

You don’t want it to end, he lights a cigarette and you thank any higher deity for the extra thinking seconds it gives you. He speaks before you get chance, “Will ya let me walk you home darlin’? Swear on my mum’s life I won’t try any funny business”. He holds his hand out like he’s making a scouts honour. Honestly, you do anything to spend a bit more time with him so you smile, link your arm with his and pull him down the quiet streets.

The air makes you feel drunker than you are. If you were sober, there is no way you’d be giggling like a school girl at everything this man is saying, yet here you are. Your arms are linked and you’re resting your head on his shoulders as you tell him about your horrific dating history. Everytime he laughs and accuses you of exaggerating you say, “Billy Butcher, I would never ever lie to you”. You say it because his name feels so fun sliding off your tongue. You barely see anyone on your walk home and the sound of your shared laughter fills the empty streets.

As you turn down your street, you wish you lived miles away so you could keep walking together for hours. Your stomach drops at the thought that you’ll never see him again. Which, you completely realise, is fucking stupid. This stranger threatened your date to leave but he also made you feel safe and laugh harder than you have in months. You pull his stride to a stop outside your house. It feels like some awful hallmark romcom or trashy romance novel.

You thank him for escorting you home and he turns down a nightcap in your house as “it’s not gentlemanly on the first date”. He shoots you a wicked grin again as he says, “my mum would be spinnin’ in her grave darlin’”.

You try not to let the heartbreak from that sentence show on your expression. “You’re a gentleman, Billy Butcher?”

“The best one around darlin’. I’ll prove it tomorrow when I take ya out for lunch”

A brief flare of anger hits you, “yeah, I hear that all the fucking time. The lunch never happens, I don’t see you again but then we bump into each other at the store and you apologise and say you’ll be in touch which, of course, you never will be”. You regret it as soon as you stop speaking.

Before you can apologise, he grabs a sharpie out of his coat pocket, takes your hand and scribbles down his number. “There, alright? You call me at any time gorgeous and I swear, I’ll fuckin’ answer and come runnin’”

His kiss to your cheek is soft yet restrained. “You’ll forget about me Billy Butcher, I know it”.

“S’not fuckin’ possible, darlin’”. He says goodnight and walks down your street. A plume of cigarette smoke trailing after him.

He keeps his word.

40 minutes later, and after one final glass of wine, you call him.

He answers on the first ring and says your name. He tells you where to meet tomorrow and what time to get there.

You hope he can always keep his promises.

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night-night-stories-before-bed · 3 months ago

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The sins of our fathers

Warning ⚠️; Mention of child abuse, alcohol

Pairing; Billy/Male Reader (with an accent xD)

Summary; You were supposed to study with Billy for an upcoming test. You didn't expect finding the bully half-naked under the rain trying to stay warm.

PS; sorry for not posting in a while, I’m working on like 5 stories 😂

~~~~~~~~

Everyone knew what a problem magnet Billy Hargrove was. Violent, racist and always up for a beer, he wasn't the kind of person you kept around you. Yet, you couldn't help but notice chilling similarities between the two of you. Only a fool wouldn't see them.

The little flinch each time a door was slammed, the tension in Billy’s shoulder when something would pass close to his face during sport or how quick he was at ducking and protecting his face during a fight. Yes. Someone was abusing Billy Hargrove just like your father did.

The realization had been like a slap on your face. Painful and stunning. You couldn't see the bully the same way anymore, knowing he acted like that just to protect himself and gain some control over his own life. You still couldn't stand his actions, but you also couldn't just turn your back on him. No one deserved to go through what you did alone and unlike Billy, you were free from your father.

He wasn't.

So little by little you got closer to him. Like with a wounded animal, you won his trust with food and drinks. Contrary to your beliefs, Billy wasn't stupid and quickly caught on to what you were doing. Yet he said nothing when he saw you shirtless, showing the gifts your father had given you.

At first, things were awkward between you. No matter the similarities you were also drastically different. Billy was like a loud pomeranian while you were a discrete black cat. Yet, your friendship only grew and you found yourself spending a lot of time with Billy. Many evenings and nights that you shared in the car, at your place or even at some parties that Billy would force you to attend.

Then you became his safe place.

Each time something would happen with his father he would either call or come to you. Shaking, silent and sometimes bloody. You always kept a first-aid kit full and a big bottle of brandy for those cases. Each time you would see Billy’s beaten body you would have to fight the urge to give Billy’s father the same treatment you gave your own.

And slowly, you began to fall for Billy Hargrove. Never before did you question your sexuality until then. Your eyes had always been on the girls, but now your attention was only on Billy just like you could feel his eyes on you. You noticed how he barely went out with girls and women anymore and instead stayed around you more. His favourite, and yours, excuse was to study while drinking. It both allowed you to spend some time together and also kept Billy away from his father.

That night was supposed to be one of them, but oh Lord were you up for a terrible surprise.

The rain battered your car as you drove, lights barely illuminating a few feet in front of you. Outside you could hear the cold autumn wind howling angrily as brown leaves danced around. Somewhere in the distance, the thunder rolled, letting you know that the storm was getting closer.

You stared at the road, squinting your eyes as you tried to stay focused. If a cat or dog jumped in front of your car it would end badly for it. Thankfully you arrived at Billy’s house without hitting any animal or person. You frowned seeing the absence of any light, which was unusual. Normally Billy’s stepmother would be in the kitchen preparing the food, Neil’s would be in the living room watching TV and yet…

Stopping the car you stepped outside after lightning a cigarette. You had to cover it so the rain didn't extinguish it. You hurried toward the porch before frozing on place had you spotted something moving.

Pressed against the door, only in his underwear, Billy was shivering and shaking. He was soaked to the bones and even in the dark you could tell his skin and lips were changing colour. How long had he been outside?

- “Billy? What the…” Your cigarette fell from your mouth as you all but jumped on your friend.

Taking out your jacket, you wrapped it around Billy’s shoulder. You cursed as Billy pushed you away, hitting your jaw as he whimpered in fear.

- “Oi! Billy, it's me. Its me, ya safe mate. Ya father is such a cunt, I bet he’s the one who threw you out, right?” You sighed, watching Billy calm down and lean in your embrace as you helped him up. “Aye, c’mere. The car is hot and dried. Should have a blankie or something in the back for ya.”

It had never crossed your mind that Neil could take things this far and put Billy in so much danger. Under your hands, you could feel Billy’s cold shivering skin and hear his little sobs. He was clearly fighting the urge to cry, which broke your heart even more.

You helped Billy to the car and quickly got in, turning the engine on before raising the heat to the max. Your eyes lingered on Billy, taking in his state. Under the car’s light, you could see the bruises turning almost black all over his ribs and thighs. Billy’s lips were split and his nose was still slightly bleeding. Seeing that, you tried to push Billy to lean down, but your friend flinched and jerked away, his shoulder hitting the car’s window with a loud thud.

- “Oi! Easy dickhead, ya nose is pissing red you idiot. Lean down before you choke on your own blood. Forget about the car, a bit of red ain't going to make me mad.” You said, hand gentle on Billy’s shoulder.

You could feel how tense he was, but he did listen to you. After he leaned down, still a shaking mess. You turned to search the back seat for the blanket you kept there. You found it under an empty box of beer and grabbed it. You slowly wrapped it around Billy, keeping your friend in a tight embrace and resting your chin on his back.

- “It's okay Billy, ya can cry your heart out. I get it. Been there, done that and I ain't gonna think less of ya for it.”

And it doesn't take more for Billy to just break down. You feel him shake as ugly sobs leave his lips and he sinks his fingers into your arm. You can feel his nails digging in your flesh knowing it will leave some pretty nasty marks, yet you don't care. You just hold Billy tighter against you, nose buried in his soaked hair. There is nothing more to say, nothing more to do but wait.

You can't stop thinking about Neil Hargrove, about how you hate and despise the man. This time the fucker took it too damn far. If you hadn't come Billy might have passed due to exposure. God! He could still get sicker than a rabid dog. No. Neil Hargrove had crossed the line and you couldn't let him continue because next time he might just kill your friend.

You closed your eyes as you felt Billy press himself against you, sinking your warmth and comfort. You gently stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head, showing him the care he deserved. Letting Billy know he was loved, and wanted by at least one person and that you weren't going to just leave him there. After what seems like an eternity, Billy slowly calms down, yet you don't dare to let go until he does. You grimaced as you felt his nails unstuck from your arms, the feeling a bit weird. You gave Billy a few tissues and as he wipe his face to face just wrap the blanket tighter around him.

- “Sorry. It's my fault, I deserve…” Billy tried to say, but you stopped him, your hand gently grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you.

- “No. Fucking not your fault, Billy. Whatever ya did, ya didn't deserve any of this. Fuck your father, fuck that bitch of his for letting him do all this.” You said, curses rolling on your tongue more than ever as you gesture, showing the bruises. “Swear I’m about to fuck him up good like I did my old man. Could bury him in the same hole too, trash should stay together after all.”

You heard Billy snort and you pressed your forehead together. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply as you tried to calm your own anger. Yeah, you really were serious about killing Neil Hargrove. No one would miss him but his wife. Fuck! Maybe the police wouldn't even be looking for him, who knew?

- “Please, I wanna leave. Take me the fuck away from here.”

Billy’s voice snapped you back to reality and as you opened your eyes, you saw the tears silently rolling down his cheek. Billy’s blue eyes were puffy and red but also filled with fear and so much despair. You nodded, moving away from him.

The drive back to your place was quiet except for the radio. You didn't even turn off the light, knowing it would help Billy to feel safer, almost like a child. For all the drive, Billy sat in a ball pressed against the door and fully wrapped in the blanket with only his hair and eyes coming out. He looked like a kid scared of the storm.

Thankfully your mother wasn't there for the night and you took Billy in. Since he was coming around so much you had a few of his clothes on hand and, after drying him, you helped Billy put them on before letting him rest with you in bed.

It took half a bottle of whiskey for him to stop shaking in your arms and by then you were both a bit tipsy. Billy was nuzzled against you, head under your chin as you had wrapped your arms around him. The covers were keeping you both warm, warming Billy up, but his skin still felt cold to the touch. You heard him mumbling something and rested your chin on his head.

- “Hush, I ain't letting ya back there. Fuck it, I think I'm gonna send him rest with my dad. Cunt can eat the flowers by the roots.” You said, closing your eyes as you felt Billy move to take a new gulp of whiskey. “That or I could tie the fucker to his car and send him flying down a cliff.”

- “You would really kill him?” Billy asked, resting the bottle on your chest as he sat and looked down on you, his blue eyes still puffy.

- “Ya. In a heartbeat. Fucker went too far, what if next time he fuck ya too bad and you die? I ain't letting him, ain't give him a chance. Ya going to stay with me and I won't let him touch ya ever again.”

For what felt like hours Billy just stared at you, judging if you were telling the truth or not. You never lied to him before and the alcohol always made you spill everything that you had on your mind and heart. His eyes were filled with so many emotions, that you could pinpoint every single one of them; surprise, sadness, doubt and then acceptance. You both knew you were serious and this went too far. You took the bottle and put it on your night table before Billy laid back down in your arms. You said nothing and just held him.

In the morning you will make a better plan and wait for the right time. Before the first snow, you would make sure that Billy was free from his own father. It would take time, but you knew that Billy would heal, you would make sure of it. But for now, you smiled as he felt Billy’s body relax before you heard his soft snores letting you know he had fallen asleep.

#male reader #x male reader #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x male reader #x reader #stranger things #fanfic #reader

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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

Text

When The World Seems So Cruel

prompt: ( requested ) Billy knows something's bothering his girl, so, he follows his instincts and checks on her - family, friends, and slutty cheerleaders in bikinis be damned.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 5.1k+

warnings: cursing, smut 'cause why not, boys being assholes 'cause they're losers, misogyny, toxic / abusive / neglectful family, description of background violence, angst, did Cherry really write it if there wasn't a helluva lot of projection and need for revocation of internet access?

"Miss Cahill? I'm sorry to interrupt," you half-smiled at your math professor, "but I was just wondering if you still had my test? I never got mine back."

"Right," she cleared her throat, glancing around your body to see most of the class empty at that point. "I wanted to talk to you about that," she paused to pull out your test from a manilla folder. "I was very shocked to grade this under your name, honey, you're usually such a well-focused and high-achievin' student, I mean, you're on track for the Nat Scholarship! So, to see this... Was shockin', it's... Not your best work," she winced, handing the packet over.

You blinked in shock, frowning as anxiety mounted in your chest when you saw the glaring F in red marker. You mumbled in embarrassment, "I guess I've just been off my game..."

"Honey," Miss Cahill sighed in her light country accent, leaning on her desk with both fists so your eyes met hers, "I can always tell when one of my students is goin' through somethin' at home."

You froze, shaking your head, "No, no, it's not... It's not so bad."

"What's goin' on?"

You shrugged, "I've just been... Really tired," you decided on excusing, hoping beyond hope it was enough.

It wasn't, of course it wasn't. Miss Cahill just sighed and offered, "I can let you retake the test next week - but only after you go see the guidance counselor."

"Right... Um, yeah, okay, yeah, sounds good; um, thanks, Miss Cahill."

You made an escape, distracted by the third failing test you received this week; nearly barreling straight into a meaty, solid chest. "Woah, hey, no need to run 'round lookin' for the man of your dreams, I'm right here, doll," Billy teased, hands grabbing your upper arms to steady you. "What's got you inna rush, baby? You know I pick you up after this class."

You smiled in brief distraction, "Yeah, sorry, baby, I was just thinking about this essay coming up. Hi," you offered, stretching up on your toes to kiss him in greeting. "How're you?"

He half-smirked, "I'm good, you know Mr. Brunson's got a stick up his ass as usual."

"Mhm. As usual, and totally has nothing to do with you provoking him," you teased, latching onto his waist as you shoved your test deep in your shoulder-bag. You neared his locker, and you managed to choke out, "Hey, um... Y-You wanna get outta here?"

Billy offered you a look of mild confusion, smirking with a strange laugh, "You wanna ditch school?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

"I'm just tired," you offered meekly, "I feel like I haven't slept in a week."

Billy lead you up to his locker, hand on your waist to keep you close as he mused, "This feels like a setup."

"It's not, I promise."

He yanked the metal door open, "Uh-huh. You told me when I met you that I'd have to practically kidnap you to get you to skip class. Huh? 'Member all that? All them lectures you gave me 'bout the importance of goin' t'class if I wanna do anything after this shithole?"

"Yeah, but things change, Bee."

Billy's face dropped, shoving his books into his open locker before turning, leaning his shoulder on the locker next to his, arms crossed as he stared at you. "What's wrong?" He questioned sharply.

"Billy, I'm just tired."

"No, it's something else. What's wrong? What's goin' on?"

You sighed, "You know what? It's okay, nevermind, I actually promised Eddie that I'd help him make those banners for SGA during lunch today, so," you glanced around, "I'm gonna go."

"Nah, baby, hol' up, I ain't mean - "

"I know, handsome," you promised softly, nodding as you reached for his waist to give a squeeze and keep him close. "I just forgot I told a friend I'd help them out, so, I'll just see you after, yeah?"

One hand rose to pet over your cheek, sighing, "You sure you're good? You don't look okay, sugar."

"I'm good," you nodded, deflating into his embrace and hearing him chuckle. "I'm just stretched thin this week, probably shouldn't make promises to my delinquent friends with all the college drama to worry about."

"What'd Munson do this time to only get banner-duty? Huh?"

"Probably got caught skipping or something," you mumbled against his pectoral; inhaling the scent of his mall-bought cologne and finding it a refreshing change from the CVS-brand he used when you first met. "School did something right by makin' everyone in detention serve the SGA for all their shit."

"Definitely got me to shape up," he joked, pecking the top of your head before finishing, "but I mostly missed out on time with you."

"Hey... I was thinking, maybe I can come over this weekend? Keep Max company, maybe keep Neil at bay? Can have a sleepover, too, if you want."

Now Billy's head cocked and his expression hardened, "The fuck you wanna come over for? You know how tense shit gets - "

"Billy."

"Nah, you're not makin' sense, pretty girl," he snapped, pulling back to stare down at you. "What's going on with you? You don't wanna be at home or something? The fuck's goin' on that's so bad you'd rather be at my place?"

You felt tongue tied, but the bell rang shrilly and literally saved you from needing to answer. "Shit, I gotta run, baby. I'll find you later, okay?" You promised, lifting onto your toes to kiss him, promising, "I love you."

He frowned, grumbling, "Yeah, love you, too." He watched you vacate the hall, his mind basically going blank to all other thought beside you. The entire lunch period, he sat on the hood of his car, chain smoking, wondering where he went wrong; what he did to upset you; what could be going on and most importantly, why you couldn't say anything to him about it.

However, after lunch, Billy found you in the library's designated SGA room and thought you appeared ten times as relaxed, laughing with Eddie Munson. When the punk caught Billy's eye, he nodded in respect; gesturing for you to look, and your head turned with a smile. You parted from Eddie and trotted up to Billy, feeling relieved when he grabbed you in a possessive hold; searing his lips to yours.

"Hi," you giggled.

"You seem happy."

"Kinda hard to be in a bad mood around Eddie."

"I can see," he lead you away. He wanted to bring back up about whatever was bothering you, but didn't; fearing ruining your joyful mood. Instead, his fingers just tangled with yours and you entered history together.

What should've been a decently peaceful class turned into a state of confusion for you and Billy when the intercom kicked on, the front office asking for your presence with the principal. Billy glared at the speaker box as you cast him a look of doubt, both confused by the summons; being all too used to them calling his name instead. All of history passed miserably; Billy alone without his favorite person to keep him on track and becoming antsy the longer you were gone. When you didn't return by the end of class, he grabbed anything you left and begrudgingly went to the last two classes of the day.

When the final bell rang, Billy waited for you at his car for a solid 25 minutes with several cigarettes being burned, but when you still didn't show, he grew worried. So, he stored everything in his Camaro, not needing to worry about his sister because Max got a ride home with her new bestie, Jane, and her father, Jim Hopper, and stormed through the school. Anger radiated off his very being, nearly stomping his steps, and just before he got to the front lobby, he saw you exiting the office.

You didn't notice him at first, and for a moment, Billy thought you were going to hurl whatever was on your stomach as you held a few pieces of paper in shaking hands. "Baby," he called your attention, finding your eyes light up at the sight of him. "The hell's goin' on? You were gone the rest of the day, I got worried."

"Yeah, it was some shit wrong with my college applications, but we got it straightened out," you lied, stepping into his embrace. "I'm sorry I worried you, handsome."

He met your lips in a kiss, promising, "Not your fault. C'mon, day's over, our weekend can start once we get the hell outta here."

"Hmm," you hummed dreamily. "Lemme go to my locker and we can get gone."

Billy didn't mind waiting, and when you were done at your locker, he escorted you to his car; only a few students still lingering after hours. He opened your passenger door, winking at you, then quickly jogged to his side and slid in. "C'mere," he breathed, reaching for your cheek instantly; hand sliding along the back of your neck and bringing you in close.

You moaned when Billy's lips molded to yours; all but instantly salivating when his tongue tangled with your own in a messy dance. You had a few rules about PDA, especially in school; but being in his car was neural territory and Billy needed a way to expel his neediness. Praising God for making today steadily warm and that you wore a skirt, you were ready to cry when Billy's hand came down to grip the meat of your thigh.

"Billy," you rushed when his hand traveled under your skirt to ghost over your panties.

"Nobody's here t'watch," he smirked. "C'mon, lemme do this for you, pretty girl. You don't wanna go home yet, right? Ain't got some curfew?"

"Nope," you surged forward to slam your lips to his, moaning when his hand now confidently pet your panties as your legs spread all the wider to encourage him.

"Good girl," he praised quickly, skimming the apex of your thigh to hook your panties and pull them to the side. "Mhm," he hummed with a cocky smirk, "I knew you liked getting fucked in public. Feel how fuckin' wet you are - shit, Goddamn."

You mewled; tension mounting as you tightened up from the stoking pleasure. "Billy - " You gasped when he plunged his fingers into your cunt, easily sliding in due to your arousal. "Ohhh, fuck," you breathed, eyes shut and mouth agape in pleasure, "needed this - needed this so bad. Just needed you."

"You'll get so much more, baby."

You whimpered, "Now, please. Please, please, please."

He smirked, "Wanna get in the back or ride me, princess? Huh? Tell me what you need."

Your eyes locked with his as you thought it over, but then, you smirked as you readjust the passenger seat and turned so your ass was propped up. It gave him a full view of your messy cunt; panties askew from his previous motions and fluid rubbed all around. Billy reached out with one hand to plunge his pointer and middle finger back into your core, the other wrangling open his belt, button, and jean zipper in frantic movements.

He shimmied from the garments and sat up, following your lead in adjusting his seat. He instantly mounted behind you over the center console, licking his palm and stroking his himself to life as he drug his cockhead up and down your wetness.

Billy reached out to move your panties once more, line himself up, and plunge full-hilt. You gasped and grunted, letting yourself be shoved forward a little to catch on the seat; Billy hissing between his teeth as your warmth enveloped him in a sticky-wetness. "Hang on, doll, ah, fuck, there we go," he chuckled, readjusting his position before starting to move his hips to create the most delicious friction.

"Fuuuuck, Billy!" You whined when he held both your hips with only one hand keeping your panties to the side.

"Needed this, too," he chuckled. "Good girl, fuckin' taking me so well. You'd let me do anything, wouldn't you? Fuck you however I want to, huh? Yeah," he lifted one hand to smack the meat of your bottom, creating a ripple; liking the way you twitched and delivered two more, finishing, "I know my pretty baby would let me do whatever I fucking wanted with her - " he clenched his teeth, hips punctuating his words, "'cause she was fuckin' made for me."

"Yes," you moaned, mind blank from all the previous drama of your day; ready to weep like a bitch in heat, "anything, baby, yes, yes, yes, anything you want."

"Good girl," he laughed ruefully; picking up the pace to fuck you outta your mind as he ensured you felt every throbbing vein of his engorged cock. He chased his own orgasm as you were charged with your own; hand reaching for your clit to start applying pressure in tight circles. "Let me cum in you, sweetheart. C'mon, baby, tell me I can cum in you - in this pretty pussy - in my pretty pussy - lemme fuckin' cum in you."

"Billy, fuck - yes, baby, yes! Yes, harder, please, fuck me harder and you can cum wherever you want."

"Even your ass?"

"Yes, Daddy, yes, anything you want! Fuck my ass full of your cum, please, fuck, I need it! Whatever you want, I need. Please!"

Billy's golden curls stuck to his forehead and neck, entire car rocking with frantic, animalistic movements - but anyone lingering around the school to see it wasn't surprised. Billy felt like he went faster than usual, that he got a little rougher; but he was nearing his end and it was hard to keep pace. When you cried out and legs shook from your flash-bang of an orgasm, he knew you had finished and could focus on his own; never pulling out.

He'd fuck your ass later.

"Fuck!" Billy came with a shout; shooting hot, salty, opaque white ropes of cum into your quivering cunt. He stuttered his hips into the meat of your ass, balls contracting; emptying himself inside you as you relished in the feeling of his warmth flooding your lower belly. He chuckled, mocking, "Might just have to get you off that pill so I can get you fucking pregnant already."

"Whatever Daddy wants."

Billy laughed as he pulled out of you slowly, instantly turning again to crash into his driver seat. You went a little limp but managed to turn over, both panting as the windows were fogged up; but aired out when Billy rolled two down to light up his cigarette. "So," he spoke through his inhale and deep breaths, "you wanna tell me whats wrong now?"

"Hmm?"

"Why're you so distracted? Distant? Even with me?"

You felt panicked by the confrontation, resorting to your last line of defense. "Just dealing with a lot," you answered as your legs spread as wide as you could to start toying with your beaten-pussy. He watched with a stoic expression as you used your fingers to stuff his dripping-cum back inside you. "'S been stressful, guess I just had a bad day," you whined lightly, still playing.

"Fuck's sake."

"Hmm?" You feigned innocence.

"You're just askin' for it, huh?"

"Maybe," you pouted, "or maybe I just need your cum - "

"Cut it out, we gotta go," he snickered, turning the key in the ignition. "Your dad hates me enough, can't have you late for family dinner."

You went quiet as your thoughts were plagued with a screaming voice that begged Billy to just read your mind and understand what was wrong - why you were so upset, so panicked. But you knew better. So, you flipped down your skirt and readjusted yourself, sucking your fingers of his cum before letting his hand tangle with one of yours on your lap.

"Maybe you'd wanna come over tonight?" You asked softly. "Go see a movie or something?"

"You never wanna go out on Friday nights," he chuckled, but something felt terribly wrong about the notion. "You do homework and study on Friday and Sunday nights, you said it was a relationship rule, huh?"

"Things can change," you pouted.

"I told Tommy and Ryan I'd hang with them and the guys tonight," Billy spoke slowly. "But I can cancel if you - "

"No, no, don't," you shook your head, "go see your friends. 'Cause I'll see you in the morning, right?"

"Right."

"And I can stay the night... Right?"

Billy nodded, "Anytime you want, baby, yeah."

"Okay, cool," you spoke softly, deflating in his seat when he pulled up to your house. "Um..." You stared up at the home as if it were haunted. "Do you wanna come in for a little?"

His head tilted and brows furrowed, "I have to pick up Max from Hopper's, remember?"

"Right!" You gaped, but didn't move.

"What's wrong?" He asked with a hardened tone, making you gulp lightly. "You don't wanna go in?"

"I could, like, just go with you?"

"Baby, the fuck's going on? Know I hate repeating myself and shit, so just fucking tell me - maybe I can fucking help."

"Nothing, no, it's just, it's nothing, I'm sorry, I just - I'm sorry," you chuckled. "Guess I'm PMSing and feel clingy or something."

He only hummed as you leaned over to kiss him in parting. Both promised you love each other before you got out, jogging up the driveway and opening the front door; pausing to wave at him and then disappear in the house.

"Yo, dickhead! Hey! Grab me a beer!" Tommy Hagan called to Ryan Sheen as he went to rummage in his uncle's basement fridge. "And grab Billy one, too!"

"Nah, I'm good," Billy refused, glancing at the can in his hand. It was still half-full. He didn't feel like drinking after having time to sit and think about your behavior the past few days, worrying about you more than he wanted to get drunk.

"What?" Tommy laughed obnoxiously, smacking his teeth after. "You don't want a second? What's wrong with you, got some test you gotta study for?" He laughed at his own joke. In Tommy H.'s mind, only fucking losers study on Friday nights.

"Nah," Billy eased, setting his can down as he felt his irritation flare. He was annoyed at Tommy, sure, but also by the idea that something was wrong with you and you didn't trust him enough to say anything. "I actually gotta go, you guys," Billy stood.

"What?" Now Ryan scoffed, slapping a can of beer to Tommy's open hand. "You're not serious, dude! We've only been here, fuckin' what? Half an hour, bro!" He sucked his teeth in annoyance, rolling his eyes, "C'mon, we were going to Alicia's pool party tonight - you're supposed to give us a ride! The fuck's more important than the slutty cheerleaders in bikinis?"

"That Maria chick's been all over you, too," Tommy laughed. "You can't tell us a single thing that's better than Maria Thomas, all soaped up, in that tiny bikini she wore for the car wash. It's all our wet dreams come to life, Billy, you can't seriously consider missing that!"

"Not everybody's desperate to see Maria's tit-job. You know what? Whatever, man, I gotta go see my girl," he tugged his jean jacket on, tugging his blonde curls out of the collar.

Ryan rolled his eyes as Tommy laughed, "No way. Nuh-uh. You're seriously going to fuckin' ditchin' us for that chick?"

"Man, fuck you, guys, I'm ditching your dumbasses for my girl," Billy snapped. "Better what your fucking mouths and how you talk about her."

"Whatever, man. You're just whipped."

"She got you on some leash or some shit? Got you on a curfew like she's your mommy?" Ryan rolled his eyes, groaning, "Seriously, dude, we only see you at practice now!"

"Look, I just know something's up with her, so, I gotta check on - "

"So, what!? She ain't even tell you why she's pissed off? C'mon, man, that is such a stupid fuckin' tactic chicks use to get guys to go crawling back to their spoiled asses! Bitches do the pettiest shit to get us to suck up to them and shit."

Billy turned and easily caught Tommy by the collar of his shirt before he could even let go of his beer can, slamming the loudmouth into the wall as the aluminum can clattered. Ryan and the two other irrelevant guys left in the basement could only freeze, knowing Billy Hargrove's aggression and not wanting to become part of the receiving end.

"I told you to watch your fucking mouth," Billy seethed.

"Fuck offuva me!" Ryan pushed Billy's arms off. "She's just some bitch, bro, you've already fucked most of the school - what's so different with her?"

Billy scoffed, nodding in amusement as he backed off a few steps. "You know? If I wanna go hang with my girl instead of you deadbeat dickheads, 's exactly what I'm gonna do. Not my fault y'all ain't shit and don't know what it means to keep a chick happy."

"Fuck off, Billy! You're so fucking pussy whipped!" Tommy barked. "Ditching us for that crybaby! Dude, it's not even real! She didn't even tell you whatever she's all upset about! You just had a feeling, so, just sit the fuck down, finish your drink, down a fuckin' second beer, and then let's go to the party! See some bitches that are actually worth seeing!"

Billy shook his head, "I ever hear y'all talkin' about my girl like this again," he chuckled dryly, "might be the last time y'all can even form words. Fuck yourselves," he sneered.

Billy didn't hesitate to storm out of the room, ignoring their jeers and sneers about him being "pussy whipped" and all their complaints about him skipping out on being their ride to "the hottest party of the year." The door slammed behind him, rattling a few windows; making a beeline for his Camaro and pausing at the trunk. He found a pair of your sports shoes you'd eventually need, grabbed them in a white-knuckle grip, then got in the driver's seat and peeled away.

When Billy got to your house, he noticed the lights in your bedroom were barely turned on; knowing you didn't like overhead lighting and probably had a string of lights plugged in. On the contrary, the rest of the house seemed wide awake - every single downstairs light turned on. He grabbed your shoes and his school books (left in his backseat) and got out of his parked car, approach the front door, and paused when a barrage of voices suddenly met his ears. He froze.

The screams were full of hate, and while he couldn't make out distinct words, he heard both your mother and father's elevated voices. It was relentless, it was full of anger and hate and confusion and accusations and Billy wasn't sure how long he stood there with his fist raised. With a deep breath, Billy finally knocked at the door... Then again... Then again... And again, using the metal knocker to bang rapidly. He heard the voices lower and stopped knocking; taking a step back, then waited with his best look of indifferent innocence.

When the door ripped open, Billy was greeted by your angry-looking mother, who didn't look at who was at the door when she snarled, "What the fuck do you want!?"

"Uh, yeah, um, hi, ma'am..." Billy waved awkwardly.

"Oh, Billy," she gasped. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize it was you, sweetie. What's wrong? What - What time - ? Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt so late, but nothing is wrong," he assured. "I just know your daughter's a little forgetful when there's a test comin' up," he chuckled, holding up the shoes and his books, "and she promised to help me nail this essay for my college portfolio... Did I use that correctly? Portfolio? She's always tryna broaden my vocabulary," he chuckled smoothly.

She smiled warmly, another victim to his charming influence, "Sure, honey, yes, of course, it's Friday or something, right, of course you can come in. C'mon, c'mon in." She stepped out the way to let Billy enter into the foyer. "Baby Girl's just upstairs in her room," she gestured with a wine glass Billy just noticed towards the staircase as she used your childhood nickname. They paused at the grand bannister, her eyes rolling when there came the muffled pounding of a bass-line from some song turned up to the max. "She's always blasting her music now adays, it'll make her deaf," your mother scoffed, taking a long sip, then waved him up. "Go on, get up there, good luck on your essay."

"Thank you, Miss Lady," he purred with a small smirk; nodding as he then watched her retreat to the sitting room, and barely a moment later, your father was exiting the kitchen.

"Billy," he greeted stiffly, glass of scotch in hand.

"Sir," Billy replied with a nod of respect, stepping out of his shoes (per household rules) to leave your parents at the front of the house's sitting room; beginning his ascent to the second level. He'd been there before, so, locating your room was like muscle memory; knocking when he approached the door and pausing when he only heard blaring music.

Another knock, no answer. So Billy opened your door.

You were sat on the ground, back against your bed, record player spinning, and the window you faced cracked open to waft the cigarette smoke out. His heart clenched when he saw you, your sadness nearly tangible as light made your tear-tracks on your cheeks glitter. "Baby," Billy spoke softly, watching you jump in shock. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I tried to knock."

You nodded absently, "Music's on."

"Yeah, 's a good song," he allotted as he shut your door securely and asked, "want it locked?"

"Doesn't lock," you answered robotically, looking back out the window.

"Can I turn the music down, baby, please? Real hard t'hear you."

You nodded and he lowered the volume - but when he did, he understood why you had it so high. Your parents could be heard arguing downstairs, and even with an entire floor between you, it was still loud. So, he turned the music up just a little, frowned, and moved beside you, grunting lightly as his tight jeans constricted while he sat.

"Can I?" He asked, pointing at the cigarette. You handed it over mutely, your usual quip of "it's may I, not can I," nowhere to be heard. After two puffs, he meant to hand it back, but instead, you just fell into his side as if all energy you had to keep you up was depleted; a nearly drowned-out whimper emitting. Billy saw the coffee mug you had been using as an ashtray and dropped the cigarette instantly, using both arms to tug you into his lap.

Billy held you in a fetal position, gently and slowly squeezing you into his chest as he needed to feel you close; and you evidently needed to feel physical love. Billy had to gulp harshly when he felt your tears soak his shirt first, then the jerking of your shoulders; quivering of your body. This long week had finally caught up.

"Baby," he sighed, kissing your forehead. And instead of asking the idiotic and repetitive 'are you okay?', Billy instead just asked in a hush, "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

Through your tears, you answered in a hiccuping-hush, "I didn't want it to be real."

Billy just sighed again, pulling you in tighter so you set under his chin. He let you simply rest, he just wanted to feel close to you... But something caught his eye. About three feet from you was your slumped, turned-over backpack; spewing contents as if it had been tossed aside in a fit of rage. What was interesting, though, was the crumpled pieces of paper; at least one sporting a huge, uppercase F circled in red marker.

"Yeah?" He whispered, sighing as he wanted to bite his tongue but couldn't. "Seems real enough to fuck up your grades though, huh?"

"I can retake the tests."

"You're gonna have to study."

"I know... 'S kinda hard to study here, though. Can't really focus on anything when all that's, you know, going on."

"No shit, Sherlock."

You snorted through your tears, "Don't make me laugh, I'm sad."

He smirked, "Yeah, yeah, all right. Listen, I'll just... We'll go to the library for tonight, and after, we can go to my place. How's that?"

"Thought you weren't allowed overnight visitors?"

"I'm not, but sneakin' inna my place can't be worse than tryna focus while here, right? Gotta be better than listening to this shit."

You nodded against his neck as a distant glass shattered, making you relent, "Touché."

"C'mon," he decided, kissing your forehead again, "pack a bag, baby. You're comin' with me - don't gotta stay here. Not tonight. Gonna come stay with me."

You pulled back just enough to ask, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, pretty girl," he smirked, caressing your cheek. "Might even let you do that green face goop thing you love bothering me about."

"It's an avocado face mask, and when your skin is literally glowing, you can thank me then."

Billy grinned down at you, taking the moment to swoop down and connect your lips in a long kiss; breathing each other in. When a second shatter sounded from downstairs, you flinched away, but Billy was quick to hush, "Hey, hey, hey," and when your eyes met his, he assured, "you're safe with me. Always safe with me." You nodded, tears shining in your eyes. "And you don't ever have to hide these parts of you - not from me. Never from me. I love you, pretty girl," he whispered, "and all parts that make you exactly who you are. Family included."

"I don't deserve you," you whispered.

"Nah, what you don't deserve is dealing with this shit. So, c'mon, get a bag together. We'll come back for what you need later, but get something together for the weekend."

You thanked him with a kiss, and while you got your things together, Billy mutely reached out to examine the pages in his grasp. He sighed, noting the three different failing tests and knew he had to "step up" his "boyfriend game" if he truly wanted to help you; and for the first time, he knew, without any selfish motives, he honestly did. He figured, for all you've done for him, providing you with something akin to a safe environment was a drop in the bucket; shoving those tests back into your school bag, standing, and helping you gather the last of your necessities.

Who needed slutty cheerleaders in soaped-up bikinis when this, right here, was what true love was? Shockingly, not Billy Hargrove.

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