#it had one nose that was probably what the author thinks as a hooked nose but honestly it's just a straight nose where they drew the bridge

[kurp-stuff]

.

[ozarkthedog]

summary: despite your reluctance, joel wants to fill you up.

kinktober ii: cnc + breeding

warnings: 18+ only -> mdni. Joel Miller x afab!reader. consensual non consent. threat of breeding. rough sex. asphyxiation. slight mention of aftercare. no beta.

word count: 1.2k

author’s note: per this post and @thornsnvultures sliding into my DMs with this thot. probably not my best but i'm posting it anyways. 🤷‍♀️

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ♁ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

He missed the power. The control. The brutality. 

The topic had been discussed only once but the point was clear. Joel did not want to raise a child in this new, horrific world.

Settling down in Jackson with you had been good for him. The boring monotony of day-to-day life. It wasn’t just surviving. It was making something out of nothing, growing together. Helping your fellow man; not just stealing from him (or worse).

Still, that unsettling need would return from time to time. It’d take root in the base of his skull like one of the countless bullets he’d left in his victims. The savagery beckoned him like a gnat scratching at the surface. The urge to claim sinking its fangs in once again.

Normally he’d go on a long hunt. Seek out unseemly folk and leave a path of destruction in his wake. This morning, however, a storm brewed outside. The windows glitter with a layer of frost as the wind howls through Jackson.

You flinch awake. Trepidation settling in your belly. You know this feeling. You’ve been here many times before. You’ll stay by Joel’s side until your last breath. So you do what you’ve both discussed; wait.

A brute hand forces you onto your front. A gasp falls from your lips as a heavy weight settles on your back. Your lungs seize under the pressure making blood pulse behind your eyes. 

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Joel sneers. He drags the hook of his nose up the side of your face, smiling as you struggle to suck a breath in. “Got you right where I want cha’, pretty girl.”

You jab an elbow back hoping to clip his jaw but he easily cages in it a steely grip. He yanks your left arm out from under your body with a dark chuckle and roughly secures your wrist in one of his large palms. 

“I like ‘em feisty.” he grits, dipping his head down and brushing his lips along the shell of your ear. “Gets my blood pumping” he drawls, a sick grin tugging at his lips. “and something else too.” 

He shifts his weight, lessening the pressure on your upper body, and grids his hard cock against your ass. You instinctively twist in his grip, bucking your hips and tugging on his hold. Joel hollers above you, “Yeah, that’s it. Show me how tough you are, sweet girl.” 

You whine, knowing there is no way out. He was much too strong. Still, it was part of the game.

“You know, it’ll be better for you if you just give in.” the warm, soothing words flutter into your brain calming your heart for just a brief moment. 

You know what he’s capable of. You’ve seen the brutality, the rage but you also know about the quiet side. The way he holds your hand when you walk into town. The soft eyes he gives you when you cuddle into his side. The way he’s so tender with you when he cradles your face in his hands.

“Wanna fill you up.” Joel murmurs. Pulling your right knee up to your chest before sliding a large hand along the apex of your sex. “That’s my pretty pussy.” he groans as he drags a lazy finger up the slice of you. “Can never get enough of it.” he coos into your hair before kissing the top of your spine. “Of you.”

“Joel- no, please.” you whimper, shaking your head. “You can’t.”

He “tsks” behind you. A brute hand catches the back of your neck and digs his digits into the tender column. Warm breath brushes the shell of your ear as he leans in close. “You think you’re in a position to call the shots? Stupid girl.”

A gasp catches in your throat when he taps the heavy tip of his cock on your barely wet opening. He notches the bulbous crown just past your folds before sliding in ever so slowly. He takes his time filling you up. He wants this to last. Doesn’t want to know where he begins and you end. 

Your core envelopes the weight and size of him. Molding around his thick length until you’re busting at the seams. “Thatta’ girl.” Joel grits through clenched teeth as your velvet walls make room for him. His cock brushes your cervix with a brazen kiss as he bottoms out making you wince.

His fingers dance cruelly on the crux of your mound, tugging on the hair that grows earning him a sharp cry before moving south. He circles your clit with expertise, knowing your body better than you did. A dense knot of unsavory pleasure forms in your belly, slowly growing tighter with every flick of his wrist. 

He finally rocks his hips and the air punches from your lungs. He sets a constant motion, sawing his length in and out. In and out. From his bulbous tip to the soaked base of his shaft, he takes. He defiles.  

Joel tugs your body close, wrapping his left arm around your font and splaying between your breasts effectively caging you against his broad form. “You feel so fuckin’ good, sweet girl.”

He grinds his cock deep after a weighty thrust, pushing his hips against the cushion of your ass. “Gonna fill you up.” he grunts, snapping his hips and pressing into the deepest part of you. “Make ya all round. Leave ya a drippin’ mess.” 

Joel’s hips snap hard. It forces the air from your lungs and shakes your bones. If it weren’t for his hold you would’ve rolled to the other side of the bed. 

A pathetic mewl tumbles from your lips, anxiety boiling over. “Joel, no!” you cry, praying he pulls out before it’s too late. 

Without thinking, you toss your head back and catch the top of his brow, bruising his eye socket with a curt blow.

The room goes eerily still. The man behind you is deathly silent as your heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s trying to break free from your chest.

A heavy hand circles your neck and tugs you backward. Your neck is instantly constricted, barely allowing any air to pass by under his palm. He pins your head against his shoulder forming his large, powerful frame against your shivering one. “Wrong fuckin’ move.”

Ice runs up your spine, chilling your insides to the bone as his fingers press on your veins, seeking out the one that makes you comply every time you try to revolt.

"Just for that, I'm gonna keep fuckin' ya after I fill you up." he sneers. "Make sure it sticks."

Blood pounds under your skin as the room spins. Your sight glazes over while he shoves his cock past your walls as they involuntarily clench around his girth from the rough treatment. 

His cock swells, bigger and bigger with every drive. “Shit.” he hisses, clutching your throat just a bit tighter as his hips stutter. A black mist slowly begins to crowd your sight, your eyes roll backward, mind and body go numb.

In a flash, he loosens his grip on your neck and pulls from your warmth, circling his shiny, soaked cock with a tight grip. He pumps his length, chasing his high before coming with a raspy moan and spilling hot ropes along the curve of your ass.

A heavy blanket of silence falls over the room while Joel catches his breath. He feels the rage melting away as his heart slowly beats to its usual rhythm. That all-consuming need has been stamped out. For now. 

In a moment, he’ll scoop you into his arms and leave a soft kiss on the crown of your head. He’ll hum words of love while you relax against his chest and eventually fall back to sleep. 

You close your eyes and wait like you always do.

running away now. 😅 feel free to scream at me -> 💌

follow @ozzieslibrary for fic notifs!

[nahoney22]

have you seen the film 500 days of summer? If yes I’m sure you’re familiar with the photocopy room kiss? so please may I request this type of kiss with female reader and the bad batch for your 4k followers? The scene makes my heart flutter every time 🤩 thank u :)

500 Days of The Bad Batch

All Bad Batch Boys X F!Reader

authors note: oh I love this film and that kiss is probably one of my faves in all film history! So let’s see what I can do.

warnings: can be read as Gender Neutral reader, Fluff, heated kisses, touchy touchy, mutual pining, no established relationships, quite steamy in some places so be warned, first kisses, ex imperial Crosshair.

For those who haven’t seen the film, here’s the scene…. now imagine it with your fave batcher 😍

As you stepped into the Marauder, your mind was a whirlwind of uncertainty, unsure of what you were thinking as you mindlessly cleared the workstation next to the man who had been occupying your thoughts every passing day. The air grew thick with tension, and a sudden pang hit your stomach as silence enveloped both of you, neither knowing what to say. You licked your lower lip nervously, stealing a side glance at the Clone before summoning the courage to finally, take the leap…

Echo 💋

Your presence didn't go unnoticed by Echo, never had and never will. But what he didn’t expect was for you to silently approach, not a word uttered on your lips; but with a kiss on your mind.

As you stood inches away, he turned to address you, his eyes slowly widening as his nose almost brushed against yours. "What..?" His question was barely audible, words choked in his throat at how close you were, but you silenced him completely as you placed your lips to his, sealing the unsaid desires.

He froze, bewildered, and then kissed back with a fervor that matched your own, the intensity of the moment consuming both of you in a whirlwind of passion and longing.

Your hands rested upon his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, as your lips moved in sync with his. His flesh hand cupped your jaw, gently guiding your movements, as you both lost yourselves in the intoxicating dance of your tongues and the softness of each other's lips.

Eagerly, you pressed against each other, feeling the heat radiating between your bodies as your hands roamed, exploring every inch of each other's skin. Gently, you glided your tongue along his lips, eliciting a stunning gasp from his throat, a sound that sent shivers of desire coursing through you.

His scomp rested on your hip, and you could sense his fear of hurting you with even the slightest pressure. So, you pressed more into him, allowing him to support your thigh as you raised it, deepening the connection between you.

He smirked against your lips, a silent acknowledgment of your subtle gesture, as he seized the opportunity to hook his scomp under your thigh, drawing you closer until you were pushed into the workstation, the hard surface grounding you both in reality amidst the haze of desire.

But all good things must come to an end.

The kiss broke off, Echo's eyes remaining closed as his breath shuddered in spent ecstasy, his mind reeling from the intensity of the moment and the overwhelming emotions that flooded his senses.

When they reopened, you simply smiled softly, a silent exchange of understanding passing between you as you placed one last kiss to his lips before leaving, not saying a word but leaving his mind in a blissful whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that lingered long after you were gone.

Hunter 💋

Hunter could hear you. The thumping of your heart and the rush of blood in your veins. He could smell the sweat of your palms that you nervously wiped on your pants, and he caught another scent, something that should be kept behind closed doors.

What he didn’t sense, however, was when you appeared beside him, a finger nail width away “Your hearts beating fa-.” He cuts himself off once he turned in your direction, eyes looking down at you as you stared longingly up at his.

Hunter was not one to get overly nervous but as your hand moves up his arm, your breath fanning his face, he felt as though he couldn’t breathe. And then you kissed him.

In that moment, he became alive.

Desperate hands grab at your hips, pulling you into before as he lifts you and places you on-top of the workstation as your tongue dances with his and your hands tugging in his hair. You grab at his bandana, tossing it to the ground and learn how soft his hair is. More so, it was easy to grab which gave you the perfect leverage to deepen the kiss.

He stands between your legs, moaning softly into your mouth as you tug at his hair and he brings you impossibly closer, welcoming the unexpected kiss to which both of you seemed to have wanted for so long.

But then you stopped, you stare at one another for a moment. You get up, straighten out your clothes and leave. You hoped his senses would tell him the answers he now needed. He best tidy his hair up too before the others see him.

Wrecker 💋

His heart always started to beat irregularly when you were around, and today was no different. The air between you crackled with unspoken words as you both stood in silence, the tension palpable. For someone who usually spoke a lot, Wrecker struggled to even string a simple 'hello' as you stood beside him, his mind racing with a million thoughts and emotions.

Summoning courage, he turned to face you, only to almost stumble back at your sudden close proximity. He tried to read your expression, wondering what you were thinking.

Then, as if on cue, your hands landed softly on his shoulders before jumping up, wrapping your legs around his torso which sending a jolt of electricity through him. He looked down at you in surprise, quickly holding you up with his hands resting on your arse.

A soft smile graced your lips, a silent invitation, before you slowly leaned in towards him. His breath caught in his throat as he felt your warmth radiating towards him, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Are you going to kiss me?" Wrecker muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, afraid that speaking too loud would break whatever fragile spell was transpiring between you.

You didn't answer with words. Instead, you closed the distance between you, sealing your lips over his in a gentle, yet passionate kiss. Wrecker's mind went blank as he melted into the kiss.

The galaxy around you both faded away as the kiss deepened, the taste of you overwhelming his senses. Soft moans escaped both of you as your tongues danced together in a sensual rhythm, lost in the moment.

His fingers dug into your flesh, holding you close, as if afraid you would disappear if he let go. But you showed no signs of pulling away, your own hands exploring the contours of his body, igniting a fire within him that he couldn't ignore.

When your lips finally parted, both of you were left breathless, your eyes locked in a silent exchange of emotions. With a soft kiss to his scarred cheek, you gently let yourself down from his grasp, leaving him more confused than ever before.

But deep down, amidst the confusion and uncertainty, Wrecker knew one thing for certain - this wouldn't be the last time you shared a moment like this.

Tech 💋

His face is down in his datapad, a usual sight and occurrence in the bustling command center, but when you’re near, Tech loses focus. Deciphering someone’s feelings was not his forte, making him grateful you were willing to show him.

He noticed you silently approaching, a subtle sway in your hips that had him peering to the side, waiting for you to speak, but nothing is said.

"Is there something I can help you…" he trails off slowly as you raise a hand and lower his datapad to the side, still clutched in his grasp but now a little shakily, "...with?" he finishes with a gulp, his voice slightly trembling with uncertainty.

You close the distance, silently nodding once, your eyes locking onto his with a soft determination. The proximity allows him to feel your breath mingling with his, and he can't help but inhale your sweet scent.

Then, you feel his lips as you press a subtle kiss to his, a gentle yet firm declaration of your intentions. Tech's mind races as he processes the sudden intimacy, his senses overwhelmed by the softness of your lips against his own.

At first, he doesn’t kiss back, mind and body freezing in shock at the unexpected gesture. But as your lips move, gesturing to deepen the kiss, he responds tentatively, his movements hesitant but filled with longing.

Stumbling into it, clumsy at first, he feels the weight of his datapad slipping from his grasp, the clattering sound as it hits the ground echoing in the quiet space. Ignoring the distraction, his hand instinctively snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him, the warmth of your body pressed against his own sending shivers down his spine.

Dexterous fingers find their place at the back of your head with his other hand, threading through your hair as he deepens the kiss, his breath mingling with yours in a silent exchange of desire and passion.

Your hands are on his body, moving, massaging his body as he licks your lower lip, craving a deeper sensation.

But suddenly you pull away, not wanting to get a head of yourself. He stares at you, words trying to part his lips but nothing comes out and so he is left with the taste of your lips and the hum of machinery and the soft glow of screens in his ship.

Crosshair 💋

Crosshair didn’t like you. Or so he thought. Since rejoining the Batch, he had become increasingly wary of strangers, preferring to keep to himself most of the time. Yet, despite his aloof demeanor, you had always made an effort to reach out to him, to include him, and it made him feel a strange sense of warmth and belonging that he couldn't quite explain.

Full of surprises, Crosshair was taken aback when you weren’t chatting away beside him as usual. When he turned to look at you, his trained eyes didn’t even catch you walking straight up to him. Your approach was silent, almost ghost-like, as if you had appeared out of thin air. Before he could react, you leaned up and kissed him, catching him completely off guard.

He backed away instantly, his instincts screaming at him for letting his guard down, for allowing someone to get this close. But then he looked into your eyes, and something in them held him captive. It was a silent plea, a shared understanding that went beyond words. There was a feeling being shared between you that he could no longer deny, no matter how hard he tried.

So, he pushed you up against the nearest wall, his mouth crashing onto yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. It had been so long since he had allowed himself to feel anything, to indulge in such intimate contact. He savored the sensation of your lips against his, the warmth of your body pressed against his own, igniting a fire within him that he had long forgotten.

Losing control, he gasped against your lips as you tugged on his clothes, urging him to come closer, to deepen the kiss.

With a subtle bite to his lower lip, causing him to part his lips with a groan, you took the opportunity to sneak your tongue into his mouth, exploring every inch of him with a desire that left him dizzy with desire.

The kiss was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions - desire, longing, and a hint of vulnerability - leaving Crosshair breathless and yearning for more when you left without saying a word.

Masterlist

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[thoseboysinblue]

What Nobody Sees

Part 1

Christian Pulisic x reader

You have unexpectedly found yourself tangled up in a long-term situationship with Christian.

Word count: 4700+

Warnings: Swearing, smut (under 18 DNI)

Song Inspo: Sin So Sweet by Warren Zeiders

Requested: No

Author's note: The original concept for this is based on a dream I had. Once I heard the song, I knew it was an immediate fit. This will be a multi-part series. Thank you, as always to @neverinadream for helping me to flesh this out. Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated!

September 2023

Why does he always have to be one of the last ones to arrive? You think to yourself as you wait impatiently in your room trying to distract yourself with plans for tomorrow's training session.

Yesterday, you had busied yourself with greeting the other players as they arrived for the September training camp and upcoming international friendlies. Last night you ate dinner with a few of the guys, joining them for a few card games after dinner before trying to get some sleep.

Today seems to be dragging though as you are anticipating Christian's arrival. Even though you know the arrival schedule like the back of your hand, having studied it time and time again, you still find your self glancing between the schedule and your phone as the minutes tick by slower and slower.

A quiet knock at the door, pulls your attention away from your work. You immediately know who it is from the two quick knocks a short pause and two more knocks in succession.

You take a minute to shake yourself free of the smile that has spread on your face and collect your thoughts.

"You couldn't even greet me in the lobby like the rest of the staff," he drawls, pulling you into a hug and burying his face into your neck.

"You weren't supposed to be here for another hour, you could've told me you were getting in earlier," you say, pulling back from him to look him in the eyes.

"My flight got cancelled, so I booked a private, no one told you?" he grins, nudging your nose with his.

"No, no one told me, including you," you say with a bit of an eye roll.

"Maybe I wanted to see you for the first time since June in private, and not with everyone there watching," he smirks at you.

"Yeah, why's that?" you can't help but let the corners of your mouth draw upwards into a faint smile.

"So I could do this," he says, leaning in and closing the distance between your faces as he slides his hand around the back of your head and presses his lips to yours gently.

Butterflies immediately swarm in your stomach. This isn't like him, he's never affectionate like this with you, and he's breaking the unspoken rule the two of you seem to have regarding kissing.

Stop it. Stop it y/n. He just hasn't seen you in a while. He's just horny and this means nothing. It can't mean anything.

You break away from him naturally, both of you sharing a brief smile.

"Well I'm glad you finally made it," you say turning towards your bed as he follows behind you, "the other Italy boys got here yesterday but they said you had to go home first before coming to camp, everything ok?"

Small talk is easy between you and Christian. You were friends before you unexpectedly found yourselves falling into bed with one another every time he was at training camp with the US. Now here you were, this undefined situation you were in having carried on for just over a year. You were his training camp hook up, you assumed he had someone just like you waiting in Florida and probably in Milan by now as well.

You were a convenience, a way to fulfill his needs while he was busting his ass for the national team, and you weren't going to turn down the mind blowing sex you'd been having with him, so it worked out for you as well.

However, he never made you feel like you were just one of many, even though you figured you probably were. The thought of him sleeping with anyone else didn't bother you too much as you'd sworn you wouldn't catch feelings for him because they would definitely be unrequited. He couldn't see you like that. You were you, he was him, he was miles out of your league, except when he was on international duty. Then, for just that brief time, you could pretend a small part of him belonged to you.

"Everything's fine, my sister just wanted to have a belated 1st birthday party for Avery, and I guess an early birthday party for me," he says turning you to face him.

You reach for the hem of his shirt, assuming you know what he's here for until he grabs your wrist.

"That's not why I'm here, I just came by to say hi. I've got to go do some media stuff," he smiles softly at you.

"Already?" You question and he nods, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand grazing your jaw, sparking the butterflies again. Those damn butterflies. "Guess that's what happens when you're the star of the show," you chuckle at him.

"I'll text you later, you joining the team for dinner or do you want me to make an excuse to order room service?" he smiles.

"I was actually thinking I might eat in my room tonight," you shrug at him.

"Well then it's settled, we can eat together in my room," his offer catching you off guard.

"Don't you want to catch up with the guys?" you question him a little puzzled.

"I'd rather catch up with you," he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Don't do that," you sigh, resting your forehead against his chest.

"Don't do what?" he says settling his hands over your hips.

"The sweet stuff. You and I both know that's not what this is," you mumble against him.

"Ok" he huffs grabbing a handful of your ass.

"That's more like it," you giggle against him.

"I'll see you later," he says, turning and leaving the room, but not before giving you one final glance, his eyes wandering up and down your body, a body he'd gotten to know almost as well as his own over the past year.

Dieci: Meet me in my room in ten. Everyone is downstairs so you shouldn't have to worry about bumping into anyone 😉

Y/N: 👍🏻

Outside of camp, you and Christian rarely texted. You would occasionally like each other's social media posts, maybe reply to a story, but communication was pretty limited other than that.

You hated that seeing his name flash across your screen made your heart skip a beat lately, because he wasn't yours, not really, and you knew this little game would eventually end between the two of you.

Stepping off of the elevator, you glance quickly down the hallway, making sure you don't see anyone milling about, while a large part of the team knows about your little arrangement with Christian, the staff members do not, and you'd prefer to keep it that way.

You knock quietly on his door, your eyes nearly bulging out of your head when he opens the door wearing only a pair of shorts hanging low on his hips.

He notices the way you're looking at him and gives you a little smirk.

"Jesus Christ what are they feeding you in Italy," you drag your eyes shamelessly over his body reaching out to grab his bicep. "You must be hitting the gym hard over there, Christian, you're huge."

Obviously the physical attraction between the two of you is there or you wouldn't be in this situation, you know he loves it when you praise him in any way, so you never hold back on the compliments.

"Christian, you're huge," he mimics your words, "things I always love to hear," he says winking at you.

"I was referring to your arms," you chuckle.

"Mmmhmm, we will see about that in just a little bit," he says grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the bed, noticing the way your thighs clamped shut at his words, a slight blush painting your cheeks in anticipation. "But first, let's order some food," he says flopping down onto the bed and pulling you with him.

You decide what you want to eat and Christian calls and places the order for room service. "No dessert?" you arch an eyebrow at him.

"Nope. I plan on having dessert before dinner. Maybe twice," he chuckles, settling himself between your legs, his face hovering over yours. He runs his nose over the bridge of your nose, desperate to kiss you, but knowing that's not an option.

You turn your face away from him, fighting your own temptation to give in and kiss him the way you want to. Kissing means feelings, and you cannot allow yourself to fall for him, a move that would surely lead to your heart getting broken.

He resigns to trailing sloppy kisses along your neck, a faint moan escaping your lips when he grazes his teeth over your pulse soothing the sting with his tongue.

"I've missed...." he stops himself when your eyes snap to burn into his, your breath hitching in your throat as you are uncertain of what he's about to confess. "Hearing you moan," he finishes, losing the nerve to tell you he has missed you.

The truth is he has missed you, having not seen you since June. He had invited you to Florida while he was home, wanting a chance to spend time with you, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the team. He knew the fact that you had to work the July camp made it impossible but it still stung a bit when you declined his offer.

Everything aside, the two of you never had a conversation about what was going on between you, never made it clear that this was just a hook up and that neither of you were allowed to catch feelings. But he has no idea what you are thinking or where the two of you actually stand.

He slides his hands under your shirt and you sit up enough to allow him to pull it over your head making quick work of taking off your bra as well.

He dips his head to swirl his tongue around your right nipple, his thumb and forefinger rolling the left between them. He licks a stripe between your breasts before pulling your left nipple between his lips.

"Fuck, Christian, I've missed that mouth of yours," you breathe out feeling him smirk against you as he leaves a purple bruise just below your left breast before he kisses his way down your body.

"You've missed this mouth?" he says in a cocky tone tugging at the waistband of your shorts with his teeth, sliding his fingertips under it and waiting for you to lift your hips.

"Yes, I've missed your mouth, but not so much all the talking," you huff as you lift your hips, encouraging him to give you what you really want.

Christian doesn't know it, but you haven't slept with anyone else since you've been sleeping with him, and while you and your vibrator can get the job done, there is no replacement for what he can do to you.

He chuckles as he drags your shorts down your legs, taking your underwear with them, and settling himself between your legs, glancing up to see your eyes burning into his, silently pleading with him.

He presses a kiss to your lower abdomen, then trails his tongue down to your pubic bone, placing another kiss there.

"No, no, no," you whimper, knowing he's planning on teasing you before giving you what you actually want.

"What's the matter, you don't want me to go down on you?" he smirks against your inner thigh, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, I do, please, I don't want you to tease me, it's been nearly two months since I felt your mouth on me, Chris, please, and our food will be here soon, we don't have time," you beg him, knowing it probably won't make a difference, but he has enough power over you to reduce you into a begging mess in a matter of minutes and both of you know it.

"Darlin', you and I both know I can make you cum twice in under ten minutes, we've got plenty of time," he kisses along the inside of your other thigh.

"Your skin is so soft, baby" he nuzzles his face against you before using his tongue to tease your folds apart, carefully avoiding your clit.

"How about instead of teasing me, you see if you can make me cum twice in under 8 minutes," you breathe out, knowing he will have a hard time resisting a challenge.

"I know you say you don't like the teasing, but you actually do like it," he nips at the soft spot just to the side of your entrance pulling a quiet yelp from you, "you're already dripping for me," he barely dips his tongue into you, humming "so sweet," against you.

He glances over at the clock, "eight minutes you said?" You nod, staring him down, "bet you a coffee in the morning I can do it in seven," he winks at you as you buck your hips towards his face when he finally gives in and flicks his tongue over your clit.

"Thank fuck," you groan as your head falls back against the pillows as he chuckles against you before beginning to work you over expertly, more than a year of experience in memorizing your body and how you react to him giving him guidance.

He doesn't even bother with starting slowly, he knows it's not what you need, as he flattens his tongue against you before flicking and sucking at your clit. Glancing up your body he watches as you roll your nipples between your fingers helping yourself along.

"You're so fuckin' hot" he mumbles against you, but continues push you towards the edge. When he's certain you are close, he slides two fingers into you, enjoying the delicious way you clench around them instantly as you let out a gasp.

He curls his fingers against your g-spot pulsing them a couple of times before holding them still and pressing them against your sweet spot while he uses his tongue to bring your high crashing down over you.

He watches as you grip the sheets with one hand, the other moving to rest on top of his head as your back arches off of the bed and his name tumbles out of your mouth as part moan and part sigh.

"Baby, of all the ways I've heard my name fall from that pretty mouth of yours, that might be my favorite," he whispers against you, the softness in his voice sending the butterflies swarming.

You squirm against him when he starts moving his fingers again, not even giving you time to come down from your first orgasm before throttling you towards a second.

"Christian, I can't" you pant out, your head rolling against the pillows when you clamp your eyes shut.

"Y/N, open your eyes and look at me" he says softly, even as he continues his movements, "if you want me to stop, you need to use the safe word, but I know you've got another one for me, I can feel it. If it's too much, say the word, do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head, his voice reassuring you, as you regain your composure. "No, I don't want you to stop, I can handle it." You focus your eyes on his as he changes his position, pulling one leg over his forearm while he kneels on the bed between your legs, the new position causing your hips to tilt upward and his fingers to drive into you at the perfect angle.

"Good girl," he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, "my perfect good girl," he mumbles as you nod and clench tightly around his fingers.

He flicks his tongue over your nipple, before using his other hand to press down on your lower belly. "What the fuck," you babble somewhat incoherently, the added pressure making everything feel more intense.

When his thumb circles your clit you feel something that you've never felt before. Your body convulses and writhes beneath him you catch one more glimpse of him, an intent look of satisfaction on his face as he knows he's got you exactly where he wants you. Your vision goes dark as you try to get his attention, "Christian, Chris, Chris, baby," the franticness in your voice snapping his focus to your face.

But it's too late, your second orgasm hits you with a ferocity that neither of you were expecting, the intensity of two orgasms mere minutes apart causing you to squirt for the first time ever. It takes you a moment to come to your senses again and realize what just happened.

Christian is still kneeling between your legs as he gently lowers your leg and withdraws his fingers from you, taking in the scene in front of him as it slowly registers.

Suddenly embarrassed, your cheeks flush and you try to move to get out of the bed realizing you've soaked the sheets and him.

"Um, did you just..." Christian looks himself over, placing a hand on your leg to keep you from getting out of the bed, a little embarrassed himself to be asking that question when it's obvious what just happened.

You nod, unable to look at him or speak to him properly.

"Have you ever done that before?" he slides his hand along your jaw tilting your head up to look at him.

"No, never" you shake your head, "has that ever, um, have you ever," you close your eyes, frustrated that you can't get a fucking sentence out. "Have you ever done that to anyone else?" You sigh, opening your eyes to find him staring at you.

"No, that was a first for me, too," he grins proudly, "and don't be embarrassed, that was literally the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life."

You cover your face with your hands as a laugh escapes your lips, but he pulls your hands out of the way, his face now hovering a few inches from yours.

"And you called me baby, you've never called me that before," he smiles broadly at you.

"Surely, I have" you knit your eyebrows together.

"No, I'd definitely remember that, it's been Christian, Chris, an occasional Cap, Captain, or Pulisic, a slew of curse words, but never baby," he leans down, glancing between your eyes and lips, desperate to kiss you.

As you part your lips, almost allowing yourself to give in to him, a knock at the door interrupts you.

He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw, the look of frustration evident on his features.

"That's probably our dinner" he sighs, leaving a lingering kiss on your cheek and running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip sending a shiver up your spine.

You both get out of bed, Christian throwing the duvet over the mess you'd made while you grab your clothes. He meets you in the bathroom where you are getting dressed and cleans himself up a little before pulling a shirt over his head.

"Good luck with that," you chuckle, nodding towards the visible tent in his shorts as he blushes and attempts to rearrange himself before opening the door to his room.

You stay out of sight until you hear the person delivering your food leave, emerging from the bathroom to find Christian arranging your food onto the small table in his room, random sports highlights playing on the tv in the background.

He glances up and smiles at you as you make your way over to the table. "You ok?" he asks shyly as you nod.

"This looks nice," you smile at him, pouring each of you a glass of water.

You sit down and begin chatting while you eat, catching up on various things and sharing food back and forth when a clip comes on of his interview from earlier in the day spliced in with some of his recent AC Milan highlights.

His attention turns slightly towards the tv and you notice the flicker of a smile that dances on his lips at the praise he's receiving for his recent form. You nudge him with your knee get his attention, "it's been fun watching you enjoy club football again," you smile softly at him as he nods.

"So you've been watching?" he grins.

"I try to catch as many games as I can for everybody, helps me to know what you are looking like prior to getting here," you shrug.

"No other reason?" he narrows his eyes as you shake your head.

"So if several of us are playing in the same time slot, who are you going to watch?" he arches an eyebrow at you noticing the way you drop your gaze to your plate and blush slightly.

He taps his foot against yours, patiently waiting for an answer. When you glance back up at him and smile at him playfully, "Wes of course" you chuckle.

You let out a squeal as he launches himself at you, scooping you up and tossing you on the clean side of the bed. "We both know that's not true," he smiles down at you, "is it?"

"No, it's not," you breathe out as he grazes a kiss to the underside of your jaw.

"You like watching me play, don't you?" he questions you lowly.

"Yes, I've told you that. I think the way you play is creative and beautiful and I'm really glad I get to see it more regularly now," you speak honestly, "and watching you, it makes me horny," you whisper, threading your fingers into his hair.

He smiles against your neck leaving a trail of kisses there before he once again pulls your shirt over your head.

"So sexy," he mumbles against your chest kissing over the tops of your breasts as you take your bra off and toss it to the floor.

"Tell me," he glances up at you before flicking his tongue over your nipple, "what do you do when you're horny for me and I'm thousands of miles away?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," you chuckle. He sits up between your knees, pulling his shirt over his head, a cocky smile spreading over his lips as he notices the way your eyes drag over his body.

"I would actually," he bites his lip as he pulls your shorts and underwear down your legs, "do you think about me when you fuck yourself, y/n?"

The way you blush and look away from him gives him the answer he's craving.

He sheds himself of the remainder of his clothes, his cock springing free as he wraps his hand around it.

"I'll tell you a secret," he groans as you reach for him, wrapping your hand over the top of his, "I think about you, too" he leans down and whispers into your ear, nipping at your earlobe.

"I'm sure you're other girls won't appreciate that," you tilt your head back allowing him more access to your neck.

He continues trailing his tongue along your neck but his mind is going in a million different directions, the two of you have never discussed whether or not you're sleeping with anyone else, but now it's obvious to him that you think he has others, a twinge of jealousy washing over him at the thought of you having others as well.

You push against his chest and he turns to lay on his back, watching as you move to to straddle him, facing backwards. He grabs your wrist and shakes his head, "I want to see you," he says lowly, his eyes darkening, "I want to watch every inch of you while you take every inch of me."

You nod turning to face him, your hands resting on his chest as he lines himself up with your entrance. He grips onto your hip as you sink down on him.

"Baby," a strangled moan escapes his lips as he throws his head back against the pillows and closes his eyes momentarily.

You sit yourself more upright, enjoying the delightfully painful stretch you've missed since the last time you were with him.

"You good?" you ask as his hands skim along your sides coming up to brush his thumbs across your nipples.

He nods as you roll your hips and begin to slowly bounce over him, allowing both of you time to find a rhythm you enjoy.

You can't deny how much you love seeing him like this, hair disheveled, eyes wild, strings of profanities and praises tumbling from his mouth; the usual quiet and reserved side of him melted away.

"God, y/n, you're squeezing me so tight baby, you feel so fucking good," he squeezes into your hips and holds you steady while he thrusts up into you.

"Yes, Christian, just like that," you moan out, curling your fingertips into his chest. You lean forward slightly, flattening your hand against him, dangerously close to his neck as he bites his lower lip.

He makes eye contact with you, and lifts his chin encouraging you to do what he knows you are thinking about.

You've spent your fair share of nights coming undone with Christian's hands wrapped around your throat, but you've never thought about doing the same to him...until now.

You slide your hand around his throat, squeezing slightly as he smirks at you and you feel him twitch inside of you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he groans and you can tell he's fighting to hold it off, not wanting to cum before you do.

His head thrashes against the pillows as you squeeze him tighter, your fingers digging into his neck when you lean down to whisper into his ear, "cum for me, baby."

"Shit, shit, shit," he moans as he shudders beneath you, gripping you as his high surges through him.

You slide your hand to his jaw as you collapse onto his chest.

"Fuck me," he sighs kissing the side of your head, "I'm a little scared by how fast that made me cum," he chuckles as you both work to regain your composure.

"Shit, you didn't finish did you?" he groans as you flop on the bed beside him and he turns to face you.

You shake your head, "but you got me off twice earlier, so going up 3-1 seems unfair," you grin at him.

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek, reassuring him that you're perfectly fine. He sighs wishing you'd properly kiss him.

You climb out of the bed and throw one more lingering glance at him before going into the bathroom to clean yourself up and get dressed.

After a few minutes, you head back into the room to find that he's dressed and cleaning up.

"I called downstairs, they are going to bring up some linens when they come to get the cart from dinner," he smiles at you.

You nod and help him place everything back onto the dinner cart before turning your attention to stripping the linens off of his bed, finding yourself getting a little lost in the domesticity of it all.

Once they've brought the clean linens, you help him remake the bed. He flops down on the bed and grabs your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours and giving them a squeeze.

"You're staying aren't you?" his eyes meet yours, pleading with you.

"What? No. I mean, I never stay. You never stay," you stammer, his request catching you a bit off guard.

"Oh, I just thought maybe after last time, you might," he drops his gaze and pulls his hand from yours. The action making your heart ache for him.

"Christian, I can't," you whisper, not quite able to get your voice to work.

He nods as you lean down and kiss him on the cheek, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," he offers you a weak smile, "I understand," he lies. Truthfully, he doesn't understand, he doesn't understand why you won't kiss him, why you won't stay with him, why after so long of being together in the way that you have been, you won't let him in.

You leave quietly and go back to your room, wishing you had it in you to go back and crawl into bed with him.

You take a shower, trying to clear your head and prepare yourself mentally for the days ahead.

When you climb into bed you notice a notification on your phone:

Dieci: I wish you would've stayed

@chilwellspulisic @neverinadream @masonspulisic @pulisicsgirl @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @nyctophilic0vitnir @lunamelona @tall-tanned-tattoo @lizzypotter14 @bracedes @xjval @notsoattractivearenti @bracedes

[kakashiislut]

No one asked for this, but I’ve been thinking about this and me and @kioplama had some giggly chats about it. So hehe, hope you enjoy.

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Part 2 here!

Warnings: Mentions of Simons past, concussions, scars, blood, malnutrition, needles, and more. 

Authors Note: heyo! Maybe this will be a series, who knows!!!! Basically, Y/N is a underground nurse/doctor and she finds lil old Simon passed out in front of her house and she takes him in to care for him until he’s all happy and healthy.

Word Count: 1,096.

Part 1/?

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The Solider~ Ghost x FemNurse!Reader.

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“What the fuck is that” You mumbled, squinting your eyes to try and get a better look. Moving your curtain to the side, you stared at the massive black blob that laid almost 50 Ft away from your house. It wasn’t moving, but you could see the outline of a hand and maybe even a head.

Taking a step back, you reached into the entryway table and pulled out a Glock .19, pushing it into the back of your pants, you made your way out the front door.

You walked carefully to it.

It was indeed a body, a body that was unresponsive, but you could hear some mumbling. Using your nurse strength, you pulled the body onto its back and stared down at the odd mask and military clothing. “Sir, are you breathing?” You asked, trying to sound as professional as possible. “Sir! Can you hear my voice!” Leaning down, you could hear him say something.

“Roba? Is that your name? Sir, is your name Roba?”

Getting behind him, you hooked your arms underneath his armpits and began dragging him towards your back door.

—

“Oh My GAwd!” You let out a loud huff as the man’s body finally hit the hospital-like-bed you kept downstairs. “I never regretted having an entire hospital downstairs more than right now- ow! My back-“ You whined out, rubbing the sore spot on your lower back. Getting him downstairs….well…if he knew, it would probably break his pride.

If he had any left.

You got “scrubbed in” as fast as you could. Slipping on a pair of scrubs over your clothes, getting into some gloves and even putting a mask to your face.

You had everything. Of course you did, you’re a pretty famous underground nurse. You worked with petty criminals, politicians that needed embarrassing or private work done, even with poor people who couldn’t afford basic help. Though licensed as a nurse, your knowledge and expertise went as far as a doctor.

You took off the mask first.

“Wow…you’re..something” you mumbled, placing it to the side, your fingers searching for a wet wipe to clean his face a bit. Once clean, you checked for any sort of cuts or wounds.

The man had a crooked and bumpy nose, with a massive scar coming across of it. His eyebrows were brown and messy, with once again, another scar vertically cutting through it. His hair was dyed blonde and grown out, some of it covering his face. He had a Glasgow smile cutting up the right side of his face and his cheeks were sunken in.

Very obvious sign of malnourishment.

Peeling open his eye lids, you flashed a light and watched how they simply didn’t respond. His pupils seemed to be uneven and you heard the smallest groan slip out of his mouth.

Concussion? Seriously. Fuck.

“Roba? Can you hear me?” The man licked over his dry and cracked lips. “No.” He mumbled, “no? No What?”

The man went silent again.

—

It was bad. It really was. When you cut off the man’s shirt, his body was littered with unimaginable scars and wounds. His shoulders were burnt and messy. He had a hole between his ribs. What seemed like 100 gunshot and stab wounds. His body was also littered with many messy and faint tattoos. The most prominent and taken care of was the one that adorned his forearm.

Lucky for you, those were all scars and seemed to be in the man’s past. The bloody ones…weren’t any better. His skin almost seemed to be peeling, he had a branding on his pelvic bone that stuck out, and shards of glass and wood stuck into him.

His ribs were sunken in and his skin seemed to be almost purple and red. The man needed something in his system, STAT!

Infection. Infection. Infection Was all that ran through your mind as you hurried to grab a IV bag full of fluids. You searched his cubital fossa for a vein and when you got a good one; you injected him with the needle. Letting the bag drip its liquid gold into his system, you cut off his pants.

Not as bad. But his legs were skinny and taunt.

His wrist was also broken. It seemed cleanly broken though. Like someone purposely did it to inflict pain.

You’re not worried that he might be a horrible person, you really aren’t. You’ve worked with people in the mafia and so much worse. If this man deserved all this to happen to him…then who gives a shit!

—

“Finished!” You huffed, sitting down in your chair and breathing heavily. Working with a limp body was super difficult, you barely had control over it. You used over the counter Antibiotics for his infection and a “homemade” cast for his wrist.

To heal? He needs lots and lots of nourishment.

Sliding your wheely chair to the closet, you opened it up and searched for a pair of handcuffs. To be safe. Of course. You wheeled back and attached his good hand to the railing of the bed and a sense of comfortability washed over you.

The painkillers you injected into the IV bag will keep him asleep, make him a little drowsy, so he’ll for sure wake up screaming and thrashing, confused where he ended up at. While he had his beauty sleep, you searched his pants, vest, side bags and the broken down backpack he had on him. Messy and dirty clothes made up most of the bag and you made a mental note to wash them in your softest and best detergent.

He had a bag of essentials in the smaller pocket of the military backpack and you took them to the bathroom in the basement. He had no phone, just a loose watch that had a broken screen. His vest seemed to be missing something, like some sort of system was ripped out of it.

The man had no ID.

The man seemed to be no one. Like he didn’t exist.

Cleaning up the mess you made, you didn’t need to worry about weapons as the man had nothing on him. Maybe, he himself was the weapon. You left upstairs, locking the door on the bottom of the stairs, and then the door that led to the stairs. You washed his messy clothes and stitched up the ones that had tiny holes in them. You made a homemade tomato soup and kept it warm until he would wake up.

Before you left upstairs, you snapped a photo of his face. Your “friends” could help you.

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Heyo! Sorry for making this kinda short and maybe a bit fast paced, but I’m to excited thinking about their little interactions they’re gonna have in the next part! I hope you like it and leave some comments for any misspellings or ideas! My request box is also open ❤️

[sonofatoasterwaffle]

Omg all your wips sound so intriguing but I’d love to hear more about orgasm-challenged!eddie!

thank you!! I wish the author would finish some of them 🙄😜

okay so orgasm-challenged!Eddie is becoming a monster of a fic (it's already over 10k 😣) and I've been working on it since this spring. It's established!Buddie, and several months into their relationship when sex and orgasm starts to become an issue for Eddie. He's obviously mortified about this and would prefer to never think about it, but Buck goes full research mode to try to make sure they're both feeling as good as possible in bed. Cue lots of awkward discussions, trial and error, and sappy, fluffy, disgusting levels of love.

Here's a snippet:

They’re the first ones in the bunk room after their most recent call. A three car pileup, but everyone had walked away with minor injuries. Probably the best case scenario for an eleven p.m. call on a rainy night.  Eddie’s shooting Carla a text to check on Chris when Buck kneels up on the bed behind him. Eddie should admonish him about how they’re at work again, but he’s kind of curious what else Buck has planned. The hug he receives from behind is pretty nice, too.  Buck hooks his chin over Eddie’s shoulder, asks oh so quietly “What’s your favorite thing we do in bed?” like he’s asking about the weather.  Eddie does not shiver. “I–”  Buck noses at Eddie’s ear, warm breath sending sparks down Eddie’s spine. “You don’t need to answer right now. Just want you to think about it.”  And just like that, he’s gone, settling into his own bunk beside Eddie’s just as Hen and Chimney bang open the bunk room door. Eddie knows he’s staring at the wall like it contains some sort of infinite puzzle, but at least his phone is in his hands. Plausible deniability. He finishes sending off the text and lies down, decidedly not looking at Buck.  More deep breaths.  Bobby hits the lights when he walks in, plunging the room into blissful darkness. Eddie reaches out toward Buck’s bunk, smiles when he feels Buck’s hand already there between them. He tangles their fingers together, feels himself settle.  What is his favorite thing they do in bed? 

[shiraglassman]

Hey, I know this is kind of a dumb question, but I came across a TikTok about a month ago suggesting that dragons (the western, fire breathing, princess snatching, treasure hoarding ones) were rooted in antisemitic in the same way something like goblins are. I couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not, and it kind of sent me into a tailspin, since I’ve always loved dragons (I read the WoF series ONCE and wouldn’t shut up about it for 3 years), and I was worried that I would have to drop them entirely for fear of offending someone. I can definitely see the similarities between common antisemitic tropes and dragon tropes, but I’ve always heard that the origins of the western dragon were that it was just a scalier of the devil and not meant to represent any marginalized community. However, I am not Jewish in any way, and I’m aware it’s not my place to dictate what is and isn’t harmful, so I was curious as to what you thought. (Sorry about how long this is TuT)

I held on to this ask for a few weeks to try to make sure my response made sense, so here goes. Disclaimer that I'm just one Jewish woman who loves dragons, and I claim no expertise or position of authority. I can't guarantee that someone won't look at your special interests and judge you unfairly. I also can't guarantee that you'll be hyperaware enough and careful enough to catch dogwhistles if they're subtle, compared with ordinary fictional dragons. What I can guarantee is that your average Jewish person is not going to assume you are more unsafe to be around than other unknown gentiles just because you like dragons, but fandom spaces and Tumblr spaces sometimes represent a skewed or specific cross-section of the population and may react differently. I can't make any of those calls. I don't want to tell you to start tuning out marginalized people when we speak about our issues including bad representation, but I also don't think "every Western dragon" is a problem the same way the entire perception of Halloween witches is, for example. For "some reason" (antisemitism) we've decided that big hooked noses are a thing you strap to your face to fake being a witch, or the way witches look in clip art. This is an issue because it takes a simple, neutral feature that some of us have and exaggerates it to the point of looking nonhuman. "Ha ha," says the trope. "Wouldn't it be funny if this trait that these Others have was so different and so jarring in appearance that they looked as different as they truly are, from us, the In Group?"

If the same group of folks who had anxiety about us coexisting alongside them created the witch aesthetic as created the Western dragon lore, and indeed much of old-fashioned European fantasy, it's easy to see how their feelings about us an other marginalized groups (disabled people etc.) creep into the stories. HOWEVER, it's also incredibly easy for dragons to not be us. Or have anything to do with us. If you're nervous when writing your own stories that someone is going to mistake your greedy characters for Jewish-coded, try to establish that real (human or otherwise) Jewish characters coexist with the greedy dragon or whatever to show that you're not using the dragon as a subconscious Jewish reference. But if you're talking about just "can I continue to buy dragon merch from creators who draw cute art", the only thing I can tell you is that there's an intense diversity of opinion among the Jewish people and even though I'm saying it's fine and probably most people at my temple would say it's fine, I can't account for strangers on apps I don't even have. Personally, I think you're safe as long as you avoid dragon things that evoke the trope directly. And many MANY dragons don't even evoke the trope these days, because so many millennials and younger grew up adoring dragons so we launched media where dragons are good. And don't even always hoard wealth. Much of modern dragon media seems to ignore the greedy and/or hoarding tropes entirely or have replaced greed as a motivator for the collections with "this dragon has a special interest", which is cute and doesn't evoke antisemitic tropes at all. You'll probably be able to make good judgments about what does the trope and what doesn't, but for some additional help here is a post Meir and I did on @writingwithcolor, which is where we'd prefer these questions be directed (yes, I know we're closed currently but we're reopening soon.) P.S. If this was sent to my personal specifically to avoid the WWC ask box being closed, please don't — that's an amount of volunteer work I simply can't take on. But I also know that it's possible and likely that you didn't know about WWC at all, so now you do — feel free to peruse our vast archives of past posts. @im-tired1124

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Thirty-Nine — The Warm Hands of Ghosts

Everyone was hooked up to tubes, IVs or cannulas hanging from their body as they got the treatment necessary to keep them comfortable.  How long would it be till I was hooked up to wires?

3.6k words | 13-17 min read time | TRIGGER WARNING: Hospital, illness, fuck them OCs, hyp...notism?

⚠️AUTHOR'S NOTE: once again, thank you @lobotomizedlemon for giving me god's greatest disappointment to man. I would kill for Sia. And to @infamoussparks for letting Rosa be Bad News Bear here!

To the other person that's been patiently waiting for this moment for over a year (I checked the PMs! We started talking about this last July!) — I love you.

I thought palliative care meant something for kids, like pediatrics. 

I had no idea it basically meant making people comfortable enough to suffer. 

Now, to be fair, that wasn’t all the wing did; it actually seemed really cozy, in a strange way—or as comfortable as an in-patient hospital wing could be. Stock photographs of nature littered the blank walls between room doors, and the doors that were open revealed blued rooms decorated with white furniture, picture frames of family pinned to the walls and personal belongings all around the room. There was one old lady with a bed covered in fuzzy pink pillows, another had dozens of plants on the windowsill in theirs. Everyone was hooked up to tubes, IVs or cannulas hanging from their body as they got the treatment necessary to keep them comfortable. 

How long would it be till I was hooked up to wires?

I tried to shake the thought out of my head, following Aunt Sia and Dr. Sims deeper into the wing, the both of them tensely silent. Whatever crowds were in front of us parted with Aunt Sia’s stomps and stayed staring at Dad; I know I’d probably do the same, if I saw some woman in a blazer with spikes glued to the shoulder and chains decoratively falling from it leading Delsin Rowe and Eugene Sims down a hall. 

We probably looked like the world’s strangest funeral procession. 

The hall jutted right, and we moved with it, all the way to where the light the windows let in couldn’t reach. The last door on the right had stuff plastered on it, and it took till being right at the door to realize they were warnings. “‘Wear mirror glasses provided upon shift assignment,’” Brent read aloud, staring at the clipart picture of the black ski goggles like they were runes before looking at me, eyebrows raised. 

Dr. Sims reached into his jacket’s pocket to pull out a handful of black disposable glasses, the sort that Reese came to school in after an eye procedure. “Here, put these on,” he instructed, beginning to pass them out. 

Aunt Sia instead pulled a pair of modified steampunk-looking goggles, slipping them over her eyes and then regarding Dad, Brent and I individually. “Listen—keep those on.” She stressed. “I know this Conduit personally. They may seem like they’re not fully there, but that doesn’t make them any less powerful. And, hey—it’s them. They, them.”

“What the hell do you two have me walking into?” Dad tried to joke, looking between the childhood besties. Neither laughed. 

“Let’s get in the room first,” Dr. Sims muttered, trying to position the blackened glasses over his own. I followed their lead, trying to fit the awkwardly flimsy film over my nose before looking up at everyone and nodding, feeling like an idiot. What sort of power did I need to wear glasses against? Maybe this was one of the light Conduits Zeke talked about.

The inside of the room was adorned in pink and green. I think that was the first thing that shocked me—the brightness of the room. The wood and dull blue visitor’s chair was covered by a strawberry quilt freckled in green squares, there were little succulents on the dresser across from the bed. There were long, sheer green scarfs hung over the curtain rods in their own protest against the sterile-hospital white, and an old stuffed fox sat slouched over on the windowsill like it was trying to get the sun to hit a specific spot on its lower back. 

And the bed. It was still a stiff and uncomfortable looking hospital bed, but someone tried making it anything but. A large, fluffy blush pink down comforter was draped over the too-small bed, engulfing the small form that was laid in it. Their arm laid over a green rectangular throw pillow, IV embedded in the hand lying listless on top. They stared off into a corner of the room but it…didn’t look intentional. It didn’t look like much was behind the stare at all. Wires fell from the sleeves of their shirt to the bed around them, the steady thrum of a heartbeat monitor puncturing the silence with its rhythm. 

The red-headed doctor, Hutch, was there, looking closely at the patient’s monitor and only turning when the door was closed. “The nurses aren’t fond of me being here, so we’ll need to be quick.” she said. 

Dr. Sims huffed. “Why not?”

“Considering I usually don’t stray far from pediatrics, they see me as overstepping.” Dr. Hutch responded. 

Aunt Sia wasted no time in closing the gap between her and the patient in the bed, one hand going to hold the one laying on the pillow while the other touched their frayed braid, looking for a hair tie that was no longer there. “Hey, sweet pea,” she hummed softly like a mother at a cradle, fingers brushing knots out of their long reddish brown hair. They barely moved, not acknowledging Aunt Sia with a look or with words. 

Brent, ever so tactful, decided now would be the perfect time to ask, “So what’s wrong with them?”

“Dude!” I hissed.

“What? I’m just asking–”

“I know them.” Dad’s voice was soft as the statement passed his lips. I couldn’t see his eyes, but his brows were knit so close together and furrowed that they started disappearing behind his film glasses. He looked at the back of Aunt Sia’s head, who stopped combing through their hair. “Why does it feel like I know them?”

Aunt Sia sighed, moving her hand away from their hair to gently cup their face, thumb running along their jaw. Another move they didn’t react to. “Garrett, Delsin’s here—remember him?” 

Something shifted in Dad, and his shoulders visibly sagged. “Garrett?” he asked. “That’s Garrett?” 

I glanced at Brent, who was already facing my way with an eyebrow raised. Who was this person? Why did Dad look so shocked, so sad, to see Garrett in that bed?

“I apologize,” Dr. Hutch cautiously chimed in. “But…if you don’t mind…”

She left the question open ended, looking across the bed to Aunt Sia, who nodded after a pause. “You’ve got my permission,” she said, letting her hand fall from Garrett’s face to instead take their hand in both of hers. 

Dr. Hutch reached out, resting her hand on the bare skin of Garrett’s bicep, glancing between where they met and the small vial in her other hand. Why did she ask Aunt Sia if she could examine Garrett? They looked almost the same age. I thought you only needed someone’s permission for hospital stuff if you were still a kid. 

Dr. Hutch’s lips moved silently as she counted to herself, looking between the tube of black tar and the air around Garrett. We stood in tense silence as the seconds passed, Dr. Hutch’s face grew from studious, to sad, to worried before she pocketed the vial and looked at Dad. “May I check Jean one more time?” she asked him. 

It took Dad a moment to force his head to turn away from the bed to look back at me. He motioned forward, a silent beckon to go to the doctor, and I listened, swapping my dominant hand for my left at the last second so she wouldn’t have to worry about my cast. 

Dr. Hutch took my hand, staring straight at me in such an uncomfortable way that I let my eyes fall to the ground, listening to the little puffs of air she let off with every silent count and subconsciously counting with her. She hit ten, and I raised my head to watch her stare at the air around me before clearing her throat, letting go of both Garrett and I. “Dr. Sims, if I may have a moment with you?” She asked, motioning towards the door. He nodded, passing Brent to head out while Dr. Hutch looked between Dad and I. “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” she said genuinely. Her mouth opened like she wanted to say more, but she faltered, instead giving us both a nod before moving around me to leave the room. 

The door closing seemed to activate something in Dad, because he spun around to look at Aunt Sia, and while I couldn’t see his eyes, his jaw was tense. “You didn’t think to warn me about who we were going to see before coming here?” He asked Aunt Sia.

She seemed a bit miffed. “Well, considering you left without telling them goodbye, I just figured you two weren’t all that close.”

Dad immediately bristled. “I didn’t have a choice,” he retorted, eyes aflame. “You know that.”

Brent, deciding to diffuse whatever was about to happen, slightly raised his hand like he was in class, asking without waiting, “So, who exactly is this?” 

Dad glanced back, eyes hesitating on where I stood in the meantime, and seemed to remember we were in the room with him. “They’re…They were a therapist of mine, I guess.” He said. “After your mom…we were hunkered down in Seattle for about two months while the government tried to fight my enrollment into witness protection during the trials. They tried to help me.”

So the person in the bed was his…therapist? 

Dad turned to look at Aunt Sia again, who grabbed the bedside chair to scoot it closer to Garrett. “What happened, though?” 

She sighed. “Curdun happened,” she said at first, as if that explained everything. But then she readjusted, flicking a corner of the quilt off of her leg as it fell with her movement. “They’d been bad for a while. It started maybe a year after you left? They…they tried toughing it out on their own for a while, but it got worse, so much worse. They called me about seven years ago asking if I’d help them. Make sure they were taken care of before this happened.”

“That’s why you left.” Dad realized. Seven years ago, this person asked for her help. Seven years ago, she moved. “You said you were leaving to oversee COLE openings on the east coast.”

“I was.” Aunt Sia said. “But I also needed to be here to help with their care. They needed someone to sign off on documents when they…” she motioned at them in the bed, the unfocused eyes and slack jaw. 

Dad’s head shook, and he almost seemed annoyed at the lack of answers. “This—they have conducrinopathy. Like Jean. What caused that?”

“When they were in Curdun, they were given an implant right—” Aunt Sia raised a hand somewhere near her temple, “—around here. It completely hindered their powers while they were in there, and stayed in after they got out.”

“You can do that?” Brent asked, genuinely shocked. 

“Augustine figured out how.” Aunt Sia responded curtly, tension in her voice. “It may not have worked fully, but it worked well enough. They weren’t able to do anything to the normal degree of their power.”

Dad had slowly begun to shake his head in the middle of Aunt Sia’s sentence, like he didn’t agree with her despite her conviction. “No, that doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “Garrett, they—I knew them after Curdun. Their powers were working fine then!” 

“You saw who they were after the implant failed to keep them powerless,” Aunt Sia said softly. “But it did something, and they started getting bad. They…we thought the implant just affected their motor skills for a bit, and then they started forgetting. Seeing things. Eugene was the first to suggest it might be conducrinopathy. We’ve been trying to figure it out since.”

Dad opened his mouth to speak, and was instead immediately interrupted by Dr. Sims reentering the room, followed by a snow-covered and eyeglass-wearing Zeke. Dad’s mood immediately shifted, something Zeke could sense as well as he went on the offensive. “We’ve got news vans pulling up right now,”

“What?” Dad hissed, brushing past Brent and moving to the window on my left. He pressed his face against the glass, head swinging both ways before he cursed under his breath. “Can’t see shit,”

“The main entrance is to the southwest,” Dr. Sims grumbled, evidently not excited about being cornered at a hospital again. “We need to start putting a face mask on you when we’re in public, Delsin.”

Aunt Sia sighed. “It probably doesn’t help that we’re both here as well, Eugene.” She reminds him. “There’s a lot of animosity for us right now, too.”

Not to mention me. 

I let my head hang, looking at the patterns in the flooring as Dad asked, “What’s going on, you two? Why are we here? What happened to Garrett?”

There was a pause as Dr. Sims and Aunt Sia looked at each other, having some sort of silent conversation on who should actually answer Dad’s question. It seemed Dr. Sims lost the mental game of rock-paper-scissors, as he cleared his throat and said, “When I started the conducrinopathy study a few years ago, Jorrer was already showing symptoms of Lewy-Body dementia—but there were some preceding symptoms that were worrisome. We could never get many answers on why or how…until now.”

Aunt Sia turned when he said that, and Dad glanced between the two of them. “What do you mean?”

“We didn’t know if Garrett’s conducrinopathy was caused by their disease, or the implant, or somehow both. And with them being the only other prime Conduit to experience it, we needed to see if their manifestations were related in any way.” Dr. Sims paused, moving to cross his arms. “Dr. Hutch was able to confirm that, whatever it is in the tar that made Jean sick is what made Jorrer ill too.”

“What?” Aunt Sia whispered, aghast. 

Dad shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

Dr. Sims reached into the pocket of his top coat, pulling out that goddamn vial of tar. “The aural signatures on this match both Jean and Jorrer.”

“That can’t—” Aunt Sia struggled with her words for a moment. “Garrett was never injected with anything. What do you mean their illness is related to the tar?”

Dad scoffed. “Augustine’s really at the center of this.” He began to pace, running a hand over his face before spinning around to face Dr. Sims. “Is that why those assholes broke her out of Curdun?”

“We still know nothing about the implant they were given,” Dr. Sims reminded them both. “We can’t examine it without extensive surgery that I’m not even sure Jorrer would survive—“

“An implant?” Zeke looked at Dr. Sims like that word mattered, obviously trying to grapple with information past.

Dr. Sims’ brow furrowed. “Yes, when—when Jorrer was in custody with the DUP, they placed an implant in their brain. We assumed for the longest time that that’s what caused their decline—”

“Did nobody plan on telling me about any of this?” Dad demanded, looking angered. 

“When Cole was snatched up by Moya, she was going to put an implant in his head.” Zeke said. “He said DARPA wanted to control him and his powers.”

“They what?” Aunt Sia nearly demanded as Dad decided that was a good enough statement to give Zeke attention, turning to actually face the man. 

“Do you know anything else?” Dr. Sims asked, moving to set the vial of tar on the overbed table to my left and instead pull out his phone. I barely caught him opening his notes app before he left to stand next to Zeke, beginning to fire questions at a rapid pace. 

Everyone kept talking over each other, the sound more like arguing than trying to solve whatever mystery was at their hands. Brent was falling silent on my side, and I couldn’t blame him—especially as we both looked at Garrett Jorrer. God, was that going to be me? Trapped in a bed and held down by tubing, not able to acknowledge the world around me? 

Well, no, that wasn’t true; as Dad and the other adults got a bit loud trying to talk over each other, I watched Garrett shift, readjust like they wanted to move away from the sound. Dr. Sims said something about them having dementia, right? I didn’t really get how it worked, but…there was still a person under there. They could have lucid moments, I was sure of it. Maybe it just needed a little prompting. 

I moved to step forward, Brent shooting out a hand to grab me by the arm and whisper, “The fuck are you doing?”

“They’ve gotta know something,” I murmured back, glancing over at the adults; they were all standing in a circle, more concentrated on whatever Dr. Sims was pulling up on his phone than us. “I’m gonna see if they can tell me anything.”

“They’re drooling on their shirt.” He deadpanned. “You really think they’re gonna answer any questions for you?”

I shrugged off his hold. “If what Dr. Sims said is true, they’ve been sick for a while. And if it happened in Curdun? Whatever made them sick would have happened before Mom’s, even if it took longer for them to show it. They’ve gotta know something.”

“We don’t know if Mom had the same sickness you did,” Brent hissed back in a whisper. “It’s not like we can test her.”

“No, but—” I cut off, “Process of elimination here, Brent. Every forced Conduit from Curdun ends up sick, two normal Conduits end up sick—and then I end up sick after meeting Augustine? There’s a common denominator.”

I kept his gaze, unwavering; he had to admit it was weird. It was! Something was going on and Augustine was at the core of it. Brent’s jaw flexed but he let me go, seeming entirely uncomfortable with the idea but relenting nonetheless. I broke from the place Dr. Hutch left me in and got closer to the bed, crouching beside it. 

And I faltered, because I had no idea how to even start shooting questions at someone so cognitively impaired. 

Garrett’s head was turned away from the noise now, staring indiscriminately at the floor beside me. They looked…uncomfortable, and I could imagine why. I actually felt pretty bad trying to pull something out of them when they were obviously hating how many people were in the room at the moment. “Hi,” I decided to say, keeping my voice soft. A greeting was the best way to start, right? Probably an introduction too. “I-I’m Jean.”

Nothing. 

My mouth grappled on air for a second as I tried to find more words. “I…I don’t know if you can really understand me right now, but you might know what’s wrong with me. With us. And if you can…if you can tell us anything about it, that would really help.”

Nothing. 

I looked over at Dad, who was busy trying to pull more answers about Garrett’s past from Aunt Sia and Dr. Sims, head swiveling over to Zeke as he asked if he knew more about DARPA. I hated seeing it. I hated knowing that we were both unknown variables treated like volatile solutions that would explode if jostled. Maybe they hated it too. “Look, you were in Curdun Cay, right? My—Alessia said something about an implant. And there’s some doctor here who thinks that whatever made me sick did it to you, too.” 

I turned, grabbing the vial from their rolling table and putting it in their line of vision. I didn’t want everyone talking about what was going on with them without involving them. It was unfair. I know I hated it.

The tar in the vial moved like syrup—and I watched Garrett as their eyes tracked it. They were starting to understand something, I just needed to keep pushing. “This is what was put in me,” I continued, a bit more feverish now. Did lucidity in these sorta patients have a timer? “Augustine put it in me, and I think she did the same to you. She—” I reached out with my dominant hand and took theirs gently, letting them feel the awkward press of my cast’s lattice. “She did this, do you—”

“Jean!” Dad snapped, making me jolt in place, “What are you doing?”

I blinked, confused; everyone was now turned to look at me and, aside from Brent, they all looked…scared? “I’m…” I drew off, glancing between Dad and Aunt Sia, who had started to walk towards the bed with her hands out like she was placating a wild animal. “I’m just trying to talk to them, see if—”

I wasn’t prepared for the yank on my arm. 

Garrett’s fingers laced around my wrist and pulled me forward, the move sending me sprawling forward as I lost balance on the balls of my feet. With one hand pinned in theirs and the other holding glass, I had to use my elbow to brace my fall, the jostle enough to light up a nerve hiding in the crevices of my bone and send the film glasses fluttering off of my face. I followed their fall, eyes only peeling away to look at the white-knuckled grip Garrett had on my wrist before glancing up, blood running cold when I saw how hard Garrett was staring at me.

Their eyes were this marbled blue, the sort of hue you expect a diamond to actually be, and the moment I met them, everything around me ceased to exist. The pain from my funny bone disappeared, Aunt Sia yelling my name left—all that existed was that blue. 

The shade spread, tunneling my vision into the icy hue before the edges turned platinum, and I lost all sense of where I was. 

Love you @neverdewitt

[lovelytsunoda]

better than champagne // colton herta

summary: she tastes better than champagne, and he can’t wait to unwrap his prize (and he’s going to make sure that she knows it, even at the most inopportune times)

warnings: smut, colton has a little bit of an exhibitionism kink, he also vapes (because look at this man and try to tell me that he doesn’t own a juul), face sitting,

authors note: I have stood mere meters away from colton herta and can confirm that there are no thoughts behind those pretty little eyes. he’s actually such a himbo and the effects of standing so close to him and is slutty little waist should be studied in a lab

“cole, for the last time, you know my mom hates it when you vape.” y/n frowned as her boyfriend blew a cloud of watermelon scented smoke into the air as they waited outside of the bar

the andretti driver sighed, nervously tapping his fingers on the side of his juul. “sorry, babe. nervous force of habit. your dad scares the shit out of me.”

she laughed, gently sliding the vape from coltons hands and tucking it into her purse. “you know he loves you. he just loves me more.” she slipped her arms around his waist, resting her chin in his chest as she looked up at him. “colton, you just got p3 in one of the most chaotic Indy races I have ever witnessed, and you started in thirteenth. i know I don’t say it enough, but I am so proud of you, sweetheart.”

“thank you for being here, babe.” colton said softly, pulling his girlfriend closer, one hand in the small of her back, the other cheekily grabbing a handful of ass as he leaned in to kiss her, one of her sunburned hands coming up to take his hair out of the kiss.

she hummed under his touch as colton nipped at her bottom lip. she giggled, hooking her fingers into his belt loops and trying to pull him closer.

“hey lovebirds!”

“motherfucker.” colton groaned, breaking the kiss and hiding his face in his girlfriends shoulder. “save me.”

laughing, she playfully slapped him in the shoulder, turning to her parents. “hi mom, hey dad. careful when you hug me, I’m more than a little sunburnt.”

“sweetheart, you look like a lobster.” mrs. y/l/n frowned, gingerly pulling her daughter in for a hug “make sure you put some aloe on that.”

“I will, mum.”

“colton, my man!” mr. y/l/n shouted, extending his hand to coltons for a firm handshake. “great show today, son.”

“thank you, mr. y/l/n.” colton chuckled nervously, running his free hand through his hair. “it still doesn’t feel real.”

mrs. y/l/n wrinkled her nose. “does the air smell like vape smoke to anybody else?”

colton coughed to cover up his surprise. “no, ma’am. I don’t smell anything.” his girlfriend raised an eyebrow at him, but the group went inside anyways, leaving the cloud of watermelon smoke outside as they head towards a corner booth.

dinner with his girlfriends parents always out colton on edge. they were wonderful people, the kind of working class blue collar folk. but their life was so different from colton’s, and he was so scared of tripping up or committing a social faux pas. he was never sure if something as simple as offering to pay for dinner would warp his in-laws perspective of him.

he was scared to even order a beer: nobody in her family drank and he had no idea what her parents thought about that.

at the end of the meal, while y/n’s mom went to the bathroom and her father went to pay the bill, she sighed, relaxing into colton’s arms.

“you okay, pretty girl? you didn’t seem to eat as much as you usually do.” colton frowned, his lips against the side of her head. if there was one thing he knew well about his girlfriend, it was her appetite. she loved food, and was usually the first to order the biggest, greasiest burger on the menu.

“just feeling a little under the weather. I think I caught the sun. I’ll probably make some toast or something light later.” she smiled, kissing his cheek.

“you know you could have gone to the hospitality tent, right? you didn’t have to stay in the pit lane. actually, I think my strategist would have preferred that you didn’t.”

“what’s the fun in that? you know me, I want to be where the action is.”

true to form, cars had been the reason the two had met. colton was out in the middle of nowhere after the previous years race in toronto. he was on his way to niagara falls but took three wrong turns courtesy of kyle kirkwood who had been left in charge of reading the map. y/n had been on a girls trip for her best friends hen week, and had come across kyle and colton after the tyre on coltons corvette had blown out.

while the rest of the bridesmaids had ogled kyle and whistled at him from the back of the volkswagen golf, y/n had slipped out of the passenger side and shamelessly flirted with colton before offering up the spare tyre in her trunk. she was his angel in levis and a plastic pink tiara, and kyle never let him forget it.

“I’ve got a spare tyre i can lend you, and if you buy me a drink I’ll change your tyre as well.” she had said, leaning against the corvette. “there’s a garage a few kilometres back, just follow our lead.”

sure enough, colton bought her a fruity little drink from bar, right after he met up with the other guys in the zibs and played a set with his band. the man is a musician and a race car driver with incredible hair, what more could you ask for?

“is there anything I can do?” colton asked, his fingers dancing across her slightly sunburnt thigh, feeling the heat from the burn under his fingers.

“massage some aloe into my skin?”

“babe, you need the whole bottle.” colton laughed, gently kissing along her jaw, his hand creeping further and further up his lovers thigh. “what about an orgasm?” he whispered in her ear, gently slipping his hand between her legs to rub her core through the thin fabric of her romper.

“cole.” she whined, legs falling open for him as she rested her head on his shoulder, biting back a moan as she dragged her fingernails down the skin on his arm. “oh, fuck, cole, what if my parents come back? we’re in public.”

her breathing was heavy, voice strained as she tried not to whine.

“just relax, princess.” his voice was husky, and he could feel how wet she was through the fabric, his cock tightening in his jeans. “nobody is gonna hear you, just let me make you feel better.”

to outsiders, they looked like nothing more than a lovesick couple, cuddling up to each other in the booth. they would have no idea what colton's fingers were doing underneath that table cloth, and what he couldn't wait to do when they got home.

all too soon, y/n's parents came back to the table, bill paid as they prepared to leave. colton retracted his hand as soon as he saw her parents, returning to tracing comforting circles on her thigh as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"we're driving out to kingston to see your sister this week." mrs. y/l/n started. "i think we might leave tonight, we've booked a bed and breakfast. you can colton can have the house to yourselves, a little bit of time to relax and spend with each other without your father and i constantly looking over your shoulders."

"oh mom, you didn't need to do that."

"yes we did. your father and i needed a getaway, and after today, you and colton both deserve some rest."

across the table, y/n's father narrowed his eyes as he pointed a finger at the indycar driver. "but no funny business in my house. i trust you two to be responsible adults tonight."

"yes, sir." colton nodded in agreement, knowing full well that he and y/n would be breaking most house rules that night, including the one about vaping inside.

it was nice coming home to an empty, quiet house. since indycar had descended on toronto and colton had come to stay in his girlfriend's childhood home, he had felt overwhelmed, almost never getting a minute to himself when he wasn't at the track or with his trainer.

he walked up the stairs of the backsplit to y/n's childhood bedroom, still frozen with the typical decor of a nineteen year old, before y/n had moved in with some of her friends from college, and then to tennesse with colton: fairy lights hung from the walls, the bed neatly made and adorned in a lilac gingham comforter, a poster for a popular emo band hanging behind her door. the bookshelves were barren, but only because she'd taken most of her books with her when she moved.

she made a beeline for the shower, making the water as cold as she could as to not upset her burn as she washed the smell of the track off her body, massaging hair conditioner into the burns to take away the sting.

after the shower, she dressed in simple cotton panties and a button down shirt she normally wore to work. her damp hair was soaking through the shoulders of the shirt as she made her way back to her bedroom, where colton was sitting on her bed, vape pen dangling from his fingers as he scowled at the instructions on a bottle of aloe vera lotion.

“cole, what are you doing?” she laughed, perching on the end of the double bed.

“I can’t read the writing on his bottle, I think I need a magnifying glass.”

“sweetie, just put it straight on my burns and massage it in.” she chuckled, undoing the first few buttons on her shirt and pulling the collar down to expose her shoulders.

her skin stung as colton ran his fingers over the angry red marks, small moans and hums leaving her lips as he touched her.

“feel better, love?” he asked gently, wiping his hands off on his jeans as he kissed her shoulder, getting a mouthful of aloe in the process.

“a little. I still want that orgasm you promised me.”

colton laughed, leaning in to kiss her. “I can definitely do that.”

he nipped at her bottom lip, sliding his tongue onto her mouth as she tugged on his hair, a moan escaping the back of his throat. one of coltons hands groped her chest, taking one of her breasts into his hand and massaging it between his strong, nimble fingers.

she moaned under his touch, breaking the kiss to guide his free hand between her legs.

colton chuckled, pushing her panties to the side. “you want me to finish what I started earlier, pretty girl? did it turn you on knowing anybody could see us? because I know it turned me on, thinking about getting you off in a room full of people.”

“fuck off.” she whined, unable to form a coherent sentence at the feeling of her lovers fingers circling the area where she needs him most, fingertips coated in her slick as he teased her opening. “please…cole.”

“lie down and spread your legs, I want to taste that sweet, sweet cunt of yours.” colton hummed, sucking a hickey into her neck. “and take that blouse off, I want to see all of you.”

“I’ve got a better idea.” she hummed, getting to her feet and casting off the blouse, a damp spot visible on her panties, still pushed aside enough that colton could see everything.

she made a grab for his collard shirt, yanking it over his head before she pushed him back against the pillows, unceremoniously shoving aside her collection of build a bears. she slipped out of her panties, mounting Colton’s body and hovering over his lips.

colton broke out into a grin, one hand coming up to playfully smack her ass. “eh, what’s gotten into you today?”

“you deserve a prize, podium sitter.” she grinned, carding her fingers through his hair.

“fuck.” colton exhaled as she lowered herself onto him, fingers gripping the wrought iron headboard as he kissed her sopping core, her juices dripping into his mouth and making his eyes roll back. “babygirl, you taste better than champagne.”

he moaned against her as he licked up and around her lips, his hands thoroughly gripping her thighs as he slipped his tongue inside her.”

“oh fuck, colton!” she screamed, bucking her hips against his face.

“that’s it, pretty girl, just ride my face, use me to get yourself off.”

her mind was so clouded with lust that she could barely think, her chest heaving as she moaned, practically screaming as coltons nose bumped her clit. the mattress slid against the bed frame, forcing the headboard against the wall.

the view that colton bad was downright sinful. he looked up, moaning at the sight of y/n on top of him, breasts bouncing up and down and her head thrown back as she moaned. it was enough to make his eyes roll back in his skull, and he found himself fumbling with one hand to get his jeans open, fisting his cock for any kind of relief before he blew his load in his jeans.

it was downright sinful, and he was glad that they were alone. even though there was a part of him that was exhibitionist in nature, he knew that there was no way he could look his in-laws in the eyes if they could hear what he was doing with their daughter right now.

“colton, fuck, i think I’m close.” she whined, legs shaking around coltons head as her grip moved from the headboard to his hair.

at the contact, colton growled, abandoning the pursuit of his own pleasure to smack her ass, gripping her thighs as she continued to rut against him, his tongue plunging inside of her and making a mess of his face as she reached her high, trembling above him.

colton locked up what he could from between her legs before gently lowering her body to the bed, softly kissing her lips and trailing his fingertips over her body.

“sweetheart, that was the most incredible thing I think we’ve ever done.” he grinned against her lips, his hard cock still poking out from his jeans.

“need some help there?” she raised an eyebrow, reaching for his shaft. “lay back and let me treat you. you deserve it.”

colton began to protest, quickly shutting up as she moved his boxers and jeans down his legs. he was a goner as soon as she started kissing up his cock, taking the tip between her cute, plump lips.

“ohhh, thats it, pretty girl.” he grunted, trying not to buck his hips as his hand came to grip her hair. “just like that, sucking me off so well, princess.”

his head dropped back against the pillows as he moaned, losing the battle of wills as he bucked his hips into her face, her nose dusting his pubic bone. more jumbled praises spilled from his lips as he reached his peak, quickly pushing his lovers face off his cock.

she didn’t like to swallow, but he preferred seeing his seed spread across her chest anyways.

giving her boyfriend some time to catch his breath, she lay on her stomach next to him, her legs in the air as she played with his sweaty hair. she leaned in to kiss him again, fingernails scratching at his chest.

“I need your cock.” she breathed, sucking on his earlobe. “I need you inside me, cole.”

colton kissed her again, stumbling to his knees on the bed. “who would I be to say no to my good girl?” he breathed, running his fingertips over the sunburn on her thigh. she shivered underneath his touch, propping herself up on her knees to rub her ass against his groin.

“head against the pillow, pretty girl.” he whispered, kissing up her spine as she rested her head against the bamboo fibre pillow, bent legs pressing her against her lover. “you want me to fuck you? you want me to make you feel like the prettiest, sexiest woman alive?”

“fuck yes, colton. fuck me, fuck me, please!”

colton tapped his cock against her thigh, watching the goosebumps rise on her skin before he pushed into her, a growl escaping his throat.

“you’re so wet, babygirl. so warm and inviting. god, i could stay inside of you all day.”

she whined underneath him as he started to move, being cautious of her sunburn as he pressed his chest against her back, thrusting deeper as he leaned over her.

“fuck, yes, right there!” she shouted, reaching for his hand.

pushing her hair over one shoulder, the driver linked hands with his lover as he pounded into her. she moaned underneath him, his lips leaving gentle kisses along her sunburnt shoulders. she had probably sweated the aloe vera lotion off, her fingernails digging into coltons hand as she screamed his name.

“that’s it darling. yeah, you want to come on my cock? fucking come for me, sweetheart.” he panted, thrusts getting sloppier.

it was a filthy scene, the air filled with the smell of sex and sweat, the sound of skin slapping against skin, moans mingling together as colton straightened up, hands gripping her hips as he pulled y/n back on his cock.

“fuck, yes, colton, i think I’m gonna come.”

with a moan that shook her entire body, her limbs fell limp, her body slumping onto the bed as she came, body shaking as colton ran his fingers through her hair. he pulled out, jerking himself the rest of the way off before he came, his seed coating her back before he slumped down on top of her.

“i love you.” he said softly, tangling his fingers with hers as she softly kissed over the hickeys forming on her neck. “i wouldn’t have wanted to share today with anybody else.”

“love you more.” she hummed, making a futile attempt to roll over underneath her boyfriend. “i think I need another shower.” she laughed, kissing the back of his hand.

colton laughed, kissing the side of her head. “how about I go run a bath? that claw foot tub in your basement is still functional, right?”

y/n laughed as her boyfriend got up, searching for his clothes on the bedroom floor. “give me a second to get my energy back and I’ll bring some candles and bubble bath down.”

TAGS; @magnummagnussen @httpiastri @cartierre @lorarri @scuderiasundays @libraryofloveletters @sidcrosbyspuck @thatsdemko @oconso @somanyflippingbooks

[mischiefprincess]

A rant about Loki - Where Mischief Lies

Loki - Where Mischief Lies is probably one of my favorite Loki contents, the book portrays this young Loki and a bit of his life in Odin’s court, it dives deep in his magic and how he feels growing up as a sorcerer in a warrior’s society, it also shows his relationship with Amora, who in the story is Karnilla’s apprentice and heir to the throne of Nornheim, Karnilla is the Norn Queen and Odin’s royal sorceress.

I think I love the book so much because Mackenzie Lee (the author) is not afraid to explain to the readers what’s going on inside Loki’s head. Sometimes I feel like I'm reading some meta analysis of the character (and I mean that as a compliment!), she really understands Loki, what his motivations are and portrays him as this charming young boy who’s so insecure about who he is but is so eager to please his father, to prove himself worthy of the title of prince of Asgard, to impress Amora, to be a good sorcerer, to be a good soldier, a good son, he is just desperate for someone to see his value, even though he doesn’t see any value in himself.

The book is supposed to show us who Loki was before he became the villain of the Avengers, before he embraced his role as a antagonist and in my opinion it does a really good job on that, we see how reluctant he is to accept that in the beginning of the story, but by the end he is sadly ready to take the mantle of The Villain and to become the awful man everyone around him assumes him to be.

Right at the beginning of the story we see a boy who lives under the pressure of being a son of Odin and a prince of Asgard, Loki says at some point:

“He wished he could afford not to care, not to feel like everything he did right or wrong was ticked off in a corresponding column and kept on file for the day Odin would name either him or Thor as the heir to the Asgardian crown.”.

Now, that is a lot of pressure for someone to grow up under, and this bit is specially heartbreaking to me because we as an audience know that Odin has no intents to put Loki in the throne of Asgard, but the boy feels like he has the responsibility to prove himself worthy of the throne, he feels like he is failing his father and his people and he is also so immensely alone, he has no friends in court until Amora arrives and no one in Asgard has a good opinion on her. Loki is very clearly in love with her, I find so sweet the way he describes how he feels when around her, he’s like this teen awkwardly in love for the first time, he sees her as a model of perfection, he wants to be like her, she is everything he ever dreamed to be: confident, skilled with magic, strong, witty and funny.

There's a few moments where he talks about himself and we can see that the self loathing is strong, he despises all the things that make him him and would gladly throw it all away if it meant he could become Asgard’s “ideal prince”, wich by the way is Thor, that’s it, in Loki’s opinion (and apparently in Asgard’s opinion) Thor is the perfect prince, he is blonde, muscular, strong, and an excellent warrior, Loki even says:

“The gods could not have handcrafted a more obvious model of kingship than Thor”.

Loki praises him (not out loud of course) for his appearance and describes himself as

“the scraps of (Thor’s) silhouette, the part that was discarded on the workshop floor to be swept up and tossed into the fire—thin and pale, with a hooked nose and black hair that hung flat to the nape of his neck, where it flipped into an unflattering curl. While Thor’s skin bronzed in the sun so that he seemed made of armor, Loki was pale as milk, and soured just as easily.”

It’s very clear Loki does not think much of himself, he hates pretty much everything that makes him unique and is very sad to see how desperate he is to fit in, to belong. We see his desperation when he talks about Amora arriving at court, he says he had never interacted with another sorcerer besides his mother and states that he thought of Amora as an equal, someone just like him. In his first conversation with her we can see clearly how unsure of himself he is, he wants to be more confident and open but fears she’ll not find him interesting enough to talk to him:

“He wanted to sit beside her, but somehow that felt too presumptuous, a bold assumption that he was interesting enough for her to want around.”

That almost seems like another character entirely, right? Imagine Loki from the MCU, that arrogant man who treated everyone else as being beneath him as a shy, insecure teenager who was scared the girl he had a crush on would not want to talk to him. That’s why I love that book so much, it shows who Loki really was before adopting the persona of the God of Mischief. The way he describes some of their interactions is literally so sweet and relatable, he really was just a boy in love with the new girl in town, there’s a bit where they’re in the gardens and this happens:

“Loki sank down beside her, close enough that their knees pressed together. Even through the hazy gloom lingering from his conversation with Thor, an electric shiver went through him when she didn’t pull away from his touch. No matter how small that touch was.”

This is so sweet, he is so in love with her, is so shy and insecure, he is always nervous when around her, always trying to hide things she would consider weaknesses, it’s clear he considers himself to be weak, as i said before he despises himself and all of his particularities.

He is also always seeing other people as being superior to him, is always looking down on himself and trying to be someone else, someone he thinks is who he should be. He wants to be accepted so bad, he wants to be loved, wants to know that he belongs in his family, wants to be just a good prince as Thor is, wants to feel seen by his father, this may sound silly but he just wants attention, he is tired of feeling inadequate, he is desperate for Odin to acknowledge his value and to consider him worthy of his attention.

Loki is almost obsessed with his father, everything he does he does to impress him, sadly he never succeeds, each time he creates a scheme to praise Odin he fails and his opinion on Loki only gets worse, Odin starts to see Loki as this corrupted man with darkness in his soul, with an evil and calculating nature and a danger to Asgard.

What he fails to realize is that Loki at his core is just (as Mobius himself put in the series) a scared little boy, he needs guidance and validation from the person he considers the most, he depends so much on Odin’s opinion of him, he lets it define who he is, he is not strong enough to stand up against this perception of himself, probably because he hasn’t got a single friend, no one he can be vulnerable with without fear of judgment, he bears his burden alone and is nearly falling apart under the weight of everything he has on his shoulders, he really needs someone he can be real with, but he probably will never feel comfortable enough with anyone to let his guard down.

He doesn’t even allow himself to be in love, when he realizes he’s starting to become too fond with people he immediately pushes them back, he puts on the act of the cold, bad guy, but at the same time he is desperate for connection, contradictory fellow innit?

Loki struggles with his need for love and acceptance and the fear of showing his true colors to people around him, he views himself as weak and he’s not willing to show weakness to anyone, he needs a friend he can be real with (and I feel the Loki series has hit the nail in the head with Mobius, he is exactly the kind of friend Loki needs), a friend who sees the man behind the mask of villainy and is willing to accept Loki for who he is.

I couldn’t help but feel impotent reading the book because at some parts you really wants to jump on the pages and hold him close to you, whilst telling him everything will be okay and that he is enough, that his worth is not tied to Odin perspective of him and that he is capable of doing everything he ever dreamed and more.

Well, that was quite a long post, sorry if I talked too much, this book is so important to me as a Loki fan, I could rant about it for hours!

[badaseyebags]

to all the boys that tried to love me ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Ch2

word count: 1,4k

warnings: new unlocked character

authors note: hello, as i promised here’s another one! i hope those who are reading (if there’s anyone) enjoy this chapter, feel free to share your thoughts! - 🍞

okay, what the actual hell was that? first party? more like first disappointment, because how on earth do people spend their weekends like this? maybe i’m still too childish to understand the hype, or maybe i simply don’t belong in there because my intentions don’t align with the majority of the people attending them. how the hell did the party end up with the tsurugi dude lying on the floor outside and bawling his eyes out? i thought he was the sunshine itself or something.. i guess even the sun goes down.

when he came inside and sat down on a chair nearby sobbing into his hands, i couldn’t help but ask him if he’s okay. all he did was nod with tears still in his eyes and boogers coming out his nose. okay, i’ll take that as a no. how the hell does someone so popular not have friends rushing to his side seeing him in this state? or are they not really his friends? ugh, club people are so damn strange.

it’s been about a month since that event and for some reason, my friends and i wanted to give it a second try. why? not sure honestly, that remains a mystery. apart from ryujin wanting to get the chance to hook up with that one jimin wannabe. she found his instagram account recently but was too much of a coward to text him, or even view his stories.

so who had to do all the dirty work? me of course! i had to do all the stalking and story viewing to update her on this “handsome man”. jesus christ he’s so cringy. all his posts are making me have a bad shiver and the ick in me is making me sick. he doesn’t have the guts to show his face but he shows his abs? the irony. ugh.. how can she think this is attractive, she has no idea what his face looks like. whatever, if she doesn’t want to be caught stalking i’ll take one for the team. my poor little eyes.

so it became a routine, i went on his profile to check out if he has posted any stories and sent them to her. not sure why she didn’t want to be noticed by him in the first place, but i didn’t question it too much. it became natural at this point, without her even having to tell me, i would check his account and update her. i noticed the app linked to his instagram account, tellonym..? i have that app, it allows people to send anonymous messages. my bestie can send him hints about herself, and let him know how she feels, I’m a genius! i told her about the plan and she was excited, however once again she didn’t want to be the one being involved. she’s a flirt master and i suck at flirting, so i have no idea why she left it up to me. is she seriously making me send a man that makes me audibly go “ew” anonymous pick up lines… what has this come to. i just do what she tells me, cringing at every letter i type out, dropping hints about her and trying to spark his curiosity. was i doing a good job? probably not, but i tried my best and it seemed to get his attention, so i did my part.

speaking of guys.. i remembered how many friends tsurugi seems to have. maybe there’s a possibility he will know about the guy i’m curious about? the quiet guy that looked more like he belongs into a cozy cafe rather than a noisy, stinky club. hmmm… it wouldn’t hurt to ask, right? the worst that could happen is him saying he doesn’t know this dude at all.. but that’s a lie, they definitely interacted that night, i’m sure of it! so i do what any sane person would do, and i shoot him a message. maybe making new friends would make parties more enjoyable, and he could introduce me to that dude! win win situation right here.

miffybaby: hi, you were at that party right?😊

tsurug_i: hey i was😄 have we spoken before? i don’t remember what happened that night at all😅

miffybaby: are you feeling better? you didn’t look too good.. 😳 we didn’t really speak i just asked you if you were okay

tsurug_i: i just went a little crazy with the alcohol but thanks 😅 are you coming to the next one? it’s in a few days i think you should come

miffybaby: yeah i’ve noticed 😂 i might, my friends want to go and we are headed to that city so.. might as well

tsurug_i: oh😂 hope to see you there! but you have to remind me, i might not recognise you

miffybaby: if i don’t change my hair colour by then, you will notice my pink head

tsurug_i: damn i really don’t remember seeing a pink haired girl.. i had to be wasted af. i just saw your photos.. don’t change your hair, it’s pretty. i’ll recognise you for sure

woohooo i can’t believe i just made a friend! well, kind of. i’m so excited for the next party. i feel like it won’t be like the previous one, i can feel it!!!

the day of the party came but this time the party was in a brand new club, much much bigger one. way more space, even the outside area is pretty. there was even a boxing machine like in arcades, we gotta try that later! this is all so exciting and omg… i think i just saw that dude i’m curious about, i freak out a little and nudge my friends and they hype me up, today i will learn his name! his outfit is cute.. i just gotta ask tsurugi to introduce me to him. speaking of tsurugi, there he is i can hear and see him from miles away, hmm.. do i come up to him? should i just wait? he probably won’t recognise me tho. i turn to my friends to ask them what to do but before i can finish he’s already tapping on my shoulder.

“Hi! is it you?” he smiles so big, showing all his teeth and his braces reflect the lights in the dark room. funny contracts to all the tattoos covering his arms and his big frame. i just smile at him and shoot him a friendly hi, i thought that would be all but he just went all in and squeezed me into a tight hug. i guess he’s just like that.. i awkwardly pat him before pulling away and he introduces himself to my friends. “you look just like your photos i didn’t expect this” huh.. what is he on about.. how else am i supposed to look. i just laugh awkwardly as we walk to the bar getting some drinks, only cider for me. they’ve told him i’m not good with drinks so that was all i could of gotten, great now i got 3 people telling me not to drink and babysitting me. i take little sips and start feeling a bit tipsy, so i tell myself it’s the perfect time to ask. “hey i wanted to.. i wanted to know your friends name.” my eyes subtly glance over at him.. he’s sitting with a few people, barely interacting just observing and sipping on some drink. how mysterious, i really wanna know who he is. he looks over at him, pauses for a second. “oh him? he’s.. how can i say this” he stutters, scratching the back of his head.

“yes him! i wanted to know his name” i nervously look up at him hoping he will get the hint.

he leans down to my level as if to whisper but he’s almost screaming to overpower the volume of the music. “it’s a girl, her name is … s.. her name is hwa.”

i can feel my eyes widen and my heart start beating quicker. why do i feel so much relief and why am i suddenly so excited? i have to get to know her. there’s no way i can’t. i’m so damn gay and lucky.

it’s odd how tsurugi ditched his comically large friend group to spend time with us.. all his time.. i didn’t think he would do that, it’s really nice of him but.. why is he not introducing me to hwa yet..

“so, can you introduce me to her?” i poke him hoping he will do it, but instead he grabs my hand, holding it tightly in his suddenly as he pulls me a bit closer. “don’t worry about her, let’s go for a walk.”

[demona-andariel]

A Simple Act of Kindness - 18 / ??

Fandom: Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003)

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Leatherface) x OFC

Summary: Elizabeth wakes up in a stranger's home. Her fate to become another victim of the Hewitt family is all but sealed till a simple act of kindness changes her life forever.

Warning: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) dead dove, rape/Noncon, violence, forced marriage, kidnapping, cannibalism, explicit sexual content, loss of virginity, angst

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 4.158

Chapter 18 - Consequences

“Hey, Tommy.” Hoyt flashed Thomas one of his wide smiles as Thomas stormed into the kitchen. “Wanna-”

You made me fail her!

Thomas’s knuckles connected with his uncle’s cheek, sending the old man sprawling onto the kitchen floor. Hoyt’s sheriff’s hat flew off his head and landed on the ground.

“Tommy?” his mother cried out in surprise.

“What the hell, boy,” his uncle Monty shouted.

The three of them had just gotten back from wherever they went for the day. Thomas hadn’t heard them leave in the morning. But then again, he and Elizabeth had stayed down in the dark, dank, messy basement for hours. He wanted her to be the one to make the move. To tell him that she wanted to go upstairs. Show her that she still had freedom. Choices. But she didn’t. She just waited. She wasn’t lying when she said she was done trying.

He finally gave in and indicated that he wanted her to go upstairs once he realized that she wasn’t going to move. They probably would have stayed there much longer, but he hated how she kept looking at the damned meat hooks. Was she wishing he’d just killed her?

Never you.

She didn’t fight or argue when he placed his hand on the small of her back and motioned toward the door. Those eyes.

Thomas was a butcher, had always been a butcher. Hell, he was born in the goddamn meat factory. The one and only place he worked at up until it shut down a couple years ago. He knew what death looked like for animals and humans. Humans were a bit more combative than the animals. Although, not all of them fought for their life till the end. Some gave up easily. But, they always gave up when they knew they were going to die. Those were the only times he saw the life leave someone’s eyes. Either when they died, or just before they died when they accepted their fate.

Yet, he’d never seen someone who was so alive look so hollow. He wanted to hold her close while also shake her. Make her recover faster. She had to understand she was going to be okay. He’d never let anything like that happen to her again.

But you couldn’t protect her then, why would she think you can protect her now?

Thomas grabbed a mug that was on the kitchen table and threw it hard at his uncle’s head, barely missing the man. The mug broke into multiple pieces the moment it hit the cabinet. It landed with a loud clatter onto the floor. Thomas’s nose flared as he took in deep, heavy breaths.

“Now, Thomas,” Hoyt said as he raised his hands in the air. “I know you’re pissed, boy. But listen to me.”

Listen to his lies? His excuses?

Thomas shook his head.

He had indulged his feelings of denial all day. By the time Elizabeth and him had gone back upstairs the sun was already up and the house was empty. A part of him was grateful that the family chose to leave them alone yet again. He wasn’t sure he could completely process the information with the three of them demanding his attention while his Elizabeth roamed like a zombie.

The silent house was both a blessing and a curse. It allowed him to think and try to understand the situation. While at the same time, it made him confront the truth. Or at least, it should have. But he had fought with his brain, pushing that to one side. Hoping that just maybe this was all some horrible nightmare.

He believed her. He just didn’t want to.

That was until he heard his uncle’s voice only moments ago when his family returned home. He’d been upstairs with Elizabeth, watching her get ready for dinner. Both had heard the car coming down the road. Hoyt’s jovial laughter boomed through the house right after he slammed the front door shut. That was when she finally showed some emotion, except it was turmoil that crossed her face as her whole body stiffened. And that’s what set Thomas off.

How could you?! To her? Thomas breathed heavily as he took a step toward his uncle who was on the floor.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t imagine Hoyt raping a woman. He knew from experience the old man could and had raped women in the past. Hell, Hoyt had even pushed and cheer Thomas into joining him on several occasions. It was how he lost his virginity after all. Not that he particularly enjoyed himself. He liked sex, he just didn’t like the things they call him. It would have been the one time, had Hoyt not egged him on to “enjoy them while they’re still breathing”. Their victims were going to die after all. And Hoyt was just… “getting you ready to please your future wife. Make all the mistakes with these ones.”

They always called him names. She never did that. She never attacked his looks. Even when he raped her in front of that Jason, she tried to get the man to stop calling him names. Her go to was to appeal to his humanity and kindness. The part of him that he reserved for only his family. Which was what made her so special to him.

Rage boiled inside of him as he clenched his fists.

Elizabeth wasn’t one of their victims. And, his uncle knew that. And Thomas thought he’d done everything to show his love and devotion toward his wife. Sure, they weren’t legally married but that was just on paper, and that was going to be fixed soon. As far as Thomas was concerned Elizabeth was his wife. She wasn’t on some rocky ground with Thomas thinking about just ending her life. Hell, even the attempted by Hoyt rape months ago pissed Thomas off. Not enough to hurt his uncle, but enough to throw a couple items when he pitched a small tantrum. He thought that had gotten the message across that Elizabeth was off-limits to Hoyt.

I trusted you with her! Thomas grabbed a chair that was in his way and flung it to one side. It hit the wall with a loud crash.

“Thomas, easy,” Hoyt said, keeping his hands raised in surrender. His mouth quirked into an uneasy smile. “Let’s talk about this.”

Talk? He should have talked to Thomas before raping her. Should have come to Thomas about his concerns. Let Thomas decide what he wanted to do, instead of destroying the best thing that had happened to him.

Thomas let out a roar of anger and picked up his uncle, slamming him against the kitchen cabinets. His fingers twisted the sheriff’s shirt as he pressed his body close to his uncle.

“She’s been lying to you, boy,” Hoyt snapped. He looked angry, but Thomas heard the fear and worry in his voice.

You betrayed me! You hurt her. Thomas punched him. Luda Mae let out a shriek while Uncle Monty shouted something. Hoyt looked stunned.

Elizabeth wasn’t wrong. Hoyt probably would have gotten away with what he did. No repercussions at all. Had this IUD thing been found out earlier. During the time Thomas’s sole focus was to get her pregnant. Because, he needed her pregnant. He needed her to have a reason to stay with him. Sure, he would have gotten angry with his uncle. But he would have let it slide in the end. After all, at the time, she wasn’t family yet. He knew she was going to be. Just needed to be pregnant with their kid to forever tie her to him. But, at the time she was still somewhat floating in the air. Almost close enough to pull into their circle, but not quite there yet. The thing was, she changed that when she didn’t run away at the first chance she got. She’d stayed and she wasn’t even pregnant.

He wasn’t sure how his family didn’t see it. Didn’t realize that she was one of them? How could they still saw her as a stranger? As one of their potential victims?

She’s my wife! She’s not one of them! She was never meant to be one of them!

Thomas roared and threw his uncle across the room. He embraced the rage and anger that flowed through him. For probably the first time in his life, Hoyt looked up at Thomas in fear.

Everyone knew Thomas was capable of violence. After all, it was Thomas who killed their victims. Thomas was the they sent to capture those who tried to escape. And he was good at chasing them down with his chainsaw and ending their lives. It was during those times that he allowed himself to go into that zone of hate and anger. The world had been cruel and unkind to him, so he let himself pay it in kind. He indulged the darkness and take out his frustrations on their victims.

But he’d never once turned his rage on his family. How could he? He loved them and they loved him. They were the only people who cared about him. Who took care of him. Who raised him. Protected him when they could. And they didn’t have to. They had no real obligations toward him. He wasn’t truly Luda Mae’s son. She’d found him at the meat factory. Thrown away by his very mother who apparently worked there.

“You’ll always be one of us, Tommy. Don’t matter whose blood flows in your veins.”

Thomas stormed toward his uncle and grabbed the man’s ankles, pulling him back.

“Thomas!” Luda Mae screamed. “Thomas, stop!”

He ignored his mother. Hoyt fought back. Or at least, he tried to. But, Thomas managed to grab his shirt and twist the fabric again, easily pulling the old man back to his feet. Hoyt’s name tag dug into his skin, causing a sharp pain, but he didn’t care.

He threw Hoyt up against the wall.

She was supposed to feel safe… be safe!

“Tom-” Hoyt’s words were cut off when Thomas punched him again.

I can’t even tell her that I didn’t know. That you did this without my permission. That I would have never given you permission to hurt her like that. To rape her!

Thomas let out a frustrated cry of anger again.

That was probably one of the worst things about the whole situation. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t tell them how he felt. The betrayal of it all. The complete utter devastation and how broken she was now. He couldn’t tell her he had no knowledge. He couldn’t comfort her.

His lack of ability to really communicate had never been a problem before. Well, maybe in his early childhood. He had attended school, but it was one of the worst experiences of his life. His classmates teased and bullied him, while his teachers practically ignored him as if he weren’t there. He needed extra help with his work, and while his family were there for him, they didn’t see a real importance in getting an education.

Maybe he could have learned how to talk and communicate better, not perfectly, but something, had his family encouraged him. Had the kids at school not made fun of him. But, the bullying and neglect made him disinterested in talking all together. And his family respected his decision and didn’t push him. Talking wasn’t necessary for him in the end. There was no need. And he was content to listen to the family conversation and not join in.

Even when Elizabeth came into his life he figured it’d come to him just listening to her. That she wouldn’t want to get to know the man behind the mask. No one really did. But, it didn’t turn out that way. She actually tried to talk to him. Tried to have some sort of conversation with him to get to know him. She asked him questions about himself in ways that allowed him to answer. Hell, she had started to pick up on the meaning of certain noises that he made.

Oh how he yearned to be able to speak and form coherent words and not just make grunts and weird noises, just for her. Hell, even writing would be something. But he was illiterate as well. Knowing how to read and write wasn’t a problem when all he did for a living was butcher animals.

A book. The thought made him still for a moment. Yes. He needed to get her a book.

He’d heard that women like to read. Luda Mae always had some magazine on her. Thomas hadn’t been sure that Elizabeth even liked books. But, he gave her one that he still had lying around from one of their victims so she didn’t look so bored when she was recovering from her illness. It was clearly one of his better decisions. The way her eyes lit up with excitement had caused his heart to flutter and made him want to do that again. Get that reaction again.

Although, there had been a little bit of jealousy in him whenever he saw her reading a book. She seemed so fascinated and engrossed. He wanted to know what held her interest. Her eyes would sometimes light up and she’d get giddy at times. Why? He wanted to know. But, he couldn’t ask her. That would reveal he was illiterate. It would just be another mark on him. Another ding to show just how unworthy he was of her.

That won’t bring her back.

Thomas roared and his body shook with rage. He wasn’t worthy of her. He knew what he’d done was wrong. He knew forcing her to stay with him and live in his world wasn’t right. And he worked hard on making her life as simple and pleasant as could be. But that was all destroyed now.

You broke her!

“Tommy, stop!” Luda Mae called out, grabbing his arm in a vain attempt to stop him.

Thomas easily shrugged her off. No, he wasn’t going to stop. Not right now. His uncle was just lucky that he was family. Because it was the only thing that was keeping him from dragging the old man downstairs and introducing him to his chainsaw.

“Tommy, I did it for-” Hoyt’s words were stopped by another punch.

The sound of his uncle’s voice only infuriated him further. It was strange. He held his uncle in such high regard before, listening to him and sometimes even trying to emulate him. Any time his uncle praised him, he felt so proud. But right now, he just wanted the old man to shut up and keep quiet.

Thomas punched his uncle again. Only, the old man moved his head at the last second and Thomas’s fist went into the wall. He let out another sound of anger, mixed with pain. The name tag went a little bit deeper into his palm, forcing Thomas to let his uncle go. He took a step back to examine his hands.

Hoyt collapsed onto the ground without Thomas to hold him up.

Thomas stared at his bloody knuckles on his right hand, before turning to his left and opening his palm. He felt the pain flow through his arms. Pain… The pain didn’t matter. The pain… No wait… it did. It did matter. He deserved it. His uncle deserved it. Thomas felt both a sense of pride and need. He had to feel the pain. Had to punish himself as well as his uncle.

“God damnit, Tommy,” Hoyt wheezed. He slowly rose to his feet and spat out blood.

Luda Mae rushed toward her brother with a kitchen rag.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Uncle Monty snapped. Thomas glared at his uncle who was in a wheelchair.

Elizabeth had very little interaction with him over the rest of the family. At first, Elizabeth was meant to be Uncle Monty’s little caregiver. The old man had no legs, thanks to one of their victims and Thomas. He’d been shot in the leg and instead of taking him to the hospital, Hoyt had ordered Thomas to saw his leg off. Then the other “For balance”. Rather extreme, but Thomas didn’t question it.

But, Monty had made several “innocent” touches even in front of Thomas. He didn’t think Monty could do much else, he was in a wheelchair after all, but he wasn’t going to subject her to such treatment. Especially since Monty was good at playing innocent and using his disability as an excuse. Little did he realize that the real threat was Hoyt. Even after the incident months ago, Thomas still thought he could trust Hoyt to never try and rape her again.

“That bitch’s pussy,” Hoyt grunted.

Thomas let out a roar and rushed to his uncle.

“Thomas, stop!” Luda Mae commanded. A loud slap caught all of them by surprise. “That’s enough, Hoyt.”

Hoyt pressed his hand against his cheek in shock. “Owe, mama,” he said. His face was already swelling up, but he looked far more shocked that Luda Mae had slapped him.

Luda Mae stood up and placed her hands on her hips. She looked at Hoyt then at Thomas.

“I know you’re upset, son, but-” Luda Mae started.

“She lied to you,” Hoyt interrupted, spitting out more blood. He let out a grunt as he struggled to straighten his shoulder. “She tell you that? Made herself seem like she wanted to be a mama. But she don’t wanna have your kids, Tommy. We all fucked up. Really shouldn’t have-”

Thomas grabbed another mug and threw it at the wall, interrupting his uncle. The three adults froze as they watched him. Taking off his leather mask, he opened his mouth. He needed them to see. To know that his effort was serious.

His throat moved as he tried to figure out how to say it. He ignored the pain and tension from his struggle.

“W…” He shook his head and cleared his throat. Pointing up toward his room he tried again. “Ww… wwi… wwwife,” he managed to force out the simple word as firmly as possible. It was well worth the pain and difficulty. Although, he regretted not trying to say one word to her first.

The three adults looked at him, startled by his word.

“Tommy,” Luda Mae said softly as she took a step toward him, reaching her hand out.

He stamped his foot again, keeping his finger pointed up toward his room as he shook his head at them in disappointment. His room… no. Their room. Him and Elizabeth. His wife.

Still shaking his head, Thomas put his leather mask back on and took a step back from the three. His shoulders dropped and he lowered his arm. Exhaustion quickly replaced the rage and anger that was inside of him.

He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, leaning his head back to look at the ceiling. Betrayed. They’d betrayed him by hurting her in such a way. Family? What kind of family were they?

“I’m sorry, son,” Hoyt said. “Had I known… but, Tommy. She was-”

Thomas narrowed his eyes as he glared at his uncle.

Do it. Push me over that edge again. I won’t hold back. It was a lie though and he knew it. They probably knew it as well. He didn’t have the strength inside of him to kill anyone in his family.

“You’re right, Thomas,” Luda Mae said softly as she stepped in front of Hoyt. “Hoyt should never have taken to punishing her without your permission. She’s your wife. I guess we forgot about that. It would be so much easier if she had your kid, ya know? Truly make her a part of the family. But, I know it takes time. Just, Hoyt was angry on your behalf. He shouldn’t have done it. But, you know your uncle. Always wanting to protect ya.”

A part of the family. Thomas looked up in the direction of his room. But, she was a part of the family. They didn’t get that.

Giving his family one last look of disappointment, he shook his head and headed back upstairs. The stairs creaked with each step that he took. He just wanted to lay down in bed and cuddle up with her. Get her to soothe him, but he couldn’t ask that of her. He needed to be strong for her. Let her be the one to make the move, even though he was feeling pretty lonely.

Opening his bedroom door, he froze. Elizabeth sat on the bed. Her hands neatly folded on her lap. There was no way she hadn’t heard the commotion downstairs. No emotions, just a simple acceptance.

She licked her dry lips.

“Is it time to kill me now?” she asked.

He walked over to her and then rested his forehead against hers.

Never.

Taking in a deep breath, he slowly let it out. She smelled so good, as always. Pomegranate, she had said once. His mind brought up the memory of him giving her the shampoo. The way she popped the lid and took in a deep breath, smiling at him.

Straightening his stance, Thomas walked to the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and placed his hands under the cool water. There was something fascinating about watching the blood flow down his fingers, revealing his peeled skin better. His blood for once. Not someone else’s.

The cold water seeped into his skin, but he refused to lift his hands. He hadn’t done enough. He should have beaten his uncle some more. Broken a few teeth, maybe a limb or two. Really messed him up. But he held back. He knew he did, despite his rage. He gave him just enough of a beating to bring attention to his anger, but not nearly enough to truly get revenge for Elizabeth.

Once again, he’d failed her.

A warm hand on his wrist startled him. He gasped and jerked up as he looked at Elizabeth. Her eyes were on his hands for a moment, before she turned her attention to the mirror. His body remained still as he watched her open the mirror and pull out the first aid kit that was behind it. It was an item she’d requested. He didn’t think it was of any use, but apparently it was.

Placing the kit on the tank lid for the toilet, she opened it. She pulled the hand towel from its hook and then moved his right hand out of the water. Her fingers felt so soft and delicate on his skin. She was gentle, as if she were worried she’d hurt him some more. Taking the towel, she gently pat his hand dry.

He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to really breathe. Too afraid that one wrong move from his end would make her stop. She opened a bottle and dug her fingers into the jelly.

Thomas tensed, expecting some sort of sting or pain, but nothing happened as she gently coated his knuckles with a thin layer of the ointment. All too quickly, she was done and let that hand go. He wanted to reach out and kiss her, but her focus went to his other hand.

At first, he resisted, not wanting her to deal with that specific hand. It hurt a lot more than his other one did. But it was a pain he felt that he needed. But, he also didn’t want her to leave him just yet.

With a little sigh, he turned his hand and slowly opened his fingers. There were two clear cuts from the sharp edges of the name tag. He had ignored the pain as the plate dug into his skin, cutting into him while he held his uncle.

Elizabeth grabbed the plastic tube that had an ointment in it and squeezed some more out into his palm. Her fingers felt nice and she was gently but firm as she rubbed it into his cuts. Once she was done, she grabbed the only bandage that was in the kit and started to wrap it around his hand to cover the cuts.

Thomas felt a surge of panic. She was almost done and he didn’t want her to be. He wanted her to keep touching him.

She suddenly stopped, part of the bandage was still in her hand. He felt his heart pick up its beat. She probably remember now. She wasn’t supposed to care. Wasn’t supposed to try. Wasn’t supposed to feel.

Her own breathing deepened and a little tremble went through her body. He couldn’t help but marvel at how tiny her hands were compared to his, as her two hands held his one. Her eyes stayed focused on his palm. Slowly, her looked up at him.

“I don’t want to be here.” The words came out soft, her eyes pleading.

He stopped breathing for a moment. Then she snapped back into herself, pushing those emotions back. Clearing her throat, she looked back at his hand and finished wrapping it.

She hesitated for another moment, then let his hand go. Not another word came out of her mouth as she turned her back to him. Thomas swallowed back some saliva and watched her walk back into their room.

Yes, he thought as he nodded his head. I agree. I don’t want to be here either.

Chapter 19 - Hope

[ozarkthedog]

Ozzie, hi again!💗 for your celebration I also bring you a thot -💀 with pre-outbreak dark!Tommy Miller. Dub con 🍸 Reader is Joel’s gf. After getting drunk on a girls’ night out she calls Joel to pick her up but he can’t leave Sarah and asks Tommy to do it. Tommy’s been craving his bro’s girl for some time so he goes to get her, starts flirting, makes advances and reader falls for his charms .. in his truck😏

𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

warnings: -> 18+ only · mdni <- pre-outbreak dark!Tommy Miller x Joel's GF!Reader. dub con -> non con. Tommy takes advantage of buzzed reader. cheating. sex in a truck. unwanted cream pie. poor Joel has no idea. no beta.

word count: 1.5k

author's note: i apologize for taking so long to fill this dark request but oh my heart loved writing it!! thank you for sending this in!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 · 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Tommy says as you haphazardly climb into the front seat of his truck. Joel asked if he could pick you up from girl’s night since his truck had a flat and he couldn’t fix it until the morning and Tommy was more than happy to help.

“Oh little ol’ me?” You laugh at the younger Miller as you fumble with your seatbelt, drunkenly stabbing at the buckle. Tommy chuckles at your futile attempts. “Let me, Sugar.”

His musk hits your nose when he takes the seatbelt from your grasp and you outwardly groan at the delicious smell. He quirks a brow and smirks before starting the engine and pulling onto the road.

“Thanks for picking me up. Can’t believe my boyfriend bailed on me. What a jerk.” You joke before breaking out into a fit of drunken giggles. 

“Yeah, he’s a real ass. If I was him, there ain’t no way I’d leave you to fend for yourself.”

“I’m a big girl, Tommy. I can take care of myself.” You playfully stick your nose in the air before sticking you’re tongue out at him.

His laugh makes your belly flip. “Oh, I know, Sugar but you deserve a real man.”

“Oh yeah? Where would I find one of those real men.” Your fingers draw quotation marks in the air as Tommy pulls up in front of the Miller house. Bright lights flicker in the living room from whatever Joel and Sarah are watching. Probably one of those cringe Kung Fu movies he loves so much.

“Me.”

Your wide eyes flit to his. Nerves tumble from your lips making you awkwardly laugh as you try to diffuse the situation. “Tommy, you’re a sweet guy-” You begin but trail off when you see the tent in his jeans. His cock is straining against the material. You could’ve sworn you saw it pulse. 

“Sorry, I can’t help it when a beautiful woman is in my presence.” Tommy croons with that million watt smile.

You can’t tear your eyes away. It’s not like Joel doesn’t satisfy you. The older Miller always made sure you were taken care of and then some. 

Tommy tips your chin to get your attention and you realize you never responded. “See somethin��� you like, Sugar? Why don’t you have a taste?”

“No, Tommy. We can’t.” You argue despite the throbbing nestled between your legs and your drunken inhibitions.

“Joel won’t have to know. It’ll be our little secret.” He unbuckles his belt and pulls out his cock before you could say otherwise. “Come on, Sugar. Just hop on and get your rocks off.” 

His head falls against the headrest as he strokes himself from base to weeping tip. “Guess I’ll just get myself off without you then. Such a shame. Always wanted to know what you felt like. What you taste…” He groans at his own words and the sound hits your square in the cunt.

You scramble over to his side of the truck without a second thought. Cautiously, you kneel over his lap and he meets your eyes with a grin. “Thatta’ girl.” 

Tommy hooks a finger into your sticky panties and pulls the damp material to the side. He taps his bulbous tip against your searing folds making you whimper. “Shh. No need to think. Let me feel that sweet pussy.”

You slowly sink down his length with a satisfied moan. His hands weave around your hips and keep you steady as you begin to bounce on his cock.

Tommy’s grip slides upward as he palms your covered breasts with a searing touch before yanking the cloth down and exposing you completely to him. He buries his face into your chest and laves between your salty breasts. His tongue sears your skin as he drags the muscle across your pert nips before sucking one into his mouth. 

Your fingers weave through his hair as the truck windows begin to fog. Tommy groans against your flesh as he greedily sucks and caresses your breasts.

“If only Joel knew how wet you are for me.” He grunts. His hot breath fans across your clavicle and his hands find purchase on your hips one more, cupping your curves as he grinds his length deep between your slick folds. 

Joel. Your heart sinks. What were you doing? He was waiting at home for you and here you were fucking his younger brother in the front seat like some horny teenager.

Your movements stall. Hips stopping mid-bounce as your thoughts race and regret burns a hole in your belly. You glance at Tommy with sorrowful eyes but he’s shaking his head.

“No, none of that.” He grasps your jaw and gives it a shake. “You wanted this, Sugar and now you got me.” 

You’re quick to argue but Tommy smacks your ass with a hard swat. “Move.”

You swallow down the lump in your throat and lift your hips. A wicked groan tears from your throat as the blunt head of his cock grazes your cervix. “There you go. Let me do the thinkin’. No need to worry that dumb little brain.” He flashes his pearly whites when you whimper.

His brows lock tight as your hips drive down, bouncing rapidly on his length as pleasure begins to stir deep in your core. 

“You look so fuckin’ good ridin’ me. Just like I pictured.” he grunts, wrapping his hands around your hips. His nails mark your flesh as he grips you tight. 

His confession makes your already woozy mind spin. Your cunt convulses and drools heavily around his cock. “Yeah, that’s right,” He groans. “I’ve wanted to fuck my cum into you ever since we first met.”   

Liquid heat races up your spine as your orgasm suddenly crests and drowns you in its wake. “Shit, that’s it, Sugar. Feel so fuckin’ good.” Tommy groans. The vibrations from deep in his chest rattle your palms as your hips begin to slow. “Gonna fill this sweet cunt up real good.” 

Your heart drops into your belly.

You start to struggle as nausea bubbles in your throat. “No, Tommy you can’t.” You fight, pushing against his shoulders and shifting your weight but it was no use. 

He unabashedly thrusts up into your heat, making you take every inch despite your pleading. He’s like a man possessed. No matter how much you begged he didn’t listen.

Warmth spills into your core as he comes, grunting through clenched teeth and grabbing your hips so tight they ache. A pained, shocked whimper falls from your lips as you look down at him.   

“Told you I’d be good to you.” He says, casually as you scramble off his lap. You slump into the passenger seat and fix your underwear while fighting back tears.

“I can’t believe we just did that.” You mutter to yourself, sobering up. 

“Oh, but we did, Sugar.” He preens, tucking himself away before lighting a cigarette.

“I don’t want this.” You argue, drawing an imaginary line between your bodies. “This will never happen again. I want Joel. I love Joel. I want to be with Joel!”

He sucks in a harsh breath and holds the smoke in his lungs, letting it burn as he holds your glare. “Sure. Whatever you say, Sugar.”

“Don’t call me that anymore.” You climb out of the truck and almost break an ankle as you rush to get as far away from him as possible. 

Tommy wraps an arm around your waist and carefully walks to you to the front door despite your attempts at shaking him off. Your mind spins and you’re close to vomiting from what just took place.

“Don’t worry, Sugar. I’ll take care of you if the time comes.” He murmurs and wipes a salty tear from your cheek before walking into the Miller household.

“Here she is! All safe and sound.” Tommy announces as you push away from him and race up the stairs not stopping to look at Joel or Sarah.

Joel calls after you but Tommy stops him. “She was a bit of a mess on the ride home. Talking about how much she loves you and wants you. Probably just needs to sleep it off.” 

The older brother nods and rubs a hand along his jaw. “Yeah, I’ll bring her some water and aspirin.” He says with a sigh. “Thanks for gettin’ her.” Joel yanks Tommy into a bear hug and clasps him on the back. 

Tommy smirks. “It was my pleasure.”   

“Hey, sweetheart.” Joel whispers as in slides into the bed behind you. “How’re you feeling?” 

Your body burns as he spoons himself against you. “I’m alright. Just had a bit too much fun is all.” 

Joel smiles. “There’s some water and aspirin on the nightstand.” He peppers kisses up your neck as you force yourself to melt in his embrace. “Thank you, babe.”

His hands find your hips and curve around the shape of you before snaking beneath your underwear. He curses when he finds you soaked. If he only knew why. 

“Tommy said you were wantin’ me. Guess he wasn’t lyin’.” 

Joel lifts your leg and slides his thick cock between your sensitive, swollen folds. The heady mixture of your arousal and Tommy’s cum makes Joel’s cock glide easily into your core. “Always nice and warm for me. Ain’t that right?”

[bellshazes]

Etho rolls his eyes, acting irritated that his warning’s ignored as if Bdubs hasn’t seen him play against any authority he’s ever come across, more or less. “And so it won’t be your fault things get ruined if you make other people take control. You stay perfect if you never make anything that isn’t.” He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, then whistles low. He forgets, sometimes, the way Etho can go for the jugular with casual precision. “Come on, that’s not - you know that’s not it.” Etho snaps his journal shut, gives a one-shouldered shrug as he sets it on the pile on little table next to his chair. The accumulation of papers and storage on every surface were as big as Bdubs had ever seen Etho let them get in all the years they'd known each other, always being coaxed into order against the entropy of daily routine. He could have been here a week; he could have been here before the basement appeared, the stairs twisting out of his way so he could emerge after a century into the monolith, inevitable. Real apologies for things he means are rare, but there’s resignation just shy of gentle pity in his voice when he says, “I know.” It’s close enough to letting him off the hook: not agreement with the protest, but understanding what Bdubs actually means. If Etho minded Bdubs’ tendency to sideline himself or the pedestal Bdubs liked to put him on, he hadn’t breathed a word of it in years and years, too many repetitions of worlds to count now. He spent a long time learning the joy of joining someone else’s woven threads to make a new tapestry, has always understood the utility of artifice that sets something else at its center since he started. The fact Etho doesn’t invent his own enemies anymore and Bdubs offers himself up as one to fall to others makes his criticism as good as a concession; the old pattern is coalescing, Etho taking up against the rule Bdubs advocated for, and the gratitude settles with diffuse warmth across his body. Repetition always helps make it real.

actually i guess i just still want to talk abt this because it's the only part of ruinsfic that makes me grimace when i read it. like i stand by it but i think it's a little... on the nose? originally this led to the comparison btwn redstone machines that don't work the first try and stories.

but like the whole driving force of that fic is that bdubs performs perfectionism to hide his numerous flaws, which are also hiding the fact that he is, in fact, a very very very exacting people pleaser, which is almost the same as perfectionism. villains only need be useful, narratively. but it's also important to me that etho is being mean on purpose as he does, bc it IS easier to sidestep the need to be perfect if you only make imperfect things so nobody can criticize you - but that's also not the like, main driver of bdubs instigating the king arc. the difference btwn self-deprecation & doing something at your own expense for a communal experience. and etho acknowledging he'll be the opposition is as good as enabling bdubs. the weakest part is probably trying to thread the fact that etho used to do little storyline bits with an invented villain but doesn't anymore BUT is happy to tag along with dogwarts in 3L (& again in LL lol) or playing both sides of the mycelium resistance etc.

well it's a lot and i don't love it but i think it's good enough. one day ill write the thesis-in-a-fic i want to. but not yet :(

[thompsborn]

hello @ the anon whose birthday was yesterday: i’m very sorry i didn’t get hb chapter 16 done, i tried but things came up that made it so i wasn’t able to make a lot of progress on it, BUT i hope you had an incredible birthday and i will probably wish you a happy birthday in the authors note on the chapter when i do eventually post it! however, i promised that if i didn’t get the chapter done then i would post some snippets from it for you!! it’s a day late now, but here they are!!

firstly, i’m gonna tell you the chapter song!!

medicine by havelin

the chapter title:

when i first saw you i was pitiful

and the chapter lyrics:

“i hope you know

you pulled me up when i was down

you showed me love when i knew hopelessness

breathing slowly, softer sounds”

and now, a few snippets! (these are unedited as of now, so any typos and grammar errors should be fixed when the chapter is actually posted lol)

-

The song changes—BomBom transitions into Talking to Myself by Watsky.

Peter lets out a slow, shaky breath as the music washes over him, the introductory instrumental quickly giving way to the lyric heavy majority. On the next swing, he flings himself to the side, off of the street and above a nearby apartment building. Letting himself drop to the roof, he rolls onto his feet and gives himself a moment to look around for security cameras. Once he’s sure that it’s clear, he pulls his mask up—not all the way off, but just enough to hook it over the bridge of his nose, allowing the crisp late-winter air to ease the sudden ache in his lungs.

These songs mean a lot to him, even if he still struggles to understand them. Harley is pretty straightforward in a lot of ways, tends to wear his heart on his sleeve and make his cards known, but Peter’s started to realize the fact that maybe that isn’t entirely true. Harley definitely seems like an open book, but Peter had absolutely zero indication of the fact that he knew Tony, too. Thinking back on it, Tony had mentioned another kid every once in a while. Not very often, always making it clear that it was someone he knew but someone who didn’t want to be talked about, but even then, not once had Peter considered the fact that the kid Tony mentioned could have been Harley. His friend. His crush. A very fundamental part of who he is now.

Basically, Peter thought he could guess with Harley, thought he knew more than enough to be able to decipher Harley’s brain and understand the way he thinks—but then Harley gave him the burned CD. Despite it being over a month since Peter received it, he still doesn’t fully understand. Each song has a meaning, right? Harley made that clear in his note. Either the song made him think of Peter in some way, or he thought Peter would like the song, or both.

Peter is a puzzle solver. He’s a quick thinker with the brain of a chemist, a scientist, an engineer. He likes to look at inconclusive data and figure out a conclusion for it. But this? These songs?

…but as time advanced, the lovely days were covered up from view by an advancing melancholy haze that hovered near the dew…

Peter has yet to decipher them.

-

His fingers twitch at his sides and he spins around, pulling his mask back over his nose and mouth before promptly launching himself off the roof. He feels antsy. Restless. Thoughtless swinging is a good way to distract that feeling and give his brain the ability to stay on track. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, really,” Harley replies, the concern from before falling away. “I got bored. Harry and Gwen are at some study group for one of their classes and I was trying to do this essay, but it’s… I mean, it’s boring. Really easy, you know? Kinda hard to focus on ‘cause the topic is super simple and not at all interesting. I know I wasn’t gonna stop by today, but I was—I mean. I…” Here, Harley trails off, sounding uncertain of his words.

Peter launches himself over an intersection. Below him, a few cars honk as he flies over them. He waves but remains focused on the call, listening as Harley sucks in a sharp breath, lets it out slowly, almost… nervous? Anxious? Afraid? Peter frowns, parts his lips to ask—

“I was just wondering if you’d maybe wanna hang out,” Harley blurts, a bit rushed and breathy. Peter’s frown deepens, confused. “Just, like—like, a normal hang out.”

“As opposed to…?”

Harley huffs, something that’s kind of a laugh but also not his normal laugh. “No investigation stuff,” he supplies. “No Spidey stuff. No school stuff. Just… us. Hanging out. Together.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, “Maybe a movie and some snacks…?”

-

(“It’s stupid,” Peter said when it was his turn, hands clasped around his cup of coffee and eyes flittering around their booth to avoid direct eye contact. “It’s kind of embarrassing, actually.”

Gwen quirked her brows. “Well, now you have to tell us. Is it Boss Baby?”

“50 First Dates?” Harry ventured. “Bring It On?”

An offended gasp ripped its way out of Gwen’s throat as she whipped around to face Harry sitting across from her. “Hey! Bring It On is a classic, okay? Don’t you dare—“

“Okay, lesbian,” Harry interrupted, rolling his eyes. Gwen parted her lips again, but slowly closed them with a glare after a moment. Peter snorted and shook his head.

“No, it’s, like—it’s not the movie that’s embarrassing, I guess? It’s more… the reason why.”

Harley was sitting across from him, head cocked slightly to the side as he peered at Peter curiously. “Mine’s The Pursuit Of Happyness,” he offered. It wasn’t his turn—he wasn’t supposed to go until after Peter—but still he spoke up, explaining, “It’s kind of fucked up, I think, but it’s, like… I mean, my dad left before I was ten, right? And I don’t really give a shit anymore—it’s basically been a decade, I’m over it for the most part, but…” He trailed off, averting his eyes away from Peter despite Peter looking back at him with surprise.

Harley has mentioned his dad a few times since they met, but only vaguely, here and there. Every time has been apathetic and deadpan, done as soon as it began, but this…

“I just—I guess I like stories where there’s a good dad, you know?” Harley shrugged, lopsided as he shrunk back in his seat a little bit. “Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but I like to see proof that there are good ones out there. Just because mine sucked doesn’t mean all of them do.”

Silence hung over their booth for a long moment. Harry looked understanding as he knocked his shoulder against Harley’s, sharing a small smile that Harley looks hesitant to return, while Gwen looked on with something a bit sad but a bit warm on her face, like she was upset about Harley having this struggle but she was glad that Harley was sharing. Peter kept his gaze on Harley, refused to move it away, waiting until Harley eventually looked back up and their eyes met across the table. Only then did Peter speak.

“Homeward Bound,” he said, gaze steady on Harley. He saw the way Harley’s brows twitched together, the way he seemed to think for a moment, before his eyes went a little bit wide, apparently realizing exactly what movie Peter was talking about. “The one with the animals.”

The booth was silent again. Harley stared back at him.

Peter found that it wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be to explain, “It was one of May’s favorites. She was a nurse for a long time, you know? Wasn’t until after we came back from those five years that she decided to change it up. Before that, she worked in an emergency room. Sometimes in the ICU, when she was needed. She saw… a lot of things.”

He heard Harry shift in his seat. Felt Gwen’s eyes on him. He didn’t look away from Harley, didn’t even want to blink, and Harley continued to look right back. Gave a small nod, barely there, hard to see—but Peter saw it and felt the encouragement coming from that small action.

“She didn’t tell me about it,” Peter continued. “Some stuff, here and there, when I got older, but for the most part she kept it to herself, but I could tell when it had been a rough day. She’d come home looking like she aged ten years. And after a really rough day, she—I mean, she wouldn’t say it, but I could tell that she just needed a chance to get the emotions out, and she’d pick a movie or a show that has a happy ending but gets pretty sad along the way. Homeward Bound was one of her go-to picks. It’s a good movie, you know? Always made her cry but had her smiling at the end. I’d always watch it with her. It became one of my favorites.”

There’s more to it than that. Peter faltered, unsure if he wanted to keep going, but something in Harley’s eyes was shining and he felt some unexpected courage bubble up in his chest.

He still hesitated, but ultimately added, “It also… I think about May when I watch it, you know? Because I always watched it with her, but it also…” He trailed off, pondered his wording for a minute, before stating, “There were reasons it got to me, too. It’s emotional in a lot of ways and May always had a soft spot for animal movies, which I think is why she always picked it, but for me, it… it was kind of nice to see a family come together like that. I didn’t have that, you know? I don’t really remember my parents. I barely remember Ben. Looking back on it, I only really remember having May, and I love her, and I’m so grateful that I had her, but it was—”

Just lay it out. It’s just me and you.

I’m right here. We’re okay. It’s just me and you.

It’s just me and you, okay?

Pulling in a shaky breath, Peter said, “It was just me and her. I wouldn’t trade that for the world, but there were times growing up where I would think about what it could have been like if I had been raised by my parents, if Ben never died. Kind of like what you said, Harley, about wanting to see proof that there are good dads out there, right? That kind of logic. I want…”

Harley looked sad. He looked heavy. He looked like he wanted to go back in time and save Peter’s parents himself. Like he wanted to use Tony’s tech to prevent Ben from dying.

“I want to have that reassurance that not everyone ends up like me,” Peter finally said.

With that, he looked away—down at the table, at his cup of coffee. He went quiet and waited until the others picked up conversation, apparently realizing that he was done talking for the time being. Even then, he didn’t look up. Not until he felt something hit his foot, and then he glanced at Harley, who was still looking at him with something horribly sad and overwhelmingly fond in his eyes. Harley hooked their ankles together under the table. Smiled.

Peter slowly, slowly, slowly smiled back.)

-

happy birthday anon!!!

[just-horrible-things]

‘Verse: Resistance Story: Unlikely Salvation, co-author @whump-sprite Timeline: Late Arc 2, Ariadne and Alex living together

Missing Taryn [ First | Prev | Next ]

Alex comes home to find Ariadne sitting on the kitchen floor, surrounded by the contents of the undersink cabinet, trying to unblock the drain with a bent coat hanger. She’s disassembled the trap and as many of the pipes as she can. Half the pieces are in the sink above, the other half balanced on the baking tray that’s catching the filthy water underneath.

“Heya,” Alex calls as he closes the door behind himself. “Hey,” Ariadne calls back.

She hears him take his coat off and go to the bathroom, then he comes into the kitchen and stops in surprise at the mess arrayed around Ari where she sits with her sleeves rolled up, arms streaked with black-green drain slime, up to her elbows in the sink’s guts.

“What’s up?” he asks. “The sink’s not been draining right.” He can hardly have failed to notice. “We let too much pasta and shit go down it, probably. I put drain cleaner down it yesterday but… it didn’t work. So now I’m trying this. The blockage is a pretty long way down and I’m having trouble reaching it.” She shrugs. “But I think it’s working. Slowly.”

“... can I get some water? I was going to make coffee.” “Sure. Just try not to let it go down the plughole, or it’ll land on me.” She leans out of the way to let Alex fill the kettle, then resumes threading the coat hanger back into the pipe to fish for another blob of goo.

There isn’t a lot of space in the kitchen for two people, even without an obstacle course of cleaning supplies covering the floor, but Alex finds a spot to lean against the counter and watch Ari work.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Ariadne almost laughs. It just seems like common sense – drain’s blocked, you stick something down and unblock it. But Alex just wilts if he thinks she’s laughing at him. “My mum could fix just about anything,” she says. “I guess I got it from her.”

The stove hisses gently. Ari glances up, and catches Alex with a strange look on his face – thoughtful and perhaps a little puzzled.

“You don’t talk about your family much,” he says. Neither do you, Ari thinks. Instead she says, "The apartment I grew up in was…. well, bigger than this, but not much bigger. The kitchen was a bit wider, probably not any longer, we had a second bedroom… Okay, a bit bigger. But it felt pretty cramped with four kids in."

"Things were always breaking, probably because kids don't treat stuff gently. The landlord didn't give a shit, and mum couldn't afford to call a guy in because she couldn’t work full time what with looking after us."

She's not sure where dad's money went, thinking about it. Alcohol, perhaps. They didn't talk about it. 

"So she'd get out a screwdriver or whatever, get one of the older kids to hold things for her, and she’d do it herself. She used to say, if you see something broken, you fix it. So that’s what I grew up doing."

Alex is quiet. Ari wrinkles her nose, rotating her bent wire and wiggling it back and forth to try and get the hook on the end to catch on the blockage instead of just poking uselessly at it. Behind her, the kettle starts to whistle. “Do you want coffee?” Alex asks. “Always.” He fills the press.

Finally the hook catches, and Ari is able to coax another disgusting glob up the pipe. She deposits it on the baking tray with the others. It’s mostly hair. How enough hair gets down the kitchen sink to form a major structural component of a blockage… must be one of life’s great mysteries. 

The smell of coffee starts to cover the drain stink.

“What about your folks?” Ariadne asks, as she starts to thread the wire back in once again. On the edge of her vision, she sees Alex shake his head. “It was just me and my sister,” he says. “I’m sorry.” He hums a little non-committal hum in acknowledgement.

She’s almost done here, she thinks. It’s hard to visualize what she’s touching with the wire, but she wiggles it around as far as she can, and she can’t feel it catch. She’d like to be able to put some water down it and see if it flows, but she’d have to reassemble all the pipes first.

“D’you… want your coffee down there?” Alex’s voice has turned brittle. Ari looks up. “No,” she says, “I’ll come get it in a minute, I’m filthy. … are you okay?” Alex looks down and away. “I miss her.” He says it like a guilty admission. “Oh, Alex. I’m sorry.” “No, I’m sorry. After what she did I shouldn’t be–” “Of course you miss her. She’s your sister. I’m not gonna get offended.” 

Ari sits back on her heels to look up at him. She almost puts her hands in her lap, then thinks better of it.

“She must seem like a monster to you,” he says. Ari tugs at her lip with her teeth, picking her words carefully. “I’m not her biggest fan,” she ventures. “But… she had a good reason to hurt me.” “No,” Alex says firmly. “Revenge isn’t a good reason.” “Okay. What I mean is… she had an understandable reason. I’m not… I don’t think I get to decide she’s a monster.”

Alex sniffs a little. “I thought you’d hate me for still loving her,” he confesses. “Definitely not,” she says. “Not even a little bit.”

He picks up his mug, then puts it down again awkwardly.

“... can I have a hug?” Ari grimaces, and shows him her hands. “You really don’t want a hug right this second,” she says. “I stink. Give me a minute to wash up, then yes.” “... What about the drain?” “The drain can wait. It won’t mind, it doesn’t have feelings.” He smiles a little bit at that. “I’m nearly done anyway.”

Ari washes up in the bathroom, soaping all the way up her arms. She scrubs, and rinses, and soaps up and scrubs again before she’s sure the smell is gone. Looking in the mirror, she finds she’s managed to touch her face and leave a black smear right across one cheek. She wrinkles her nose in disgust.

“Still want that hug?” she asks, when she returns to Alex in the kitchen. Alex nods. Ari hugs him tight around his ribs. He hugs back, and she feels him relax against her. She relaxes too, suddenly aware of how tense she was.

“You could go back, you know,” she says. “If you’re homesick. You don’t have to live with me forever.” “But… what would you do?” “The same as I do now, more or less.” “You’d be alone.” “Yeah,” she says, pulling back a little to look at his face. “I’m a grown adult you know. I’d be okay.” He hums, and reluctantly lets her go.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he says. “This… is working. Besides, I don’t know if… I’d be welcome. After…” He doesn’t have to finish that thought. After he helped Ariadne. After he chose an enemy over his own people. “Okay,” she says. “That’s okay, you don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to. I just… want you to know that… if you want to, I won’t stop you leaving. I won’t be upset.” “Okay,” Alex agrees, voice still a little tight. “Oh, here  –” He picks up Ari’s mug, and puts it into her hands. “Oh.” She smiles. “Thank you.” She starts to take a sip, then wrinkles her nose. “Shall we go in the other room? It smells of drain in here.”

Settling onto the couch, Alex still looks mournful. Ariadne isn’t sure if she’s said too much, or not enough. She sits beside him, checking his reaction to be sure she’s welcome.

“Tell me about her?” she suggests cautiously. “Your sister. What’s she like, when she isn’t…” “Breaking people’s bones,” Alex says sourly at the same time as Ari finishes “-- mad.” He frowns, and Ariadne realizes what she’s asked. “You don’t have to,” she amends hurriedly, “you don’t have to tell me anything about her, forget I –” “No,” he cuts her off, “I know what you meant.”

He leans against her shoulder, and Ari shuts up to let him think.

“She was the only family I had,” he says. “She always defended me. Always. Ever since we were children.”

“She didn’t use to care about resisting the government, or fighting back. Neither of us did. We just wanted to survive. It was only after the Resistance rescued us from… from the hospital. After that, we wanted to help them help other people like us.”

“Tare didn’t want me to heal for the Resistance. She didn’t want me to ever have to heal anyone again, but… I wanted to. I didn’t want her to go off into danger fighting for them. But she wanted to. She was always brave. Fierce.”

Ariadne suppresses a shiver as goosebumps race across her skin.

“She had to be, to survive. To keep me safe.”

Everything Ari could say sounds trite in her head. You had a hard life. She cares a lot about you. I'm sorry. 

She rotates her mug in her hands, and wishes for the distraction of the drain. 

“I never thought,” Alex’s voice is quieter, sadder, “that she’d…” “I had it coming,” Ariadne says. “Ariadne,” Alex reproaches. “No,” she says, “hear me out. I know it was… wrong.” She says it, but it’s difficult to wrap her head around what could be right or wrong, under the circumstances. “I mean that… it followed, it was a consequence of what I did, what I was. I knew the risks. It was… a reaction, to my actions.”

Alex hmms sadly. His shoulder is growing warm against hers. “We don’t believe in that kind of torture. Not for any reason. Or at least… I don’t. I thought they, the Resistance, didn’t either. If I was wrong… then I don’t belong there, and I don’t want to.” Ariadne nods solemnly. “You don’t have to go back,” she affirms. “We’re doing fine, we can carry on like this.”

Alex meets her eyes, and nods, and wipes his nose, but something catches in his voice when he speaks. “I don’t hate her,” he confesses. “I – I miss her.” Carefully, checking his reaction, Ari puts her arm round him as he swallows back tears. “It’s okay,” she says. “It’s okay to miss her, it’s okay to not hate her. Of course it is. I get it. It’s okay. It’s… messy, and complicated, and… we have time to work it out. As much time as you need.”

Alex settles against her. “I don’t know if that’s true,” he says, choked up. “She… it’s a dangerous way to live. What if she dies, and I’m not there?” “Then… perhaps you can send her a message. Or arrange to meet up with her, talk to her.”

Maybe you could convince her to stop being a terrorist and go off with you, thinks a part of her that clearly hasn’t gotten the memo yet about that no longer being her damn problem.

“It doesn't have to be all or nothing,” she says. "Think about it." Alex nods against her shoulder. "And… it's okay, with you? If I want to see her?" Ariadne swallows. She thought it was. That's why she said it. But she's suddenly very conscious of her pulse thudding in her skin. "I won't let her hurt you," Alex says. "I won't let her. She doesn't even have to know where you are." "Then… yeah," Ari agrees, "yeah, it's okay with me."

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