#destroyer!chris fics

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bad Guy 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The men your mother brings home rarely stick around, but her latest catch can't seem to unhook himself from your life.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Note: I'm going to a physio today for the first time.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The house is quiet as you come out of your room. The single floor is just enough room for you and your mom. You’ve never needed much else and all your life, you’ve made do with what you have. It’s just the way it is.

You stretch your arms and arch your spine as you stop in the doorway of the kitchen. You yawn. You fell asleep reading outdated discussions about your most recent syndicated obsession. You should know better by now, that thorn in your neck is only driving deeper. 

You bend at the elbows to rub your neck and drag your feet over the cold tile. Your nipple poke rigidly against your cropped tank top and goosebumps raze up your bare thighs. You open the fridge and pull out the bottle of orange juice, your panties riding up with your movement.  

Before you can stand straight, a sharp strikes snaps against your ass and radiates through your flesh. You yipe and grip the bottle by the neck as you jump and turn to face the culprit. The strange man stares back, his brows twitching. 

“Mm, you’re not Gail,” he mutters. 

“No, I’m not,” you press the juice to your chest, overly aware of your barely covered body.  

You don’t ask who he is. You stopped doing that in middle school. She’s another one of her ‘callers’. You don’t usually see them more than once, if at all. Most leave before you’re awake. 

“Was takin’ a piss, heard you skittering around, thought...” he trails off into a shrug. 

He’s shirtless too. He only wears a pair of briefs as he stands shameless before you. A dark tattoo covers half his chest and extends around his shoulder and down his arm. It’s the typical snake and skull aesthetic sported by men like him. 

“Nope,” you reach for the fridge door and step to the side as you close it.  

He doesn’t move. You go to dip around him and he moves with you. 

“Taking all that with you?” He points at the bottle. You look down and sigh. You push it towards him. “Here.” 

He puts his hand under it and you let go. You skirt around his other side and squeeze through the door behind him. You don’t look back as you flee to your room. You resist the urge to reach back and cover the bottom of your ass, not wanting to draw attention to it if he is watching. 

You shut your bedroom door and cringe. Great. You can’t really complain. Your mother hasn’t kicked you out. Yet. Not like half your friends’ parents. She just asks for half the rent and you can manage that. With the rent around here, you’d be on the street otherwise. 

You cross the room and flop on the bed. You pull out your phone and go back to scrolling the old discussion boards. It’s funny. The more recent posts are totally contrary to the ones when the show aired. You’re not sure who you agree with. 

You roll onto your back and drop your phone to the mattress. You have to work at noon. So much for a relaxing morning. You’ll just be hiding in your room until that man leaves. 

A knock jerks you up and you roll your eyes. You search the floor and pull on the wrinkly pajama bottoms. You go to the door and crack it open an inch. It’s him. 

“Uh, hi?” You utter dully. 

“Got you a glass,” he offers one of the cups in his hands. You squint at it then look him in the face. 

“Thanks?” You go to take it but he doesn’t let go as you wrap your fingers around the cold glass.  

“There a problem?” He asks. 

“Uh, no,” you scrunch your nose. “I said thanks.” 

“I don’t like your tone.” 

You let go of the glass and retract your hand. His eyes flick down and yours do too. The white tank does little for your modesty. You cross your arms. 

“Okay? Well, never mind,” you go to close the door and he steps forward, digging his elbow into the wood as he blocks you with his body. 

“Your mom said you’re a nice girl,” he looks you up and down again. “Coulda fooled me walking around like that.” 

You frown. It’s your house. Why should you worry about what you’re wearing? Besides, if you knew he was there, then you wouldn’t wander around in your panties. 

“Thanks for the orange juice but you should just give it to my mom. That’s why you’re here,” you shrug. 

He scoffs. “Got a smart mouth.” 

“No, I—I didn’t do anything.” 

“There you go again. Disrespectful.” 

“Huh?” You shake your head in confusion. 

“That way you talk. Low and flat, like you don’t give a fuck. Maybe you don’t. Would explain why you’re grown living in your mommy’s house,” he mockingly pouts. 

You blink, “you don’t know me.” 

“I know girls like you. Pretending like they don’t care. You care. We both know you do.” He moves a glass closer, “say thank you. Like you mean it.” 

“I don’t want it,” you insist. 

“Don’t want to waste it. Was it you or mommy who paid for the bottle?” He taunts. 

You grit your teeth. What is his problem? Why won’t he just leave you alone? 

You deflate. You really just want him to go. You look at the ceiling then back to him. He’s the kind of man you would avoid on the street. His blue eyes are as cold as ice and his hair is shaved, but a little longer on top, and he sports a goatee amid the short stubble on his jaw and cheeks. 

“Thank you,” you reach for the glass again. 

“Thank you, sir,” his voice grizzles as he corrects you. 

You steel yourself and your lips slant. You really just want him to tell him to fuck off but like you always do, you don’t say what you think. You keep it inside. Put on that face that keeps you safe. 

“Thank you, sir,” you repeat after him. 

“Now smile,” he demands. 

You flinch and look away. You take a breath. That’s you’re least favourite, when they tell you to smile. It happens often at your job and it always sours your day. 

You force a smile. 

“Come on, you can do better,” he snickers. 

Your cheeks tremble and your smile falls. You tuck your chin down. 

“Can you please just leave me alone?” You mumble. 

“Excuse me, girl? I can’t hear you.” 

“I said...” your throat locks up and your eyes singe. God! When you get angry, you don’t get bold, you just get teary. You hate it. “I said ‘thank you, sir’.” 

You grab the glass so abruptly that it sloshes over the side. You don’t stop, you just spin and throw your weight against the door. He lets it close and it slams. You spill most of the juice down your front. 

You hear the friction of his fingers dragging down the wood. It sends a chill through you. You slowly pull away and put the glass down, juice dripping down your arms and chest. 

He’ll be gone soon, just like the rest. 

💀

Your mom’s still asleep when you leave for work. As you sneak out of your room, you listen for any sign of life.  If the man’s there, he doesn’t make himself known. You step into your shoes and leave through the front door without looking back. 

You head down the street with your earbuds in, a podcast about an old show you watched in high school droning on, as you take the shortcut behind the house at the end of the street. It’s almost four blocks to work but you save money on bus fare. You try to only waste the change after dark. 

The ice cream shop is never very busy outside of the post-soccer game crowds. You take your vigil behind the cold counter and bob along with the radio station’s Top 10 countdown. Miley leans in the corner by the till as she chews gum and scrolls through her phone. 

You’re fidgety to do the same, but you hate just letting your eyes glaze over. You pace a bit back and forth until her shift is up. When she’s gone, you feel a little less on edge. You always prefer being alone, you don’t have to worry about performing. 

Customers come and go. You greet them with the usual ‘how can I help?’ You’ve never been very good at the customer service part but you’re not rude. You just do your job, which it to scoop ice cream and toss some sprinkles around. 

You’re entitled to one cone a shift. You rarely have it. You don’t need the extra sugar or the brain freeze. That day, as you close up, the chocolate peanut butter entices you to go outside your routine. You put the lids on all the canisters except for that flavour and do yourself up a waffle cone before you lock up. 

You lick the softening cream and turn to face the dark plaza, lit only by the overhead marquee. There’s a car idling just by the curb. You ignore it. A few neighbouring businesses close up around the same time. 

The engine revs, and it jolts forward. The horn nearly has you throwing your cone. You fall back into step and keep walking. The Trans Am continues to follow you and honks again. The window rolls down as someone whistles. Only your name stops you. 

You turn and bend to see through the window. What the heck? It’s him. The man that invaded your house and threatened you over orange juice. 

You exhale through your nose and stand up. You turn down the pavement and keep going. The bus will be there any moment. 

“Hey,” he barks, “get back here.” 

You keep going. Why is he there? Because of the orange juice? 

The car door opens and closes. You speed up as you hear him following you. 

“Your mom sent me to pick you up,” he says. 

You snort, “sure she did.” 

“Really,” he says as his footsteps echo yours. 

“She doesn’t even know when I work,” you keep going and he catches your arm, yanking you back. 

You spin to face him and yelp. Your scoop shifts precariously in the cone. You try to pull away but not too hard as you selfishly want to keep your treat intact. 

“Alright. I offered. I heard you leave. Figured you could use a lift.” He squeezes and you whimper. “I can be a nice guy.” 

Can be. 

You wince and flutter your lashes, “can you let me go... please?” 

He opens his fingers sharply and lifts his hand, showing his palm. “Since you said please...” 

You look over your shoulder then back at him. Finally, you glance at your cone. You weigh your options. You’re not a quick runner. 

“I appreciate the ride but--” 

“I appreciate the ride, sir. Like I said, I can be nice, but respect is earned, girl.” 

You swallow tightly, cheeks pinching. 

“Sir, I appreciate the ride but I have money for the bus--” 

He clucks and points over your shoulder, “that bus?” 

You turn and watch the headlights blow by the stop. You flick your eyes to the sky and face him again. “Mmhmm.”” 

“So, is that a ‘thank you, sir’ on your lips?” He challenges. 

You slant your lips back and forth. You fight back a wave of hot frustration. You’re used to feeling powerless but he is suffocating. You nod. 

“Thank you, sir,” you choke out. 

“See, not that hard to be a good girl.” 

He waits until you move. You head back towards his car, and he gets in the driver side. As you claim the passenger seat, he huffs. He looks at you as you try not to acknowledge him. 

“Don’t like food in the car. Try not to get it all over,” he snarls. 

“I can--” 

“Just be careful,” he snips. 

Just be quiet, you tell yourself. You pull the seatbelt down and stare through the windshield. You lick around the cone as the cream threatens to melt onto your fingers. The car idles and you glance over. He watches your tongue as you lap up the trickle.  

You sit back as his eyes cling to your lips. He lifts his chin and turns straight. He grips the wheel and cranks the volume on the stereo. He speeds off and you struggle to keep from doing just what he warned you not to. You’d tell him to slow down but not only will he not listen, but the sooner you’re home, the better. 

[biteofcherry]

"We shouldn't-" your voice wavered as Chris unzipped your denim shorts and pushed them down.

You already felt exposed in what he insisted you wear, but now he was depriving you even of the scraps that barely covered your body.

"We're undercover and- and-" you tried to reason with him, but your brain seemed unable to follow the reasonable thinking.

Definitely not with Chris getting down on his knees, kissing his way down your body as he did.

His breath was hot on your skin; big, calloused hands rough on your trembling body.

You braced your hands against the rickety bathroom counter, gaze flicking up to the door which Chris purposely left unlocked.

"Exactly," came his reply, voice dark and sweet as honeyed whiskey. "They should believe you're my good little slut. And in their eyes this is what sweet pieces are for."

He pulled your panties down and hoisted one of your legs over his shoulder.

"They get licked into a drippy mess in a cramped bathroom at a gang's house and then pumped full of cum."

His nostrils flared as Chris leaned to your already damp heat. You saw a smirk forming on his lips as he looked up at you, a dark gleam of satisfaction in his steely-blue eyes.

"So make sure they hear you moan, baby. And keep begging like a needy slut I know you are for me."

[navybrat817]

Hi, Navy! Hope you don't mind the question, but who's gonna be in There's Something in the Water AU? c:

I don't mind at all, nonnie! I'll add under the cut characters who I have readers planned for so it isn't too long of a post since I like to add gifs. 😂

Bucky Barnes and William Miller who help nurse a reader back to health after a car accident. Too bad you're never leaving.

Pending reader nickname - Lolli

Steve Rogers who becomes a bit friendly with a reader who wants to get out of the city for a bit of quiet. What will Mrs. Rogers think?

Pending reader nickname - Bunny

Nick Fowler has a large home overlooking the town. Perfect place for the two of you, whether you want to be there or not.

Pending reader nickname - Doe

Curtis Everett who finds his reader running through the woods while hunting. It's too bad you stumbled out of one layer of hell just to fall into another.

Pending reader nickname - Mouse

Can't forget about the town mechanic, Chris, who helps his reader with a flat tire. He loves that you mouthed off to the sheriff.

Pending reader nickname - Kitten (or Kit)

Hal is a jack of all trades whose reader is renting a cabin and working on a novel. What happens when you try to leave?

Pending reader nickname - Lamb

There could be more? We shall see. Happy to discuss.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[georgiapeach30513]

Step Into My Ride, Part 3

Summary: why Chris hates Ransom so much.

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, restraints/tied up, voyeurism, cream pie, mentions of drug trafficking, unexpected pregnancy, arrest, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

He had eyed you for a while. He had dropped not so subtle hints that he wanted to take you out. He was typically the type of man you went for, and you couldn’t come up with a good excuse to tell him no, so you went. Against your better judgment.

Chris was nice enough. He was good looking. He was a cop. He was a good boy, and came from a good family. Exactly the type of man your mother would want for you, and still something felt off. Conversation was fine. It was easy. He loved to talk about himself, and you listened. Smiled at the right times, and even added just enough to his conversation. You complimented him enough, and Chris liked it.

Chris, however, did not think about the restaurant that he had brought you. Didn’t think anything of how he met you. Didn’t even notice his cocky nephew walk in with his woman for the night, but you did. Yours and Ransom’s eyes meet immediately, and you have to look down to the table to get your gaze off him. The two of you had been noticing each other for awhile, but you and he both were with other people.

Ransom’s mouth turns up into a crooked smile when he walks directly to yours and Chris’ booth. You gulp, looking at anything but him. Wanting to completely ignore what was happening, and then Chris’ hand grips onto your thigh, “Was there no race, Ranny?” He asks as Ransom and his girl slide in.

Ransom’s arm goes around her shoulder, but his stare is intently on you. “You would know. Cops were out hot like crazy tonight. So we just gave up. Lost a lot of money on that race.”

“You don’t lose money,” Chris snarls, pulling you closer to him. “You just gain.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Ransom’s voice is incredibly low, and you have to start fidgeting your fingers. He had this magnet that was pulling you closer to him. It was infuriating that you just had no self control, and you were on a date with someone else.

“Molly, I’d like you to meet my uncle Chris,” oh this was making things a lot more difficult. “Chris usually lets us know when the cops are a little crazy. Looks like he was preoccupied. So…what do you got here, Christopher.”

Chris introduces you to Ransom and Molly, and you immediately hate her. Hate that she had Ransom’s touching her, while you had a commanding hand on your thigh. Ransom leans back in the booth, his foot planting itself in between your own, and you try not to react. He was a cocky little fucker. Playing footsie with you while both of you were on dates. And you just so happened to be with his uncle.

“Yeah, I’ve seen this dame around. The past few times she’s been at the race, I’ve won big money. It’s like she’s my personal lucky charm.”

“And she’s on a date with me. You know, I think we should go,” Chris starts to edge himself out the booth, and both of Ransom’s legs hold you in place. He had no intentions of letting you go.

“I think you should stay,” his foot toes higher on you, and he chuckles when your legs drift further apart. “Come on, we hardly see each other anymore, Uncle Chris. I think we need to take this moment to spend some time together. What do you think, Lucky Charm?”

“Chris, we haven’t had dessert,” his booted foot rubs softly up and down your leg, getting as high up as your knee, and you get visions of fucking him in the bathroom. Making both your dates wait while he pounds into you with a hand over your mouth. “I hear they have really good cheesecake here.”

“I love cheesecake,” Ransom winks at you, and slick pools in your panties. Your body was heated up so much it was all the way in your cheeks. The urge you had to start grinding in your seat was making it harder to see. You wanted him. You wanted to push aside all reserves you had for Ransom. You need him all over your body. He was too bold not to know what he was doing.

“Fine. We’ll have dinner tonight. But then maybe you and I can spend some time alone. For our first date?”

“Yeah. Sure,” that wasn’t convincing in the slightest, and at least Ransom understood that. At this point you were throbbing so hard you were ready to sit in Ransom’s lap while everyone watched you bounce on top of him. It was unnatural and animalistic. But you wanted it.

Chris may be oblivious to things, but you weren’t. You saw everything. Ransom’s arm leaving Molly’s shoulder. The conversation quickly turning into just you and Ransom. The way you were trying to scoot away from Chris, and lean across the table to give Ransom your undivided attention. A moth to a flame. You were the delicate little moth, and Ransom was a ball of fire that you couldn’t look away from.

“Mother fucker,” Chris tosses his phone in his cruiser. Another call went straight to voicemail. There is no other place that you would be. He even saw you at the race for the first time. He had nothing else to lose.

He shouldn’t have left his post, but it didn’t seem like there was anyone checking for the hooligans trying to conduct an illegal race. There was a shift with you the moment that Ransom had sat down at the table, and he didn’t trust his nephew. Ransom always got whatever he wanted, and how he wanted it.

Chris was the bastard son of Harlan Thrombey. Barely even recognized by his siblings as one of them. Ransom was looked at as more important to the family, and he was a criminal. He was only a grandson.

“You son of a bitch,” Chris growls as he sees Ransom winning a race and going straight to you. Treating you like a common whore. His hand goes under your shirt, and cups your breast as he crashes his lips on yours. Basically fucking each other out in public. A needy little slut, and you were letting Ransom use you.

Trash. For all that Ransom had, he was trash. His mother and grandfather would be so disappointed. As would yours. Daughter of the school headmaster, and your mother was a model. Your grandfather was a state senator and grandmother the president of the D.A.R. Chris had looked into you. You deserved better than the life Ransom was pulling you into.

After this race there was only one place Ransom would take you, and Chris was going to wait and see just how close the two of you were to breaking up. He had his rituals. He only kept girls for a month. No more. And just before breakup, he sends you about your merry way after sex. Slowly growing distant

“Oh god, Ran!” Your shouts could be heard outside of the garage. If anyone wanted to watch, it would be easy. All the lights were on. There were no blinds on the windows. But to see you with your hands tied to the ceiling as Ransom fucks into you from behind infuriated him.

Ransom wasn’t even looking at your face, just his dick being sucked back into your cunt. Looking at how shiny your juices was making him. You were a tied up plaything. Even when your knees start to give out, Ransom grips tighter to your hips, keeping you on your feet. “Please! Please, Ran!”

“You’re almost there, Lucky. Give me one more, and I’ll let you rest, I promise.”

It felt like he had been using you for hours. Couldn’t even bother taking you somewhere special. Just tied you up like the rest of them. But even Chris couldn’t deny that this was different. It never lasted this long. He never talked to them. He never touched them with the care he was giving you. But the biggest surprise comes when you sigh, feeling Ransom’s warmth spurt deep into your womb, and his thrusts slow down.

Both of you panting so sweetly, and he pulls you back to him. Removing your hands from their restraints, and starts giving you the sweetest kisses. His hands drift down your front, and softly plays with your clit while you whimper in his mouth. And then Chris sees it; Ransom’s cum starting to leak onto your thighs. Ransom doesn’t do that. Even admitted boldly that he would never do that.

“You wanna stay here, Luck? Or you want to go back to your place?”

“Here, baby. Uhh,” you whine as he pulls himself out of you. You grab at his hand, sucking each finger clean, all while staring up at him like an angel. “Maybe you can make sweet love to me in that little bed?”

You didn’t even care that Ransom lived at the fucking garage. Ransom could have been anybody, and he chose to be a nobody. This pissed Chris off even more. You should already have been in his bed. You were his, and yet just another thing Ransom had stolen from him.

You swing your arms down, letting the cars rush past you, and solemnly walk back to the crowd. You didn’t know how you were going to tell Ransom. You were both adults though. Both of you were not careful. Both of you participated each time that you had fucked. But those tests did not lie. Every single one. All of them with the same result.

You wanted the baby, and wanted Ransom. And you weren’t sure if you could have both.

“Luck, what’s wrong?” Chris steps up behind you, and you flinch a moment. You know he wasn’t happy with how you didn’t return his calls, but you were — preoccupied. “Lucky?”

“Nothing,” but your lip trembles. “It’s fine.”

“Fine doesn’t make you cry at a race.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be patrolling?” Chris taps a police scanner, “Oh,” he holds up a partially smoked joint, and you decline without hesitation, causing Chris’ brows to raise.

“Since when did you stop smoking? I thought that was how you can stand to be around that prick.”

“Don’t say that,” your eyes look out into the distance, barely able to hear the rumble of the cars anymore. “I love him.”

“That came from nowhere,” the distaste was heavy on his tongue. You may love Ransom, but Ransom saw you as an easy lay. Someone that didn’t want to argue about having to sleep at a garage to stay with him. “You don’t even know him.”

“I do. I know him more than you think. He’s…he’s not like you assume. Not when it’s just us,” Ransom was the opposite of what everyone else saw. He was gentle, patient, kind, funny, and so loving. He never even wanted his hands off of you.

“Oh, you mean he doesn’t want to fuck you in a car, while there’s a crowd of people around you.”

You scoff. Chris didn’t fully understand. He couldn’t. He was rarely around the two of you. He stayed away, and when he was around it was just him glaring at Ransom. “Wow. You’re acting like they were surrounding the car and watching Ransom and me fuck. They weren’t even paying us any goddamn mind. I guess except you. What is you’re fucking deal?”

“He’s using you!” You shake your head, starting to walk away, but he grabs your wrist too hard. Not letting go of it. “Yes, he is. Letting everyone here know you’re off limits. He…Lucky you’re not even using protection. What happens if…” your breathing picks up, and finally, his hold loosens when your tears start back and your chest starts to heave.

“Oh my god. You’re pregnant. With…with his bastard.”

“My baby is not a bastard! You better shut your fucking mouth!”

“Luck, you can’t stay with him. You live in a studio apartment, and he lives in a room in a garage. You can’t raise a baby in either of those places. You know exactly what’s going to happen when you tell him,” he didn’t know what he was talking about. Chris was just feeding your worst fears. Ransom wouldn’t leave. Ransom would stay. He knew what unprotected sex was going to do.

“He’s gonna leave. He doesn’t want kids. You know how many times he told me he doesn't want kids?”

“Then maybe he shouldn’t have been coming inside of me. What is your problem? You — you don’t know anything.”

“I know Ransom. Just…let me be the daddy, if you need to keep it.”

“Had to add that ‘if’ in, huh? I’m keeping my baby. And I’m keeping Ransom. Thanks for the offer, Chris. Thanks for making a pregnant woman think the worst of her boyfriend. You know nothing about us. You think Ransom is winning all this money for dope? Why do you have to be such an asshole? I needed comfort tonight,” the roar of the cars returning. It wouldn’t be long until Ransom was beside you, and the two of you could talk.

“I just know how he is.”

“Did you know we found some land? Course you didn’t. You’re too busy being jealous. Chris, I like you. But I’m in love with him. I’m having his baby. And you can accept that or fuck off.”

“Luck, I don’t need you to hate me. I need you to know that the offer stands. I have stability with the police. I can offer you more than just this life,” with the headlights now visible you step away from Chris. You didn’t want to continue this. You wanted Ransom. You wanted to talk. Partying wasn’t for tonight.

“She’s pregnant,” Ransom slumps down in a chair in Chris’ office. “And I’m scared to death.”

“Because you don’t know how you’re going to break up with her?”

“What?” Ransom shakes his head, laughing at how uncomfortable this was. “No, we bought land. But I can’t build a house in such a short amount of time. I don’t have the money for that.”

“Unless you start selling,” Chris had long been trying to get Ransom to run for him. Said that he had the perfect avenue with the garage and the racing. Ransom wanted a relatively honest living. One that didn’t include drugs.

“No. I’m not doing that shit. I told you I wasn’t going to sell. I want an honest life at the garage, and extra cash from the racing. So much has been put back into the garage, and she gets it. Man, she’s perfect. I didn’t want kids, but one with her doesn’t sound bad at all. Are you kidding me? I can’t wait. I don’t care if we lived in a double wide trailer,” Chris rolls his eyes, settling back in his seat. “What?”

“A trailer?”

“They have nice trailers.”

“You could have money to build a house on your land.”

“I don’t deal in dope. I’ve got a kid coming. I can’t risk a felony charge for drug trafficking,” Chris starts to laugh, which only infuriates Ransom more. “You can’t guarantee just because you’re a fucking cop that I won’t get caught. I’m not running drugs. I’d rather ask my parents for money than risk losing my child and her. You know she wouldn’t stay with me. Luck is the real deal. She won’t stand by me if I’m arrested.”

Ransom pulls a box out of his pocket, opening it up and he stares lovingly at the ring. It wasn’t the most expensive, wasn’t even a real diamond. But he knew it was going to be beautiful on your finger, “She deserves something real. This was less than three hundred bucks, and at Walmart. I have to pick and choose. I’m going to do right by them. And our money is now towards a place to live.”

Ransom doesn’t say anything more, only stands up to leave, “Don’t come at me with that offer again. You need to get out of that shit, too.”

Ransom always had everything figured out. Knew how to steal his girl. Knew how to make extra money without risk of a felony. Knew how to change his mind to make a girl stay. Chris hated how everything came so easy to that fucking prick. He hated him. He hated Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

Chris takes a long toke of his joint as he stares at yours and Ransom’s trailer. Every light in the house was off. It is quiet. Serene. The only thing visible was Gracie’s night light casting pictures on the ceiling. He pulls out his phone, “They’re all there,” hanging up quickly, and settles back in his seat. Front row to Ransom’s worst nightmare.

You stir in your sleep. Your hand drifts up and down Ransom’s chest. “Shh, go back to sleep, darling,” Ransom mumbles, giving you a soft kiss on your head. He wraps an arm around you, holding you tight against him, “Love you, my Lucky charm.”

“I love you, Ran,” your voice is already getting heavier as the sleep takes you over again. You never wanted to miss a night sleeping next to him. Having his boxers so low that his groomed hair was poking out the top. Ransom was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

The team surrounds your home, someone stationed at every door, and every window. The master bedroom was to the east side of the house, and not a peep was coming from the room.

You jolt up in bed as the doors break in. Standing up trying to get to Gracie’s room before something hard hits you on the chest, “Stay the fuck down!”

“You get your hands off her!” Ransom screams as a police officer slams him face down on the floor. Tears fill his eyes as he watches you immobile. Hit so hard that they knocked the breath out of you. “Let her go! Lucky! Luck, darling, are you breathing. My god, she’s trying to get our daughter,” Ransom’s tears turn to rage when he hears Gracie’s terrified scream. “Let her get our baby!”

“Mommy!”

“She can’t breathe!” You finally gasp for air. Gaining more strength when you hear her voice again. “Let her go!” She needs you. She sounds so scared, and you can’t move. Could barely breathe. Struggling to say her name. You need your baby.

“Mr. Drysdale, do you have any weapons in the house?”

“Gracie,” you croak out. “Please, let me get my daughter. She’s crying.”

“She’s fine,” the officer screams in your ear, and then Gracie is able to run past someone. Seeing you on the floor, and screams, reaching for you. “Calm the child down!”

“She’s scared. She’s a baby! Please. Please!”

“If you let them go, I leave without a fight. There’s guns in the closet safe, along with some cash. Just let them go!” The officer holding Ransom down nods to your captor, and they release you, and you dash towards Gracie. Grabbing her up and pressing her close to your body, trying to soothe her tears.

“Ransom Drysdale, you’re under arrest for drug trafficking. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” you stare horrified as they lift him up to his feet. Cuffing his hands behind his back, and pushing him out the door.

“Daddy! Where are you taking my daddy! No! Daddy.”

“You have the right to have an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court,” they push his head into the car, but his eyes stay in front of him. Face as hard as stone.

“Can I get him some clothes?” You ask, still holding Gracie close to you. “He’s just wearing boxers. H-h-he needs shoes.”

“Mrs. Drysdale…”

“Let me get him some clothes, please? He’s been arrested for…for what?”

“Did you know anything about your husband’s drug running?”

“I-I-I…” you look out to the police cruiser, remembering the words that Ransom said, “I’m not speaking without a lawyer. Let me get him some clothes. And let — god, can our daughter see him for a second? Sh-sh-she’s scared, and you…you took her daddy.”

“Get him some clothes,” the officer says, following you into the bedroom where they were ripping everything apart. Sleep still addled your brain, and this was quickly becoming overwhelming. Your home was being destroyed right before your very eyes.

“Oh god. What…what are you doing?”

“Do you have somewhere else to go tonight?” Snapping his fingers, the other officers stop their search. Pointing over to the closet. Even what you grab out for Ransom to wear is heavily searched. Pockets pulled out, and shoes looked into before they give them back to you. “Ma’am, your home is going to be searched, do you have somewhere else to go?”

“Can I pack us a suitcase?”

“No.”

“What about her nightlight, and doll?’

“No.”

Dammit. “Can you get us some fucking shoes then? My god, what is going on?”

“Where are you going?”

“To Harlan Thrombey’s. Can I go see Ransom now?” Still an officer stays with you as you walk clothes out to Ransom. “Baby?”

“Tell Harlan to call my lawyer the minute you get in. Don’t talk to anybody. Don’t let anyone but Harlan and mom be alone with Gracie. Not even Chris,” you nod your head. You didn’t want to ask too many questions, because Ransom wouldn’t answer. “Baby girl, daddy is going to be away for a while.”

Gracie shakes her head no, reaching for her dad, “No,” you were getting about fucking tired of that word.

“Daddy! Daddy, don’t leave me. I get scared at bed time without you.”

“Gracie, you be good for mommy, and gramma, and Pappy, okay?” Gracie’s face scrunches up tightly. Tears pour down her face, still reaching for him. “Daddy will be back. No matter what, daddy loves you and mommy.”

“Daddy, no! Daddy, I’m scared!” The officer slams the door, separating you and Gracie from him, and he gives the top a tap, as it starts to roll away. “Daddy! I need my daddy! No, gimme my daddy back!”

“Ma’am, I suggest you and your daughter go somewhere else tonight.”

“Can you not…god, I have a studio with expensive camera equipment.”

“It’s all being seized,” he walks away from you, and you watch horrified as figures discard items in your home. You couldn’t watch this anymore. Couldn’t calm Gracie down.

Chris takes his final hit of the roach before tossing it onto the ground. Smiling to himself as he backs his car off your property. Ransom didn’t win this time. Finally he was getting what was owed to him. And finally Chris was going to get what always belonged to him. You. And now Ransom was almost out of the way. And there would only be you.

His. You were always his.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @elrw24 @midnightramyeoncravings @saiyanprincessswanie

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

Another month, another rec list! Please make sure you give these gorgeous stories and writers the love they deserve. As always, you are responsible for your own media consumption. This blog along with the majority tagged are 18+ only and contain adult themes.

Sam Wilson ✨

Clubs and things by @samwilsonsbabymama

Sam Wilson x Reader

Heat by @fluffyprettykitty

Sam Wilson x female reader (no other specifications)

Naughty list by @lunarbuck

Sam Wilson x f!reader (any race)

Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers ✨

Ready to comply by @navybrat817

Incubus!Stucky x Enhanced!Female Reader

Lee Bodecker ✨

Your guilty pleasure by @sweeterthanthis

Stepdad!Lee Bodecker x 18+F!Reader

Bucky Barnes ✨

Sunrise by @maladaptivexxdaydreaming

boyfriend!bucky barnes x fem!reader

Red, white and you by @breakablebarnes

DILF! Bucky x MILF! reader

Marked by @jadedvibes

Beefy!Bucky x reader

Wrapped in red by @maladaptivexxdaydreaming

Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Steve Rogers ✨

Tomorrowland by @onsunnyside

nomad!Steve Rogers x reader

Spoils of war by @navybrat817

Gladiator!Steve Rogers x female!reader

Sick little games by @cockslutpadalecki

Steve Rogers x Reader

Soldier Boy ✨

Fangirl crush by @targaryenvampireslayer

Soldier Boy x female reader

Lloyd Hansen & Nick Fowler ✨

Flying dirty by @jobean12-blog

Lloyd Hansen x reader, Nick Fowler x reader

Andy Barber ✨

Innocent by @jadedvibes

Andy Barber x reader

Off the clock by @straywords

Vampire! Andy Barber x Secretary! Reader

Ari Levinson ✨

We'll get there by @worksby-d

dad’s best friend!Ari Levinson x fem!Reader

Curtis Everett ✨

Together forever by @syntheticavenger

Vampire!Curtis Everett x reader

Destroyer!Chris ✨

Something in the way by @sweeterthanthis

Destroyer Chris x F!SW!Reader

Eddie Munson ✨

Slippery when wet by @lilacletter

eddie munson x girlfriend!reader

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Bad Guy Masterlist

Summary: The men your mother brings home rarely stick around, but her latest catch can’t seem to unhook himself from your life.

Status: In progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

[genesbolly]

hey gotg fam!! i love peter and gamora more than life itself so i had to write them :) i've written for marvel before but not specifically for guardians so i tried my best haha

what's mine is yours (to some extent)

gamora keeps on stealing peter's zune. it's cute.

until it isn't.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48496216

[navybrat817]

Jaw clench to smile. ❤️

SEBASTIAN STAN as Chris Destroyer (2018) Dir. Karyn Kusama

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bad Guy 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The men your mother brings home rarely stick around, but her latest catch can’t seem to unhook himself from your life.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Note: we can't be ready for this man.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Chris sits at the table, his phone in one hand, his other resting latently on the denim stretched around his thigh. You approach and resist the vision that flashes through your mind. If you were braver, you might just dump the mac and cheese all over him. The scalding sting in your ass keeps you compliant. 

You put the plate in front of him with a fork. You say nothing and back up. He huffs and drops his phone heavily. 

“Not gonna offer me something to drink?” He snarls. “Know your ma, it isn’t any surprise you don’t got any manners.” 

You flinch and stop. You just want to go to your room and for him to leave you alone. Why is he even here? 

“Do you want a drink?” 

He sighs and clucks. “Yea, I want a drink.” He says each word with emphasis. “You think you can handle it?” 

“Yes... sir,” you utter. 

“Beer. I know your ma got at least a can left.” He demands. 

You nod and go to the fridge. Your mom won’t be happy. She counts her alcohol, not her money. Still, you don’t care. You just need him to leave you alone. 

You take out a beer and return to him. You put it down as he scoops up a forkful. He leans forward and shovels it into his mouth. He sits back and chews, swallowing tightly. “Open it.” 

You grab the can and crack the tab. You put it back down. He reaches for it and guzzles half of it in a gulp. You go to retreat and he snaps his fingers at you. You stop. Again. 

“Whatcha tryna run away for?” He growls. 

“I’m not. I’m going to clean the pot.” It’s a lie but a convenient one that sounds true. 

“Mm, fine,” he shoos you with his finger. “Ya think you’re gonna keep a husband making boxed noodles? Gonna have to at least learn to make a meatloaf or something.” 

“Yes, sir,” you go to the sink and turn on the water. You scrub at the scratched pot as you try to tune out his chewing. 

You finish and dry it off. You put it back in the cupboard and cross your arms. You turn slowly and reach for the wooden spoon. You try not to react as your flesh speckles with the shadow of his assault. You wash that too and put it in the dishrack. 

You turn and he clears his throat. 

“I didn’t dismiss you,” he sneers as his fork clanks onto the plate. 

You face him, “I was just going to grab my phone--” 

“Why?” He asks. 

You flinch, “I don’t... know?” 

“You ask me first.” 

“But...” you squint at him. 

“Don’t you put that face on or I’ll wipe it off,” he warns with a jab of his thick finger. 

You frown and chew on your agitation. You don’t know why you’re putting up with this. He’s an intruder. 

You shake your head and spin. You don’t have to do this. Your mom brought him home, she can deal with him. You storm off and hear him grunt. You speed up as the chair scrapes on the floor. 

You run to your room and slam the door behind you. You flip the lock behind the handle as he hits the outside. You scour the room in search of your cell. It’s on your pillow. You swipe it up and dial your mom’s number. 

You put the phone to your ear and cover your other as Chris pounds on the door. “What’re ya doing? Don’t you be a little bitch now! Let me in.” He thumps on the wood. “Listen here, girl. I’m giving you one chance to open up or you’re in for it.” 

Your mom doesn’t pick up. Of course, she doesn’t. You know she’s probably too drunk to care. You huff and hang up. You face the door. 

“I’m calling the cops,” you holler at the door. “So you better go.” 

“Go ahead,” he hits the door again, “I dare ya.” 

Your lashes flutter and your hand quakes. You get a grip on the phone and tap 9. The whole door jars in the frame as he throws his weight against it. You whimper as the wood cracks and he does it again. The clasp snaps loudly and the door flies open.  

You cry out and hit one. He storms towards you and knocks the cell from your hand before you can tap again. You swing your arms out to ward him off but he catches you around your waist. He hauls you off your feet. You claw at him as he grunts and growls. 

“Every mark you leave on me, I’ll give ya double,” he barks and as you try to scratch him again, he bites down on the vee of your thumb and index. You shriek and he pinches until you can’t bear it. He finally releases and you shake your hand out with a whimper. “Try me, girl.” 

He drags you out of the room, your feet barely scuffing the floor, as he keeps you locked in his arms. You wriggle as you try to get free. He gets you to the kitchen and hurls you away from him. You hit the counter and bounce off. 

You land on the floor and roll onto your stomach. You wheeze from the impact. You plant your elbows and knees and try to lift yourself. He stomps over as you hear a clatter on the counter and he steps over your body. He drops down to straddle you. 

He grabs your neck and pushes your flat. He pins you, your cheek to the tile, and he moves off of you, kneeling at your side. You get a glimpse of the same wooden spoon as it descends and he batters your ass again. 

“Ow! Please!” 

“Too late, girl,” he grits. “I warned ya but you just can’t behave.” 

“No, no, please. I’m just... why are you doing this?” You whine. 

“’Cause you just can’t help yourself,” he stills the spoon and tugs up your shorts, exposing you. “I’m gonna teach you what happens to bad girls.” 

He hooks his leg over yours and forces your thighs apart. He prods around with the handle of the wooden spoon. You twitch and tense as he pokes down your ass and between your legs. He presses the end against your cunt and you spasm. 

“No--” 

He wiggles the spoon, pushing it against your clenched lips, until he breaks past your resistance. You shriek and slap the floor at the dry intrusion of the spoon. Your disbelief is underlined with horror. This can’t be happening but the arid pain assures you it’s all too real. 

He jerks his wrist and pushes it deeper. You holler and scratch at the tile helpless. His grip tightens on your neck and he thrusts the spoon in and out, deeper and deeper, as your eyes spill over with tears. 

As agonizing as it is, it’s degrading. You are nothing. He’s defiling you as if you deserve it. As if you are his very own plaything. 

“Please-- stop,” you gurgle, “ow, ow, ow,” you heave between your whimper, “ow, it hurts.” 

“Damn right, it hurts.” He rams the spoon into you again and you wail. “Remember this the next time you wanna fuck around, huh?” 

“I wasn’t--” you wheeze and grab onto his arm, trying to shove him off. “Please, please,” you beg. “Owwww, I’ll be good--” 

He rips the spoon out and you cry out again. But there isn’t a moment of relief. He shoves two fingers into you, rocking his hand as you wriggle and whine. He dips in, deeper, deeper, harder, harder, until you’re trembling and weak. 

You pant and lay limply as he demeans your body. It’s only when you’re completely still, almost dissonant, that he relents. He drags his fingers out of you and wipes them on your shorts. He moves his leg off of yours and sits back on his heels. 

“Now you know what the fuck happens to snitches,” he growls. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you babble dumbly as you hide behind your eyelids. “Sorry, please, no more. No more.” 

“Better be no more,” he swats the back of your head. “Got it.” 

“Yes,” you sniffle, “yes... sir.” 

“Mm,” his soles scuff as he gets his footing and stands. He grabs the back of your shirt and wrenches you up, strangling you as you struggle to find an ounce of strength. “You wanna be good? You gonna dress like a good girl.” 

He twists your shirt around his fist and forces you across the kitchen. Your legs are wobbly as you nearly fall against him. You get your balance, barely, and he marches you onward. He shoves you into your room and you hit the floor again. 

He goes to your dresser as you lay on the floor. You cup between your legs as your insides throb hotly. You watch him as your tears dry up. He digs through your drawer and pulls out a pair of your panties. 

“What’s this?” He stretches the boy shorts. “Ain’t no ladies’ clothes.” 

He tosses them to the floor and continues to search. In the next drawer, he takes out a flowered dress with cap sleeves. You don’t wear it very often. You have no reason too. 

“Here,” he throws it at you and it shrouds your face. You pull if off your head and sit up. “Get fucking dressed.” 

You look down at the dress then back at him. He stomps around and bends to pick up your phone. He turns back to you. 

“Do I gotta repeat myself?” 

“N-no,” you murmur and climb to your feet. 

“Damn right,” he goes to your bed and flops down, adjusting himself to recline against your pillows. 

You look down and gingerly move around to put the dress on the foot of the bed. You undress, skin on fire as you strip down in front of him. You feel him watching your every move. You pull the dress on before you shimmy out of your shorts, hoping not to expose yourself entirely. 

You hiccup and sway back and forth. He rumbles, “what d’ya think? Get over here.” 

You waver and clutch the sides of the short skirt. You don’t know how much worse he can do but you don’t want to find out. You obey in hopes that he won’t hurt you again but you don’t think there’s anything you can do to avoid that. 

You go up the side of the bed and stop close to him. He reaches to toy with the short hem of your dress. He clucks as he pokes his finger against the fabric. 

“You fucked anything but that spoon before?” He taunts. 

You flinch and stare at the floor. You shake your head. He chuckle. 

“Course you ain’t. You don’t know what to do with a man. Well, I’m about to teach you, girl,” he yanks on your skirt and you stumble against the bed. “You wanna get mouthy with me, well, then we’ll put your mouth to use.” 

He spreads his legs and snaps his fingers. He points between his knees and you follow the gesture with your eyes. A new well of tears springs forth. He laughs again. 

As you crawl onto the bed and over his leg, he opens the button of his fly. Your lip trembles and you dare to look him in the face. His zipper splits the thick air and he reaches into his jeans with a smirk. 

“Open up, girl. I’m about to show you what a woman’s for,” he pulls himself through his fly and strokes himself. You bow your head and close your eyes, mortified. 

You want to scream and run but you know better. It’s already, you can’t make it any worse. You open your eyes and look up at him, mopping your cheeks as he plays with himself. 

“You’re kinda cute when you cry,” he snickers. 

[navybrat817]

Navy! I know we have only seen an intro for There's Something in the Water. May I ask who will be in it?

Hi, nonnie! Of course, you can ask. ♥️ Characters who have readers in no particular order:

Bucky and Will

Steve

Nick

Curtis

Destroyer!Chris

Hal

These characters are referenced in some of the stories, but I don't have readers for them at this time:

Steve Kemp

Andy

Lee

Hope you lovelies enjoy! Love and thanks. ♥️

[branded-witha-j]

This is so fucking good!

Destroyer!Chris !!

huh- that’s a good one.

wordcount: i don’t fucking know

Dark!Destroyer!Chris x Reader

Your breathing is ragged, shallow puffs in and out of your nose because Chris won’t remove his hand from your mouth.

“You gotta be quiet, sunshine,” he pants, his breathing just as labored as yours, though his breezes through his smile as his lips ghost against the shell of your ear.

Your hipbones burn from where he has you bent over the kitchen counter in Silas’ house and you know they’ll bruise from his rough pounding. Every time he bottoms out, shoving you higher up the counter, you yelp behind his hand. He’s impossibly deep and you feel like if he goes any further, he’ll split you right in two.

“So glad they partnered us for this case, baby. Couldn’t wait for an opportunity to get inside this pretty cunt.” He uses his hand over your mouth as an anchor, pulling you back into his thrusts as he speeds up and there’s a cool whisper of air from the movement of his body that reminds you that your slick is slipping down your legs.

The friction of him thrusting into you sparks flames at the base of your spine, your thighs quaking with the impending climax he will inevitably force from you. “I can feel you clampin’ down, sunshine. Why don’tcha just let go for me? Let go for Daddy.”

Your eyes roll back, your breath catching as your whole body tenses- your orgasm taking you over and lighting all of your nerve endings on fire. “That’s it, baby, that’s it- give it to me,” he praises, through gritted teeth, fighting the pulsing resistance your pussy gives him. His rhythm get sloppy, his hips clapping against your ass harder until he stills, a warmth blooming from your middle as he spills into the vice tight grip of your cunt.

Finally, he uncovers your mouth, and a cry slips out just as he does, your body sore and overworked. You stay still as he pulls up his pants, straightening his denim vest before he leans down and places a kiss on your cheek. “Thanks sunshine, I needed that.”

He walks away, back to the party in the back room where Silas and Petra are drinking heavily, and as you right yourself you feel what he did to you slip down your leg and cool on your skin.

You mean like that kind of Dark!Destroyer!Chris?

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

Here's the first rec list of 2023!! Please make sure you give these gorgeous stories and writers the love they deserve. As always, you are responsible for your own media consumption. This blog along with the majority tagged are 18+ only and contain adult themes.

Happy reading 🔥

Bucky Barnes ✨

Cordially invited by @navybrat817

Modern Knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Female Reader

Dress you up in my love by @jobean12-blog

Bucky x reader

Thin ice by @angrythingstarlight

Beefy Biker!Bucky x Reader

Adventures in babysitting by @navybrat817

Florist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Relax by @kinanabinks

Nerd!Frat!Bucky x Reader

There's really a wolf by @flordeamatista

DBF!Mafia Bucky Barnes x Mafia!Princess Reader

Ravenous by @navybrat817

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Good peach by @wndalovebot

bucky barnes x afab!reader

Picture perfect by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia!Bucky Barnes x reader

Peaches and cream by @angrythingstarlight

Baker!Bucky

Covet by @labella420

Dark!Mob! Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Vodka on the rocks by @kinanabinks

Bestfriend!Bucky f!reader

A little help by @mavsstar

DBF!Roomate!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Forever by @callingsergeantbarnes

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader 

Eddie Munson ✨

Chefs kiss by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader

She drives me crazy by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader

Made for lovin' you by @beefybuckrrito

Eddie Munson x fem!reader (any race)

One hot ticket by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader

Steve Rogers ✨

Wicked games by @honeystevie

Steve Rogers x Asian!reader

Tonight by @springdandelixn

Husband!Steve x Fem!Reader

Run rabbit run / trapped in a tangled web / mistaken identity by @dreamlessinparis

Dark!Steve x F!Reader

Colin Shea ✨

Maybe in the meantime by @rebel-stardust

Colin Shea x female reader

Ari Levinson ✨

Good for you by @flordeamatista

DBF!Ari Levinson x Reader

Little fears by @onsunnyside

Biker!Ari Levinson x naive!reader (biker x baker au)

Solve the riddle by @geminixevans-stan

Retired Pornstar!Ari Levinson x Black!Reader

Our last summer by @summerofsnowflakes

DBF!Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader

Steve Harrington ✨

Unearned confidence by @sharpsapphic666

Steve Harrington x reader

Lee Bodecker ✨

Pressure by @thornsnvultures

lee bodecker x plus size!fem!reader

Andy Barber ✨

Marked with my initial by @frostironfudge

Incubus!Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Sam Wilson ✨

Love you in a thousand ways by @targaryenvampireslayer

Sam Wilson x female reader

Multiple characters ✨

Late night visitor by @dreamlessinparis

Mob!Destroyer!Chris x F!Reader x Mob!Bucky, Lee Bodecker x F!Reader (established couple, married)

The chase by @targaryenvampireslayer

Dark!alpha!Sam Wilson x female!omega reader x dark!alpha!Bucky Barnes

Three's a party by @traitorjoelite

stucky x reader

[bigtreefest]

Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration!!

I can’t believe it, but I’ve hit 300 followers! Thank you so much for everyone who has helped me get here and all the encouragement and love you’ve shown me. You have no idea how much it means💗 *please excuse the terrible graphic that I made on my lunch break. I tried, I swear. 🥳🥳🥳🥳🤷🏻‍♀️

For the occasion, I’m hosting a writing event! I’d love for you, yes you! to join in the celebration!! I know what you’re thinking: ‘well Essie, how do I do that?’ Let me tell you!!

Gather up all the sweet, summer vibes you can muster, along with one or multiple of the prompts listed below, and write a fic! Prompts and rules below!

Prompts:

*feel free to adjust them accordingly to work better in your fic

- pick your favorite summer song and use it to inspire your fic (optional, and very much not necessary, but encouraged. I love the songs of summer)

Scenarios:

- a character gets a sunburn

- someone lost their bathing suit in the ocean/pool

- a popsicle dripping down someone’s skin

- sand. Sand everywhere.

- beach games got a little too rough

- reading and someone gets the book wet

- putting a flower behind their ear

- babe is a surfer

- watching a sunrise/sunset together

- a long drive together

- putting sunscreen on one another

- rain spoils your summer outdoor plans

- bonfire

- catching fireflies

Quotes:

- “it hurts when I _____” “then stop doing that”

- “I wore this purposely because I thought the tan line would drive you crazy.”

- “what do you mean you didn’t pack snacks?”

- “here, you can share with me”

- “aw man, that was the last one”

- “I’ve got something else you can lick”

- “ew, gross. That’s not what I thought would happen today”

- “who thought a place with mosquitoes was a good idea?”

- “yeah. I know” “I didn’t mean I was hot in that way”

- “you know that one’s my favorite”

- “we’re not supposed to be in here” / “not here”

- “why’s it…sticky?”

Kinks:

- praise

- size

- daddy

- equal partnership? That’s my kink.

- breeding

- oooo! hand

- public sex/trying not to get caught

- overstimulation

Tropes:

- friends to lovers

- enemies to lovers

- hurt/comfort

- last summer together before going separate ways🥺

- vacation fling cut short by having to go home

Environments:

- beach

- pool

- lake house

- ice cream shop/stand

- inside in the ac

- a bar

- resort/hotel

- out on the water/ in a boat

Rules/How to Play:

- Character/love interest must be a CE babe/Bucky (no other Seb babes, however you may be able to make a case for boedecker or destroyer Chris)

- No deeply dark themes, including noncon, murder and death, toilet stuff, incest, or anything you think would be too intense for my poor heart. Dubcon, stepcest, and soft!dark are allowable if you just keep it light and find it necessary, but use your discretion please

- Posts should be at least 300 words, with no upper limit! Please us a ‘read more’ past 150

- fics should be stand-alone. If they are part of a series, they should be able to be read alone.

- tag me @bigtreefest and put the tags #essie’s summer lovin’ 300 follower celebration #summer lovin’ celebration and #essie’s 300 follower special so I can reblog you and add your fic to the Masterlist!!

- be inclusive and considerate!!

- make/write as many posts as you’d like!

- this will run from Sunday, July 13 to Wednesday, July 31, 2024. Late entries will be accepted through the end of summer.

- happy writing and thank you for celebrating with me!!

Tagging those who interacted with my post gauging interest, but all are welcome to join!!

@stargazingfangirl18 @krirebr @ronearoundblindly @witchywithwhiskey @thezombieprostitute @darsynia @jesevans @navybrat817 @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @universitypenguin @gone-to-fight-the-fairies @delicatebarness @biteofcherry @dreamtinblackandwhite @levans44

[saiyanprincessswanie]

SaiyanPrincessSwanie Reading List Week 219 & 220

A/N: Thank you again to those who recommended fanfics or tagged me. 💜 This week had me reading 30 fics. Absolutely amazing fics here. This has been so much fun for me and I hope you enjoy my reading lists.

As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal-boosting them. The author is listed next to the title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community.  💜💜

Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.

Click HERE for past reading lists.

For my Masterlist click HERE.

Please make sure you’re reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.

Page-break by @whimsicalrogers

Header by @fictional-affairs

If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.

I love you 3000 💜 Missy

Weekend Loving - (Andy x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie

Bucky Drabble - @buckyalpine

Ravish - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Shifting Tides - (Ari x Reader) - @labella420

Enlivened Mornings - (Bucky x Reader) - @mercurial-chuckles

Escape - (Bucky Barnes Drabble) - @caplanbuckybarnes

Puzzle Pieces in the Dead of Night - (Steve x Reader) - @buckets-and-trees

Not a common storm - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Admirer - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Lumberjack Tales - The Hairy Bear - (Ari x Reader) - @holylulusworld

No Way to Turn Back - (Lee x Reader) - @foxgloveprincess

Drinkin' Problem - (Steve One Shot) - @caplanbuckybarnes

Last Call - (Steve x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

Even more than Fall… - (Jake x Reader) - @yenzys-lucky-charm

All Day - (Steve x GN Reader) - @yenzys-lucky-charm

Talk - (Bucky x Reader) - @buckets-and-trees

Over the Hood - (Destroyer!Chris x Reader) - @navybrat817

Deception: New Norm - (Andy x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

Ari + Bondage - @biteofcherry

Let's Blow This Popsicle Stand - (Ari x Reader) - @steviebbboi

Evermore: Part Two: Chapter. Five - (Andy x Reader) - @joannaliceevans-fanficblog

right where i need you - (Bucky x Reader) - @nickfowlerrr

An Unlikely Fit - (Ransom x Reader) - @labella420

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Unruly Burly Mr. Levinson - @mercurial-chuckles

A Celebration Just For Us - (Steve x Reader) - @bigtreefest

Easy Ride - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Sneaky & Sly - (Steve x Reader x Bucky) - @mercurial-chuckles

The Imperfect Couple - (Bucky x Reader) - @deliciousangelfestival

Road Trip Negotiations - (Bucky x Reader) - @late-to-the-party-81

[thebluemage]

Hell, I’ll come every day if he lets me, I suppose Chris doesn’t have a problem with that 😌

destroyer chris and reader like cheers? maybe she ran away from a wedding and ends up at his bar

pairing: bar owner destroyer!chris x reader

She didn't know how she'd ended up here. She'd grown up happy, or at least, happy-ish. Her parents weren't rich but they weren't at the bottom of the feed chain, they'd help her get into an Ivy League school and somehow in the middle, they'd gotten distracted. They'd gotten distracted by having a daughter marry into a wealthy family, the lifestyle that came with old money and soon enough, she found herself trying to make a relationship work just to make her parents happy - after all, didn't her parents deserve this after doing so much for her? She didn't know, but just like she found herself trying to make a relationship work, she was now finding herself escaping from a window. She should've called it off, she should've stopped this the moment she noticed she didn't even like the dress or her fiancé for all that matter.

She didn't know where she was, she didn't know this place, this town, this city. It had all been picked to match a tradition which she didn't even understand and now she was walking across a dirt road trying to hail a taxi, even though she barely had money to get back home. She didn’t know when but at some point she began crying, she was cold, she was tired and all she wanted to go is go back home. Maybe her roommate could lend her some money so she could fly back home or she could come and pick her up. She just needed a phone, she just needed to find a phone to call her. After what felt like walking for miles, her feet numb from the white heels, she spotted a small biker bar and it seemed as if she reached oasis. However, once she stepped inside, it was if all eyes were on her. 

      - Look at that, Bill. - she heard a male voice followed by a whistle. - A pretty little bride. 

      - Come on, girlie, come seat with us. 

She had stupidly thought that perhaps this bar would have a standing phone - at least they always do in movies. Yet again, perhaps it had been naive of hers to base of her safety on movie knowledge. She felt stupid, ridiculous that she didn’t thought about what to do if her plan A didn’t work. 

     - If you’re not gonna buy something, you gonna have to leave. - a man from behind the bar spoke up. She locked eyes with him and he honestly did not look like he would help her. In all honesty, he looked like the kind of man she would avoid on the street. His hair was shaved on the sides and his fingers covered in bulky silver rings, she would’ve definitely avoid him if this was any situation. - Hey, Diane Chambers, you listening to me? 

She didn’t know why and once she felt the first warm tear roll down her cheeks, all she could feel is embarrassment, but at the same time, she couldn’t stop the tears from coming down. She’d gotten herself in a mess and she didn’t know what to do, she just wanted to go back to her flat, she just wanted to go back to the flat. 

     - Hey, come on, stop crying. - she hadn’t noticed that he’d crossed the bar to meet her. - Please, stop crying. You’re killing the mood and driving away costumers. 

      - I’m sorry. - she attempted to stop crying, but the tears were still running down her face and the hiccups were still present. 

      - Jesus, woman, your guy dumped you or something? 

      - I ran away and I thought that there would be a phone so I could call my roommate, I’m so sorry ...

      - Didn’t think your plan through, did you?

      - Didn’t you think about costumer service before taking a job here? 

      - This is my bar, doll. I can do whatever the heck I deem fit. Hell, I can put you outside if I want to. 

      - I just need to call my roommate and I’ll be out of your hair, not that you have much to begin with. 

      - I’ll do anything to see you out of my bar. - he grabbed his phone from the pocket of his jeans, handing it over to her. - Come on, I don’t want to see your and your horrible dress for much longer. 

     - Thank you.

Her roommate sounded too excited that her friend was no longer engaged, a bit too excited; yet Y/N couldn’t really complain. All she wanted was to run away from this place, to be somewhere else and even if that was Georgia’s run down car. She finished the call feeling slightly calmer than before. She just needed Georgia to come pick her up so she wouldn’t come back to that hellish wedding and make the worse mistake of her life.

    - Here. - he placed a pint of Coke in front of her. - Your friend coming to pick you up?

    - She said so but with New York traffic. 

    - I don’t think she’ll actually get here. Fucking storm going towards New York last I checked. 

    - Do you take pleasure in torturing me? Isn’t it enough that I’m in an awful wedding dress in a biker bar? Isn’t that enough?

    - Could be worse. - he took his phone back. - I would start to try and look for a motel if I were you.

Chris, on the other hand, found himself entranced by the woman. Sure, the fact that she was wearing a white wedding dress that seemed to swallow her made her very noticeable - but there was something else he couldn’t put his finger on. The time passed, the customers started to leave but she remained there, staring at the frosted glass in front of her.  The sun went down and she continued there, staring at her glass as the wind and the rain fell faster than before. Deep within her she knew the rude bartender was probably right and she was about to have to go outside in the pouring rain. The last customer left, the only two people remaining being her and the bartender. 

     - You want me to drop you at the motel? - he mumbled as he finished polishing some glasses. - It ain’t much but usually they have free bedrooms. 

     - I can’t. - she sighed. - I left my phone and my wallet at the bridal suite. Unless they accept a wedding dress as a form of payment, I am fucked. 

     - Didn’t think that exit through, did ya? 

     - Are you gonna keep telling me that? You think if I had thought anything through I would’ve gone ahead with this marriage?

     - Fella can’t be that bad. Call him, I’m sure he’d let you crash in your bridal suite.

     - He’s probably thinking about how he can sue me for running away from the wedding at this moment. 

     - You’re a pain, Diane Chambers. - he walked away from the bar, sitting in front of her. - Maybe you can make a pillow out of all that fabric. 

      - Thank you for your phone. - she got up. - I have to go and figure out where I’m staying until Georgia comes. 

       - You’re not gonna find anything close by. The motel is a 30 minute car-drive and it is pouring rain outside. Just stay here until your friend comes to pick you up.  

       - I don’t need your pity. 

       - Oh, doll, I don’t pity you. Spoiled rich girl ran away from her wedding? I’m laughing at you, yet at the same time, I don’t want ‘ya dying anywhere near my bar and bringing bad publicity.

       - Bad publicity? To a biker bar? That’s rich. 

       - Offer is fading every second. 

       - I guess. 

He guided her upstairs where a few doors were locked. She wondered if this had been a bed and breakfast before or if he had attempted to turn it into a bed and breakfast ad had quit. Whatever reason it was, she was happy to find a warm bed awaiting her, a soft place to land and forget that she was still wearing her wedding clothing. 

      - Thank you. - she mumbled. - I will pay you once I get my wallet. 

      - I seriously doubt it, doll. Anyway, we open at 6AM, you’ll probably hear it. 

      - That’s ok. 

      - Well ... - he puts his hands in his pockets. - Goodnight, Diane Chambers. 

      - My name’s Y/N. - she said. - I’d rather you call me Y/N. 

      - Chris. Anyway, my bedroom is two doors down the hall if you need me. 

(...)

The day broke, yet she did not wake up with the sound of the glasses clinking and everyone cheering and drinking until she heard a knock on her door. She groaned, yawning as she got up from the pillow, her legs twisted in the fabric of her wedding dress as another knock was heard. God, was someone dying?

     - Y/N. - a familiar voice had her slightly more alert. - There’s a jittery nightmare of a woman looking for you.

     - Georgia! - she mumbled happily to herself, getting up from the bed and opening the door to see Chris standing there in a very low cut shirt. Low cut enough to make her cheeks heat. - Is it Georgia?

     - Whoever it is, get her out my bar.

She rushed down the stairs to find her friend, looking confused and worried about where she was. Georgia had always been a indie bar sort of person, Y/N guessed a biker bar was not something she’d be interested in, unless she found someone attractive or interesting enough to keep her around. 

     - Oh god, you’re alive. - she rushed to hug her friend. - That dress is an absolute disgrace! I’m so glad I RSVP no to your wedding.

     - If you’d gone you would’ve saved me the hassle. 

     - You know I hate your fiancé ... well, ex-fiancé now but don’t worry, I got a moving company to get whatever’s yours from his flat, and your bridesmaids got you your phone and wallet.

     - Thanks, G. I’m sorry you had to drive down so early.

     - Would’ve been here earlier if it wasn’t for shitty New York weather. Anyway, should we get going? We can get McDonalds on the way home. 

     - As long as you two are out of my bar. - Chris snickered from behind them. - Try not to run away from any more weddings, Diane Chambers.

     - Who’s Diane Chambers? - Georgia turned towards Y/N. 

     - Nevermind. - Y/N sighed. - Thank you, Chris. Really, I’m really thankful.

     - Whatever. - he mumbled.

(...)

Running a bar was easy, Chris found. It didn’t take much brain power as most customers were too drunk or too busy in their own thoughts to cause him any trouble. Days were the same and he was alright with it, he was alright with serving alcohol and peanuts and cleaning glasses. It was much better than his past position and despite bikers gathering a bad rep, they didn’t cause him that much trouble. 

    - Heard the little bride spent the night here. - Bill looked at him through his beer glass. - Did you have fun? 

    - Wouldn’t you like to know, Bill?

    - Wouldn’t hurt ‘ya to sleep with a nice lady every once in a while. 

    - I gotta save all the ladies for you, Bill. - he smirked. - Besides, the last thing I need is a spoiled rich girl in my bed. 

    - That’s not very nice. - he turned towards the source of the voice to see her standing there. He almost didn’t recognise her not in her wedding dress. Instead of the copious amounts of lace and silk, she was dress in smart clothing, a tight black pencil skirt and a white see through blouse. Heck, Chris was almost sure he could smell her perfume and it was doing ... things to him. - You would be so lucky to a spoiled rich girl in your bed. 

    - It’s the little bride. - Bill turned around in his seat. - Came back from me, sweets? 

    - Drink your beer. - Chris rolled his eyes. - Diane Chambers, you clean up nice. Run away from a meeting this time?

    - I came to pay you. - she took her wallet from her bag. - How much is it for the night?

    - I don’t need your charity.

    - It’s not charity. I’m paying you for your services.

    - Well, I don’t need it. - he shrugged. 

    - I’d like another Coke then. - she sat down. - Would you like something, sir? I’m buying. 

    - You should come around more often. - Bill happily got another beer. 

Chris wasn’t sure when it became part of his routine to see her in his bar every Friday night. She clearly didn’t fit, always walking in her smart clothing, looking like a sheep in a wolf’s den. The usual bikers had taken a liking to her, treating her like their daughter but Chris was yet to warm up to her. They were not similar, she was a lawyer at a prestigious law firm and he, well, he ran a bar. 

    - Why do you have so many bedrooms upstairs? - she asked as he finished cleaning up some glasses. 

    - Came with the place when I bought it. 

    - You could make a little bed and a breakfast. 30 minutes away from New York, people would like it. 

    - It’s in the middle of nowhere, little lawyer Diane. 

    - Would it kill you to call me Y/N? 

    - Yes, actually. - he shrugged. - Should you be heading back home?

    - I guess maybe I should call you Sam Malone. You’re just as a much of an asshole. - she smiled. 

    - Ooo ... mean. - he chuckled. - Hanging out here is not gonna find you a new fiancé.

    - Being this grumpy won’t find you a fiancée either. 

    - Don’t need a lady all up on my business. 

    - If I didn’t know you better, I’d say someone broke your non-existent heart. 

He placed a glass back on the shelf in a rather forceful manner, ignoring her. Y/N furrowed her brows, looking around the empty bar and wondering if she’d hit a soft spot. 

    - Who broke your heart? - she asked, softly this time. 

    - I thought you said I had a non-existent heart, Y/N. 

    - Y/N? Wow, I must’ve hit a really painful spot for you to call me by my name. - she attempted to lightened the mood but it didn’t work. Instead, he continued drying and polishing his glasses. - I’m sorry if I hurt you, Chris. I didn’t mean to. 

    - My fianceé took a page from your book and ran away from our wedding. 

    - Oh ...

    - With my best friend. Got the money from the wedding refunds and the deposit from the house and bought this bar. Trust me, I don’t need a lady all up in my business, specially if they all run away at weddings. 

    - Is that why you were rude to me when I first came here?

    - Don’t be over conceited. I was rude to you because you get in my nerves.

    - Well, I can’t get that much on your nerves if you offered me to stay and still let me drink here. 

    - The only reason I let you drink here is because Bill likes you around. 

    - Sure. - she got up from her seat, picking her bag. - Well, goodnight, Chris.

    - Diane? - he called up to her. - You coming next week?

    - I don’t know. - she smirked. - Maybe. 

    - Don’t be a pain and arrive 5 minutes before closure or I’ll throw you off one day. 

    - Goodnight, Chris.

    - Goodnight, Y/N. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bad Guy 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The men your mother brings home rarely stick around, but her latest catch can’t seem to unhook himself from your life.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Note: don't act like you don't want a meanie

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The stump of the cone drips down your fingertips as the car jolts to a stop. You lurch against your seatbelt and hold up your hand and cup the other beneath, trying to keep the melting mess concentrated. Chris cranks the shifter as he idles in front of your mother’s house. 

“Hey, told ya not to get that all over,” he sneers. 

“Sorry, I...” you utter. “I’ll get out.” 

You balance the cone with one hand you do your best not to smear the mess as you unbuckle the seat belt. He huffs as he turns off the engine and his own belt recoils sharply. You glance over as he gets out and slams the door. He stomps around the car and wrenches open your side. 

“Out, now,” he barks. 

You obey and climb out, stepping up on the curb to examine the front of your shirt. He snaps the door shut and snarls again. 

“Keep pushing your chest out like that, someone might just take it as an invitation,” he grits. 

You wince and look up at him, hunching your shoulders. He makes everything you do a crime. As if you’re intentionally trying to offend him. 

“Well, thanks for the ride,” you mutter. “I’ll just go--” 

“I’m comin’ with ya. Mom’s waitin’,” he insists. “Sure, she’s real worried about you. Girl your age can get up to all sortsa trouble, can’t she?” 

He points you up the slanted walk and you glare ahead. Your eyes hurt as they long to roll. He walks beside you, crowding you on the thin blocks of pavement. As you get to the steps, he reaches over and taps your ass. 

“Go on, get up,” he orders you. 

You squeak and hurry up the steps. You just want to get away from him. He probably wants the same thing with the way he speaks to you. 

You wrench the door back with your free hand and angle inside. He catches the door behind you, brushing close as he follows you inside. You feel a tickle on your lower back and hurry up. 

“Gail,” Chris calls past you. 

There’s no answer. You don’t worry about it. Most of the time, your mom isn’t home when you get in. It never bothers you as you like having the house to yourself. 

You go into the kitchen and toss what’s left of your cone. You rinse your hands and ignore the man as he trudges around your house. Your mother’s squeaky hinge whines and he comes back out with a harrumph. 

You dry off and go back into the front room. He’s not far behind as he flops onto the couch with a growl. You peek over as he pulls out his phone and taps on it with his thumb. He jams the screen so hard you expect it to crack. 

“See where you get it from, huh,” he scoffs. “Damn woman.” 

You quickly flit away before you can hear any more of his gripes. He just seems the type to look for anything to be mad about. You might be a cynic, but you’re not an asshole about it. 

You change out of your uniform and toss it into the basket by the door. You’re annoyed. If he had driven a bit slower, you could have worn it at least one more time. 

You shimmy out of your pants and pull on some linen shorts and find a loose tee patterned with sunflowers. You stretch out on your bed and put on the next episode of your serial addiction. As you settle in, you hear him moving around in the kitchen. 

From what you can guess, your mom isn’t even there. She tends to do that. Just wander in and out whenever it suits you. If you were less of an introvert, you might have actually gotten in trouble as a teen with so little parental supervision. Come to think of it, she seems to have lived your teenage rebellion for you. 

A pounding on the door shakes you from your Netflix-induced trance. You sit up and sigh as you go to the door. It’s bad enough he’s getting in the way of your late night snacking but not he’s interrupting your binge. 

You crack the door open an inch and look out, “she’s probably down at Jim’s,” you say. 

“I didn’t ask that,” he brings his hand up to grim the door frame. “Did I?” 

“No,” you frown. 

“'No, sir,'” he wags his index at you. “You should try a smile. Be a lot prettier if ya did.” 

You blink. The only response you have will only piss him off. You clamp your lips tight and shrug instead. 

“There’s shit all in the cupboards.” 

You squint and shake your head, “okay?” 

“I mean, you can figure it out, can’t you? Man’s gotta eat.” 

You tilt your head in confusion, “what?” 

“Don’t tell me ya can’t cook neither. What kinda man’s gonna want a woman can’t do nothing?” He snorts. 

“I-- I don’t want to,” you blurt out. “Cook for yourself.” 

You push the door but he slaps his hand against it and forces it inward, “what did you just say, girl?” 

“I... you’re here for my mom. Go down to Jim’s and tell her to cook--” 

“You’re right. I’m here ‘cause your mommy’s a slut. Any other man stick around, huh? Pay for her bills? Her food? Don’t sound like men to me, and you,” he grabs your chin and you whimper, “don’t speak like much of a lady.” 

“Let go of me,” you smack his wrist, “ow.” 

“See, I knew your mama isn’t shit. The way she acts, shoulda figured you’d be the same.” He yanks you into the hall, “don’t worry, I’ll teach ya manners, girl.” 

“Ah, you’re hurting me--” 

“What do you think your husband’s gonna do when you get mouthy, huh? I’m saving you a lot of hard lessons,” he shoves you past him and you hit the wall with your shoulder. He snaps his knuckles against your ass. “I saw a box of macaroni, think you can boil some water or is that too much for that empty head of yours?” 

“What is your problem?” You turn and lean against the door. “I didn’t do anything and... and...” your words fizzle out as you see the way his icy eyes sear. You gulp. “Why are you so mean?” 

“Mean?” He laughs, “keep talking and I’ll put you over my knee. Now take your ass to the kitchen and make some dinner. I know you ain’t some child eating ice cream for supper, hm? Can’t be walking around like that.” 

He reaches for you and tugs the hem of your tee, letting it go so the fabric springs back up and you feel air flow along the underside of your tits. You quickly cross your arms and try to dissolve into the wall. You stare at him, annoyed but frightened. It occurs to you that he’s a lot stronger than you. 

“Well, you gonna walk around dressed like a woman, may as well be one,” he points down the hall. “You won’t like me when I’m real hungry.” 

You peel yourself off the wall and cower as you pass him. You feel his gaze on you, as oppressive as his presence. You bite down on your lip, as much to keep your thoughts inside as to keep from screaming. You should’ve known that one day your mother would bring home the wrong sort. Well, she always does but they can’t be bothered to stick around. 

You enter the kitchen and go to the cupboard. You search around for the sole box of mac and cheese. That’s your insurance policy. Your mother rarely grocery shops. She only ever goes to the bar or the liquor store. She drinks, she doesn’t eat. 

You grab a pot and fill it with water. As you light the burner, you glance over your shoulder. Chris stands in the doorway, watching, like a warden in a jail. You add salt to the water. You step back and wait for it to boil. The silence scrapes your ears. 

You sway listlessly and another growl rolls up his throat. He clicks his tongue. “Must get good tips down at the ice cream joint, huh? Wearing your cutoffs like you're at the beach.” 

You turn and frown, “...what?” 

“Nah, nah,” he shifts to stand inside the door, leaning his back on the wall, “not ‘what’. You say, ‘sorry, sir, my sweet little head’s empty and I don’t understand. Please explain to me what you mean.’ 

Your lips part and you stare at him. He snickers. 

“The way you look at me, I know you don’t got much going on in there, do ya, girl? So let’s think. You go down to the parlour in those jean shirts, wagging your ass as the boys, and they toss you a couple dollars extra. Hell, I bet those pudgy-bellied dads with all their regret and whiny brats like ya too.” He sniffs and his eyes pinpoint, “keep that up, you’ll find out how much you could make on a pole, flirting with all those greasy dicks down at Bunnies.” 

You recoil at the mention of the strip club. The very thought makes your skin crawl. And your shorts aren’t that short. Your boss said they’re just fine and it’s so hot out in the summer. 

“Shouldn’t flaunt it if you’re not selling it,” he says. 

You stare at the floor and drop your arms, tugging the hem of your shorts to make sure they aren’t bunched. “Sir, I’m not... flaunting it.” 

“Coulda fooled me.” He exhales loudly. “You wanna end up like your ma?” 

No, you don’t want to end up with a man like him. You keep that thought to yourself. You shake your head and take the box of the macaroni. You tear off the top as the water starts to boil. 

“So maybe you should take some advice from someone older and wiser. Do you know what your mama’s problem is?” He asks. 

You shake your head again. You dump the noodles into the water. You go to the drawer and open it to grab a wooden spatula. As you do, he shuts it on your fingers. You yelp as he keeps your hand trapped. You look up at him as he stands close. 

“She can’t hang onto a man. She’s too easy. No guy’s gonna take care of a fucking mess like her. And what good is she without a man lookin’ after her? Living in this hellhole with some deadbeat daughter--” 

“That’s...” you whimper and squirm as you try to free your fingers. “Ow, please--” 

“It is true,” he insists against your unspoken protest. “Whatcha think you’ll be doin’ in another few years? You’re gonna age out and those tips are gonna dry up like sand.” He taunts as he leans in, “and you’re only happiness will be at the bottom of a glass--” 

“Stop. Please,” you beg as the drawer crushes your knuckles. You can’t bear it anymore. You put your hand on his hard stomach and push. “Ow! It hurts--” 

He lets up on the drawer but only to grab your arm. He twists your wrist around and you bend with the angle of your arm. He has you facing the tile as he hyperextends your elbow. You whimper and wiggle your throbbing fingers. 

“See, a woman don’t just need a man to take care of her,” he puts his hand on your ass and brushes up your shorts. “He needs to discipline her.” He pulls his hand away and the drawer rolls open. “And I know your mama didn't do none of that.” 

He rests the spatula against your ass and you twitch, “sir, please, I wasn’t--” 

“Either you shut up and take it like a good girl or each noise means the next one’s harder,” he swings his arm back then forward. The wood strikes your ass in a radiating crack. Your legs tremble and you yowl. “Now what did I say?" 

He spanks you again with the spatula, this time on the other cheek. You grunt behind your teeth and reach back with your other arm. He raps your knuckles with the wood and you recoil. You bend your arm to your chest and he swats you again. Your ass burns from his cruel force. 

He does it again, and again, and again. You try not to make a sound but the whimpers fall out of you. Your arm strains from the angle and his unyielding grip, your ass pulsing in agony. The spatula thwaps down over and over until your eyes are streaming and all you can muster are hollow gasps. 

He lets you go and you crumple to the floor, holding yourself on your hands and knees. He whips the spatula down to it hits the tile and bounces. You wipe your face and look up at him. The air smells like fire. He sighs as his eyes drift to the stove, the water boiling over. 

“Fuck damnit, girl,” he tuts, “figure it the fuck out.” 

He shakes his head and marches out of the kitchen. You stare after him, breathless and battered. You can’t believe he just did that.