#if everyone's tired of work whats the point of being alive

[kick-a-long]

i find it so desperately sad that goyim generally would be so much less antisemitic if jews started physically fighting back with guns or sticks in every country. calling for the murder of muslims all over the world, if the jewish population was big enough to have large scary groups of crazy fringe fundamentalist synagogues all over the world, a billion strong, that preached murder and hate so goyim could look down on jews like some noble savage in need of assistance and western education and protection. so we could be reformed in obvious patronizing ways because there were so many of us that we had militant violent fringe extremists, like christians and muslims have, mixed in with the normal jews.

if jews didn't have such a reputation for success and intelligence maybe conspiracy theories would stop blaming us for controlling the world. if we felt less in danger maybe we wouldn't be so obsessed with long term survival.

is antisemitism some warped form of envy? maybe. what sucks is that jews are no better or worse than anyone else. some jews are brutes and some are the most wonderful people imaginable, just like any other group. what sucks is we don't all live up to the reputation of tactical geniuses and wizards with mind control magic. all of us jews are just tired and abused humans who have lived with 2000+ years of generational trauma and the endless fall out from a popular jewish book written 3000+ years ago describing the best practices of jewish culture. It has some great stories, histories, life advice, diet recommendations, hygiene, and rules about how to treat others.

is that such a crime?

trying to show a path forward? not demanding anyone else follow those rules but wanting to do our best to follow them anyway? how to live a good life that makes the world better and makes you proud to have been on earth for the time you were there? jews fail to do this all the time, just like everyone else. I fail all the time. why are people so obsessed with that? people say shylock is a stereotyped antisemitic character but,

"I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge! The villainy you teach me I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction."

so why do jews always have to be the better man? why do we have to apologize for being angry and sad and hating the people that attack us? that was written by Shakespeare, a christian in the 1600s who often was in debt to jewish money lenders, the only profession left to jews at that time. even he saw the double standard. it makes a good point.

now, i don't want vengeance, i don't want violence, but i feel vengeful. i feel angry that i am unsafe because of play actors and terrorist supporters who want revenge for jews existing but scream bloody murder when jews refuse to dig their own graves, beg forgiveness for ever being born, and lay down in them to be mocked and pissed on and abused in the worst ways imaginable for the entertainment and conquest of it. i want peace with them. they are as human as i am, full of foibles and anger. i want nothing to do with them. i want them to never come near a jew again for the rest of time.

i am sad. all i want is to feel my feelings and advocate for what is the most ethical and practical work around to a world filled with unending suffering while i am still alive. i want them on thier side to live in the world they want and me on my side to live in the world i want. why don't these children of all ages, lost in delusions of fantastical battles and ultimate good and evil, see that? why can't I be a human first as well as a jew first? why do they ask me to pick? why am i not allowed to pick?

it's been almost a year. we're all so tired.

I'm going to a music festival. I'm trying to decide whether to wear a star. why is it dangerous to wear a star around my neck?

[avibero]

-

[toastsnaffler]

ykw actually I am angry + disappointed w them. I've been pushing how I feel aside and trying to make it my own fault so it's all contained but I think theyve just been mean. and they really should know me better ik I try to pretend I don't expect more from them so I feel less hurt when they do things that upset me but we've been friends for years by this point. like come on.

[privatelife]

i feel like killing myself does anyone else feel like killing themselves

[cypherscript]

Perpeptual

Some of Young justice are teleported/isekai'd during one of their battles to an underdeveloped world barely out of the iron age.

The planet confuses them, perpeptual night but the climate is warm and the flora abundant regardless of the missing sunlight. It has a single yellowy green moon that is stuck in orbit at the same point in the sky as the stars move around it.

Some of the locals have accepted them into their small village, their language is close to spanish; esperanto Wally says. Atleast they can somewhat communicate now. The people are unsettingly human with only slight changes to their body; lighter skin, pointed ears and glowing eyes.

They spend a little over two weeks helping the locals with their building some kind of stage for a festival. A large corridor of metal, spires of green crystal that Connor says make him woozy on top of his already low solar energy from the weeks stranded here and thick braided cord wound around the bases of the spires and inlayed into an intricate pattern winding their way to the corridor of metal.

The chief, Degelinta Stellumo, is happy to say the festival can begin early. When asked about the festival they cant translate much other than it's to thank their god for keeping them safe. About how thousands of years ago the day god Rox tried to consume their world, the night god Phan covered their world in protective night to protect it from Rox's anger.

The team is perplexed as the festivities begin, rhythmic chanting fills the air as one of their young men, that Megan recognizes as Stelo, walks forward dressed in furs and a iron crown upong their head. He steps into the corridor, the crystals glow brightening as he does so, almost alive in the perpeptual moonlight and the chanting getting faster and faster. Duh-duh-duh-duh-da-duh-duh-da-duh-da~.

There is a massive flare of light coming from the corridor, the crystals shatter and fly everywhere and the people cheer. Stelo steps, no floats from the now blackened corridor changed; his body glows in a pale white light, hair once black now pure white while his eyes are toxic green from his previously white and a cloak of stars floats behind him in an invisible wind.

He looks around confused, tired, until his eyes settle on the young superheroes going from Connor's house of El crest to Miss Martians skin to Robins stylized R.

Everyone is shocked as the being speaks to them in echoy but clear english, "You lot are a long ways from home, arent you?"

"Uhm, yes... sir," Tim hesitantly asks hesitantly unsure how to address this being? God? Entity?

"Right, well not to belittle your situation but we're holding up the festivities I'm certain the Sheo'lp people have been working on for some time. Let us celebrate a bit then we can talk about your situation."

"What are you," Megan blurts out, confused, "Stelo stepped into that corridor and his mind is gone and now theres just static."

"I suppose i can answer that easily enough. My name was/is Danny and I dont know what I am anymore. Once the festival ends, Stelo will return to himself. I promise."

The now named Danny stops floating and walks over to the tribespeople, stopping to hug and greet everyone by name and accepting food and drink happily. He cries as he eats the food and drink, thanking the people in esperanto repeatedly as he does so, this goes on for several hours before the partying starts to die down and Danny takes the group over to a dying bonfire.

"Right, I suppose you have questions but I would like some verification."

"Verification?"

"Yup, just need to know if you are who I think you are. It's been forever since I've been around earth but you look familiar.

He points at Miss Martian, "M'gann M'orzz?"

Pointing to kid flash, "Bart? No... Wally West."

Points to Robin, "Damian Wayne."

Points to Superboy, "and that would make you Jon Kent."

They partially confused, partial perturbed that this entity knows some of their names. Tim looks him square in the eyes, studying him, thinking about protocols for what to do when a godlike entity just namedrops your baby brother like its no big deal.

"Its just Robin as I am," Tim says, eyes never leaving Danny's.

"Shit right, apologies I forgot about superhero 101, no names. Its been a while since I had to worry about names, time is blurry these days to me. Now! What about those questions?"

"Can you get us home," Tim asks straight forwardedly. "We've been missing from earth for a few weeks now."

"Sure," he says nonchalantly, surprising the team, "Well yes and no. *I* can get you home but I know something who can but you need to Promise me that you'll follow my directions once you go home. Deal?" He holds out his hand to Tim, who looks at it before shaking it.

"So long as it doesnt endanger those i care about then Deal."

Danny nods before taking a deep breath and holding out a hand, a small crack running through the seam of reality as green light fills the area, from the crack a scroll flies through at high speeds as he catches it. "Hello old friend," he says tiredly, seeming to have dimmed greatly from that stunt.

"A scroll," Connor asks incredulously.

"A map," Danny corrects, "of everything. Take hold of each other before taking the Map, once you do take the map and say where you want to go." He looks at connor briefly, "it wont be a pleasant trip for Jon but it is nessesary for you to get home. Hopefully this trip should innoculate your biology against ecton radiation."

"Wait radiation," wally yelps.

"Its harmless to humans, mostly. Its the fastest way to get back to Earth, youre on the other side of the universe kids. Now, once you're back on earth tell the Map to return home and let go. So take the map, i need to go speak to the chief for a bit. Thank you for being here and letting me help." Danny groans as he slowly gets up and walks over to the chief's tent.

"Do you think he's okay," Megan asks the group as Tim looks the rolled up map over.

Connor watches as Danny leaves, "He's low on energy. Like how Kryptonians are without yellow sunlight."

"Unfortunately we cant focus that right now, grab hands its time to go." They each take the others hand as Tim holds up the map, "take us to the Justice Leagues Watchtower on Earth." The map unfurls as a blue energy grows over the group as they begin floating and the scroll begins to drag them across the sky, a similar crack as before opens before them and swallows them up and the next couple of seconds are filled with blurred visions of vast green voids, purple doors and massive beasts lurking in the distance, the eyes following the team as the fly past.

As quickly as it began its over as a final crack tosses them out at a fast speed into the Justice Leagues cafeteria, scattering on impact and flinging food everywhere as the security systems begin to screech as the team sigh in relief.

"We're home..."

***

"So you mean to tell us you've been trapped on another planet for all this time," Barry asks as the members of young justice sit at the conference table with the other adult members of the justice league.

"Yes sir."

Batman is pensive as hes thinking, "and this entity called you by your names?"

"Mostly, he thought Kon el and I were our younger counterparts."

"Hnn."

Kid Flash leans over to Megan and whispers, "that's bat for I dont like this." Barry cuffs him over the head.

"So should I return the map to Danny?"

"Did someone say my name," a chipper young voice says as he sticks his head through the table, familiar glowing green eyes and white hair who freezes at the sight of the map, "how do you have that? B What's going on?"

"The young justice team has been stranded on a distant planet for several weeks, they just got back with the help of this artifact. Do you recognise it?"

"Course I do, don't know how you have it because its supposed to be with FB in the zone."

"Wait a second," megan exclaims, suddenly recognizing the static she was getting from him "You're Danny! What happened to Stelo?"

"Who?" That takes the wind out of her sails, "oh... i get whats going on here. Classic time travel, don't tell me anything. If you have the map then FB or I gave it to you for a reason. You should send it back."

"Do as he says Robin," Batman says nodding in understanding.

Tim takes the map in his hand, "go back home, uh... map?" He drops it as it unfurls and zooms off through another green crack. "What's all this about?"

"Dunno," Danny says as he leans back as he floats through the table, "hasn't happened yet."

______________________________________________

Authors note:

Little more detail on what happened between the gods in the Sheo'lp's tale. Their sun was going supernova and Phantom in a last ditch effort to save the planet wrapped his being around the planet as the sun exploded around them. His ice core cooling the suns now explosive heat, his body giving them stars to look at and his core to give them light. Their planet is essentially a terrarium surrounded by a critical nuclear reactor. Due to time dialation from earth to there hes been holding back the sun for over a thousands of years by the point YJ arrive.

The festival is a recreation of the fenton portal that they offer one of their own for Phantom to overshadow to partake in their food and drink as thanks. Once he runs out of energy from the crystals his overshadow breaks and he returns to his duty leaving the host with memories to later become the chief and lead their people with their knowledge.

[strvberrydoll]

Rosemary

Summary: Arthur is smacked right in the face with the consequences of his actions as the fate of your relationship is hanging by a thin thread. part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

AO3 link (a better rewritten version of this fic on ao3)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Content: suggestive, angst, hurt/no comfort (for now) probs grammar errors :/

wc: little under 3k

A/n: before any of you come after me, blame the angst on the bad weather not on me !! (plus we both know you love it <3) anyways reader absolutely eats arthur alive in this chapter so grab your popcorns and tissues !! Next chapter is gonna be the last so it’s gonna take a bit of time to write sorry :(( as always let me know if you like this chapter thank you all for the amazing support you’ve showed for Rosemary <33 gif from pinterest.

The sight of Clemens Point camp emerging from the thick woods surrounding its path, felt strangely like the sight of heaven to Arthur, his muscles aching and screaming at him from the tiring day. Between his visit to Rhodes with Mary and all the manual work Uncle put him under in the morning, the only things he longed for were the softness of his bed and you engulfing him in one of your warm embrace. 

Spending three hours chopping wood and gathering whatever material Uncle needed for his mysterious project that supposedly ‘would help a great deal everyone in camp’, proved to be a tiring job even for the camp’s main enforcer, his strength dulled by the biting cold of October and the constant ache of his heart. Each swing of the axe in the air helped Arthur think, his mind consumed by you, trying to figure out what the hell happened for you to act so cold and distant towards him. The image of his darling’s sweet face contorted in an expression of hurt and disappointment at the sole sight of him from this morning hunting his mind, making each swing harsher than the other. 

When Uncle decided to call it a day, Arthur internally thanked the maker above as he felt his patience wearing thin every time he called Uncle out for not lifting a finger to help him while the older man comfortably sat under the shade of one of the tall trees near the outskirts of camp complaining about his ‘lumbago’. His relief, though, was short lived as the memory of Mary’s letter flashed in his mind.

Mary had been writing to him almost every two weeks, since her late husband died she had been writing to Arthur asking for help, him being the only male left she knew, after her abusive father went mad, gambling all their possessions away and his brother ran off. 

The first letter he received a few months prior left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He was tempted to just throw it in the bin and forget about it. After years of nothing she found the guts to write to him again, asking to save her little brother from a strange cult that apparently worshiped turtles, as Arthur understood. That first letter woke inside him an anger he thought died down. He needed to confront her. So a few days after receiving the first letter, Arthur rode to Valentine, his mind fixed on refusing to help her, yet after hearing her story out he didn’t find it in him to tell her no.

It’ll be just a one time thing, after this he’ll never see her again. He reassured himself. 

But then another letter came and then another, and he felt like a fool for helping her every time. Worse yet, he felt like an absolute bastard lying to you each time he went to help Mary out, always finding an excuse as to why he was out late. His conscience shouting at him to tell you the truth each time he looked into your hypnotizing eyes as you both layed naked in the comfort of your tent, but how could he explain it all to you ?

Mary, on the other hand, knew about you, having heard of you once from Arthur when you first joined the gang, but now she knew about your relationship with him. He told her from their first encounter, quick to not let her think he had any other intentions.

He’d help, sure, but only for old time’s sake.

Although Arthur sensed she wasn’t particularly excited about his newfound love, she respected your relationship, often asking him for updates and lending him some advice. It felt strange talking about you to his ex fiancè but she’d ask and he’d talk, never shying away from an opportunity to talk about his darling girl. 

Finally free of Uncle’s relentless job, he jumped on his horse, riding into town to meet with Mary. 

The town of Rhodes was particularly busy when Arthur arrived, the usually calm town buzzing with life and chatter. Men and women dressed in all kinds of fancy dresses and tall hats adorned with feathers and ribbons, strolled around town. From what Arthur heard from a couple near the saloon, a famous singer from Saint Denis was doing a show in town.

Suddenly conscious about his rugged and worn out attire he quickly made his way toward the general store, where Mary told him to meet her. Something about buying some plumbing tools, she said. Their evening went smoothly, they chatted away as Arthur helped with her shopping advising her which tools to buy and which ones to avoid. As the moon came high in the sky he escorted her to her accommodation before finally riding back to camp.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

“Who goes there!” the shout of Bill’s voice followed by the cock of his shotgun thundering in the night from his usual lookout position.

“It’s Arthur, you moron.” 

As the faint chattering of camp filled Arthur’s ears, images of you began to cloud his mind. He needed to find out what was bothering you. He needed to make it right by you, whatever it’ll cost. He hitched his horse, patting his mane a few times whispering sweet praises that made the horse sway its tail before walking towards your shared tent. 

The camp was almost empty, being close to midnight the only people up were Javier who sat near the campfire, tuning the guitar in his lap as Reverend Swanson chatted animatedly about his past life experiences with a tired Mister Pearson who looked worse than one of his stews, and then there was Abigail who was chatting with you at the entrance of your shared tent. The both of you dressed in your best dresses, the sight of your body wrapped in the soft cotton and laces of your dress making Arthur’s heart race.

You were one of God’s angels, his sweetest and most beautiful creation, he was sure of it.

As you noticed his presence coming towards you, you hurriedly whispered something to Abigail, making the brunette widen her eyes, before entering your tent, leaving Abigail outside, her eyes finding Arthur’s as he came to an alt before the opening of your shared tent, her expression resembling the ones she had after a fight with John. Anger and care blended together.

After casting a quick confused glance at Abigail, Arthur ducked through the entrance, his broad stature making his action look quite awkward. Letting his eyes adjust to the dim light that shone from the oil lamp on the bedside table, he cautiously sat down his hat, his expression a mix of confusion and wariness as his eyes found your figure, sitting at the edge of your small cot. The skirt of your dress puffy around you making you look like a doll, your head bowed making it impossible to him to read your face and shoulders stiff, toying with something in your hands. You looked up at him, red eyes filled to the brim with tears that threatened to spill once again. Something in the pit of his stomach told him this was going to be a long night. 

"Darlin’," Arthur began, his voice soft as if not to scare a small deer away. 

“Don’t you ‘darling’ me,” you slurred a little. He could smell the faint scent of whiskey on your breath, a sign you’d been hanging out with your girl friends.

“Where were you tonight Arthur ?”

He felt his throat tighten at your question. “I jus’ came back from a job,” he unsteadily replied.

"Right, back from your ‘job’ mhh?" you echoed, your voice tight trying with all your might to keep yourself together. You stood up your wobbly legs almost letting you fall, stepping forward, holding out one of the letters as if it were a weapon. "Or back from meeting her?".

Arthur’s brow furrowed in confusion, and then realization dawned. His stomach dropped as he recognized what you were holding, the sight of you holding one of Mary’s letters felt like a punch to his face. 

"Darlin’, it ain’t what you think," he started, his voice filled with urgency.

"Then, please, tell me what the hell it is!" you raised your voice, making it crack under all the weight of your emotions. You didn’t care if you were yelling, if you were to wake everyone in camp. You were tired of all the bullshit.

"I found them, Arthur. A whole fucking drawer full of letters from Mary. I might not be the brightest at reading, but I know her damned name when I see it.” despite all your best efforts to remain strong your eyes betrayed you as fresh warm tears run down the path that your previous ones left.

Arthur moved closer trying to take one of your hands in his, you took a step back, shaking your head. "Don't," you whispered, voice breaking.

“I went to Rhodes today with the girls, ya’know to clear my mind a bit from all your bullshit, and guess who I found having the time of their lives together ? Laughing and what not.”

He paused, his hand hovering in the air between the both of you. He wanted to reach out, to hold you, to dry your tears and comfort you, to explain, but he knew you needed to hear the truth first. "Please darlin’, you’ve got to believe me. Mary’s just, she's just- I’m just helpin’ her out. Her husband died, and she’s got no one else,"

You let out a harsh, humorless laugh at his poor explanation. Did he really take you for this big of a fool ? Was this really what he thought of you ? Tears poured down even more from your eyes at the realization. "And you, what? You swoop in to save her like some kind of hero? What are you mh, tell me Arthur, are you her bitch ready to bark if she told you to ?”

The venom spilling from your words hit Arthur hard, making him physically flinch as your words hit him right into his face. His heart shattering at your sight, you were physically and mentally distraught. All because he didn’t have the courage to tell you everything from the start.

“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you? Gosh, all this time, Arthur, all this damn time I’ve just been, what? A distraction? Something to pass the time until you could get her back? Poor silly me, thinking I mattered something to you !" Now you definitely woke someone up, your throat burned as you shouted your whole heart out at Arthur, you felt disgusted, dirty even. The alcohol you previously drowned your sorrows into making you nauseous.

You were ready to give your heart to Arthur, you gave him everything. If he asked you the moon you’d give it to him.

And here you were, the biggest fool in the West, thinking you could have a space in Arthur’s heart.

"What, no!" Arthur’s shout was raw, it definitely hurt his throat, you never heard him shout this way, you never heard him shout at you at all. His voice filled with a mix of frustration and fear. He took another step toward you, stretching his hands out in search of your trembling ones, but you stumbled back, almost tripping over the edge of the cot.

"Darlin’, you’ve got to believe me, I'm beggin’ ya” 

“You’ve been lying to me for weeks, Arthur. For weeks you’ve been kissing me, lying in bed with me, you’ve been telling me that you love me while lying to me, for god’s sake ! How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?"

"Because I’m tellin’ you the truth!" Arthur pleaded, his voice thick, cracking with emotion. He could sense your heart getting further and further away from his. He wanted nothing more than to take your pain away seeing the way your shoulders shook with the force of your sobs. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into one of his bear hugs you always loved and make you believe him, but the distance between the both of you felt like a chasm too wide to cross anymore. The only bridge between you deteriorating before his very own eyes.

"Sweetheart, I love you. I always loved you, you’re the only one I care about."

But you shook your head, circling away from him before hitting the cold canvas of the tent wall.

"Don’t," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your sobs. "Don’t say that. You don’t get to say that after everything you’ve done to me… after all these lies."

"Darlin’, please…" Arthur broke down, his voice saturated with panic as he saw you back towards the exit of your tent, his eyes desperate as he looked at you. "I never meant to hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping this from you. I thought- I thought I could handle it on my own, that it would be over before you ever had to know. But I see now I see how big of a moron I was, how fucking wrong I was."

You looked at him, your face twisted in pain, your heart painfully torn between the love you still felt for him and the harsh betrayal you couldn’t shake away. "I can’t do this, Arthur," you meekly said, your voice trembling. "I can’t…I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. Who lies straight to my face as if nothing."

Arthur’s heart shattered at your words. He couldn’t believe this was happening, not again. He was not losing the love of his life again. But unfortunately he could see the resolve slowly hardening in your eyes, the way you were getting yourself ready to walk away. Every cell of his body was screaming at him to find a way to keep you.  "Don’t leave me, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Please, don’t do this. I’ll do anything… I’ll tell you everything, from now on. I’ll never see Mary again, just don’t go. Don’t leave me alone." he finished his sentence, his tone slowly going down to a mere whisper. His eyes filling with tears.

But you were already pulling away, turning your back on him as you moved toward the tent flap. Slightly hesitating with your hand on the thick canvas, your body trembling with the force of the decision you were about to make. If you did this there was no turning back. But this wasn’t your fault.

"I need to think," you said emotionless, your voice hollow as your sobs died down, leaving you with a hole in your heart, "I need…I need some time for myself."

"No, please don’t…" Arthur’s voice was choked with tears he wouldn’t let fall from his eyes. But it was too late.

You slipped out of the tent into the cold harsh night, leaving Arthur motionless at the center of the cold emptiness of your shared tent, feeling the walls closing in around him. The crushing realization that he might have just lost the one person who truly meant everything to him came down on him at once making his head spin.

Alone in the darkness, Arthur finally let the tears fall, each one a silent plea for a second chance he wasn’t sure he deserved.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

You needed to get away from him, to get away from everything right now. You felt that if you were just a second more inside that tent you’d take him into your arms, begging him to never let you go. But you couldn’t.

He lied to you, you didn’t care about Mary, about his secret rendezvous with her. He lied to you. That’s all you could think of.

Realizing that Arthur could easily follow you in camp you decided to completely get out of camp. You needed space, from him, from everyone. You just wanted to be alone.

Venturing into the woods at night wasn’t the smartest choice you’ve made per se, but a small ounce of alcohol was running through your veins still and you decided to blame it for your poor choice.

The moonlight shone brightly, illuminating faintly your surroundings, the harsh chill of the midnight weather biting your exposed hands as you once again forgot your gloves.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as more tears threatened to spill from your tired eyes, you were near the clearing you and Arthur found out a few weeks ago, in need of some privacy when your mouths were chasing each other and his hands, warm and calloused, explored your exposed back, your touches burning with raw desire.

The memory of that night burned in your heart when suddenly you heard a twig snap. You turned towards the direction of the sound fear taking over you, shaking every cell in your body. You were physically and emotionally drained, you didn't have a gun with you, not even a knife. The only thing left to do was pray it was just a fox wandering around.

And then you felt it, a sharp burning pain in the back of your head, kicking the air out of your lungs.

The last thing you saw was the forest floor.

Before darkness took over you.

[gyll-yee-haw]

Dalton's rules

Elwood Dalton x reader

Annon requested something intense with our brand new boyfriend... well, here we go <3

A/N: In this fic he's still fighting professionally

Warnings: masturbation (f), dom!Dalton, Somnophilia, cum in underwear, degradation, edging, pussy slapping, choking, more slapping, creampie...

Like 2.4k words

---

The first rule was clear. Some days your boyfriend would get everyone screaming his name, except for you. Fight nights... how you hated them! Not only you had to wait anxiously for him to come out of that octagon alive, but he just refused to touch you afterwards.

He claimed it's for your own safety. He just gets too worked up during his fights... if he couldn't mesure his strength, if he ever lost control around you, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

You were fine with it, most days. Well, of course you felt like rewarding your champion, but that could wait... the stress you went through during the fight and the days of preparation got you too tired to complain about it.

Well, most days...

There was this specific occasion, a very important fight for his career. Dalton had been training for so long, you felt absolutely neglected. Being the supportive girlfriend you are, you didn't say anything, though... you knew how important you were for him, and if he heard you were feeling like that, he would feel like the worst person in the world. And not only you didn't want to hurt his feelings, you didn't want to distract him and cause him to break any bones.

All you could do was wait.

Honestly? It wasn't that bad. Dalton always made it up for you. The days after his fights, before he started preparing for the next one, were the BEST. He got so clingy. He wouldn't let you go anywhere without him. His scary fighter face would be hidden under the sweetest permanent smile and kind doe eyes he only had for you. He would use his fat paychecks to spoil you. Buy you new jewelry for every fight he wins. Take you for dinner anywhere in this planet. And God... fuck you against every surface he saw.

Maybe it's because you had those things in mind and got too eager... maybe it's because this specific time he went too long without touching you... you weren't sure about why, all you knew was that the night after he won the fight, you were absolutely unable to sleep.

The discomfort between your legs was unbearable. You kept tossing and turning in bed, and he was so exhausted, so deep asleep, that not even your restless state right beside him was enough to wake him up.

You sighed frustratedly, looking at his face. God, he was so beautiful you felt like crying. It didn't help the way he never wore anything but those black boxers to sleep.

He was so tired... maybe he wouldn't notice if you touched yourself...

Yeah, that's the second rule. You're not touching yourself without his permission.

But... he would understand, right? Only this time...

Your eyes were glued to his face as your hand slid inside your underwear.

You were dangerously close to him, his body pressed against yours...

It felt like you were committing a crime. Unfortunately, that only turned you on more.

You were so fucking wet you were afraid he would wake up from the sounds your pussy was making.

Well, he didn't fully wake up, but something in him did. You froze when you felt him move. Except that he didn't really move. What you felt was his cock hardening against your thigh.

You wanted to cry. He felt so deliciously hard... what a fucking waste, you needed him so badly... you rubbed your clit so hard, but that wasn't it...

You might have lost your mind just for a second. But the next thing you knew was that you were grinding against his erection like your life depended on it. At this point, all you wanted was for him to wake up and fucking take you.

He didn't wake up at once. As he gained consciousness, he was fully convinced that was all a dream. He remained on that half asleep/half awake land, without moving a muscle. And you kept grinding on his clothed cock so fucking good. So deliciously hard... leaking more and more and... oh shit.

His eyes shot open as his orgasm started to build.

"Shit! Y/N, what the fuck?!" He grunted, voice still so sleepy...

You didn't stop. He grabbed your arm harder than he would like to as he filled his underwear with cum. So much cum it leaked all over your ass as you kept rubbing it against him.

"Oh for fucks sake..." He pushed you away. Fucking pushed you away. He had NEVER done that. "Look at the fucking mess you've made..."

His harsh touch didn't hurt half as much as the loss of contact.

"Dalton... please..." You whined. "Didn't cum..."

"Yeah? Good." He grabbed your hand, forcing you to stop touching yourself. "What the fuck was that?"

"M'sorry..." You squeezed your thighs together. "Needed you too badly..."

"That's the worst behavior I have ever seen in my life." He took a deep breath. "And you couldn't have pissed me off at a worst time."

You had no words to defend yourself. It was true, you broke two rules at once.

"I am so fucking exhausted... and have wake up in the middle of the night to deal with a brat." He continued, his grip still burning on your arm.

"Baby... please... I'm so sorry..." You insisted, burying your face in his chest. Your hands went to his abs, tracing it slowly and he tensed up.

It was obviously not only difficult to you, those days without any touch. But he would rather suffer a bit than risk hurting you or losing the fight.

"Oh my sweet girl..." He cooed, hand stroking the back of your head. "You know I have to be harsh sometimes, yeah?"

You looked at his face again. His sweet expression kept you calm, but his words didn't.

"You understand that I have to punish you right now, don't you?" He asked nicely, like you had a choice. "That I do what I do because I need to keep you obedient..."

You nodded shyly.

"Good girl." He sighed. "Tell me, my princess... when you were touching yourself without my permission... you didn't cum, right?"

You shook your head quickly.

"Do you need to?" He asked and you nodded immediately. "Yeah? How bad? Use your words for me, darling."

"So bad, needed it for so long..." You explained, eyes filling with tears.

"Hey, hey, hey..." His hand went to your cheek, stroking it lightly. "You need cock so bad you're gonna cry, angel?"

You felt humiliated. All you did was look at him. He had a huge smirk on his face.

"That's fucking pathetic." He mocked. "Spread your legs for me."

When you did, he ripped your underwear like it was nothing, throwing it somewhere in the room. The way his eyes landed on your pussy made your stomach churn.

He knew you were ready, so he immediately shoved two fingers inside, bending them, rubbing your walls just so right...

Your eyes immediately rolled back. You were so close before he caught you, it surely wouldn't take you too long to get there now.

"Does this feel good, baby?" He asked, fingers never stopping. "Is that what you needed?"

You nodded eagerly, hips moving uncontrollably as you felt yourself getting there... you grabbed the sheets and closed your eyes, god, you were right there, growing and growing and growing in your belly...

"Too fucking bad, slut." He said, removing his fingers from you at once. His sweet tone was nowhere to be seen now.

Before you could start crying at the loss of contact, he gave your pussy a loud slap. You gasped. You were used to Dalton being rough, but not that rough.

"What did you expect?" He mocked you again. "That I would just solve your fucking problem? Do you think you deserve that?"

When you didn't answer, he slapped your pussy again. "Thought I asked you a fucking question."

"I don't deserve it!" You admitted. "But I did what I did because I was too desperate... because I need you too badly..."

"You just had to wait until the morning, you know that." He explained.

"Couldn't wait... I couldn't." You whined. "Slap me again, please?"

His eyes widened. "You're trying to come from your punishment? Do you have any idea the kind of trouble that would put you in?"

"No... not thinking, just need you..." You moaned, arms wrapping around his neck, bringing him close. "Come on, baby... don't you miss me?"

"Y/N..." He groaned. "Can't do this right now."

"Why?" Your eyebrows furrowed.

"Because I'm fucking mad at you." He shut his eyes, like he was trying to tell himself that. He needed to tell himself, because he was getting hard again.

"No, you're not mad at me for real." You insisted. "Come on..."

"Am I not mad for real?" He raised his eyebrows.

You bit your lip and shook your head.

"Do you think I'm in the mood for playing?" He asked, looking at the clock on the nightstand. "At 3am?"

"I'm sorry... I won't do it again..." You pouted.

He sighed, his eyes on your lips as he licked his. He rested his hand around your neck as a warning to stay still while he leaned to kiss you. You melted into the kiss, hips trying to grind against his leg. His hand tightened around your neck.

"Quiet." He said against your lips.

He pressed his body against yours and you could feel how extremely hard he was again already. You had never met a man with that stamina. Well, everyone knew there was no other man like him...

"Listen to me. Carefully." He said, pressing his erection harder to your core, making you roll your eyes in lust. "I'm gonna fuck you now and then I'm going back to sleep. And if you wake me up again, I'm not gonna even look in your direction for a week, do you understand?"

You nodded with a certain difficulty, considering how his hand squeezed your neck.

"Do. You. Understand?" He asked again.

"Yes, sir." You replied weakly.

"Smart little brat." He chuckled. "Turn around."

He stood up to remove his underwear and you laid on your belly as fast as possible.

The sharp slap that laid on your ass didn't surprise you the slightest, but you still moaned.

He pulled you closer like you were nothing and started stroking his cock. He knew you were more than ready, but his cock was still a bit sensitive from the harsh stimulation you kinda... forced him into. So he entered you slowly, inch by inch. You couldn't believe how good it felt.

"Fucking missed this pussy, baby, I'll admit that." He said, movements starting slow, but deep. "Just wanted it to be more romantic, you know? Take you somewhere nice... in a pretty dress I'd ruin later..."

"M'sorry..." you cried out. When he was that deep inside you, he could get you apologizing for things you didn't even do.

"Yeah, but my girl doesn't like romance, right?" He grabbed your waist and started going harder. "She likes being treated like a fucking slut. A very fucking ungrateful one."

"S'not true..." You moaned.

"Oh am I crazy, baby?" He gave you another slap. "You wanna keep disrespecting me? Knowing you, you might get sick from the lack of attention..."

"I would!" You replied, desperately. "Could fucking die..."

"Dramatic fucking whore." He chuckled. "Listen to me now. Very serious."

You tried your best to concentrate. It helped that his hips stopped moving.

"You're gonna tell me to stop immediately if I hurt you, won't you?" He asked, in the most serious tone you've heard from him.

"Yes." You couldn't contain the excitement that phrase ignited in you. Should you be scared?

"I mean it. You won't get punished and I'll let you cum if you still want to. But you have to be honest, baby, I... I couldn't live with myself." He insisted.

"I promise, baby." You assured him. "You won't hurt me, I can take it."

"Yeah?" He chuckled again. "Well, you fucking asked for it."

After making sure you were as comfortable as you could get in your position, he forgot what the word mercy meant.

His thrusts fast and deep, his sounds animalistic. Hands on your hips leaving bruises... and if you could speak, you'd thank him for it. It was more than you expected... more than he ever gave you. But it sure was what you needed... and it didn't take too long for that familiar feeling, the one you had been craving all night, fuck, all week, start to build.

"DALTON, PLEASE!" You started by begging already, because you weren't in position to do anything without his permission, no matter how much you needed it. "PLEASE, I'M SO CLOSE..."

"Fuck, me too..." He said, never stopping his hard thrusts. "Come for me, pretty girl... hurry up..."

The relief your body felt as soon as it got his permission allowed your orgasm to build and build and explode harder than you could take it... all you could do was scream his name among incoherent words.

He followed right after you, filling you up so deeply...

As soon as he was finished, he wrapped his arms around you and laid down, holding you close.

"Are you okay, angel?" He kissed every inch of your skin he could reach.

"Fuck, I am now..." you sighed and both of you laughed a little.

"I'm sorry, baby..." His sweet tone was back incredibly quick.

"You didn't hurt me, I promise." You assured him.

"Good... But I'm not apologizing for this... I'm sorry that I neglected you for so long." He caressed your face gently. "You're so much more important to me than all that bullshit. I just..."

"I know." You cut him, offering him a reassuring smile. The look in your eyes meant all the words you couldn't say. Specially not at that moment.

"You do, don't you?" He sighed relieved. You were his ride or die. And he couldn't imagine what he would do without you. "I'm so lucky to have you."

"Well..." You shrugged playfully. "Guess that means it's all forgiven."

"All forgiven." He chuckled, bringing you closer to him.

[gyusimp]

°•Lord Muzan feels tired after work

⚠️ WARNINGS: NSFW | Smut content | Fem reader | Fingering | Semi-oral | Minors DNI!

Finally the one-shot I promised! I changed the initial idea so I basically rewrote the whole thing again because of a dream I had and it gave me all the inspiration I needed lmao it even gave me an idea for another longer fic with Muzan. I ended up doing it in the canon Taisho Era so enjoy!

Art credits for the creator (not mine)

It wasn't physical fatigue that he felt, after all, the progenitor of demons was tireless. He was rather fed up. Fed up with his employees, his servants, humans in general and how exhausting it was to be the only perfect and intelligent creature among them. His day had been full of problems today.

The current role he had was that of a young and rich businessman, owner of a company importing foreign products whom he murdered in order to carry out his plans and continue increasing his fortune. He forged a few papers, impersonated some people and murdered others and so the company was his now but that included all his stupid and useless employees. He was so fed up with damn humans, sometimes he avoided dismissals, it depends on their mood and how efficient they were at some point then Muzan fired them, otherwise he just called them to his office simply to kill them.

Then a few months later he met you, a young and beautiful woman in the business world with a company dedicated to natural medicine and importing medicinal plants. You were an essential piece in his plan to conquer the sun. He married you when he had the chance to but you eventually found out that he wasn't human. How come you were still alive then? You discovered it on your own, you didn't make a fuss or try to run away from him, you simply let him know that you already knew through small clues or ways of acting, like you were in charge of closing all the curtains in the house during the day but you didn't ask the servants to do it for you. Your loyalty to him remained despite knowing what he was and that was not lost on Muzan.

One night, he told you what this was all about, if you hadn't left despite knowing his condition then you had to stay alive. Muzan gave you the choice if you wanted to become a demon or not but whatever your answer was, you had to serve him for your entire life. The fact of being immortal did not tempt your human weakness but you told him that by having the ability to walk under the sun, you could be his eyes in the light of day and help him do different things so you both ended up accepting. You were legally his wife, so in front of everyone Muzan treated you as such although there were times in private where he was still a little soft on you, plus, he is an attractive looking man which led you to feel some things more for him , taking on mind his demonic nature.

Today had been a terribly long day, the fatigue in Kibutsuji's body caused the veins on his forehead to stand out strongly under his skin, his red eyes appeared and his pupils turned into vertical slits like a cat's.  He took off the black trench coat he was wearing and left it on the coat rack at the entrance, his fangs grew to normal size after having hidden them all day, as did his sharp blue nails, making one of his servants tremble who should have already gone home. The man next to him was observed with indifference, his skin was pale and he was sweating coldly having seen the small transformation of his master, then he remembered the stories of those man-eating creatures that the women of his town told the children.

"A monster! This man is not human!! MISS KIBUTSUJI, THERE IS A DEMON IN THE HOUSE!" the man shouted trying to alert you.

His shrill screams tried Muzan's patience and when the man turned to walk up the stairs towards you he was cut into pieces in less than 2 seconds. The reddish and thick liquid splashed Kibutsuji's face making him sigh and wipe it with a handkerchief as well as his hand, the drops dripped on the stairs and when he walked next to him he moved it with too much disgust using his foot and continuing his way towards your room upstairs.

Like a gentleman, he knocked on the door before entering and upon hearing your voice he entered the room. You hadn't heard anything but his murderous look told you that he wasn't in the best of moods so you didn't say anything. You went to the bathroom in the large room and put on a pearl-colored sleeveless sleeping dress with a matching silk robe. Just like your husband, you preferred to dress in a Western style, you left your hair down and went out. You found him sitting on the edge of the bed, with both hands together mumbling some things, noticing how stressed he was and without saying anything you knelt on the bed behind him and started massaging his shoulders. You were involved in the world of medicine since you were little, so you knew the points where stress usually accumulates. Feeling your hands exerting pleasant pressure on his body, Muzan couldn't help but tilt his head to the side and put aside everything he was thinking, he took off his tie and closed his eyes, sighing tiredly. You continued caressing his neck, shoulders and back until slowly his muscles relaxed and his veins stopped showing under his skin.

"Can i...?" You asked, bringing your hands to the collar of his shirt.

You unbuttoned the entire garment and got rid of it completely leaving his naked and well-worked torso exposed, you continued massaging his shoulders and back until he felt good enough to close his eyes and lay his head on your chest, feeling your breasts very close to him. Your hands were soft and light, with a sincere and warm touch making his thoughts go elsewhere. While you continued doing your thing, he got rid of his belt and unbuttoned his pants without you realizing it, then grabbed your wrist with some force and brought you in front of him so that you were sitting astride his lap. As soon as you sat down, he took it upon himself to stare at you and open the robe you were wearing to see your breasts under the thin fabric of the nightgown and how your nipples were beginning to stand out. He took off your robe and then grabbed the hem of your nightgown to pull it up and take it off as well. A few seconds passed, he lightly patted your thigh to make you lift your butt so he could get rid of your panties as well, leaving you completely naked under his gaze. He gently took your hand, still looking at you, and brought it up to his face to caress it against his cheek and kiss your palm elegantly.

"You are a rather attractive woman...worthy of bearing my last name." You felt so lucky when he took the time to compliment you since you knew his disdain for almost everything.

You melted at his touch, at his kisses, but an unusual sensation on the skin of your hand made you look in that direction. You saw how a mouth began to form in Muzan's palm with teeth, tongue and everything. You knew about all the changes and transformations that his body was capable of so it no longer surprised you at all since he also knew how to use those changes to your advantage. Muzan smiled at you with seductive malice and with his free hand he grabbed your waist while the hand with his mouth went straight between your legs, placing his palm just below your pussy. You couldn't help but moan and startled a little when you felt his warm breath hitting you, you felt his tongue come out from his palm and begin to suck and lick all your folds. You looked at Muzan with a huge blush as you grabbed his shoulders. While his palm was in charge of your center, he brought 2 of his fingers to your hole, making you arch your back as you felt him enter and arch his fingers inside you. Both sensations made you begin to moan his name and move your hips on him to increase your own pleasure as he hardened dangerously beneath you. His entire mouth sucked on your pussy, playing with it with his teeth and pressing your clit against his tongue over and over again as he moved his fingers and the mouth on his face kissed and bit your neck and collarbones. You were starting to get very wet, the saliva and your juices between your legs making you feel very hot and slippery. Muzan's free hand took you from behind to bring you closer to him and caressed your back until it went down and reached your butt, then he went to your bust and began to knead one of your breasts between his fingers, causing you endless moans.

"Aa-aah...Muzan! Aah!" You could barely speak properly.

You rubbed your center on the palm of his hand while the mouth beneath you devoured you completely, you listened to the wet sounds that leaked beneath you and imagining the dirty scene aroused you more and more. The simple act of letting the Demon King fuck you as he pleased turned you on no matter what. Muzan was going too fast and every rub on and lick on your folds was killing you, you clung tightly to his shoulders making scratches that regenerated immediately feeling your orgasm getting closer to the point of not even being able to stay upright. Your head leaned down, leaving your left hand on his shoulder while you held on to the bed with your right as if your life depended on it, never stopping moaning or moving.

Muzan watched you from above, proud of the mess he made of you, of how he was able to lower such a prestigious and elegant lady to such a level, making her beg for more as if she were a prostitute. You were close, he knew it by the way you squeezed his fingers tighter than before and he didn't want to let this moment pass him by. Muzan grabbed your chin to make you look into his eyes.

"Look at me...you're about to cum, aren't you? I want you to look at me..."

You tried to raise your face towards him but lust was stronger than your five senses, your body was heavy with pleasure and you could barely open your eyes properly. You didn't heed his request and that might make him angry so this time he held you tighter, digging his nails into your soft flesh making your cheeks sting.

"I told you I want you to look at me when you do it...it's an order." He demanded.

You clung to his shoulders without stopping moving and he increased his speed, you squeezed him again and just when you felt yourself on the edge you looked down but forced yourself to half open your eyes and look up again just as you screamed of pleasure as you feel all your whitish and slippery discharge come out from your core, wetting all of Muzan's hand under you where his mouth did not waste a single drop.

"Your taste is very pleasant, dear. I would never get tired of it." He licked his lips.

You were shaking in his lap, sweating all over your body, and a huge blush came over you again when you looked down and saw the mess you had left in his pants. Muzan smiled evilly at you and pushed you on the bed to change places and position himself over you after having completely gotten rid of all his clothes.

Your hair was a mess on the bed, your chest rose and fell trying to normalize your breathing and you could feel your sensitive folds throbbing after such a strong euphoria. You finished having your orgasm, you were wet and slippery and Muzan wasn't going to waste that.

"It's my turn, precious."

He told you, showing you his fangs in a smile and in less than you expected he opened your legs to position himself in the middle of you, he took one of your legs behind your knee and placed it on his shoulder without letting go and then entered you with a single thrust making you moan intensely. He didn't care that you had not yet adapted to his size, he began to stretch you and move repeatedly inside you until he aroused you again. You could hear his soft moans and grunts in your ear as he moved, you took him by the shoulders again and adjusted your legs so you both felt better.

Even though this was only the second round for you you felt almost dead tired, your legs and waist were starting to hurt and you envied the way your husband wasn't even sweating. A pleasurable sensation formed inside you as you felt the crashes of each of his thrusts against your clit and the pressure you felt on it again and again causing you to stretch your toes and squeeze Muzan very tightly again. He loved feeling you that way, you drove him crazy with pleasure and you noticed how the veins appeared again on his back and arms but this time it was due to the strong arousement he was feeling. He had the nerve to lift his head from your shoulder and moan heavily as he closed his eyes and increased his speed, feeling you suck him deep.

"Fuck...you're perfect nngh, you're even better than those 12 fucking idiots." He moaned, complimenting you.

You loved pleasing your husband and even more so seeing that you were doing a good job. Knowing that you could manage to put the Demon King in such a vulnerable state turned you on more, making you eagerly wait for his orgasm and the second one on your part, but on the other hand it made you nervous. Muzan's arousal was as strong as 10 men combined every time he fucked you and his release was just as intense or even more so, so when he tilted his head back after you cum again, you felt a huge amount of his falling inside you reaching the bottom of your insides, spilling the rest between your legs until forming a whitish stain on the bed, under the two of you.

The way Muzan felt his scent permeate your flesh once again made him feel powerful, it was a way of claiming you as his because no matter how many times you showered or cleaned yourself, how many days went by without him fucking you, Muzan let his cells inside you, so that any creature that knew of his existence would also know that you belonged to him.

[phillydilly]

On the edge

⊹♡— In which Charles has finally hit his breaking point and snaps at Ferrari, and his girlfriend is the only one who can calm him down

Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Authors note: After processing everything that was the US Grand Prix, I decided to write this and pretend that this is exactly what Charles did in real life. I don’t know about Charles but I have certainly reached my breaking point with this fuckass team. Anyways, enjoy?

Charles stood on the grid, his red Ferrari gleaming under the Texan sun. He had secured pole position for the United States Grand Prix in Austin, but his excitement was short-lived. The team had a different strategy in mind, one that involved a risky one-stop tire plan, and Charles couldn't believe it.

"Charles, we're going for the one-stop strategy," his race engineer informed him through the radio.

"One-stop? Are you guys out of your minds?" Charles shouted back, his frustration bubbling over.

Ferrari had been struggling with tire degradation for years, especially at the Circuit of the Americas, and it was a recipe for disaster. He felt like he was being set up for failure. As the race began, he fought to keep his tires alive, but the degradation was merciless.

Lap after lap, Charles watched as other drivers on different strategies flew past him. His tires were giving up, and he felt betrayed by his own team. He couldn't hold back his anger any longer. "This is ridiculous! I can't believe you put me on these tires! What are you thinking?" Charles yelled over the radio.

The Ferrari pit wall was silent for a moment before the voice of the team principal, Fred Vasseur, responded, "Charles, we believe this strategy can work. Just stay focused."

But Charles knew it was a lost cause. The moment the race ended he stormed into the garage after his pit stop, his frustration boiling over. "You guys sabotaged my race! This was a terrible call!"

Charles couldn't hold back his anger any longer. He stormed into the debrief session with his Ferrari team, the tension in the room palpable.

"I can't believe you guys," he began, his voice seething with frustration. "You knew how important this race was for the standings, and you still forced that one-stop strategy on me. It's like you don't even care about my success."

The team members exchanged uneasy glances, but Charles wasn't done. "I've been patient with this team for years, and this is how you repay me? By ruining my race?"

Fred tried to maintain order, "Charles, we believed in the strategy. We thought it could work."

Charles cut him off, his anger unrestrained. "Believed? Believed?! You destroyed my race, and you dare to say you believed? It's absurd!"

As the argument intensified, Charles's teammate Carlos Sainz couldn't stay silent any longer. "Charles, we win as a team, and we lose as a team. We have to trust in the decisions we make together."

Charles turned to Carlos, his eyes blazing with anger. "Trust? You want me to trust a team that has let me down repeatedly? Maybe you can, but I’m sick of this bullshit!"

The room descended into chaos as Charles and the team members went back and forth. Accusations were hurled, and frustrations boiled over. The argument was a maelstrom of emotions and raised voices.

In the midst of the heated debrief session, Charles felt the need to drive home a point. He turned to the team with a determined expression. "You know, Ferrari is not my last option. I've been contacted by several teams, including Red Bull."

The room fell silent as everyone took in his words. The mention of Red Bull, a team that was currently dominating the sport, hung heavily in the air.

"I've been loyal to Ferrari, and I've given my best. But you need to understand that other teams are interested in me," Charles continued, his tone unyielding. "I have choices, and I won't hesitate to explore them if I feel that my commitment and hard work aren't being reciprocated."

The team members exchanged uneasy glances, realizing that Charles had a point. The sport was highly competitive, and top drivers were in demand. Ferrari couldn't afford to lose a talent like him.

They had taken Charles’s loyalty for granted, and never thought he would entertain the idea of leaving. They knew he had other options, but this was a stark wake-up call.

In the midst of the shocked silence that had followed Charles's revelation, Fred began to speak, attempting to address the situation. However, before he could finish his sentence, Charles abruptly stood up, his expression resolute, and without saying a word, he walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

The team was left in stunned silence, realizing the gravity of the situation. The realization that Charles, their star driver, had reached a breaking point and walked out of the debrief without another word was a stark reminder that their actions had consequences, and the trust between the driver and the team needed to be urgently repaired.

As he stormed out of the garage and back to his driver's room, he noticed Y/n, his girlfriend, sitting on the sofa with open arms, waiting for him.

He collapsed into her embrace, his anger still burning brightly. Y/n wrapped her arms around him, letting him vent. "Charles, it's okay to be angry," she said softly. "You've been patient with this team for years, and they keep making these decisions that hurt you. It's not fair."

Charles took a deep breath, tears of frustration and anger welling up in his eyes. "I just don't know what to do anymore. I've given them everything, and they do this."

Y/n held him close, her voice filled with empathy. "I understand, Charles. You have every right to be angry. You've earned your place here, and they need to respect that. Let it out; I'm here to support you."

As he continued to express his anger and disappointment, Y/n listened attentively, providing a safe space for him to share his feelings. She understood that this was a breaking point for him, and she was determined to stand by his side.

Just as they were beginning to calm down, a knock on the driver's room door shattered the fragile peace. A Ferrari team member stood there, a worried look on his face.

"What is it?" Charles asked, his heart sinking.

The team member hesitated before responding, "Charles, we've just been informed that there's a technical issue on your car, and it's likely to result in disqualification."

Charles and Y/n exchanged a glance, their hearts heavy with the weight of the news. It seemed that the day had gone from bad to worse, and now the race he had fought so hard for was slipping away.

Charles ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "I can't catch a break today, can I?"

[allmightluver]

@hhbluedynamite I’m going to make separate post here to address this. Tumblr mobile is a pain and I can’t add all picture examples I want to it here goes.

This has been a debate ever since My Hero came out,

“Why are All Mights eyes black?”

There’s been multiple explanations from how his borrowed quirk works to simply his own emaciated state. I’ve come up with my own theory. It’s said the eyes are the windows to the soul. I believe All Might’s eyes grow darker the more “weight” he carries.

For example,

When All Might was a kid, his eyes were normal. White. After losing his family, rendering him an orphan, white. Even after losing Nana, still he looked normal.

And after first releasing to the public.

This is because although he’d already been thru hell and back emotionally, he’s still normal. Even with his quirk.

Then, after he’d been in the game a while, they suddenly darkened.

Why?

Because by that time, the full gravity of his position, his responsibility and the realization he was essentially alone in that place, had fully sunk in.

Because he was so over powered above everyone else, everyone including the heroes left him to take care of almost everything they felt was too hard. And because he’s a selfless person at heart without a care to his own safety, he willingly allowed it to happen without asking for help. He didn’t want to risk losing anyone else. Which is also why he didn’t take on any sidekicks.

Until Nighteye.

Vigilantes showed us Toshinori when he wasn’t being All Might. And his eyes turn back into white in his more relaxed form, albeit with tired lines beneath them. However this is when he had Nighteye to count on. And Nighteye can see the future, so perhaps he would be safe, right? Well we know what happened there.

After he and Nighteye break up go their separate ways, we never see Toshinori with white eyes again. (Unless I’m forgetting so please tell me if I am). Now he’s injured, only a handful of people to trust, and none can truly understand what he’s going through. At this time he truly is alone, and the one thing that gives him joy is slowly but surely being fizzled out within him.

All Might’s eyes continued to remain black for years. Even after giving his quirk to Izuku. He still felt the weight of the world on his shoulders because he feared for Izuku’s safety. Blamed himself for every scar and Injury the boy suffered thru. Even though he was retired, nothing had changed. In fact it was worse now, because he could do nothing to help anymore.

And then he gains support items to face AFO for the last time. He’s a distraction, a willing sacrifice to slow the monster down, and he couldn’t be happier. We see the whites of his for the first time. All through the fight we see them, shaded albeit, but they’re there.

When he speaks to Nighteye asking if this isn’t the place he was meant to die, Nighteye confirms that it is. The fact that he’s still alive makes him raise the question, why is he still here then? I’m the mentor, Izuku is a ready and worthy apprentice. He doesn’t need me anymore. I’m supposed to be dead by now. His eyes seem darker here, as if the weight and his own depression have increased again. Perhaps begrudgingly accepting his fate.

But then here after Nighteye tells him he reads too many comic books, and that there’s no way he would go out that way, we get a closer look. Although his eyes are still shrouded in black because of his emaciated state. His eyes themselves are clearer, brighter. Even if Nighteye is only in his head, his words are still bringing him hope deep down.

While being tended to medically, his eyes are dark again, though I believe this is mainly due to him barely being alive and conscious at this point. And they’re still white, more than we’re used to seeing.

Finally after the war while they’re recovering, his eyes remain white, though they’re still shaded. The weight is still present. His work isn’t done yet. Izuku is losing his quirk, and he still feels like a failure in some sense because of that. Also because he and Bakugo almost died. And because of everyone who did die in the war all because he failed to stop AFO after three tries.

People who weren’t qualified to be heroes were even involved in this battle. And he thinks it unfair to hold such high standards when there are people who can still help, even if not at the extreme levels of the top heroes. He and Deku are proof of that!

In the last chapter several years later, we finally see Old Man Might! And his eyes-they’re so bright. ❤️

Of course they’ll always have a little shadow to them because of his sunken in appearance, but the tired lines under his eyes are gone. There’s not the black bags from pushing himself too hard, just the normal wrinkles that come with age.

This is Toshinori that’s been missing for decades. The man whose impossible weight has finally been lifted off his shoulders. He knows he can finally relax, he doesn’t have to be on alert or on call anymore. The world is safe without him.

He even found a way for Izuku to keep up his hero work with a suit similar to his own during the war (though most definitely suped up).

Finally, he can be at peace. His body, soul, and mind can finally begin to heal. He can work through all of the trauma he’s been stuffing down all of his life.

Finally, he can live.

[chronicbeans]

Nurse's Office

Needed to write a platonic Alastor x Nurse Reader Angst fic after I saw that fight between him and Adam like holy hell.

TW: Injuries and Blood, Medical Tools/Procedures, Anxiety/Slight Panic, Spiraling Mental Health

So... When you got started at the Hazbin Hotel, you didn't expect to be a nurse there. Sure, you have the skills, but you usually don't have a nurse working a hotel. Now, though, you completely understand why they'd want to hire you for that, and not the room service position you applied for. Over the little time you've been here, you've seen more injuries that you could've ever imagined at a single hotel, with so few guests.

After the fight with the angels, though? You have been working on overdrive. You've had to patch everyone up, and you can't even find Alastor. You keep doing a head count after every person you treat, seeing if you can find him, but he doesn't show up. Your anxiety only gets worse once you check on Vaggie, the last person you had to help, and he still didn't make an appearance.

You don't want to assume the worst, though, so you grab some medical supplies, put them into a bag, then head out into the debris. He has to be somewhere. Even if he's not alive, he still deserves to be found. He also couldn't have gotten far! Yeah, he kind of... disappeared at one point...? You didn't get a good look, but he did disappear from your sight. But you don't suspect he'd have went far from the hotel while injured. Just far enough to be safe. That's what you hope, at least...

You continue wandering around for a few hours, your legs feeling exhausted after a while. Climbing over all the rubble, breathing in some of the settling dust, and straining your eyes to see up ahead is tiring... that, and you keep scraping your hands and knees on the sharp rocks and broken concrete. The most disheartening part, though, is that you still haven't seen him... Then, you spot it.

A tiny little splatter of blood.

Then, another splatter nearby...

And another...

Yes, a trail! You don't know who it's going to lead to, but you can see some lights in the distance. It at least leads somewhere. You quickly begin to follow it, seeing the red light get brighter and brighter. The radio tower comes into view. You know that it has to be Alastor, at this point. Why hadn't you thought of it sooner? You climb down the rubble, beginning to make your way over to the ruined tower ahead of you.

As you get close to the bottom hatch, you hear some footsteps against the floor. Immediately, you knock on the hatch, making your presence known. "Alastor! It's (Y/N)! I'm coming in there! If you're on the door, you better get off. Don't even try to stop me from getting in, either, because I'll climb through one of the windows if I have to." You pause, hearing the footsteps stop for a moment. After a few seconds, you crawl into the radio tower.

The place is a mess, to say the least... which, you expected. You stand up, then immediately scan the room for Alastor. It's a bit dark, and knowing him, he's probably going to try to hide, somehow. He hates being seen as weak, and from all the blood you've seen so far, he's gotten injured. Badly.

"Alastor? I know you're in here. I heard you walking." You walk around the room, checking every corner. Then, you notice an oddly moving shadow, alongside a puddle of blood. You walk over to it, frowning. "I know you're there. Come on. I'm here to help." You sigh as the shadow makes a little grunt noise, much like a deer would. You then cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at it. Looks like you'll have to appeal to his ego a little.

"How do you think people would feel if you, the great Radio Demon, died here alone in the shambles of his radio tower?" The shadow grows quiet as you say this, and before you know it, Alastor appears before you. He looks terrible, holding his stomach with one arm and the broken remains of his microphone in his other hand. You take a step towards him, but he backs away a bit.

"I'm fine, dear... It's nothing I can't handle. Just give me some time to regain my energy, then I-" You shake your head instantly, gesturing to his wound. "No, Alastor! Look at you. You almost died! Sure, maybe you can regenerate, I don't know... but I spent an hour or so looking for you, with the sole intention of helping you! I didn't come here for you to tell me "No, I don't need help, even though I'm severely wounded"! I came here to assist you."

You watch his eyes widen, his already strained grin becoming even more strained. His ears then pull back, the look in his eyes becoming more distressed. He mutters something, before nodding. Then, he leans against the wall, before slowly easing himself to the floor. "Fine, dear. If you truly came all this way, I guess it would be rude if I said no to your help." You are a bit shocked he gave up so easily, as well as how uneasy he looks. You decide to just help him, though.

You crouch next to him, taking out your medical tools from your bag. "You're definitely going to need stitches... my healing magic can only do so much, but it should work better if I close the wound first." You smile gently, before you point to him. "Though, I'm going to have to, at least, unbutton your shirt and coat to do so. Are you comfortable with that? I know you are very iffy about being touched..."

Alastor then begins to show more visible signs of discomfort, his eyebrows furrowing, and a slight static hum droning from somewhere nearby. You pick up on it, beginning to think aloud. "I can try to find some way to maneuver around the fabric, instead, since it was cut open-" "No. No. I trust you, dear." You blink a few times, wondering why he is acting so oddly. "Are you sure...?" "Yes, dear. I know you well enough to trust you." He then pauses, before quickly adding "You're a medical professional, after all. You've probably seen more than an upper torso, before. I trust you to not be a degenerate."

You simply chuckle, nodding. "You better! I'd say we're good friends, after all." You then quickly unbutton the clothing, before grabbing some sterile gloves and disinfectant. As you put the gloves on, you hear him mutter something, once again. Then, when you grab a set of tweezers and a cotton ball, he makes an odd comment. "We're great friends, yes...? If I told you a secret, you'd keep it, right?" You nod as you pick the cotton ball up with the needle, cover it in disinfectant, then begin to disinfectant the wound. "Yeah. You can tell me. It'll probably keep you distracted from any pain you feel, too."

Instead of a hiss of pain, the static noise grows loud for a moment. Then, it quiets down a bit as he talks. "I'm not entirely sure if you know this, already, but I made a deal... My soul is owned by someone else. I regret it more than anything..." You let out a little hum, your expression changing to one of shock. You grab the suture needle, as well as some thread. "Why are you telling me this?"

"(Y/N), my dear... I trust you more than many others. I've seen you working in that nurse's office of yours. You care more than the average sinner about others. Almost to a hilarious degree. I can imagine you patching up a soldier on one side of a battle and sending them out, then immediately do the same with someone from their enemy's side." He then laughs, before coughing a bit. "You care... but don't care when it comes to the right things to interest me. I trust you to not care about this, even if it means you'll keep secrets from me."

You nod, before gently smiling. "I'll keep it a secret... I know others could hold this against you and use it for an advantage. So, I won't say a word. Plus, you're right. I'm a bit of a chaotic middle ground. I don't like taking sides." You then get the needle into position, beginning to actually sew him up. "So, tell me... Is there anything else you're anxious about?"

His ears flick, the static growing once more. Then, it dies down again. "I don't want to be remembered as an altruist... I don't want to be seen as someone who had died for that hotel and his friends. I know that there's probably some people there who believe I died... and knowing Vox, he probably found some way to watch what happened. That man is practically obsessed with me, after all, dear!" He laughs, again, causing you to have to pause your suturing. After a few seconds, he begins coughing more. He sounds genuinely upset, despite his laughing.

"Why wouldn't you like that?" Alastor seems to disregard your question, instead beginning to talk about his deal once more. "There has to be an exit to that deal... a loophole. Something so I can get out of it..." You begin to continue, almost done with your work. "Are you sure...? What was it?" "I'm sure, and it's private matters."

You finish up, thing up the last suture's knot. Then, you take off your gloves, putting on a fresh pair, and grab the bandages. "... Alastor, are you alright...?" He looks to you, his eyes wide. "Why are you asking...? I am perfectly fine. Not a problem here. After I get free from my deal, I'll be-"

You narrow your eyes at him. "Alastor... you're frowning."

Alastor seems to grab at his cheeks for a moment, an odd, anxious grimace spreading across his face. Then, he begins forcing another grin. His tone is a lot more frantic, as if he has begun to spiral. Or, perhaps, just begun to outwardly express that he's spiraling. "I wasn't frowning. I am fine, dear." "You're not fine... but, if you say so, Alastor. I won't push the topic." You bandage his wound, before sighing. "Okay, so... This magic works oddly. You'll be-"

Before you can finish, he begins standing up. "Hey, wait-" He, holds a hand up, shushing you. Then, he points to himself. "I'll take care of the rest. You should handle your own wounds, dear. Don't think I haven't noticed your scrapes and cuts. You look like you've ran through a thornbush on your way over here." He begins buttoning up his shirt and coat, and you're shocked to see it repairing itself as he does so. Clearly, while your friend's power is limited, he's hiding more secrets than you expected...

"Fine... You better not leave me here by myself as I do so, though." You go from a crouching position, to a sitting one, as you clean off your tiny cuts. You hear him go quiet, for a moment, but can't see his expression due to your focus now being on yourself. After a few moments, though, you hear him chuckle.

For the first time, you hear his voice clearly, with no radio waves obscuring it. "Of course, dear. I never would dream of that. The others, though? Maybe..."

[queers-gambit]

Blue Bunny

prompt: you and the Twins show up to collect the same debt.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.4k+

warnings: Tan's real name being Aaron, Lemon's real name being Brian, Mafia antics, depiction of murder, blood, guns, brief physical violence, given nickname [ Bunny ], Daddy's Girl trope? dialogue heavy fic.

"I like the lilac, what do you think? Maybe the yellow?"

"The pink's rather nice."

"How's about green? For St. Patrick's Day? Celebration of spring?"

Your lover chuckled over the receiver, phone set on speaker to the desk in front of you. "Think I prefer the blue," he replied, the smirk evident.

"You always prefer blue," you teased, handing the bottle of pale blue nail polish to your nail tech. "So, tell me, where are you now? Haven't seen yah all week," You pouted, placing your AirPods in to keep the conversation private. Not like it mattered, your nail tech, Collette, only spoke French, and she was the only other person in the room.

"'Fraid I can't divulge that information, sweetheart," Aaron sighed, "on a bit of business right now."

"Now? Like, in the present?" You chuckled, nodding at Collette when she pointed at the length of the acrylic.

"Yeah," Tan mused back, "say hello, sweetheart!"

"Hello, luv!" Brian, or otherwise known as Lemon, was heard calling. His twin, your lover, used the codename Tangerine for the contract agency they worked for - keeping their identities safe. Something you didn't necessarily have to worry about, being as your name held power. It was something like a shield in the criminal world, everyone knowing your surname dictated fear.

"Oh, hello, my sweetness," you cooed, grinning slyly. "What's it you two are up to? What sort of business are you on?"

"Ah, hang on a tick, love," Aaron mused, setting his phone down. You waited patiently, hearing a series of gunshots ringing out as you watched Collette paint the pale blue in sleek, professional strokes. Screams echoed over the line, tires screeches, several grunts of exertion, but you didn't so much as flinch, just admiring the work your nail tech did.

You blew on your nails, admiring the color.

Collette asked if you wanted to keep the paint shiny or add a matte overcoat, you humming, replying in French that you preferred the shiny coat. She held up a bottle of silver glitter, perking her brows, watching you nod - trusting her artistic eye.

"Hello? Still there, Bunny?" Aaron got back on the line, using your pet name he bestowed on you after your first date. You had a cold coming on, and after he kissed you, you instantly sneezed - nose screwing up like a fluffy bunny.

"I'm here," you smiled.

"Right, what color did you go with?"

You grinned, "Take a guess."

"Blue's your color."

"More like yours. I much prefer pastels, but I think this color's the best of both our preferences."

He chuckled, "Listen, yeah? You free Thursday? I'l be in your neck of the woods."

"Ah, I'm traveling this week," you answered with a pout, "what about next week?"

"I might be able t'swing that, yeah," Aaron agreed easily. "You hear from that Edward bloke recently?"

"No, no, I've told you, I'm done with him. You're quite the jealous type, you know, scared him off real good."

"Ah, well, don't like folks touchin' what's mine, now, do I?"

"Apparently not," you smiled, phone line beeping with an incoming call. "Oh, shit, I gotta go, Aaron, Daddy's calling."

"Mhm, and we all know you betta answer, huh?"

"It's how we all stay alive," you laughed. "Bye."

"See yah real soon, Bunny. Make sure your toes match!"

You hung up with a laugh, then accepted your father's incoming call, "Hi, Daddy."

"Hello, sweet one," he answered. "What are you up to?"

"Collette's doing my nails."

"Ah, very good. What color?"

"A pretty pale blue."

"Wonderful. Tell Collette I say hello. We'll have t'get her a sensational Christmas bonus with the way you work her."

You chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Listen, poppet, I need you to do something for me."

"Mhm, anything you need, Daddy."

"One of our associates is late on payment."

"How late?"

"A week."

"Oh, you're taking time in collecting," you mused, appreciating the full set Collette was detailing. "What's the hold up? Why wait?"

"I'm stuck in Prague."

"Daddy."

"I know," he rushed, "but I need you on this one, princess."

"Who's the associate?"

"Fella name Wilmer DeLano."

"I know of him, doesn't he own the chain of pharmacies? His son and I went to university together, right?"

"The exact same," your father confirmed. "I need you to go collect, princess, please."

"How much is the debt?"

"With the added week, chalks it up to $3 million."

"US dollars?"

"Yeah."

"Since when do we deal in US dollars?" You asked with a curled lip.

"Not the question I think you want to be asking."

"Uh, no, you're right, okay, sure, I can collect. Tonight?"

"He's not expecting it, knows I'm still in Prague. Take Rufus and Gunther with you for protection detail."

"I'd rather take Samuel."

"No, he's doing a different favor for me."

"Daddy."

"He's making a delivery, all right?"

"What about Gunther and Casey? Rufus creeps me out."

"That's fine," your father agreed with a sigh. "Listen, princess, tonight might get a little hairy, so I want you prepared."

"Daddy, I'm literally getting my nails done, I'm not handling a gun. That's what Gunther's for."

"I taught you better than that. You protect yourself, you can't depend on anyone else."

You nodded, "Yes, sir. Do you wanna call the boys or...?"

"I'll call them, don't worry. Just be ready to go by 8. Remember, princess, $3 million - and make sure you count it, too."

You agreed, promising you loved him, then wishing him luck in Prague on whatever his business was. After hanging up, Collette smiled, asking in French, "When are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"That you have a boyfriend," she laughed. "He's your father, he'll be happy for you."

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh, please," she scoffed, swiping the glitter on your nails. "That boy that you're always on the phone with? You're not hiding it, not from me."

You felt warmth flush your chest, heating your core. "He's still not my boyfriend," you mumbled stubbornly.

"He picks your nail colors," she grinned, "that's a boyfriend!"

You double checked the address your father sent, nodding at Gunther in the driver's seat. "All right, lads, I want this a clean collection. Just got my nails done," you smirked, the lights of the three-story home still on and indicating DeLano must've been home.

"Yes, ma'am," Casey agreed, getting out of the backseat and opening your passenger door; helping you out, letting you readjust your clingy black dress. Gunther moved around the back of the car, grabbing the usual go-bag brought to every collection.

Slowly, carefully, you stalked up the long driveway, heels clacking with every pace. You let Gunther peer through the windows, him nodding before leading the way to the backdoor. It was simple enough to jimmy the lock open, silently swinging the door wide open and stepping over the threshold.

Casey went around the side to enter through the living room as you walked through the kitchen, surrounding your target. Wilmer DeLano was sat at his dining room table with his wife, looking up when you cleared your throat. He jolted in shock, but Casey blocked the only other doorway; his gun in hand, both clasped in front of him.

Gunther checked the rest of the house.

"Hello, Mr. DeLano," you greeted casually. "Oh, something smells wonderful in here, you cook this?" You asked his wife, casually strolling up to the table, Red Bottoms sounding over the polish hardwood floors. You plucked up a slice of roast, tearing a bite off and humming, "Oh, very good that. You're a lucky man, Mr. DeLano to have such a talented wife."

"Who are you?" The portly woman begged, flinching when you hummed and brandished your gun.

"Right, guessing you don't know," you nodded. "Your husband's in a bit of a lucrative business, Missus. Nice house, though," you gazed around, "lot of fine art you've got hung up, saw all name-brand appliances in your kitchen."

"H-He owns a chain of drug stores - "

"Yes, yes, yes, I know. Very true," you agreed, "but that's only a front, it's not the full picture. I'm here to help illustrate, if you will. C'mon, why don't we all go into the living room? Hear that's where the safe is kept."

"What is happening!?" Mrs. DeLano demanded, gun pointed at her temple.

"Up, up," you demanded.

Slowly, Wilmer lifted from his seat with his hands held in peace, "Okay, okay, we can - let's go talk in the living room. Just don't threaten my wife, she's got nothing t'do with this."

"For now," you agreed, gathering the couple to the living room couch.

"Boss," Gunther alerted, dragging your old university classmate and a previous lover, Edward DeLano, up from the basement, "found this one down there, smoking a joint. Rest of the house is clear."

"Wonderful," you nodded, gesturing for Eddie to sit. "You bring enough to share with the class?" But your old peer just looked around the room of criminals. "Guessin' he didn't wanna share," you pouted, then rolling your eyes. "Well, now that we've all gathered - "

Suddenly, there was a noisy crack and bang as the front door was kicked in, making all three of you gangsters turn with weapons drawn and aimed. However, you chuckled and dropped your arm when you realized it was the Twins, Aaron and Brian, or Tangerine and Lemon, standing in the splintered doorway.

"At ease, lads," you chuckled, holstering your gun to your thigh. "These are friends of mine."

"You outsourced the job? Out your fuckin' mind, princess? Huh?" Casey growled, not lowering his gun as Tan and Lem strolled in.

"Don't fuckin' talk to her like that," Aaron snapped instantly.

"Fuck off, Casey, I would never outsource, I know the fucking rules," you sound more amused than anything.

"Well, ain't this fun?" Aaron mused with a grin, strolling in casually before pausing in the open foyer as Brian tried shutting the door again - but it the very doorframe was shattered, making it impossible. "Sorry 'bout the front door, ol' chap, but you understand, yeah? 'S just business," He nodded at DeLano. "Bunny," he smirked at you, hands in his tailored suit pants pockets; polished Italian leather shoes gently scoffing across the floor.

Aaron magnetized to your side, coiling his arm around your waist to lean in and peck your cheek.

"Hi, handsome. Thought you weren't in town until later?"

"We wrapped a different job early," he answered. "Question is: what're you doin' here, love?"

"Collecting debt payment."

"No shit," he grinned, "so are we."

Your head cocked; leaning into his side with your own arm wrapping around his chiseled waist. You asked, "He owes my father money. You?"

"Owes an associate, too." He smirked at the DeLano's you two stood in front of, "Ain't that right, geezer? Got yourself into a bit of a pickle, didn't yah? Got a bit of a problem with the nose candy, don't'cha, naughty boy?"

"You told me you quit!" Mrs. DeLano hissed, "now you're in debt!?"

"I have it under control," Wilmer deflected stiffly.

His wife sobbed and begged, "W-Would someone please just explain what's going on!? Who are you people!?" Tears fell fast. "What do you want from us!?"

"This ain't rocket science, love, fuck you mean what do we want?" Lemon snickered. "You not listenin' or something?"

"Ah, right, well, I was in the middle of explainin' the situation," you told the Twins, waving a manicured hand in the air as if swatting away a pesky fly. "'Ello, lovie," you grinned at Lemon when he stationed himself on your other side, "good t'see you."

"Sweetheart," he nodded, offering a side hug when you released his brother, "been too long, hasn't it?"

"Since Cancún," you agreed. "Right, then! Onward, ho! Casey, darlin', would you be a doll and open the bag? Get us set up t'count up?"

"'Course, boss," he agreed, kneeling at the mahogany coffee table and unzipping the duffel you brought.

"Right," your hands clapped, the family jumping at the sudden sound, "back to what I was sayin'. See, your husband owns the drug stores, that's true," you allotted, "but he also launders money for the Mafia. For my father, my family. Maybe you've heard of him?"

You relaid your father's first and last name, seeing the Fear of God paint over the DeLano's. "What?" Eddie snapped at his father sat beside him. See, despite dating briefly, you kept your identity a secret from Ed. "What have you done!? Do you know who her father is? Know what he's done!? He fuckin' gutted his own brother - "

"Allegedly," you interjected sharply.

" - all in the name of business! You don't know what this family is capable of!"

"Yes, boy, I'm well aware, the man is my bloody business partner," Wilmer snapped right back.

"Well, not so much of a partner now, are yah? Just more of a fuckin' nuisance," You smirked, earning the attention again. "So, you see, your husband washes our money, earns a significant cut for shouldering the risk. Payment's collected every two weeks and as of today, your husband's a week late on delivering our cash load."

"I-I can explain, please - "

"No need," you cut Wilmer off, "because I didn't get t'where I am now by listening to pathetic explanations. I don't listen to excuses. Fact is, you own my father money, and because you're late, the total is now $3 million - and he wants it in US dollars."

"Well, ain't that somethin'?" Tan smirked at Lem. "Turns out, he owes our client some million, too."

You hummed, nodding, "Right, right, but see, thing is, if my Daddy ain't paid, he goes postal. Nasty business, truly messy, just a chaotic clusterfuck, bodies left everywhere, cities in shambles." Turning back to the family, you offered, "So, we're just gonna make this easy. You cough up what you owe, we won't blow your brains out all over this nice Persian rug. Mmmh! See that, love?" You pointed to the fabric you stood on, looking at Aaron. "That's real authentic, you can tell by the threading. Be a shame to ruin it, yeah? Exquisite work."

"Sure is," he agreed, "but did you see up there, Bunny? 'Bove the mantel?"

"Oh, yes," you breathed in impression, "an ancient Aztec tribal mask. An artifact, very hard to get your hands on. Heard the British Museum was actually lookin' for that particular mask."

"Seems like Mr. DeLano is quite the collector of finer things," Lemon admired, pointing at a portrait on the wall. "Oi! Is that what I think? Is that a fucking Monet?"

"Priceless," you nodded.

"Listen, right, we've got strict orders, yeah?" Your lover sighed, shifting his weight. "We're t'collect payment by any means, a message is t'be sent. Right?"

"That's right, yeah," Lemon agreed, crossing his arms. "Make sure this kinda misunderstanding don't happen again."

Gunther asked, "You need tarps for this?"

You refused, "No, we're not here to kill anyone. We're here to let a loyal man the opportunity to pay us what's owed."

"Listen t-t-to me," Wilmer begged, stuttering in fear, "I don't have the money. Okay? The government came sniffin', I had tax liens to pay off to avoid prison time - "

"More fuckin' excuses! Jesus, fuck, man!" You groaned. "Who do you think can do more damage - the bloody government or my family? Huh? Look, lad, I know you've got what we're owed, so, be a good li'l boy and open the safe. Huh?"

"Fucking do it, Dad!"

"What're you doing, Wilmer? What are you waiting for!? You can't play this game! You'll get us all killed!"

"I don't have the money! How can I pay with what I don't have!?"

"Why do I not believe that?" You mused to Tan.

"'Cause you've been in this business a helluva lot longer than he has," Tangerine / Aaron answered. "You know a rat when you smell one, I reckon."

You nodded, then pulled your gun out again, aiming, and firing at Eddie's knee to shatter his kneecap. Blood splattered onto the couch. He screamed in agony, you raging above the panicked cries and shocked shouts, "Do I have your fucking attention now, Mr. DeLano?"

Edward sobbed in pain, trying to staunch the bleeding, Mrs. Delano gasping and shrieking. "Do whatever they want, Wilmer! For fuck's sake! Just do it!"

"Listen to your wife, mate," Lemon advised. "Unhappy wife, unhappy life, innit?"

You aimed at Eddie's other knee, firing, causing another flurry of screaming, crying, and begging. "If you want your son t'only have two bullets in 'im, I suggest you get moving!" You barked, aiming at Wilmer. "Now!"

"Well, wait a tick," Tangerine halted, "if we're both on the job, how's it gonna look if the geezer's telling us the truth, hey? Who gets the money?"

"Let's find it first, darlin', distribute later," you breathed as Casey finished setting up the automatic money counter. "Mr. DeLano? I advise you to do what we're asking. See, I use to duck hunt - I'm an excellent shot. The next bullet's goin' in your son's head and I never miss. Now, where's the fucking money!?"

"I don't have it! Please!"

"The money, DeLano, where's the fucking money!?"

"Please - "

"You want a dead son!?"

"All right!" He sobbed, "All right, fine! Yes, you win! Just please, please! Don't hurt my family anymore! Please, just leave them alone! I'll do what you want, just - leave them out of this!"

You nodded, "Well, you fucked with my Daddy's money. Only right I cripple you in a sense. Hey? Now, chop chop," you checked your watch for the time, "I'm a very busy bee and don't have all night."

"You're a smart lad, DeLano, we know you would've wanted to prep for a comfy fall if it came to it," Lemon laughed easily from beside you. "Ain't no way you're bone dry, know you have money stashed for security. Just c'mon, mate, these two sickos consider this a sort of foreplay, they'll go all fuckin' night with yah if you continue to refuse," he gestured at you and Tan.

You tacked on, "Lotta places to shoot someone without killin' 'em. Just saying..."

Wilmer stood from the couch, his wife shooting across the newly vacated space to embrace her whimpering son. The money launderer approached the Monet painting and lifted it from the wall; revealing an iron safe. You shared a look with Tangerine, smirking as the combination was entered and the door opening.

"That's what we fuckin' thought," Tangerine sneered, seeing the stacks and stacks and stacks of money. " Fuckin' hell. Right, so, look, count up the lady first. We'll settle after," he sniffed, fluffing his suit's lapel, picking off a piece of lint.

Wilmer began handing stacks to Casey to count, one of your arms crossing over your stomach to prop up your other arm; hand limp in the air. "Faster," you demanded, the man sweating bullets.

"Oh, now, look at that," Tan mused, taking your hand to admire your fresh manicure, "you went with blue."

"Like it?"

"Looks real pretty, Bunny, but I know something these would look better wrapped around," he grinned, making you smack his stomach playfully. "You wanna go get drinks afta this? My treat."

"Sounds like a date," you accepted, Gunther storing the counted cash into the dark duffel. "How's it lookin', Casey?"

"Looks 'bout right, boss," he reported, handing over another stack of banded money. "You want me t'count the Twins up?"

"Oh, if you would please, darlin', it would be very helpful," you nodded. "But I'm having a thought, right? Stay with me, would yah?"

"Oh, go on, toots, you've got great ideas," Lemon encouraged with a chuckle.

"Not always," Casey snickered, "remember what happened in Texas? At that Western bar?"

"Oi, the electronic bull was not my fault!"

"But the incident with the tequila and donkey was!"

"Hush!" You scolded. "Listen, all right, you see, this fucker tried to stiff us all... Let's clear the safe out. Take away any safety net? Truly cripple him, set him back to nothing?"

"Sound like your father," Gunther chuckled.

"That's a compliment," you shot back. "Go on, I want the lot."

Gunther agreed, standing, and approaching the safe. He shoved Wilmer out of the way, sweeping his arm into the safe and starting to load up the duffel. "You can't do this! If you take it all, what are we supposed to do!? How is my family supposed to survive when leeches like you suck us dry!?" Wilmer barked, making the amusement drop from your face.

"Watch your tone."

"No! No, I will not! You think you're high and mighty because of your father, but you're just a spoilt little girl! You all break into my house, extort me - "

"Can you truly extort a criminal? For the money they owe other criminals?" Brian / Lemon wondered out loud as he meandered the living room, making you shrug.

"He likes playing victim," you mused, but in the time you looked over your shoulder, Wilmer charged. You gasped when his shoulder bullied into your gut, tackling you past Tangerine and into the coffee table, shattering it.

"GO! RUN!" He shouted at his family, Tangerine lunging instantly to wrangle him off of you; the breath knocked from your lungs.

"Got some fuckin' nerve, don't yah!? Touchin' my girl!?" He raged, throwing the man to the floor again. "Nobody fuckin' moves!" Aaron growled, gun pointed at Wilmer.

"Not like they can, two blown out knees," Brian grunted as he helped pick you up from the wreck.

"Yeh all right, Bunny?"

"All right, love, yeah," you answered and adjusted your dress, picking up your weapon as Tan began wailing his balled-up fist into Wilmer's face at a jackhammering pace. It was wildly attractive, watching the man you were in-love with beat the shit out of someone who offered you threat and harm. Then something caught your eye, gasping, "Oh, you rat bastard! You broke my fucking nail!"

You yanked Tan back; aiming at Wilmer, pulling the trigger to let a close-range bullet explode the man's head; leaking brain matter on the Persian carpet. You turned to Mrs. DeLano and Eddie, cocking your head as they begged and pleaded for their lives, but you weren't listening anymore. "Got it all, boss," Gunther informed, dropping the stuffed duffel. "What we doin' with them?"

"Exactly what my father would do," you decided. "No witnesses."

"PLEASE! NO, GOD! NO, DON'T, PLEASE! WE WON'T SAY ANYTHING, I SWEAR! I SWEAR! PLEASE! MERCY! MERCY MERCY!"

Three more gunshots sounded, Tangerine's gun smoking before being tucked back into his shoulder holster under his jacket. "Well," he fluffed his lapels again, sniffling harshly, "shall we be on our way, Bunny? We good here?"

"Oh, might as well - got what we needed," you agreed, grimacing when blood bloomed towards your expensive shoes. "Ugh, what a mess. I'll make a call, have this cleaned up, pose it as a murder-suicide," you side-stepped the puddle. "Gunther, Casey, take what you want from this place, get the cash back to the stash house. I'm gonna grab a drink with the lads," you smirked, looping your arm with Aaron's.

Lemon / Brian packed up their share of the money, following behind as Tangerine / Aaron lead you from the house; placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting the end, inhaling, tossing his free arm around your neck. The night was dark and brisk, refreshing on your clammy skin as you stabilized your breathing; always a little shaken after taking life.

Call it morality.

Once in their tinted Mercedes, Brian got in the backseat, Tan rolled his window down to smoke, and you pulled out your ringing cell phone to answer, "Hi, Daddy."

He breathed in relief, "Good, you answered. Means nothing bad happened."

"That's not entirely true," you admitted. "We're leaving now."

"What happened?"

You winced, brushes already forming, "DeLano got bold, he attacked. So we left no witnesses."

"Good girl," he praised. "You feel all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm actually going to drinks with some, uh, friends," you glanced at Tangerine - seeing his lips pulled in a smirk as he started the car and pulled off down the street. "Turns out, DeLano didn't just owe us, but some coke dealer, too. Right, love?" You checked.

"Right," Aaron confirmed, reaching over to plant his hand on your thigh and give a soft squeeze.

"Right, yeah, so, he tried lying 'bout money, I shot his son's kneecaps - "

"That's my girl!"

" - and cleared the safe out. That's when DeLano attacked me - "

"WHAT!?"

"Daddy," you reprimanded softly. "I'm okay. Actually, the hired contractors on the job saved my arse - they showed up after we did with the same agenda. Gunther and Casey are gonna take the cash to a stash house, I gotta call Mr. Brooks about cleaning up."

"Did you say contractors?"

"Yeah, uh, you know, from The Agency?"

"You mean hitmen?"

"Yeah, guess you could say that. Think they're more like contract killers? Verbiage is so fickle."

"Who? Who exactly was there?"

"The Twins, Daddy. Don't worry, they're absolutely charming, only took their payment. We're gonna go for drinks, yeah?"

"Huh," he grunted, "must've been some bigwig t'send them two. Or a considerable debt." You were about to reply when he gasped in realization, "Wait, no. No, no, hang on a tick, don't bloody tell me."

"What?"

"This the lad you've got a thing for, innit? The one that sends yah flowers every other week?"

"Daddy."

"Don't tell me it's that Tangerine fucker, princess, please!"

"Oh, no, look at that, we're heading into a tunnel! I'm gonna lose the call; talk tomorrow, be safe, good luck in Prague, okay, muah! Muah! Muah! Love you! Bye, bye, bye!" You rambled quickly, blowing air kisses, then hanging up swiftly.

"The hell was that about?" Aaron chuckled. "He mad we were there?"

"Not entirely."

"Was he mad you're gettin' drinks with us?" Brian laughed from the back.

"That's a little more accurate. Well," you winced, "he was a bit testy that I'm goin' with Aaron..."

"I haven't done a damn thing to him," he grumbled.

"You do have a bit of a reputation, bruv."

You smiled sweetly, gripping Aaron's hand on your thigh, "He's my father, 'course he's gonna worry."

"'Bout time he found out, keeping you two a secret was mad frustrating, yeah? You two are disgustingly in-love."

Tangerine squeezed your thigh again, sending you a bright grin, "That we are."

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

some days are harder than others - Jack Hughes

Word Count - 1.8K

Summary - Today is the anniversary of losing your favorite family member suddenly. Your solution push everyone away and pretend that today doesn't excist.

Warnings - talks about the grieving process and mentions losing an aunt.

Author's Note - Today is actually the anniversary of my Aunt passing, she was one of my favorite humans and I think I wrote this to try and get some feelings out and processes my overall emotions about today. My heart goes out to anyone who can relate to this piece of writing because it sucks having to live life without your favorite human by your side anymore.

Masterlist

Today is a hard day, it’s the anniversary of when your favorite family member passed away. Waking up in bed you were grateful it was a Saturday and you didn’t have to take off work because there was no way you were going to leave your bed today. All you could do was try to wrap your brain around the fact that an entire year has passed - 365 days - since one of your favorite human beings left this earth.Wishing for nothing except to wallow in your own pity for the day, but you knew that your boyfriend Jack would be here soon since it was Saturday. Every single Saturday consistently coming over after he was done with the boys at the gym. But you didn’t want Jack to come over today, you wanted to be alone. Jack and you have only been dating for 6 months and although he has heard stories of your aunt he never met her. Today was meant to be a day for you to mourn the person you lost and the fact that she never got to meet the love of your life, or be at your wedding, or meet your future kids. Jack is a great guy, but you feared he wouldn’t understand why you were upset about the fact that your aunt never got to meet him. Finally looking at your phone since you woke up, your eyes barely focusing on the time 10:33 AM, before closing again out of pure exhaustion due to crying so much the night before, the warmth of your sheets helping the lure of sleep claim you once again. 

Opening your eyes again, waking up the banging of someone at your door. All you wanted to do was crawl further under your sheets and hide from the world, play pretend where your aunt was still alive even if your brain only believed it for a few seconds. But the banging continued, you knew Jack wouldn’t stop until you got up and came to the door or he got tired and used the emergency key you gave him last month. 

“Y/N! If you don’t come soon I will use my key!” he threatened. 

Shit I should have timed giving him that key until after today, you thought to yourself. Well since he plans on using it no point in me getting up. Pulling your comforter over your head, completely continuing your attempt to hide from the world around you. Taking a deep breath, as you heard Jack’s voice loud and clear along with his footsteps now. 

“Baby where are you?” he asks, his footsteps getting closer to your bedroom. It would be so simple to use your voice and tell him you were in your room but your voice felt raw with the tears streaming down your face thinking about what you were doing this time a year ago. 

Finally making his way to your bedroom, the door creaks as he opens it. “Y/N? Are you asleep, love.” he whispers, and it causes your voice to crack and a loud painful sob to be unleashed.Still hiding under the covers you feel the bed dip, meaning that Jack must have sat on the bed. The assumption you made, confirmed to be true when you felt his hand slide up and down your body trying to bring you comfort even though he didn’t know what was wrong. “Baby you’re scaring me, did I do something wrong?” his voice slightly creaking, suddenly your stomach dropped out of guilt for making Jack feel even slightly insecure. 

“Nnn - no.” you answer once you stop yourself from crying so hard. Your voice scratched as your throat burned from all of your tears. 

“What wrong babygirl?” he whispers scared if he raised his voice any louder you would start crying uncontrollably again. Slowly lifting the comforter off of you trying to catch a glimpse of your face. He swears his heart cracks a little, and his stomach drops when he sees how puffy and red your eyes are from crying, even though your hands are still covering most of your face. “Please tell me what I can do?” he begs. 

“Can we cuddle?” you ask weakly, Jack’s face grows a full toothy grin at your request. 

“Of course baby.” he gently says as he pulls the covers back to slide into the bed next to you. Jack laying on his back as you intangible your legs, half laying on top of him as your ear is pressed up against his chest, finding comfort in listening to his steady heartbeat. Jack lets you both lay there, he doesn’t speak, one hand playing with your hair, the other under your shirt lightly scratching your back. After a few moments, your body starts to relax for the first time that day. Closing your eyes allows yourself to be comforted by someone for the first time that day. 

Jack must have felt your body relax, sleep calling your name because the last thing you heard before you fell back asleep was him whispering in your ear. “It’s okay baby, I’m here, I’ll be here when you wake up.” Feeling a gentle kiss on the crown of your head as you felt your body fully drift asleep. 

Jack was true to his words, because the first thing you felt as you woke up was his grip on you and the first thing you heard was his little snores in your ears. Slightly moving to try and get a little more comfortable because your body felt glued to Jack’s, your arm was pinned under his back and it felt like pins and needles. Trying to get out of his grip must of been enough to stir Jack awake. He turned his body to the slide and slowly opened his eyes gently. 

“Hi baby.” he whispers, sleep still clear in his eyes. 

“Hi” you whisper back, finally getting your arm free and bringing it to lay between you and Jack. 

“Can we talk about why you were so upset earlier?” he asks gently, taking his arms pulling you a little closer to him. 

“It’s just what today is. That’s all ” you admit shyly. Jack’s eyebrows scrunch up in confusion as a slight frown gets put on his face. 

“And what’s today?” the curiosity and confusion laced in his deep voice still covered from his nap. 

Taking a deep breath through your nose and out your mouth preparing to speak out loud for the first time today, what got you so upset. “Remember how I told you about my aunt, the one who helped raise me, one of my favorite humans.” You pause waiting for Jack to acknowledge your words, once he needs you to continue. “ Well today is the one year anniversary of her death and I just -.” Your voice cracks as the tears start again. 

Jack pulls you even closer, your head finding its home in the crock of his neck. “Shh it’s okay baby you don’t have to say anything else. It’s okay to miss her, I know you loved her by the way you still talk about her, it’s alright baby.” His voice is soft and free of judgment. “Shh it’s alright” he coos to you. 

Staying in the crock of his neck, you move a little so you can speak. “It’s not just that Jacky. It’s that she was the most important person in my life for so long and such a big part of my life. I never thought there would be a day where she didn’t meet the love of my life or be at my wedding or be at the hospital for a child's birth. God how I wish she was still here” 

Jack held you while he heard you talk out all of your thoughts and feelings. “But even more I wish she would have met you before she left. The things I would do to have one last phone call with her, one last hug, one last time she tells me “I love you, be a good sweetie.” The tears now blur your vision as you close your eyes and hide in Jack’s neck again. He squeezes you until it’s hard for you to breathe but somehow that brings you comfort as you let yourself grief your best friend. 

“I am so sorry for my love.” he whispers. “And I’m so sorry I didn’t know what today was, I would have skipped the gym. And I know she meant so much to you. It’s normal for today to be hard. I wish I could have met her too but do you remember how we met?” he asks. 

Now it was your turn to be confused, removing yourself from his neck and wiping your tears off your cheeks. “Yeah of course I do.” you mumble extremely confused about what the anniversary of your aunts death has to do with how you met Jack. 

“Well I remember seeing this pretty girl at this little restaurant eating by herself.” Looking into your eyes as he starts to tell the story of how you two met. 

“Jack, I know how we met. What does that have to do with my aunt?” your annoyance is clear in your voice as he chuckles. 

“Well it was after your aunt had passed, you were at her favorite restaurant because you missed her and it was her birthday that day, her first heavenly birthday. And for some reason some restaurant that had been on my list to try since I moved to Hoboken I just happened to walk in that day.” he starts rambling and you really don’t understand where he’s going with his story. 

Sighing you ask “Jack, what’s your point?” 

A smile on his face, “my point is that for whatever reason I felt like the universe told me that day to go to the restaurant and you just happen to be there even though it was way out of your way on your drive home from work. And I know I never met your aunt in person, but maybe just maybe your aunt was watching over you that day and that’s why I felt the need to finally go to a restaurant that I had been meaning to try for 6 years.” 

A large smile comes across your face as you understand his words, “Are you saying my aunt sent you to me?” a giggle coming off your lips. 

“I’m not saying anything except that I know that somehow your aunt is still watching over you. There is no way that you can love someone the way you describe her love for you and not watch them and look after them in heaven baby.” Slowly coming down to kiss your forehead. 

“I love you.” you whisper. 

“I love you too, and you know grief isn't a simple baby, it’s okay that some days are harder than others.” 

“I know.” laying your head on his chest again. 

“What do you wanna do for the rest of the day baby?” he asks

“Can we just watch her favorite show and order takeout?” 

“Of course baby anything you want.” he whispers as he grabs the remote from the bedside table.

[vidavalor]

Great Balls of Fire

Ok, I've got a Final 15 theory on the kiss and the elevator and... pie?

This is for-- and in thanks to-- @indigovigilance, @ineffablelunatics and @somehow-a-human, as their metas reminded me of the idea of something in Aziraphale's mouth after the kiss and their talk of ball bearings and The Bullet Catch has eaten my brain alive and so here we are. Thanks also to @kayleefansposts for drawing my attention to 2/3rds of the metas. 🤗

What, exactly, happened in The Final 15? Maybe this...

As observed by many of us and discussed in the metas of the people I mentioned above, Aziraphale visibly has something in his mouth when he pulls back from the kiss. We also see him move the object around in his mouth-- or, we do, if his expression doesn't distract us first.

Because it's on his tongue, this isn't just light being weird or showing a filling or something. This is, clearly, a piece of metallic-colored something in Aziraphale's mouth. @indigovigilance pointed out how aspects of this parallel aspects of The Bullet Catch and I would agree with that. @ineffablelunatics, off of @somehow-a-human's post on the object, said it looked like a ball bearing and that's actually when I realized that I think the show might have subtly told us over the first two seasons what it is. And if it is what I think it is? The object is the reason for Aziraphale's reaction after the kiss-- not the kiss itself.

So, what is it?

To explain that, we have to start with two scenes, one from each season: 1601 and Crowley in Heaven with Muriel in 2.06.

In the 1601 scene, we learned that Crowley & Aziraphale experimented with their powers after they got tired of canceling each other out and that they discovered Heaven's dirty little secret in the process. That secret is that basically the only differences between them are the colors of their feathers and the lack of immunity to hellfire/holy water. Heaven has been telling everyone that some magic was "demonic" and that angels couldn't do it and they also had told everyone that demons no longer possessed angelic powers. Crowley & Aziraphale realized that this was bullshit-- Aziraphale could do temptations and Crowley could still do blessings. It's this discovery that allowed them to start fulfilling each other's assignments. They didn't tell a soul because of the danger of admitting they knew, especially because admitting it would be acknowledging that they had worked together to figure it out. This means that, with the exception of holy water being dangerous to him since he fell, Crowley is effectively still an angel in terms of the power he possesses.

This would mean he can magically make just about anything he could make when he was an angel. It's relevant because Crowley, as we'll see, made the object he slipped into Aziraphale's mouth during the kiss.

When Crowley is in Heaven with Muriel in 2.06, he opens the file on Gabriel's trial, which we are told can only be accessed by "a throne, or a dominion, or above"-- further showing that the truth is that Heaven actually can't strip angels of their power to do miracles. They're just simply telling them that they have done so as a form of social control and casting some to Hell to use them as way to discourage rebellion. This scene also reminds us of Crowley's awareness of this and shows him using his "angelic" powers to get information to help Gabriel.

The same scene with Muriel and Crowley that showed us that Crowley still retains his angelic powers reminds us again of the rank of throne/dominion in Heaven. (I say "throne/dominion" because Muriel's verbal commas and the way the sentence is structured-- along with the scene in S1 when Crowley goes from his throne to dominate his plants lol-- suggests that it is possible to be both ranks of angel at once, which is another topic so we won't go too far into that right now.) Crowley was undoubtedly a throne/dominion-- and it's not even just the fact that he had that hilariously tacky throne in S1. It's relevant here because of ties of throne-related things to what it is that Crowley made and slipped into Aziraphale's mouth.

Thrones are apparently God's chariots. They are concerned with justice and reside in the areas of space "where matter originates"-- which feels very Before the Beginning, right? They are symbolized by big wheels that rotate and by eyes that change color.

Yes, by wheels and eyes that change color... seems very Crowley, no?

The eyes repeat on the symbolic wheels and are in the position of what we on Earth would call ball bearings, apparently looking kind of like this:

...and remember the interconnected, turning wheels in the scroll that Crowley had Aziraphale hold in the moment they met, at the start of 2.01?...

It could be said that Crowley... a throne, a polymath, a scientist, an inventor... a being whose signature thing is the sexiest old car on four wheels... could make ball bearings from his body when he was an angel and, since we know that he still has basically everything but the ability to make holy water from his angel days, it means that he still can make those ball bearings...

...but we also know what else he can make from his body since he's also a demon-- and not just from his hands but from his mouth...

...hellfire.

Yes, I'm saying that it really was a ball bearing in Aziraphale's mouth-- but it was not hollow or empty. Not by a long shot. It was full of hellfire. It wasn't for Aziraphale's memories as Crowley didn't think that Aziraphale had time or opportunity left to extract them.

It was a suicide pill.

The story was calling back to The Original Ineffable Divorce in 1862...

Think about what Crowley saw when he was up in Heaven in S2...

Crowley is the one who put together what happened to Gabriel. He watched the video of Gabriel's sham "trial" and he saw The Metatron basically order Gabriel killed and cast down through the ranks and he knows that Gabriel only evaded Hell because of how it would have diminished the power of the institution of Heaven to send him there. Crowley knows that Aziraphale does not have this same amount of political power. He knows that The Metatron is a shifty motherfucker and that Michael cannot be counted on. He knows how much danger Aziraphale is in.

So, he takes a page from Lord Beezlebub after seeing that they protected Gabriel with the fly... only it's not exactly the same thing.

Beez's fly was given to Gabriel to help save him. It was a place to store his memories to help protect him long enough to keep him safe until they could make sure he was safe and intact. It worked because Beez and Gabriel had time to make a plan together. By the time Crowley is in Heaven watching the video of what happened to Gabriel and then getting back to the bookshop to sort it all out, there's no time for he and Aziraphale to make a plan. They are not alone again until after "The Metatron" has already shown up and, by then, Aziraphale is already on his way to being lost.

Beez is actually the first character we ever see make their signature thing on-screen and when they do? I mean...

Evocative of a kiss, with that big closeup on Beez's mouth. We watch them push the fly gently out of their mouth with their tongue. It foreshadows Crowley making something in his mouth and ties delivery of it to the kiss. We know that Crowley knows that he can make a single object that is of aspects of both Heaven and Hell combined-- like a ball of hellfire tempered, unless consumed, by a ball bearing.

Plus, earlier in the season, there's Gabriel tying The Fly-- which came about as a result of Beez trying to help him manage his depression by helping him to feel safer-- to metaphorical suicide when he spends the scene where the angels show up chasing it around the bookshop, trying to kill it with one of Aziraphale's Bibles, symbolizing just what Heaven is doing to everyone's mental health here...

But this is just where this possibility starts, really... because why else do I think it's a hellfire-full ball bearing suicide capsule that Crowley gave Aziraphale?

Well, for starters, there is all the holy water that is all over this plot at the end of S2... At the end, Crowley stands in Whickber Street outside The Bentley right across from The Dirty Donkey in a nod to-- among other scenes-- the 1967 scene, when Aziraphale brought Crowley the holy water.

Aziraphale knew that Crowley also secretly wanted holy water as a last resort and Aziraphale initially couldn't handle the idea of losing Crowley and reacted badly before eventually coming around to the idea that maybe Crowley needed to have some supernatural cyanide at his disposal in order to feel safer and that he should have that option. Based on the holy water story, Crowley, then, would be the first person to think that Aziraphale needed a suicide pill as an option if he found himself in trouble he couldn't get out of.

In 2.06, Crowley knows how likely it is that Aziraphale could be harmed by the angels and/or sent to Hell-- which is the domain of Crowley's assailant, who is literally Satan, and who hates both of them for, among other things, turning Adam against him. Crowley knows Aziraphale is a good person who wants to believe the best is possible but he also knows how unlikely it is that this is going to go well for Aziraphale. Crowley can't stand the thought of Aziraphale suffering so he gives him a way out as an act of love because Crowley would sooner lose Aziraphale for eternity than see him suffer.

When it becomes clear that Aziraphale is going with "The Metatron" and Crowley is out of ways to convince him not to, he sees Aziraphale look away and start to cry. Crowley goes back and kisses him as a last resort but Aziraphale is initially resistant-- not because this is their first kiss and not even just because they're upset (though that's part of it) but because to kiss Crowley then would be to let him in... (after all of those symbolic doors and "let me in"s happening in the story)... when Aziraphale making the mistake of trying to shut him out.

Aziraphale eventually, though, can't help but let Crowley in a little...

...because, ya know, it's Crowley...

...and, when he does, he opens up a little, and Crowley slips a suicide pill into Aziraphale's mouth.

It's also definitely worth noting that one of the reasons-- the primary reason, even-- why Crowley kisses Aziraphale is because he needs a cover to both make and give the fireball to Aziraphale without being noticed-- and to do so in such a way that Aziraphale would be assured of the ability to have it on his person when he got to Heaven-- even if he lost his clothes in the process, as like what happened to Gabriel when he was cast out. It has to go in Aziraphale's mouth for easy consumption for it to work and kissing him is the only way to do that. What's really worth noting, though?

Crowley's plan hinged on Aziraphale eventually giving in and kissing him back. He couldn't tongue the fireball into Aziraphale's mouth without Aziraphale parting his lips and Crowley knew he would... because he always does. Not that they're regularly trying to kiss while being super miserable lol but mah point is that Crowley knows that Aziraphale can't ever not kiss him. That's not indicative of this being a first kiss-- that's indicative of the complete opposite of that.

Anyway...

Aziraphale knows what Crowley can make and what it is that he just gave him and that's why this is his reaction after the kiss:

The devastation isn't over the kiss itself. It's because Aziraphale trusts Crowley's interpretations of things more than his own sometimes and, by secretly slipping Aziraphale a suicide capsule out of fear and love and delivered in a kiss, it really hits home for Aziraphale that Crowley thinks they are now in a situation where there probably isn't going to be another way out. It's not because it's a first kiss-- it's because it's likely a last one-- and things are so dire that it came with supernatural cyanide.

It's the realization that Crowley really thinks Aziraphale has been fooled and Aziraphale can't bear it because he knows, deep down, that Crowley is probably right and he's embarrassed. 'Pride goeth before a fall' and all that... Aziraphale is lovely-- an absolute poppet-- but he's imperfect, just like us all. One of his worst traits is that he doubles down when he's been embarrassed as a way of trying to save face and retain pride. It's maybe his worse flaw and it gets very dangerous for him here. Crowley is no stranger to trying to stop situations where it could happen, like this paralleling time in 1941:

Some other reasons why it's a fireball suicide pill before we get to what then happened in the elevator...

There's the fact that the show had a scene set in S2 in The Dirty Donkey-- where the elevator is. (As the start of the scene, Crowley & Aziraphale even walk through the door where the elevator will materialize at the end of S2.) Part of their conversation is very possibly Crowley recounting their first kiss-- at minimum, it's about kissing-- and then Aziraphale makes it also about balls, combining the two to, among other things, foreshadow The Final 15:

The wordplay here is already threefold in this scene off of Crowley's joke that follows Aziraphale remembering Jane Austen's balls: balls (testicles), the phrase that x person "has balls" (is badass), and balls (of the cotillion/dancing variety). This continues into the meeting that Aziraphale hosts-- the disaster of a ball that goes straight into the end game of the season. Here's Aziraphale making yet another ball-related wordplay joke-- this one, during The Meeting Ball:

"We're having a ball" as in they're literally having a ball-- a party-- but also the idiom "we're having a ball" meaning "we're having a great time." We are now up to four different meanings of the word 'ball' in S2, stretched across different scenes, emphasizing the importance of it. One of the missing ones still needed here to complete this idea is a literal ball-- and the ball bearing would not only meet this idea but would then make all of the ball-related wordplay have had the purpose of building towards it. We think it's building towards The Meeting Ball-- and it is-- but all of it, including The Meeting Ball, would actually then be building towards the hellfire ball, which is the actual ending of S2.

Then, there's what this all has to do with the eccles cakes...

Yes, eccles cakes lol... Eccles cakes, as a lot of us already know, are popularly referred to as "fly cakes", off of how the currents sometimes look in them, but the significant thing here is that, despite their name, eccles cakes are not actually cakes at all-- they are really pies.

Ball bearings are also used in Good Omens' favorite metaphor of food to weigh down dough when baking pie crust. Pie weights and ball bearings are basically the same things, just put to different use. It means you literally cannot make eccles cakes from scratch without a jar of pie weights... which are just, structurally, the same thing as ball bearings... and Crowley can make them. You also make pie dough by first rolling it into a ball.

Which is likely why this hilarious moment exists:

Please hold The Cake-Pies of Symbolism, my pie (and Pi)-loving dear...

Crowley's face at having to stand there holding some little pies 😂...

The eccles cakes-that-are-really-pies go along with this theory as well because look how the show presented the forthcoming apocalypse to us back in 2.01:

The horse is Crowley, the rider is Aziraphale, and they're headed for Armageddon-like mental health disaster-- all ushered in by the four eccles cakes, representing Gabriel, Beez, Nina (who suggested & gave them the eccles cakes) and Maggie.

Presumably, The Lords of the Flies are the two eccles cakes that are already canoodling on the back of the plate while Maggie and Nina are the two in the foreground who are aligned but not yet together. Crowley's S2 plot is largely working at the behest of these wonderfully rebellious pies. He looks after Gabriel, finds out what happened to him and connects it all to Beez... and this is after he spent the season on his vavoomy Operation Lovebirds to get Maggie and Nina together. He's responsible for the pie crust-- the containers of the eccles cakes-- in a show obsessed with containers. Crowley is, symbolically, a jar of pie weights in being form by way of his actions-- which is suggestive of the fact that he can probably physically make them. (There's also: "Just a few million years to bake," which Crowley said of his stars-- which he made-- in the opening scene of the season.)

"Nina, what do you sell that calms people down?"

Calm is from the Greek kauma, which means the heat of the day. Heat, as in slang for a weapon. Heat, as in hellfire. Heat, as in what's needed to bake. Heat, as in passion. Heat, as in "bringing the heat." The heat of the day-- the sunny daylight of The Final 15. Eccles cakes-- really: pies-- calm people down... they bring them heat, in every possible way, and it sets them on a path down-- to Hell.

Then, there's Agnes Nutter...

When The Witchfinder Army came to kill Agnes, she hid gunpowder (a weapon) and roofing nails (the construction-related metal that enabled it) in her dress. Agnes blew up-- she became a literal. fireball. Crowley wasn't necessarily suggesting that Aziraphale turn himself into an Agnes-like bomb in Heaven when he gave him the capsule but he was giving him a weapon involving fire with which he could kill himself if he had no other way out.

Then, there's the theme of suicide in examples from earlier in the season:

Crowley saving Elspeth (on the night Crowley was dragged to Hell)... The bit when Aziraphale then calls Crowley from Edinburgh in the present and tells him that he's read that Dalrymple left in disgrace and killed himself... "The Bananafish" being a short story about trauma by J.D. Salinger which ends with a traumatized man suddenly killing himself... Crowley setting Gabriel up to jump from the window and then stopping him from doing it...

There's also the fact that the end of S1 was Heaven and Hell forcing Crowley and Aziraphale into forms of suicide (getting into hellfire/holy water) and the "Aziraphale" in the Heaven part of it was Crowley spitting hellfire-- at Gabriel, no less, whose story is what jumpstarts S2.

Then, there's that the song that is The Clue to everything in S2 is "Everyday", the significance of which is that it's a foundational song of American rock 'n roll. Rock 'n roll is a blend of musical styles that actually wouldn't exist without first the big band/swing that Aziraphale loves that came before it-- symbolizing how Crowley & Aziraphale paved the way for Gabriel & Beez. There's another song, though, that, like "Everyday", is from the pivotal rock year of 1957 that is equally influential and is enormously Good Omens-y, in the sense that it cleverly uses wordplay to the effect of barely disguising sexual euphemisms and often through amusingly church-y language:

You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain/Too much love drives a man insane/You broke my will/But what a thrill...

Goodness gracious... great balls of fire...

[Also: less part of the theory and more just a possible nod but... "The Metatron" brought Aziraphale a coffee, there's a threat of non-existence, and Aziraphale might have gotten a 'kiss of death' from a being who is, essentially, a cherry pie lol... so, those of you who know that other greatest television show to ever television show might see a bit of a nod to Twin Peaks in here as well.]

Speaking of kisses of death... the film that popularized the word "vavoom"-- and which GO S2 is homaging all over the place-- is called 'Kiss Me Deadly.'..

So, after the kiss, Aziraphale gets the capsule and keeps it tucked into his mouth and he's gone too far with the conversation and doesn't want to admit that maybe he's wrong and Crowley is right. Crowley goes out, "The Metatron" comes back in, and Aziraphale keeps looking at Crowley staying by the car out the window and he's a bit more nervous now ("what about, um, my bookshop?"). Even if he still wants to be right, he's beginning to doubt even more that he is.

He almost tells "The Metatron" to go. He almost goes to Crowley. We see him start to say that he thinks he made a mistake but he doesn't go through with it. He's too embarrassed. Fraulein Maria can't face The Captain and is trying to run back to The Abbey over here.

Aziraphale goes out with "The Metatron" and the significant moment is this revelation: "We call it 'The Second Coming'."

This is the moment that Aziraphale realizes for sure that he's been tricked and there is no Supreme Archangel job for him. The Metatron doesn't want to change Heaven or save anybody-- he wants to destroy the world, same as he always has-- and there's no way that he'd ever trust Aziraphale to carry that out when Aziraphale is who stopped the first round. Heaven will never admit they did wrong by Crowley-- to do so would be to collapse the system because then every demon would want to appeal their own status and demand justice and the Heaven/Hell regime would fall, in the sense that their little supernatural empire would crumble. The Metatron would never allow that and Aziraphale realizes in this moment for sure that he has been played for a sucker.

It's still possible that, at this moment, Aziraphale might still believe that this being who has tempted him with the possibility of the justice he wants for Crowley more than Crowley actually wants for himself-- and with false reassurances that he and Crowley could be together forever-- actually is The Metatron. Or, Aziraphale might be starting to get the sense of what's actually happening but, either way, he now knows that he's been fooled. He knows now that while he and Crowley both got some things wrong (suggesting they run off and proposing suddenly were not great moves on Crowley's part)... about this bit anyway? About being in danger if he believes the being who came to the door? Crowley was right.

So, Aziraphale has a choice: does he go to Crowley or does he get in the elevator, knowing now that to do so is to go to a form of death?

He can't face Crowley. He knows Crowley would forgive him and just wants him to be safe but, in the moment, Aziraphale is too ashamed and too embarrassed to admit that he was fooled and to deal with how awfully he just behaved. He's also exhausted from being hounded by the weight of his halo and Heaven for thousands of years. Negative thought cycles in overdrive-- he's never truly believed that he deserves Crowley and he has convinced himself that maybe Crowley might be better off without him. Maybe they just don't get a happy ending and maybe Aziraphale is so tired and can't run and hide anymore and just wants it to end.

Imagine spending thousands of years in service of an organization that also doubles as family and who abused you and abandoned you and who now wants to kill you... and you so hoped that change was possible that you clung to the idea beyond a point of reason-- to the point of hurting the one you love, with whom you have the only real love you've ever known. And you know he'd forgive you in a heartbeat because he loves you and he just wants you to be safe but you can't face him because you can't yet face yourself... that's Aziraphale deciding between Crowley and the elevator.

Aziraphale can barely glance over at Crowley and when, he does, it's also The Bentley he's looking at because he's telling the car to play Crowley their song. Crowley said "no nightingales" but Aziraphale says, in response: "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square." His last moment on Earth and he uses it to basically leave a suicide note for Crowley that says nothing but I'm sorry. I love you.

Their song plays when Crowley starts the engine of The Bentley, which calls back to the first time they met in the Before the Beginning scene that began the season and showed how they started the engine of the universe together.

Aziraphale might be trying to warn Crowley about Armageddon by sending an "engine trouble"-type of message or he might be calling back to when they first met or, as I suspect, he might be doing both but the show, at least, is referencing Before the Beginning here with this, whether or not Aziraphale intentionally is.

So, Aziraphale? He makes his choice. He gets into the elevator...

...and he swallows the fireball. Which we can see him do here:

Or, as this was foreshadowed in S1 by the being whose own fall and subsequent arrival at the bookshop door set all the events in this season into motion:

(The eerieness of the fake grin on Gabriel after seeing how it foreshadows S2 ending with Aziraphale's mad grin...)

Because, when all is said and done, this poor bastard really would have a death-by-swallowing-something story over here, wouldn't he? Can they just hurry up and destroy the Heaven/Hell system so Aziraphale can have food and sex in peace already, please? 😄

Aziraphale knew he'd been played and he didn't want to go through whatever came next. He didn't want to reach the top floor of Heaven because he knows that only forms of death await him there. They'll take his memories. They'll cast him to Hell. Being a demon is no picnic and Aziraphale has seen that in being with Crowley for so long. Satan is not exactly the biggest fan of Aziraphale and Aziraphale, better than most, knows what Satan is capable of. He doesn't want any part of that. He ingested a suicide pill to avoid being captured by the enemy.

Crowley gave him the pill because angels are not immune to hellfire. That's what made it a suicide capsule, right? It was supposed to kill him within seconds. It was supposed to be quick and relatively painless-- a way to escape the horrors that might await him. Even when Aziraphale is at his worst-- as Aziraphale was in their last scene in bookshop-- he is still a pure-of-heart, lovely being to Crowley because Crowley loves Aziraphale as he is-- imperfect. Just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing. It never occurred to Crowley that the capsule might fail. Why? Because Aziraphale is, always and forever, his angel.

Both Crowley and Aziraphale thought the fireball should have protected Aziraphale from pain and suffering by killing him almost instantly once he ingested it.

By that measure, Aziraphale should have burst into flames in the elevator, seconds after he swallowed the pill just after stepping inside.

But he did not.

We watch as the seconds start to tick by... and we see the realization play out on Aziraphale's face as each second that passes is another one where he's still here...

...the look gets more and more unhinged as the elevator keeps climbing until we get the slightly mad dark grin as the last shot of him before a fade to a deathly black... with Aziraphale having spent the final splitscreen since he got into the elevator on the other side of Crowley, symbolizing what's happened.

In the elevator scene, we are watching the dawning realization play out on Aziraphale's face as the fireball doesn't work and there's only one reason why it wouldn't-- because he's no longer an angel.

Aziraphale has been sauntering vaguely downward for the season and maybe for awhile before then. He's been letting the darkness in, more and more, throughout all of S2. We have been watching his fall happen. The 'falling from a great height into a pit of boiling sulphur' part of falling? Ceremonial. An aftermath of sorts-- an additional punishment. It awaits Aziraphale when he gets off the elevator in Heaven but it's something we likely don't really need to see and never have seen in the show yet because that's not actually the main point of a fall. By the time you're literally falling from a great height, you've actually already fallen.

Aziraphale's determined-- but also just really half-mad-- final grim smile in the elevator over his understanding of what's happened is both the pain of thousands of years of religious trauma and abuse-related misery and a bit of completely unhinged I'm gonna burn this place to the fucking ground fury.

Aziraphale swallowing the capsule also parallels Gabriel having to "consume" The Fly to open it. The Fly went through Gabriel's eye and allowed him to "see"-- it give him realization and understanding by returning his memories to him. For Aziraphale, he swallows the fireball and it also gives him a kind of sight-- realization and understanding of what's happened and what's to come... all of this also in the moments before his memories (and, so, his sense of self/his life) will likely be taken from him.

(For a time-- he'll be fine eventually. *mantras* South Downs Cottage, South Downs Cottage...)

"And from his mouth go burning lamps and sparks of fire leap out." The Job quote on the matchbox. The matchbox contained the fly-- it's the equivalent to the ball bearing containing hellfire. Works now on several different levels but one of them then is: And from his mouth (Crowley's mouth/the kiss/the fireball/Aziraphale swallowing the fireball)...

...go burning lamps (the light that goes out in the bookshop when Aziraphale is in the elevator)...

...and sparks of fire leap out. Several meanings:

Literal sparks-- in that Aziraphale can now spit hellfire, like how Crowley did in his body in Heaven in S1.

Sparks of fire leaping out, in the sense that Aziraphale has made the leap-- he is a demon now.

Lastly, though... sparks of fire leap out... as in, Hell (and Heaven) hath no fury like this very, very, very pissed off Angel of the Eastern Gate whose whole thing is freeing those imprisoned by corrupt systems...

Visually paralleling the elevator with a grey wall behind him and light/darkness alternately striping Aziraphale is the 'Aziraphale and God' scene in 1.03, setting up its sister elevator scene in 2.06, where Aziraphale realizes that he has been tempted by Satan and has fallen. (Ironically, a realization about having fallen that happens while going Up in an elevator.)

God: "Aziraphale. (dryly) Angel of the Eastern Gate. Where is the flaming sword I gave you, Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale, unintentionally foreshadowing the fuck out of the plot:

"...must have put it down here somewhere."

Yeah. 😉 Give 'em hell, Aziraphale.

Bonuses:

The awning of a new age/Dawning of a New Age joke. An understanding/a daybreak that begins a new era...

"Oh, listen, I think it's about to happen-- the 'awning' of a new age." Yes, indeed, Crowley. A dawning of a new age was imminent...

...and, finally, if you substitute 'Aziraphale' for his parallel of 'Job' in these sentences, Bildaddy summarized the season endgame quite nicely in 2.02:

[notafunkiller]

unveiled

Summary: Unable to keep the charade up, you finally confront Bucky, telling him the whole truth.

Pairing: (fake) boyfriend’s brother!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 26, Bucky is 39), teasing, dirty talk, or@l sex, fingering, protected séx, pet names, daddy kínk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 4.5K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: This story will have 4 parts, this is the 3rd part.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

Avoiding Bucky for two weeks was hard, but fortunately, he didn’t try to push you at all, which made it bearable.

You miss him, though. You always enjoyed his company, and it feels like you are slowly losing a friend. But what’s your alternative?

As much as you try to be polite, William’s friends completely ignore you when you ask them how they are. So you give up quickly, spending time on your phone as you try to ignore them. You can’t go to your room because that would not fit the fake image, so you’re stuck.

You know William is not a bad guy, and he tried to get closer to you a couple of times, but he’s not the type of person you’d see yourself with. Not even as real friends. You’re just too different, and it’s not like either of you wanted to be in this situation.

Bucky has been busy all evening. From what you heard, he’s been working on an important project this week, even at home. But you are happy to see him coming downstairs, probably headed to the kitchen. At least, he’s alive.

“Hi.”

Everyone acknowledges him immediately, and he gives you a warm smile before going to the kitchen, as you thought.

A few minutes later, when he returns, he’s carrying a plate with two sandwiches and a drink in his left hand. William immediately reaches for the glass, and Bucky gives him a pointed look.

“That’s not for you.”

“Come on, you always let me try.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his tone. He acts like a kid a lot of times.

“This is for your girlfriend, punk. The one you’ve been ignoring.” You look at him surprised as he hands you the drink. How did he know?

Everyone turns to look at you, but you ignore them.

“Thank you.”

Cherries again... You blush.

“You’re welcome, hopefully you’ll drink it this time.”

For some reason, this is enough to make this whole avoiding him plan of yours go down the drain  and before you know what you’re doing, you’re in your room calling your mom and demanding her to stop this nonsense and let you come home. Because they can do it in another way. You can’t pretend to be a couple for years, can you? What about your life? What about what you want? You’ve already done so much for them, and you are sick and tired of lying.

Same goes for William. He must want the same thing as you do.

But she brushes you off, trying to make you see from their point of view. Because this is what your father wanted. And you never felt sicker.

“He wouldn’t give you the opportunity to run anything otherwise, baby. You have to do this... I am sorry.”

“No, you’re not! You’re fucking not! Otherwise, you would have left him. He controls you and me. He’s been doing it your whole marriage, and I am sick of it. I won’t let him treat me like this anymore.”

There is dead silence on the other side of the phone for a couple of seconds, and you have to forcefully bite your lip to keep the sobs down. You can almost taste the blood.

“Please, honey, there’s nothing I can do.”

You cannot take any more of her tone, so gou simply hang up and put your phone on silent just in case.

There’s nowhere you can go. Nothing you can do to escape this if you want an opportunity to do things your way. Your father uses you, and your mom doesn’t have your back.

It’s suffocating you, and it’s also terrifying how alone you can be despite not being theoretically alone.

He deserves better, too. He deserves to know.

That snaps something inside you, and before you can change your mind, you get out of your room, fixing your hair and wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

William’s friends are still downstairs, playing something based on their voices, but you ignore them. You go straight to Bucky’s door and knock desperately.

You still jump when he opens it, and you can spot the worry in his eyes right away.

He was taking a bath, you notice the water droplets running down his face and body. He probably threw his shorts and tank top on quickly, but you don’t care. He needs to know.

“What’s wrong?”

“I gotta tell you something. Right now.”

You get inside his room without waiting for an invitation, and only when you hear the door closing, you turn to look at him.

“They’re lying to you. Everyone is lying to you, including me. And I’m sorry.”

He comes closer, concerned. “What are you lying to me about, huh?”

“It’s not true. None of this is true.”

“What’s not true?” He presses again. You’re finally in his room, you’ve stopped avoiding him, yet you’re still panicking. And all he wants is to make sure you’re okay. “Take it easy. Try to speak slowly, you are running out of air.”

“About William and I… We’re not together for real. It’s all a scam.”

He's speechless for a couple of seconds, frozen on spot, before you watch him start to laugh hysterically.

“I am serious, Bucky. It’s for the merger of the companies.” You continue, thinking he doesn’t believe you. Because why would he? “Your dad wanted to make sure mine won’t back off so they used me. I swear, I can show you-”

“I believe you, I believe you.” He's surprisingly calm as he speaks, as if you didn’t relieve a huge secret. “That’s not why I laughed.”

“I am sorry. I didn’t know why they wanted to keep it away from you, but I-”

“Why did you agree to all of this? What’s in it for you besides the misery of living here?” He asks, so much closer all of a sudden.

“Nothing now.” You sigh, but you don’t care. Even if you have nothing, at least he knows. And sadly, he doesn’t seem surprised by his parents’ actions. “I was supposed to get my dad’s  support with a small business. I also wanted to run a charity organization... accepting this  was the condition so I can have what I want. It’s stupid, I know. I am twenty-”

“I sensed something was wrong with this whole relationship thing. No couple acts the way you two do, but I thought maybe I was overthinking.” His clothes are fully getting wet now, and you can’t help but stare at his chest. Shit...

“I know.”

“I should have figured out what’s going on.”

His tone seems light, as if you’re not talking about how you all made him believe in a lie for months. You fight the impulse to beg for his forgiveness. You feel like a horrible, horrible human being.

“I am so sorry, Bucky,” you cry. “I should have told you. I am not a good friend, and I am so sorry. But now you know, I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. I didn’t want to, you deserve so much better than all of this.”

“I know you wanted to.” His hand is on your shoulder all of a sudden, and you gasp at the contact. “On my birthday.”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I wanted to tell you a lot of times actually. But I am a coward. William and your parents-”

“You’re not his,” he interrupts you once again, shaking his head as if he can’t believe it. “You’ve never been his.”

You know what he means by his, and you want to correct him and tell him you’re not an object to be someone’s. But you remembered how much you thought about the possibility of Bucky being yours in the past few weeks, so...

“No, I am not.”

“Good.” He grabs you by the back of your head. “I've wanted to kiss ever since I saw you, don’t you know that?”

You gasp. “James-”

“Tell me you want me. Tell me that, and I’m yours. I don’t care about them, I care about you.”

“But I lied to you.”

“You didn’t want to lie to me, though. Analyze the context you are in a little.” He looks drunk as he stares at you, wanting nothing more than to kiss you.

You shake your head. “I can’t do the fun thing with you, okay?”

“Fun thing?”

“I can’t be like Cherry. I can’t stay friends with you after I kiss you.” And you wouldn’t want to even if you could.

He leans in until his mouth reaches your ear. “Who said I wanted that, princess? I told you I am yours.”

“Are you playing a game?”

“Sure,” he says immediately. “I can play any game you want if that makes you want to be mine.”

“Fucking hell,” you moan, feeling so many things at once. He’s seriously giving zero shits about this whole thing, and he’s touching you. Just like you touched him on his birthday. It feels forbidden and wrong, but also perfect. You can have him now. You can kiss him. And you do, bringing his head down so your lips can meet.

You moan quite loudly, but you can’t hold back. Not when he grabs your ass and pulls you closer to him. You hiss when you feel him lifting you in the air so you can wrap our legs around his hips. He’s so hard. So, so hard! And wet all over. You can feel him properly.

He groans when you deepen the kiss, but you’re so into it you could barely hear him.

“Jesus, you taste so good, baby, so good.” He continues to kiss you until you feel like you can’t breathe. You start to move your hips without realizing, chasing the friction because it just feels so good, even with your pants on.

“James, please.”

“Please, what?” He grinds back a little to tease you and you almost cry. So much desire has been bottled inside you for months. “Come on, use your big girl words, baby.”

“I need you. I’m so wet… I need to come.” So much!

“And you want me to make you come?”

You groan. “Obviously!”

“Then ask me to.”

“Come on, James!” You grab his face desperately. “Come on, make me come. Please!”

He smiles widely, and this boyish smirk only makes him look cuter. You want to eat him whole.

“Of course, baby. So polite.”

He doesn’t waste time after your back hits the bed. He starts to undress you quickly, not caring about his sheets getting wet. You help him by lifting your arms and your hips from time to time, but he manages to get everything off in record time.

You can’t believe you’re doing this, to be honest. The reality hits you when he leans in to kiss you, his wet T-shirt making your nipples harden even more. You’re naked in his bed...

“Hey, you’re okay?” His voice is so soft that you can’t help but smile.

“Yes, I’m just... I can’t believe this is real. I haven’t prepared for it.”

“You’re so cute when you’re shy.” He kisses your lips once again. “And when you’re angry.” The trail of kisses is getting lower and lower with every word. “And when you tell me what to do.”

His mouth stops right on your left breast, his hand grabbing the other one.

You moan, losing yourself slowly to the overwhelming sensation, making it hard to focus or think.

“And when you do as I tell you to.” His tongue is everywhere: from your skin to, finally, your nipple, wetting it with his tongue before he properly sucking it.

You jump from the sudden pleasure and grab his hair.

“Feels so good.”

He switches to the other breast as soon as you speak again. “Fuck, I wanted to sleep on these for a long time. I’m depraved, aren’t I? Wanting to fuck my brother’s girl and suck on her tits before passing out on them from exhaustion.”

You moan imagining him sneaking into your room and doing that, and it makes you even hornier. “Fuck, James! I would have let you... would have asked you to make me come in the morning, too.”

You don’t care if you are depraved too. You are in this together. You wanted each other for so long, and now you’re finally getting it.

“Yeah?” He starts to lower his face more after he leaves a few kisses on the valley between your breasts. “What else?”

When you feel him close to your navel, you laugh.

“I’m ticklish, please.”

He melts. Of course he melts and spreads your legs as far as you can go.

“Gonna finally get my mouth on you. I need you to come all over my face...” Based on his tone, it’s like he can’t believe it finally happening.

“Yes, sir.” You tease. “Gonna get you drenched if you want.”

Something snaps inside him, you realize quickly, as he cups your face.

“I am your sir now, princess?”

“Always been,” you gasp. “You’re in your daddification era after all.”

“Shouldn’t that make me your daddy then?”

You freeze a little, unsure what to say because you’d lie if you said you didn’t think about him like that. He’s such a daddy that it hurts. And it’s like he sensed it.

“Fuck, you’re both, okay? You’re both. Please, James. Need your mouth or fingers... anything.”

“Or?” Bucky puffs. “You’re getting both, love.”

You hear laughter coming from downstairs, and you smirk. If only they knew who you actually are with...

Bucky places your legs on his shoulders and back, and you let yourself stay still, waiting for his first move.

His fingers open your lips first, making sure to hold you open before he leans in and gets his tongue at your entrance.

“Shit, Buck!”

He intentionally breathes out all over you. “That’s not how you call me, princess.”

“What do you want then?” You snap, desperately. You need to be eaten out, not teased. “Daddy? Sir? Old man? James? Tease?”

“That tone,” he says, amused by your suffering. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

“Well, make me come first!”

“Always.”

He doesn’t tease you much after this, getting his tongue inside you for a while as you pull his hair, and then he switches it with his index finger as he decides to lick your clit.

“Y-you can suck on it. I like it.”

He immediately takes your suggestion and, at the same time you feel him adding another finger inside you, he sucks on your clit as if he’s nursing.

You lose control of your hips, moving them like crazy while he fucks you like this.

His free hand travels to your breast, and you groan. “I’m so close, James. Sooo close. Fuck,” you moan again when he pinches your nipple. “Add another finger, please. Another-”

He does it before you can ask again, and it doesn’t take more than a few seconds for you to come all over his face, surprising yourself and, probably him. It feels like you’re drowning in pleasure, it’s insane. 

Even after you finish, he keeps licking just as fast, and you have to pull his hair harshly so he can stop.

“It’s enough, thank you, baby.”

He smiles, getting up to kiss you without hesitation. “I’m your baby now?”

“Of course you are. My big old baby.”

He laughs. “So old.”

“Yeah, my old man, who needs to take off his clothes.”

Bucky nods, standing up.

“Do you have a condom?”

“Ihm.” You crawl to the edge of the bed so you can help him take off his shorts quicker. It’s hard not to stare at his cock. He’s quite thick, and the head is covered in precum.

“What’s that face?” He laughs, fishing. You know he fishes too, but what can you say?

“You’re a big man.”

He laughs even harder. “Do you mean all of me or a certain part?”

“Fuck you!” You take his hand, forcing him to lean toward you. You won’t stroke his ego even more.

“Let me grab a condom first.”

You nod, eagerly waiting for him to get inside you as you watch him his open his nightstand. You brush off the instinct to cover yourself and spread your legs.

“How many times did you think about it?”

“About you in my bed? Too many times. I was gonna screw it over, you know?” He snorts. “The morning after my birthday. I wanted to come and confess I like and want you to myself, but you stayed away from me.”

You watch him open the package and roll the condom on as you answer. “I think your sister sensed it.”

Bucky scrunches his nose. “Not the greatest subject while I am about to fuck you, but yeah, she knew. She saw right through me, and as we left she told me to go for it and do something scandalous for once.”

“Really?” You’re shocked. Why would she encourage him to do that while you were still with her other brother? “She told me not to play with both of your hearts before we left.”

Bucky shakes his head while getting on his knees between your legs. “You can play with my heart all you want, doll. It’s all yours”

“I need something else of yours right now. Your cock, sir.” You tease him, knowing the effect your words will have on him. You enjoy this so much… having this power over him. “How about that?”

“Ihm.” Bucky kisses your lips briefly. “When you tell me to stop, I’ll stop, okay?”

You nod eagerly, wanting to push him. “What if I don’t want you to stop, what should I tell you then?”

“Just beg for my cock. You seem to like that.”

“You would love that, wouldn’t you? If you want me to beg, at least give me a reason to.”

And he gives you a reason to as he pushes inside you little by little. It’s a strange feeling... getting filled like this with no lube, but it doesn’t hurt, it’s just a bit uncomfortable at first.

“You okay?”

“Ihm, just full.” You smile.

“You’re so tight, and wet, and perfect, you know? I feel like... shit, it feels surreal.”

You look down, and you almost moan from the sight. His cock is more than halfway inside you.

“You feel amazing too.”

He kisses you as he starts to thrust, and you don’t remember the last time you felt like this. Maybe it’s also the build up and the time that has passed since you last had sex, but you can’t think straight. With every push, it gets harder and harder to focus or to simply keep your eyes open.

“Come on, princess, talk to me!”

He leaves kisses all over your collarbone and wherever he manages between his thrusts as he waits for you to speak. But what can you say? How can you speak?

“Y-you feel so good inside me, daddy. So good.” It’s like your mind is blank.

“Jesus!” His eyes meet yours. “Say that again, come on, baby.”

“What? That you feel good or...?”

“You know what, don’t be bratty now. I know you’re close.”

“I want it a little harder, daddy.” You smirk when you see him trembling a little, and before you can say anything else, he’s starting to thrust again, but harder just like you want.

“You’re mine, aren’t you? Worrying about me... taking me so well,” he moans, and you quickly grab the sheets when you feel one of his hands getting to your clit without warning. “Gonna come for me? Gonna come while everyone is downstairs wondering what takes you so long? Gonna come for your daddy?”

You do, of course you do, silently, yet strongly. It feels like heaven, and you don’t want it to ever stop. You can taste the pleasure at this point.

“Look at you,” he moans, still thrusting. “So beautiful as you come for me. Tell me you want me to come for you, too. Tell me-”

You interrupt him immediately. “Please, James, let it go, want you to feel good.” You kiss his neck over and over again. “Want to feel your come inside me.”

You both know that’s impossible, but it still gets him over the edge, and he comes, whispering your name like a prayer.

“Was it good?” You ask amused when his head falls dramatically on top of your breasts, his beard tickling you a little.

“I’m a changed man.”

He manages to make you laugh. “Liar!”

“Don’t call an old man liar, sweetheart.”

“What happened to love or baby?” You lazily run a hand through his hair as you wait for his answer.

“You’re my love and my baby, too..”

“How are you single again?”

“I’m not. You took me.” He grins devilishly before leaving a kiss on the valley between your breasts. Again and again.

“Ah, yes, I do.” You sigh, suddenly back to earth once the after-orgasm effect fades away. “We need to talk about it.”

“I know, and we will in the morning. Tonight, your job is to relax in the bath I’ll prepare for you while I go downstairs and make the punk end the party. Then we’ll sleep, okay?”

“Ihm,” you whisper absently. suddenly really tired as he slides out of you with a kiss.

“Gonna throw this away and come back, okay? Try not to sleep.” You don’t have to look at him to know he’s talking about the condom.

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky’s laugh warms your heart.

*

You wake up all sweaty, with Bucky’s arms around your waist and his beard on your neck giving you extra warmth. If you attempted to move him, he’s too heavy; therefore, you’d have to wake him up.

You sigh. “Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you move? I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Say the magic word,” he whispers with the raspiest voice ever.

“Now. Or is it daddy?”

He laughs. “Gimmie a kiss then.”

“Let me brush my teeth first.”

“Nonsense!” He leans in to kiss your without  warning, tilting your head with his right hand.

You don’t deepen the kiss, though, using this as an opportunity to sneak out of the bed.

“Hey, come here!  I don’t care about your-”

“I stink. You might not care, but I do. Gonna be right back, okay?”

You’re not fast enough, though, since you hit him with the bathroom door when you open it. “Bucky!” You jump, touching your chest.

“Took too long.”

“Such a baby.” You snort, wrapping your arms around his neck, and get on your tip toes so you can properly kiss him this time.

“Now this is a good morning.”

You nod. “Yep. Good morning.”

“Good morning, little liar.”

You frown instantly, your heart starting to race. Shit!

“I am really sorry, Bucky. I really didn’t mean to...” You try to explain, but you sound like a broken record.

“I don’t mean that, love. I am talking about what your principles.”

You feel like your whole body is on fire. This can’t be real...

“Was all a game?” You slam your hands onto his chest. “Is this a game for you?”

“What? I mean your not sleeping or having sex policy, woman. Calm down! What games? I came after you cause you were taking too long, and you think this can be a game?”

“I don’t know... I just panicked.” You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. “It sounded like you were gonna say it was all a game because I lied to you.”

Bucky shakes his head before wrapping his arms around you waist and pulling you into a tight hug.

“I would never do that. I am not a kid and I know what I want. I know why you accepted this, and you didn’t lie to me, you were hiding the truth from a stranger. They are the ones who should have said something.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby. I just wanted to make sure you know that.”

You kiss his upper arm in return, and he smiles.

“So tell me... what happened to not sleeping in the same room? Not having sex...”

“Why are you teasing me?”

“It’s my job as your man to do that.”

You let go of him and smile. “My man… I’m not intending to return you.”

“Return me?” He giggles, suddenly amused. “Now that we’re here, I have a question.”

“What?”

“How jealous you were of Cherry on a scale from 1 to 10?”

You gasp. “Are you going to ask everything this morning or what?”

“Do you want me to do it at lunch?” He teases you. “You don’t have to be jealous. We aren’t even close friends anymore, so...”

“I don’t care about Cherry! She’s nice...”

He brings your hands to his lips and slowly leaves a kiss on each finger.

“Then why was my mocktail left there? It was crying for you to drink it.”

You snap, taking him aback as you grab him by the chin. “You’re mine, do you understand? No Cherry, no Berry, no Watermelon!”

He laughs as much as he can since you’re holding his chin, but then something glows in his eyes. “What about Strawberry?”

“No. One. No fruit, no vegetable, no one.”

“Done,” he answers immediately. “But same goes for you. No William, Will, Bill and so on.”

“He’s not my type, obviously.” You touch his bottom lip with your index finger. “I like them old, savage, and huge like trees.”

Bucky immediately bites the tip of your finger before licking it. “We need to tell everyone. How do we do it?”

You freeze, dropping your hand.

What will you do? If this blows up, and you know it will, where will you go? Where will you work? Your mom would try to fight for you, but you know your dad would immediately cut you off and make sure you’ll regret it. He’d want you to beg for forgiveness, so he will make sure no one hires you.

Bucky must have sensed your panic and immediately grabs your face.

“Hey, I can see you making a hundred of scenarios in your head, talk to me.”

“In the bathroom?” You ask, trying to lighten up the mood for some reason.

“Don’t you want them to know?” He asks confused.

“Of course I do, don’t get me wrong. It’s just...”

“Complicated?” He completes the sentence for you.

“A little.”

“We have time, I’m all ears.”

Tags:

@charmedbysarge @identity2212 @vicmc624  @cjand10  @mayusenpai666  @abitofblues @doveromanoff @buckyb-stan

[alientee]

Christmas Cookies 🎄

This is a 18+ minors don’t interact and have your age in your bio. NOTHING BUT PURE SMUT. (Oral.M Receiving, spanking, spitting, cum everywhere) 2000 something words. AFAB reader

Sometimes you wonder why you chose this life. Your parents were gone, leaving behind you and two siblings. Not like they had a choice; they died in the omnic crisis. So you had to make a decision: die with your brothers going into the system, or live and protect them. So you made yourself useful until somebody picked you up.

Being a healer in Talon wasn’t so bad. You weren’t cut out for violence or war, and you were terribly shy. But you had to do what you needed to take care of your siblings. Plus, Doomfist and Moria were impressed with your progress in healing the troops, so you were moving up with the pay grade. You stayed in the background, stayed out of the way, and kept everyone alive, so your job was easy.

Well, your job would be easy if a certain tank didn’t take a liking to you. According to him, he had a soft spot for medics, especially sweet ones like you.Ever since you joined, Mauga has done everything in his power to get you to open up to him. Always asked Doom to bring you out in the field with him. He trusted you to keep him alive for some reason. He’d flirt with you, pick you up, drag you off with him, and even bring you dinner when you patched him up.

Sometimes you felt like he’d get hurt on purpose just to see you. He’s so huge that bullets don't affect him, so seeing him hurt made you a little skeptical. But with all the time and effort he put into you, sometimes they really would send you out on the field with him. He made you stay well hidden, or he carried you on his shoulder. Late missions had become late nights with you patching him up, listening to his crazy ideas, and telling you about his home.

You both had gotten close, but you think your shyness to speak up let it get out of hand. After a while, you grew to have feelings for him, and Mauga could tell; he was even a little smug about it. Mauga was touchy—really touchy—and overprotective; you didn’t realize what you got yourself into. To the point where other Talon soldiers would avoid you because, apparently, it was an unspoken rule that you were off limits.

And you were fine with that because people left you to your own devices. The problem was that you weren’t used to his overly sultry nature. Even after the large man had taken your virginity, (another story for another time.) You both went from being friends to him claiming you and doing whatever he pleased (with consent, of course). He never said if you both were a couple, so you didn’t want to put too much of your feelings into it.

But he made it very difficult, always being very kind to you or following you around. You decided it was best to avoid him until your feelings calmed down. You didn’t want to get so invested in him only for him not to feel the same. Your heart couldn’t take that kind of pain in your life again. So you did your best, and it paid off; you avoided him for a week. But Mauga got sick and tired of that real soon.

So here you were trying to avoid him on Christmas, thinking he wouldn’t be at work. You spent the day with your brothers so you could come in tonight. You were in the kitchen baking deserts for the team. You didn’t mind; you loved baking, plus you got paid extra for coming in today. You even put on a cute Santa dress and thigh-high socks. You already made a cake, gingerbread, pies, and even fruit muffins. The last thing left was the second batch of sugar cookies. You placed them in the oven and set a timer.

While you opened the oven, ready to put them in. You felt something hard press against your ass. The next thing you know, you’re lifted into the air. “EEK!"

You try to grab onto something, but you are set on the counter. And loa and behold, Mauga is standing right in front of you while in between your legs, smirking at you.

"M-Mauga, what the heck! I was baking.” He ignores you and starts to rub your cheek with his thumb.

“You make something for me, sugar?”

“U-um……. You can have a muffin if you want.”

He chuckles, "Nah, I think I want something else. I think you owe me a pie, sweetheart."

You quickly move to hand him a pie. "Here, take one!”

He looks at the pie, then back to you. He takes it out of your hand and sets it back down. He pushes you on your back against the cold counter. “Your funny; how bout a cream pie?"

“I can make you o-mmmh." Mauga cuts you off by shoving his tongue down your throat. He pushes your body down on the counter. He grabs at your thighs, squeezing them.

“Pretty thigh highs,” he says, running his finger along the socks. “It’s like you made yourself into a present for me.”

He starts to bite and nibble on your neck while putting his hand up your dress. His tongue licks up the side of your neck until he nibbles on your ear, and you shiver. You hated to admit it, but you missed his touch. His hands grip your ass, holding your lower half up. He scoffs and starts to rub at your covered folds.

“Lace panties, huh... I'm starting to think you really did dress up for me.”

You try to look away; it was an embarrassing position for you. And even if you told him you didn’t do it for him, he wouldn’t believe you anyway. He grips your chin,forcing you to look at him. “You miss me? Cuz it seems like you’ve been avoiding me lately.” You push him back a little.

"Mauga, you know I have siblings to take care of. I've been busy."

He looks down at you, frowning. He’s a firm believer that if there are 24 hours in a day, some of them better be for him. He slams you back on the counter, kissing your forehead. “If you’re going to make excuses, I won’t go easy on you.”

He moves back to push up your dress, rips your panties off, and leans down. “Spread those fucking legs; show me that pussy.”

You spread your legs, and he spat on your pussy, making you gasp. He slides his tongue over your cunt and starts to finger you slowly. "Mauga, we can't; we’re in the kitchen.”

Mauga hums in agreement, his tongue diving deep into your wet folds. He licks and flicks your sensitive spots, making you squirm with pleasure. Before you could grab his hair, he moved away, making you whine. Mauga chuckles and pulls you closer, his hard cock rubbing against your ass. “Thought we couldn’t do it in the kitchen?" He grabs a handful of your ass cheek and squeezes it roughly, causing a pleasurable pain to shoot through your body.

“Wanna watch your ass jiggle while I fuck you.” He throws you over, putting you on your stomach. "M-Mauga, wait, maybe we should wait till I’m done cooking.”

He paused for a moment, looking down at you. “You may not think I know what’s going on in that head of yours, but you’ve been acting insecure and putting up walls, then you started avoiding me, so im gonna show ya you can’t leave me your mine and I’m yours got it.”

You start to tremble and turn around to look at him. “I’m…. I’m yours?” He doesn’t answer; he’s still holding your body up. You realize all you can do is hold on and take what he gives you. Mauga teases you for a moment, rubbing his tip at your entrance. He starts to slowly push his cock inside you, filling you up with each inch. He slowly thrusts in and out, causing you to moan in pleasure. On instinct, you arch your back for him. “That's it, baby. That’s my good girl."

He reaches around, grasping your breast and squeezing it hard as he continues to fuck you. Mauga growls while his cock is pounding against your wet pussy. He grinds his hips forward, pushing deeper into you. You feel him playing with your nipples, pulling them roughly, and you cry out in pleasure. He pulls back slightly, then slams his hips forward again, burying himself to the hilt inside you. You scream his name as he starts to fuck you harder and faster.

Mauga smacks your ass, rubbing the cheek softly to ease the sting. "I think you deserve a punishment for dodging me; how bout I spank that cute ass, hm? Redden you up a bit.”

“Maug-ga! I’m close! Please!”

He smacks your ass harder this time. Pushing your body into the counter as his hips smack your thighs. Your body is being pushed back and forth in the air while all you can do is weakly grab at the counter. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, getting thrown around like a rag doll while Mauga bottomed out in you was bliss. You couldn’t help but moan out his name like a mantra, losing your breath with every thrust. He grips your hips, fucking you faster as he feels his balls tighten. “Want me to cum in this pussy or on that pretty face?"

“D-d….dont know Ahhhhh~”

You can barely answer him when he’s plunging his cock into you nonstop. His cock slick with your juices, making nasty squelching noises. He fucked you deeper while he whispered the dirtiest thoughts in your ear. His cock is stretching you past your limits. You make a weak attempt to crawl away, pulling yourself onto the counter.

Mauga grabs your hips, slamming you back on his cock. “Don’t you fucking run from me; take this dick.”

Mauga groans and thrusts a few more times. One more powerful stroke is all it took. Mauga started filling your pussy with his hot seed. He thrusts deep, feeling his cock twitch as he unleashes his load inside you. You can feel his cum seeping into your walls, filling you up with his essence. He keeps fucking into you while you cum on his cock, covering him in your juices.

You sigh and start to relax on the counter, catching your breath.

"You're not done, sweetheart."

You start to protest when he picks you up and puts you on the floor. He grabs you by the back of your hair, pushing his cock to your lips.

“Open wide, baby."

You open your mouth, and Mauga shoves his fat cock down your throat. You gag, tears coming to your eyes as you steady yourself, putting your hands on his thighs. Mauga growls, pushing his hips forward, his cock forcing its way into your mouth. "Fuck yes." He groans, his hands gripping your hair tightly as he thrusts in and out of your mouth. His cock is hitting the back of your throat.

You swallow his dick down to the base and begin to play with his heavy balls. Your sloppy noises echo through the kitchen.

Mauga's hips jerk violently as he feels your warm, wet mouth on his cock, his hands gripping your head tighter. "Fuck yeah, suck it, baby." He groans, his hips pounding into your mouth as he fucks your face with long, hard strokes.

Mauga's moans turn into grunts as his hips start bucking wildly as he loses control. "Mmmmh shit! Almost there..." He grips your head tightly, his cock jerking erratically in your mouth as he approaches his climax.

Mauga's entire body tenses up as he feels his climax come again, his hot cum filling your mouth and his hips jerking violently. "Fuuuuuck!" he moans lewdly, his cock pulsing with each spurt of cum, filling your mouth to the brim.

He pulls out of your mouth, spraying the rest of his cum on your face, his cock still hard and throbbing, cum dripping from the tip onto your tits. "Swallow it all, sweetie." He commands, his voice rough with authority.

You swallow all of his cum, sticking your tongue out to show him you finished.

Mauga chuckles, thinking you look gorgeous with your face covered in his cum. “Frosted like your cookies."

Just then, your timer dings.

“Cookies done, babe, go on and take ‘em out. You can frost 'em after I’m finished fucking you again."