#no telling what it's going to fucking cost to be able to use my hands again

[krawdad]

I've had zero help from medical anything aside from being prescribed muscle relaxers and acupuncture

A massage therapy place we found on fucking google has been able to verify that this is extensive fucking overuse injury that is trapping nerves and has also been able to unstick some of my shit

My shoulders already hang more symmetrically and I have literally gotten taller

This is a tremendously encouraging development but I am so profoundly pissed that it took this long to just end up having to pay out of pocket for a random ass place we found online.

Especially since it turns out that the problem and solution that I presented to every single doctor I've seen since the beginning fucking years ago was exactly correct goddammit. And it's been slowly, excruciatingly getting worse and worse every single day in the meantime.

[dalishious]

Lucanis and Family

House Dellamorte is so gloriously messy. You don’t get to achieve and keep the seat of First Talon without getting your hands dirty…. and unfortunately, without a great deal of loss.

Caterina

Caterina Dellamorte had five children and eight grandchildren. Lucanis’s mother was her favourite; she gave his mother her opal ring as a show of that favour. But House Velardo killed Lucanis’s parents and sent the ring back to Caterina to demand she surrender the seat of First Talon. When she refused to submit, a war of succession broke out amongst the Crows. House Dellamorte remained First Talon, but at great cost – the only surviving family Caterina had left was two of her grandchildren, Lucanis and Illario.

Lucanis says he and Illario lived in Villa Dellamorte with Caterina until they were eighteen. While he says they would have ended up under Caterina’s care regardless for training, they were taken in by her early after their parents were killed by House Velardo.

In the Tevinter Nights story, The Wigmaker Job, Lucanis reflects on the following:

“Memories of sweat-filled days without food or water came unbidden. Lucanis’s back tingled from where his grandmother’s cane had bruised his flesh for letting his guard down or fumbling his footwork. For years, he’d hated her. But his time as a Master Assassin had since taught Lucanis that Caterina’s cruelty was her way of making sure that he was prepared for this life—that he survived.”

And if Rook is a Crow, they share this dialogue:

Rook: What was it like? Training under the First Talon?

Lucanis: What was your training like?

Rook: Torture.

Lucanis: There you go.

Rook: But you didn't resent her?

Lucanis: Not anymore.

Thus, it makes sense that in Lucanis’s mind prison, Spite describes Caterina as “tenderness and terror.” She is his grandmother, and he has always been her favourite, as he acknowledges. I do not doubt that she showed affection for him, but unfortunately it also came with cruelty.

While I do not wish to defend Caterina’s actions, I do think it is important to contextualize them with a reminder that she is a woman who lost her entire family. I really do believe that Lucanis is correct in his assessment that Caterina torturing her grandchildren was her way of making sure they would survive, where their parents did not. Because unfortunately, she is also someone who clearly cares about maintaining her power, and was not willing to sacrifice it for the good of her family’s wellbeing. She wanted to have both power and family, and Lucanis and Illario suffered for it.

Illario

I truly do have sympathy for Illario, despite all the terrible things he’s done.

First of all, remember that all Lucanis went through, Illario also went through. But unlike Lucanis, I don’t think Illario has ever really fully forgiven Caterina. In The Wigmaker Job, he comments, “All that effort training and grooming us, and the old woman still won’t step aside.” Illario doesn’t see the point of been groomed as he was, and doesn’t excuse Caterina like Lucanis does. Probably because no matter what, he’s always been treated as the lesser one.

The saddest thing about Illario though is, in my opinion, that the only way he would have ever actually gained Caterina’s respect is if he really did kill her. Lucanis says he believes as such to Emmrich in party banter. But he couldn’t even do that right. He’s such a fuck-up and I love him.

Lucanis

Lucanis’s mind prison offers more insight in how he sees Caterina… and himself.

When you approach Caterina in the mind prison, she is angry that Lucanis is an abomination, and Rook is able to observe that Lucanis fears he has disappointed her. Spite comments, “Old stale fear of disappointment.” As the favourite child of an abusive parent myself, I can tell you right now I really relate to this sentiment of thinking you need to be perfect in order to keep your favouritism, because they make you feel like you owe that to them.

When you approach Illario in the mind prison, the first thing Illario says is that Rook is too good to be wasting time with Lucanis. He also says that Lucanis will fill his mind prison with corpses. Because that’s how Lucanis has traditionally seen himself, I think; as someone who’s only importance is that he’s a good killer. It’s how Caterina raised him. But now that he’s had a taste of more with the Veilguard, he’s terrified to lose it. Spite says that there are three kinds of people: “Family. Enemies. Contracts.” But the Veilguard has shown Lucanis that he can have friends, too. (And potentially a lover if Rook romances him, or he gets with Neve.)

Average families can be complicated. Assassin families, apparently even more so. I think a crucial part of Lucanis’s character is that he values his family so strongly. He no longer resents Caterina for how she raised him and Illario. He is unwilling to kill Illario, even though Illario made it clear that he would not have spared Lucanis in return. Because they are cousins who were more like brothers, and that means something to Lucanis. After all, as one of the notes found in his mind prison says, “So few of us left…”

-----

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[tpwk-formula1]

Figure It Out - Landoscar***

SUB! Lando Norris X SWITCH! Oscar Piastri X SWITCH! Reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! I write for all drivers on the grid!

Summary: After Monza tension is at an all-time high in their shared apartment.

Authors Note: I've been writing for Kinktober and have been loving it so I decided to write a kinky little piece. The urge to post my Kinktober fics early is strong but I'm holding off. THIS IS NOT PROOF READ

TW - MxM action (Hand jobs and blow jobs), face sitting, slight masturbation, squirting, slight degrading

WC - 1500+

Y/N POV

"Just shut up, Lando," Oscar finally snaps at his complaining teammate turned boyfriend.

"Don't fucking talk to me like that," Lando replied back clearly still pissed off at the whole situation.

"Lando, on the track we are drivers. The whole point is to race each other that's exactly what I did," Oscar continues to defend his bold actions.

"I get that, and I don't even care about the fucking overtake but you could have done it during one of the straights not the first fucking chicane," Lando continues ranting allowing his voice to raise more as he continues talking.

"Both of you shut the fuck up," I finally snap making both of my lovers fall silent. It was rare for me to yell especially when it came to getting in between them when they were arguing about a race.

"Lando, I understand why it's frustrating, you're fighting for a championship while also defending against Charles and Oscar I understand being frustrated over your race result but both of you guys need to work together to make sure to secure constructors. To be completely unbiased here, Oscar the overtake was risky and luckily both of you guys are amazing drivers and were able to survive but Lando is right, it might have cost you guys too much time ruining the chances of a 1-2. However, Lando that does not excuse your actions either. Both of you guys love each other and you need to remember at the end of the day you got points and a double podium," I tell them softly to fend up to keep listening to them yell at each other.

"But babe," Lando started to complain before I sent him a quick glare making him shut up without finishing his statement.

"Both of you strip and go lay on our bed," I tell them both without even looking up at them going back to the book I was reading before they started arguing. When I don't hear movement I look up to find them both staring at confusion.

"Did I stutter?" I ask again a little more firm than before. Both of them shook their head before slowly making their wait to our room where I could hear them starting to strip down. Neither of them are talking but I know for a fact they're staring at each other. Mad or not they love each other and if anyone can turn them on it's each other.

With the layout of our apartment, I can hear every little sound they're making even if they're talking in hushed whispers.

"Lando, how long is she gonna leave us here?" I hear Oscar ask making me smile softly. I knew it was only a matter of time before their anger turned into sexual frustrations. Whether they will ever admit it or not after a bad race weekend especially one pitting them against each other the only way to fix it is to fuck it out of their systems. Sometimes it involved using my body and other times it was them using each other. Those were always the best ones to watch.

"Osc, please stop touching my thigh," I can hear Lando whimper which tells me right away who will be taking the lead tonight.

"Lando, we're sitting on the edge of the bed it isn't intentional, stop being petty," Oscar snaps back slightly, clearly just as frustrated as his boyfriend.

"I need, Y/N," Lando finally whispers out. Oscar doesn't say anything in reply which has me slightly confused until I can hear the tell-tale signs of Lando being touched in some way.

"Fuck," Lando gasps out before I suddenly hear them start to make out quite aggressively.

"Osc, please," Lando begs slightly making my pussy start to throb.

"You're gonna wait to cum until our pretty girlfriend decides to stop playing games with us," Oscar whispers to Lando making me smile. In that moment I made the decision to listen to Lando continue to whine and beg.

I stand up quietly before stripping down and sitting back on the couch with my legs spread wide open. I bring my fingers down to my pussy before I start teasing myself.

"What if she doesn't come in for a while," Lando asks Oscar making me smile cause we all know damn well I'd be in there as soon as I couldn't handle the teasing anymore.

"I bet you anything, she's sitting on that couch with her hand in her panties right now listening to you beg and whine like a little whore," Oscar tells Lando making both of us gasp at his harsh words.

In all honesty, it was rare for Oscar to be the dominant one between the two but it was always a favorite of mine cause he was just a different kind of cruel than when Lando is being the dominant one.

I can hear some movement before the sound of one of them spitting.

"Please Osc," Lando whines out again which tells me Oscar has to be the one on his knees teasing Lando. I can hear the sound of Oscar's wet hand moving up and down Lando's hard cock, which has him whing and gasping at the sensation.

I know how impatient Lando can get, so I decided to put him out of his misery by getting up and making my way to our room. When I get in there I can Lando's head thrown back while Oscar is taking him down his throat.

I make my way over to Lando where I grab his face before placing my still wet fingers into his mouth making him moan at the taste of my pussy.

"Look, she's come to save you. Maybe you'll finally be allowed to cum, but of course, you're gonna have to earn it first," Oscar teased Lando, making him whine around my fingers that were still in his mouth. When I pull them out I lean down and start making out with Lando. I can taste a hint of my juices which just makes me moan into his mouth.

"How are you already soaked," I hear Oscar ask clearly having seen just how turned on I was.

"You know I like when you take control Osc," I whisper once I pull away from the heated makeout session. It doesn't take me long to feel Oscar's fingers plunge right into my dripping pussy making me let out a gasp before moaning loudly against Lando's lip.

It's not long before Lando becomes a whimpering mess which tells me that not only is Oscar fingering me he's also giving Lando a handy.

"Fuck," I whine dragging out the word clearly overwhelmed with everything around me.

It's not even two minutes later that Lando is begging Oscar again.

"Please, Oscar. I'll be good. Please," Lando is begging as much as possible while also trying to keep kissing me.

"Our pretty little slut gets to cum first," Oscar tells Lando making me whine. This has Lando reaching down just enough to start playing with my clit trying to bring me over the edge faster.

"Oscar, please," I moan out once I feel my orgasm getting close to the edge.

"Cum for us," Oscar tells me making me instantly squirt all over both of the boys. Once my orgasm has concluded I hear Oscar tell Lando to cum which has Lando instantly tensing before releasing a high pitched whine before cumming all over Oscar's hand.

"Here," Oscar says while presenting me his cum covered hand which has me instantly licking all of Lando's cum off of it. Once it is clean enough for Oscar he climbs into bed pulling me with him to sit on his face.

"Get to work," Oscar tells Lando which has him shuffling around to get on his knees and start talking Oscar into his mouth.

Once Lando has settled into a good pace Oscar starts eating me out like it's his last meal on Earth. With one hand gripped on the headboard for stability before I tangle my fingers into Oscar's freshly cut hair. I know I'm pulling at it just right when I hear Oscar gasp at the slight pain I'm causing to his scalp.

"Fuck," Oscar moans out shortly after I hear Lando gag slightly on Oscar's cock. I can tell just from the sounds Lando's making he has all of Oscar's cock down his throat right now.

"Close," Oscar gasps out before instantly going back to focusing on my clit which also brings me closer to my second orgasm.

I hear Oscar groan out against my pussy signifying that he's cumming which has me tumbling over the edge with him.

Still slightly shaking I feel Lando lightly lift me off of Oscar before bringing me into his chest for a cuddle. Something that was always a part of our aftercare routine.

"How'd you know that would work," Oscar asks chuckling a little before placing a soft kiss on my lips preventing me from answering right away.

"We've been together for over a year. I know how you guys get," I reply back making both of the boys laugh a little.

Once everything has calmed down around us we all get up before getting into the shower together which inevitably resulted in a round 2.

[dantent]

Day 2 of ARCANEWEEN

Prompt: FANGS AND CLAWS

Characters: Young Silco, Young Vander, Reader 

Relationship: Young Silco x Reader

Timeline: Pre-Arcane

Words: 3923

Warnings: None

Sharing an apartment with Silco and Vander was not the worst idea you’ve ever had. Silco usually cooked for the three of you, while Vander took care of most of the cleaning up. Not to mention the price of living with two others. It was always split and eventually you could save up some of your money to buy some things for yourself. That came at the cost of two of you working two jobs at the same time. Vander and you had both worked hard to keep up this state of living, while Silco handled the finances at home. 

But life wasn’t always easy with them either. They bickered like brothers on most days, and quite honestly it could truly get under your skin. Just this day you were lying on the couch, a book in your hand, and enjoying your leisure time before you had to get to your second job. The apartment wasn’t big, so the kitchen and the living room were opened into each other to give space to the two bedrooms and one bathroom. Which is why you heard Silco and Vander’s bickering loud and clear as they were making dinner. 

“Come on, it would be fun!” Vander nagged the boy for the one hundredth time.

“More like humiliating.” Silco scoffed at him. “I’m not dressing up to your stupid Halloween party.”

“I already bought your costume!” he whined.

You sighed to yourself before closing the book. With raised brows you turned your head to the boys. Silco waved a spatula in his hand while talking to Vander, who was wearing an apron. Sometimes they looked like an old married couple who couldn’t decide if they still loved each other or wanted to poison the other one’s drink. 

“What are you two arguing about again?” you yawned. “Some of us would like to rest, you know.”

“Tell that to Silco!” Vander turned around. 

“Why is this my fault?” Silco whipped around as well. “This knucklehead wants me to wear a cat costume to his boss’ Halloween party!”

You burst out laughing at the image of Silco wearing a tail and cat ears. The bar - The Last Drop - Vander worked at organized a whole party for tomorrow night and everyone attending must be wearing some sort of costume. You have been invited as well but sadly you couldn’t go, as you had to work that night. 

“No, no, I wanna see that.” you managed to say. 

“Well, I wanted to get three matching costumes but since you can’t come I can only match with Silco.” Vander crossed his arms. 

“So if he is a cat will you be… a mouse?” you smirked. 

Silco snickered under his nose, before turning back to the food they were making. The taller boy sent him a death stare before rushing to his room. You were left alone with Silco, who gently turned off the stove. Before you could go over to him to help with the food though, Vander burst from their shared bedroom with ears clipped to his hair and a short tail tucked into his pants. 

“Woof.” he said with the most serious tone ever. 

You and Silco stared at him for a moment before you both started to holler at how stupid he looked. Vander scoffed at your reaction, especially when you fell off the couch and continued to scream on the floor. Silco wasn’t in a much better position either, as he sat on the floor and each time he looked at the other boy, he just started laughing louder and louder. 

“This isn’t funny!” Vander finally screamed at the both of you. 

“Woof.” Silco wheezed. “He said woof!”

“I can’t… breathe.” you said while coughing from all the laughing. 

“I fucking hate you.” He walked back to his room. 

You and Silco were left alone again. After the laughing died down and you were able to stand up, you walked over to the stove and helped Silco make portions for you all. Vander soon joined you and the dinner began. After dinner, you helped Vander wash the dishes because Silco had gone to sleep early, as he had to go to the mines earlier tomorrow morning to be able to attend Vander’s party. 

“Are you sure you can’t come?” the boy next to you whispered as he washed another plate. 

“Nah, you know I can’t leave my job.” you sighed. 

“I wish you could come.” he shook his head. “Silco really wanted to drink with you too.”

“Did he say that or are you trying to make me feel bad?” you smiled at him. 

Vander chuckled. “Guilty.”

You shook your head at the boy. “I’ll see if I can get there before the party is over. But I won’t promise anything.” 

“If you manage to come, you could wear the cat costume.” he shrugged. 

“Vander.” you sighed. “Hell no.”

“It’s a good costume!” 

That morning, right after your night shift,  you went to sleep a little disappointed that you can’t spend the night with your favorite boys. As much as they could annoy you, they were the closest friends you ever made. Silco was your first friend ever, in fact. But your relationship with him was more complicated than that. You never missed the shared glances, the subtle but intimate touches and the flirty banter between you two. Alas, Silco wasn’t the type of person who wanted anything serious, and you weren’t going to ruin your friendship with your feelings, so everything between you two was left unsaid. Before you could overthink it more though, you drifted off to sleep. 

You woke up sometime in the afternoon, two hours before you had to go to work. A loud crash rang through the apartment and you jumped out of your bed. It only took half a second and you were already out the door with a pocket knife in your hand, only to see Silco hunched over a broken plate to gather the pieces. 

“Fuck’s sake Silco.” you sighed. 

His attention turned to you. “Morning.”

Silco’s greeting only made your eyes roll as you walked over to the kitchen counter to see what you could eat before going to work. Sadly there wasn’t much left, which meant you would have to get some groceries soon. With a sigh, you went to open more cabinets. That was until you felt Silco gently press against your back. From behind you, he reached for the cabinet and opened it with those long arms of his. 

“I can make some eggs for you.” he whispered against you. 

You could feel your face heat up from the pressure against your back. But it didn’t last long, as Silco already stepped away to prepare your breakfast on the stove. You cleared your throat before speaking. 

“Thanks.” you managed to say. 

“Best I can do after I broke the plate.” he just shrugged without looking at you. “Should’ve been more careful.”

“It’s fine.” you shook your head. “I appreciate the compensation, though.”

He huffed a laugh as he broke the eggs into the pan. You all have been eating eggs for breakfast for two weeks now. It was better than nothing but you were slowly getting sick of it. Still, the memories of going to sleep without food in your childhood made you push those negative feelings away. At least you had food everyday. That’s nice. 

“It's nothing.” Silco hummed. 

You fell into silence as you watched him cook. His hair was put in a bun, as it so often was after work. There were still some smears of coal on his cheek that just emphasized his sunken face. No matter how much you have fed that boy, he stayed just as lean. Sometimes you wondered what he looked like under all that clothing. You have seen him naked before, but you were children back then. Since you both have reached puberty though, only the people Silco seeked out in the brothel have seen him naked. Speaking of which, that reminded you of a topic you wanted to discuss with Silco. 

“I wanna find a partner.” you started. “Long term.”

Silco only looked at you from the corner of his eye. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“It’s just… stability, I guess.” you shrugged. “I know I have other things to worry about, but having a partner I could rely on sounds good, you know.”

“I don't think you should do it.” Silco looked away, his attention on the eggs again. “You have me and Vander anyway.”

You sighed. Of course Silco didn’t get it. In a better life, a better world, you would’ve chosen Silco. But finding truly romantic partners in Zaun was rare, which made it all the more intriguing. You also would’ve lied if you said the piltie romance books you’ve been reading lately didn’t have anything to do with your opinion. 

“I know.” you nodded. “But it’s not the same! I want to go to sleep with someone on my side.”

“Pfff, I can go over to your room if you want that so much.” the boy shrugged. 

“Silco, you’re not hearing me!” you groaned. 

“All I’m saying is,” he fully turned to you, “that you can do all that shit with me and Vander.”

“Like kissing and sex?” you raised a brow sarcastically.

Silco’s face darkened with a hue of red before turning away from you. He just stared at the stove with furrowed brows, no doubt thinking what he could say next to change your mind. But you were faster than him. 

“Maybe I could have my own place with my partner, and you could get your own room instead of sharing one with Vander.” you shrugged.

“And how do you think we would pay for this apartment without you?” Silco turned to you with anger in his eyes. 

“Right, I didn’t think about that.” you nodded. “Well, I could bring them here.”

“Absolutely not.” he sounded offended. “I won’t live with someone I don’t know.”

“Well, you could meet them.” you raised a brow at his reaction. 

He slammed his hands down on the counter. “Just why aren’t I enough for you? Or Vander?”

Your eyes widened at the desperation in his eyes. Silco never acted like this before. Even in the worst scenarios, he was the one with the brains who got your little group out of trouble. Were it not for his calmness in risky situations, all of you would be behind bars by now. 

“It’s not that you aren’t enough for me, Silco.” you reached for his hand to calm him down. “You are the best thing that happened to me, and I will always cherish us.”

He squeezed your hand at those words. You felt like you finally understood what the problem was. Silco must’ve felt like you were replacing him with someone new, just because he couldn’t give you the romance you wished for.  

“No one can come between us.” you shook your head. “If I had to choose between finding someone, or keeping you, I’ll always choose you, Silco.”

You offered him a smile and before you could react, he pulled you into a hug. As much as he tried to deny it, he was a sucker for physical affection. You hugged him back with a huff, rubbing his back. 

“I know you want to have that perfect romance like in your books,” he whispered against your ear, “but it’s rare here. I’m saying all of this for your own sake.”

“I know, Sil.” you nodded. 

After a few seconds passed, you broke the hug. With a smile, you reached for his face and gently caressed him. Silco softly sighed and closed his eyes while enjoying your affection. A thought crossed your mind - to kiss him. But that was quickly discarded when you remembered the eggs still left on the stove. 

“The eggs will-” you started but couldn’t finish.

Silco’s eyes opened wide and he quickly turned around. “Shit!”

Thankfully he got the eggs off the stove just in time. Silco grabbed a plate and served you the eggs. You both sat down in the living room and Silco took his notebook out to calculate all that the household needed to spend in the upcoming weeks. He always tried to minimize the amount spent, so you and Vander just left this to him. That reminded you…

“Where’s Vander?” you asked between two bites. 

Silco answered without looking up. “At the Drop.”

“Already?” you sighed. “He’s working too hard.”

He just hummed. Just from that, you knew he had something on his mind. Silco didn’t make eye contact, was playing with the pen in his hand and slowly bit away his lips. All of these were things he did when keeping a secret from you. 

“Spit it out, Sil.” you groaned. 

He finally looked up at you. “I’m quitting.”

You almost spit the eggs out. “What?”

“I got offered a job at The Last Drop to cover all the financial stuff.” he shrugged. “Payment is better and it’s less exhausting.”

You smiled at him. “I’m happy for you. Sounds like a way better job.”

“It is.” he nodded. “Thanks.”

After you ate your breakfast you got ready to leave the house. Silco wished you a good shift before you left, then went on to get ready for the Halloween party. Whereas you imagined the boys had a blast at the party tonight, you were stuck in a shop selling scraps and tools to all the lonely bastards who weren’t able to attend any parties. The customers had a way to make their bitterness known to you by all but spitting on you. So to put things simply, your shift was going horribly. 

You were sitting behind the counter, playing with the lone coins in your hand. No one had stepped into the shop for about an hour now. And all your thoughts were on the Halloween party where all of your friends were currently. Vander, Silco, Benzo and all the others. You wished you could simply just leave, alas it wasn’t much of an option. Your shift still lasted for hours. If you ran fast enough though, you might be able to catch the end of the party. 

After about another half hour went by, your boss appeared in the shop. His graying hair all but glowed under the neon lights of the Undercity. With a cough, he walked inside and closed the door behind him. The old man greeted you with a wave, as he walked over to the counter. You raised a brow at him, surprised to see him in the shop so late. Usually he would leave the keys with you and leave at the beginning of the shift. 

“Did you forget something?” you asked on instinct. 

“Just because I’m old my memory isn’t shit.” he waved his hand dismissively. 

“Then what-”

“One of your friends was practically begging on his knees in front of my door to let you go tonight.” he huffed a laugh. “Slim boy he was, yes.”

“Silco?” you wondered out loud. 

He shrugged. “Didn’t catch his name. He asked for you to go to a party, though.”

“Oh, yeah.” you nodded. “My roommate's boss is making one and I was invited.”

“Well, go then!” he tried to push you away from the counter. 

“Really?” your eyes widened, standing up to leave. 

“Before I change my mind!” 

“Thank you so much!”

You all but ran out of the shop. The old man grumbled something under his nose but you were in too much of a rush to catch any of his words. Not many people were on the streets that night, but you still managed to bump into a few as you rushed to your apartment. It didn’t take a lot of time to get home, as the shop was pretty close to it, but you still coughed like crazy after all that running - a byproduct of living in constant toxic air. You dropped your keys before you could open the door so you cursed under your breath before you practically broke into your apartment. 

No one was inside, just as you expected. What surprised you however, was the little note placed on the cat costume. In Silco’s handwriting you read “For tonight”. You sighed, shaking your head at the boy. Clearly he had been planning this, and you wondered whether or not Vander was in on it too. Though, their argument seemed genuine so you supposed he was just a victim of Silco’s scheming as well. 

Without a spare costume, you had to comply with Silco's wishes, and put on the cat ears and tail. It looked utterly ridiculous on you, probably because it was made out of very cheap material. But there was no other thing you could wear, so you left the house in this. The Drop wasn’t too far away from the apartment either, albeit it was in the other direction. It took about the same amount of time to get to it like it took to walk to the shop. 

Once there, you opened the heavy doors of the bar, only to be met with unusual neon lighting inside. Usually it was warm and welcoming, but now mostly younger folks partied to loud music. You walked inside trying to find a familiar face. Vander was behind the counter, serving drinks to everyone. He looked comical with the dog ears on, but he seemed to enjoy it so you weren’t going to judge him. 

“I wasn’t aware the bar accepted strays.” a familiar voice came from behind you. 

You turned around with a smile, only to be met with Silco dressed fancily, with ruffles on his shirt and a swept back hair. As he smirked at you, fake fangs became visible, that were attached to his teeth. 

“And what are you dressed as?” you laughed at him. “A leech?” 

He rolled his eyes. “So your boss really let you go.”

“Well, after someone begged him for it.” you walked over to him and booped his nose. “Thank you, Sil.”

Silco smiled, before he looked down on what you were wearing. That’s when he noticed you were wearing his oversized sweater. 

“And wouldn’t you see.” he groaned. “I believe that’s mine, sweetheart.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” you quipped back. 

“Oh, you absolutely-”

Before he could finish it, you made a run for it. There were enough people around you to blend into the crowd, and Silco’s voice started to fade. You giggled to yourself as you turned to a corridor just behind the stairs. Most people didn’t know how to navigate through this place, but you, Silco and Vander did. That’s why you knew you would have some alone time with him. 

It didn’t take long for Silco to catch up to you and when he did, he pinned you against the wall. His grip was loose and if you wanted to, you could easily escape. Silco wanted to seem serious but he simply couldn’t help but smile when he heard you giggle at his antics. 

“You got me.” you grinned. 

“Fantastic observation.” he whispered. 

“If I were you, I would look out for my claws.” with delicate movement, you scratched Silco’s hand. 

“Oh no, I’m so scared.” Silco huffed a laugh. “All I wanted was to talk, and you attacked me like this.”

“Oopsie.” you shrugged. “Tell me what ails your heart, my dear vampire.”

He shook his head at your dramatic tone. “I’ve been thinking about what you said to me earlier. About a partner.”

Silco looked at you with half lidded eyes, his face inching closer as he spoke. You could feel the heat rise to your face but you didn’t let your emotions show. 

“Really?” you asked. 

“Mhm,” he nodded, “and I came to realize I also feel like such.”

Your heart sank for a moment. “And you have your eyes set on someone?”

It wouldn’t be too far of a stretch, after all Silco was dressed especially nicely. You weren’t even sure where he got these clothes from. The most likely answer was that he stole it from a piltie’s closet, but you still couldn’t imagine how he would’ve possibly come to know of such clothing. And it definitely wasn’t in his closet before either, you would know since you always go through both his and Vander’s stuff when your clothes aren’t clean and you don’t feel like washing them. 

“I have, in fact.” he looked deeply into your eyes. “And I don’t plan to share that person with anyone else.”

“Aren’t they just the luckiest?” you chuckled. 

Silco hummed as his gaze slowly traveled to your lips. All signs pointed to you. The way he acted, how he spoke, the fact that he dressed up nice; it all seemed like he wanted you. And this closeness just proved even further. You wanted him just as much.

“Well, why don’t you take your first bite then, fangs?” you whispered.

Silco’s eyes widened for just a second before leaning in. He stopped just before he could reach your lips and traveled down to your jaw. You could feel his lips press against it for a moment. Then you felt him fully at your neck. He started biting and sucking it greedily, like anyone would steal you from him. You ripped one of your hands from his grasp and grabbed his hair to hold into as Silco pressed against you. He groaned when your hand pulled on his hair and started sucking on your neck even stronger. You gulped at the sensation. 

Before he could draw blood, he left your neck and came face to face with you again. His breath softly hitched as you firmly pressed your lips against his. Then he made a noise you could die for - he moaned into the kiss. That alone sent a shiver down your spine. However, this wasn’t the place for anything more than a kiss, so you soon broke it. You two were panting against each other as he planted a gentle kiss on your lips once more before fully pulling away. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” he sighed. 

“So have I.” you gently caressed his face. “I never want to leave your side again.”

He grinned at that. “That’s something I could definitely get used to.” 

Silco grabbed your hand and started dragging you upstairs. You yelped at the sudden force but went with him anyway.

“Come on, I have to show you off to everyone.” he looked back at you with a grin. 

“Wait.” you stopped him for just a moment.

His enthusiasm broke for a second, but he still listened to what you had to say. 

“I love you, Sil.” you finally confessed what you’ve been holding in. 

Silco’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to say something back. But no words came. It was okay, you knew how hard admitting his feelings were to him, and you weren’t going to push him past his limits. 

“You don’t have to say it back.” you smiled. “Just being with you is enough.” 

He sighed and pulled you in for a kiss. It was much more gentle than the previous one, and once he pulled away, he inched to your ear. 

“I love you too.” 

It was a whisper so quiet not one person could ever hear it besides you. Silco’s love wasn’t meant for anyone but you, and that made you the happiest person in the world.

[casually-eat-my-soul]

I keep thinking about jealous pining desperate Stiles and Derek

But like specifically Stiles Seeing Derek kiss someone else.

Stiles goes to visit Derek at his loft and he walks into a scene from a hallmark movie. Derek is kissing some random women under fairy lights to the back drop of a sunset. Stiles feels like someone plunged their hand through his heart and infected with body with ice. He genuinely feels sick to his stomach.

Derek looks down at said person with a soft smile, thinking that this time he can be safe. Before turning and seeing Stiles. They lock eyes and stiles is so visibly distraught. Like in the “where’s my dad scene”. One tear sliding down his face, hands clenched, grasping at his chest as if to rip his heart out.

And Derek knows he fucked up, but he doesn’t know how. All he sees is Stiles in distress and he needs to fix it. Stiles base scent has changed in a split second, now deeply intertwined with misery. He immediately moves from his love interest towards Stiles. But Stiles won’t let Derek comfort him. When Derek grasps his wrists, He tries to pull away.

Stiles is inconsolable at this point, choking on his sobs, barely able to breathe, barely able to see. This only makes Derek more desperate, he’s trying to pull stiles into a hug but Stiles keeps fighting him. Derek’s mind is racing with an explain on why stiles is falling apart in front of him. He thinks of Scott and the sheriff, praying that they are both still alive. He’s now genuinely begging stiles to let him help, to tell him what’s wrong, but stiles keeps pushing Derek away.

Derek’s love interest moves to help but stiles screams when she touches him. In his shock Derek stumbles away from Stiles, but not before ripping her arm off of Stiles.

The room freezes as the both of them are just staring at each other, stiles still sobbing, Derek shaking with adrenaline or fear he doesn’t know. Before Stiles turns and runs out of his loft.

And then nothing is like it used to be. Not like the summer they spent together, not even like the days of when they first met. Stiles is so different with him. Derek can’t remember the last time he saw stiles smile, or his eyes. All he can see is the eyebags that match his own and bitten bloody lips. He barely speaks to Derek and when he does is tone is soft and flat. They no longer banter back and forth with each other exchanging friendly insults. He is a ghost of the stiles that Derek knew.

Stiles doesn’t reach out and touch him anymore, not in camaraderie or comfort. Derek’s skin is devoid of stiles scent. His scent hasn’t changed from that night, now overcome with depression, pain, and tears. But even so Derek would still prefer to carry it with him. Derek feels like he is watching stiles die.

And Derek is ripping his hair out of his skull. He going insane. He has tried to talk to stiles but at meetings Stiles wouldn’t even look at him, and the Stilinski house has been lined with wolfsbane.

He goes to Scott and Lydia for advice, or understanding, fuck at this point he’d even take a stupid riddle. But scott just twists his lips in disappointment while Lydia glares at him with more hatred than she does Peter. Which is really saying something.

Derek is getting more frantic as days pass and nothing changes. It’s starting to affect the pack. The betas are more snappy and uncomfortable. Derek, himself is having a had time keeping his shift under control. Anger isn’t helping, if only it’s making it worse, more feral.

This costs Derek.

One night when the pack is fighting the next big bad. Derek’s sleepless nights and being distracted nearly gets him killed. He only wishes he could go back to that day, he would spend it, from sunrise to sunset with Stiles. Just making him laugh and smile.

The last thing he sees before he collapses is Stiles eyes in the moonlight, glistening with tears, same as that night. Beautiful all the same. But still Derek smiles. He is at peace knowing that this will be the last thing he sees.

But he wakes up, and all he has of stiles is traces of his scent on his skin. Derek roars in anguish. He can feel his betas trying to hold him down, he can hear them screaming but it all fades to white noise. He understands nothing at this current moment but loss. His wolf won’t stop howling.

He doesn’t fight the pull of the wolf, as he falls under his instincts. At the back of his head he knows that the people he is fighting are his pack mate, his own betas. The smell of blood affronts his senses. But nothing can be felt but violent grief.

The wolves in his den are wary and hesitant to fight him, as they should be. He can hear more wolves coming, and the deafening heartbeat of prey. He snarls at the prey that moves closer to him, fulling intending the go for the kill. As he pounces on the prey pressing him to the ground, teeth reaching to sink into his neck, he feels Stiles hands on his chest and he stops. The scent of Stiles is all around him, and Derek presses his face to his neck. Keeping Stiles pinned to the ground.

Thus way stiles cannot escape, cannot leave Derek grappling with the thought of losing him. Another wolf tries to get closer, reaching for stiles but Derek snarls at him. Stiles talks to the wolf, —

“Don’t worry about it Scotty, I got it from here”

“You sure dude?”

“Yeah, take the wonder trio and get out of here. We’re good.”

— as Derek pulls him into his lap, face still pressed into the junction between neck and shoulder. Not even willing to miss even the vibrations of Stiles voice. The wolves leave and Derek can finally relax and enjoy the presence of Stiles.

Derek feels overwhelmed, after weeks of not interacting with Stiles he is now surrounded by him. His hands run through Derek’s hair, his voice floats in the air, his scent finally intermingling with his own. This idea of losing the heat of stiles body pressed against his, makes Derek pull stiles even closer.

He doesn’t know how long they sit together but when he comes out of the fog. Derek breaks. A complete reversal of the night he lost stiles. Derek is crying in ernest, pleading and apologizing over and over again. Stiles is hesitant when he places his hands on Derek cheek. But when Derek leans into it Stiles begins to wipe the tears from his face.

They both face each other with open expressions. Stiles struggles to finds words to explain to Derek but all he can get out is a broken repeat of Derek’s own apology.

Derek felt as if his heart couldn’t know anymore pain, but as Stiles choked out an apology he could feel another piece break. Derek was just relived that stiles was finally letting him comfort him. Derek pressed their foreheads together and took a deep breath. Waiting for stiles to following along with his breathing. When they both calmed down stiles Slumped exhausted into his chest. With a heavy limbs Derek picked him up and carried him to the bed. Derek’s bed.

Neither of them need to speak durning this time. Derek was reluctant to set Stiles down, to let go for even a second. Instead he settled for watching Stiles as they both undressed and fell into the bed. Finally after weeks of sleepless nights, unrest and nightmares, they both full asleep wrapped in each others arms.

Derek refuse to open his eyes when he awakes. Afraid that when he does, Stiles will be gone and this would be a cruel dream. So he keeps them closed even when he hear Stiles breathe hitch. Even as he hears his heartbeat pick up. Even as stiles trails his fingers over Derek’s face. But he does open them as stiles presses a kiss to his lips.

Derek kisses him back just as fiercely. And this leads to teary confessions — “Don’t fucking lie to me Derek please, I can’t take it, don’t fucking kiss me out of pity.”

“Never out of pity, Mi Vida, I never wish to part from you even again, I love you, Mieczyslaw, truly. I can finally breathe again.” — They spend the day in bed, only leaving to eat. Even then they are always touching the other in some way.

After this Scott and Lydia pull Derek aside and threaten him with extreme violence. Peter joyfully welcomes stiles to the family.

(Honestly this was a whole train wreck. I also had another idea/version where this was happening during the nogistune. Where Stiles goes over to Derek’s loft as the darkness around his heart fills heavier that day and he sees Derek kiss someone else. The this is what finally pushes stiles over and allows the nogistune to fully take over. And Derek is forced to listen to the fox gleefully tell him that this action nearly broke Stiles. That while turning feral Derek has to learn that his actions cost him another person he loves. That because of this stiles and Derek are turning into twisted version of themselves. But honestly a fox should have never underestimated how far a wolf would go for their mate)

My bad for the long post but if you made it to the end, welcome to the trenches and suffering in the misery with me.

[lunarsturniolo]

Body Shots | Frat!Chris

Not in the same universe as Pillow Talk Chris. Just another Frat!Chris au lol

Thank you @querenciasturniolo for proofreading!! This is longer than most of my fics, and there was no way I'd be able to properly check for mistakes.

I nod slightly, my fingers fidgeting with the button of my pants, “You gotta stop moving,” he says, making me still. 

He hums a nod at my obedience, his mouth widening into a smile, “Look at you,” he says, “So pretty.” 

My hand starts twitching again, a sign of excitement. Chris gently takes my wrist with his free hand and holds it down at my side, “You gotta stop.”

My eyes widened slightly in surprise, and I nodded again. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

Chris nods, “It’s okay. Just stay still,” he teases.

or

Chris teaches Y/N how to take body shots (and it escalates)

Warnings: alcohol use, unprotected sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), praise kink if you squint, cnc if you don’t read carefully. MDNI

Masterlist

“Hi,” I gave a sweet smile over the bar, “Can I please have another shot of tequila?”

Chris was working the bar today. After an overwhelming Wine Wednesday and a slightly unsuccessful mixer on Thursday, he didn’t want to go too overboard at the party his frat was hosting. So, there Chris was, working behind the makeshift bar, pouring shots and distributing Truly’s to the girls who were still there. 

It was nearing 3 am, and the crowd was beginning to die down. Chris overheard my request and nudged the other bartender, “Got it,” he said, effectively switching places with him. 

Chris leans over the bar, his left forearm resting in a few drops of alcohol as he leans closer to me, “You gonna let me take one with you?” 

I look up at him with an innocent smile, “It’s gonna cost you.” 

He barks a laugh in my direction, “You’re literally in my house,” he says. 

I nod, “I am.”

“So you should be giving me somethin’.”

I give Chris a long look and leave a pregnant pause, “I might be open to something.”

Chris pushes himself off the bar and disappears into the kitchen. I take the moment alone to look around the house. I spotted my friend Kylie, whom I lost to a group of girls about 10 minutes ago when No Hands started playing. With a bit of flair, I watch as the DJ starts to play Sexy Bitch, “How fitting,” Chris says, finding his way back to the counter. 

I roll my eyes with a small smile playing on my lips, “What do you want?” 

“Wanna do body shots?” he asks with a smirk playing on his lips. He holds up his right hand. He was still carrying the bottle of Jose Cuervo. But now, in the palm of his hand, I see a lime peeking out. 

My smile falters slightly, “I’ve never done a body shot.”

“Has anyone done one off of you?” He asks. 

I shake my head, Chris’s eyes widening with amusement. “First time for everything,” he mumbles. He reaches under the bar, producing a wild berry Truly and passing it to a girl behind me that I hadn’t noticed. 

“Who said I wanted to do a body shot?” I tease. 

Chris shrugs, “You want to do one. I know you.” 

I fold my lips in on themselves, “Okay. Teach me.”

He smiles victorious. “Do you wanna get on the counter?”

I look around once again. The room, by far, isn’t crowded, but there are people here you know you’re going to see again. 

“Do I have to?” I finally ask, “It’s kinda embarrassing.”

“Why would that be embarrassing?” Chris deadpans. 

“Because everyone can see me.”

“Who the fuck cares?” Chris says, “Now get on the counter, or I’ll spread you out myself.”

I decide it’s in my best interest to get on the counter. I step up into the kitchen before hoisting myself up onto the counter. Chris tells me to lie down, so I oblige. I can feel remnants of the bar from the night staining my bare skin and weighing down my hair. I cringe slightly at the thought before turning to look at Chris, my cheek resting on the cool surface of the bar. 

“So, there are two routes I could go,” Chris begins, “I could pour this into your belly button and take the shot out of there, or I could just use a shot glass and call it a day.” 

My eyes widened, “Yeah, can we do the second one?” 

With a chuckle, Chris nods in agreement. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinkin’, too.” 

He turns around and quarters the lime over the sink. He reaches across the bar, hovering a lime wedge over my face. He taps it gently against the parting of my lips, “Open up for me, yeah?”

I nod and widen my mouth, softly biting into the lime, a bit of juice rolling into the back of my throat, “Good girl,” he commends. 

I roll my eyes, a slight mumble emitting from the back of my throat due to the lime I’m holding, “Shut up,” I tell him.

Chris gently guides my hands down to my sides and nudges my hip, “Can I lift this up a little?” 

I hum a reply, the lime starting to become a proper hindrance. Chris gently tugs at my shirt, making me arch my back so he can lift it to my breasts. My hands itch at my side as he plants a series of wet kisses, making a line from right under my belly button to the waistband of my pants.

A blush forms on my cheeks as his nose nips under my pants, raising the waistband slightly and giving him a view of the black lace panties I had worn to the frat tonight. 

He reaches for the salt behind him, grabs a small pinch of it, and sprinkles it over the slight sheen of saliva that is left behind. “Squeeze my hand if you want to stop,” he tells me, putting my hand in his. 

Using his free hand, he grabs a small orange glass and flips it upright. He laxly pours a double shot of tequila into the glass, watching me wither under his gaze. 

My right hand landed on my stomach, tapping a pattern next to the line of salt, trying my best not to make a mess around me. The music is still going, and I’m sure Kylie is about to text me, telling me she found a guy to go home with. Chris is still distributing drinks to the girls who are coming up to the bar, and I’m sitting with a ball of anticipation in my stomach.

He returns to me with a shy smile, “Sorry, mama, I’m here for real.”

I nod slightly, my fingers fidgeting with the button of my pants, “You gotta stop moving,” he says, making me still. 

He hums a nod at my obedience, his mouth widening into a smile, “Look at you,” he says, “So pretty.” 

My hand starts twitching again, a sign of excitement. Chris gently takes my wrist with his free hand and holds it down at my side, “You gotta stop.”

My eyes widened slightly in surprise, and I nodded again. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

Chris nods, “It’s okay. Just stay still,” he teases. 

He gives me one last look before leaning down, his tongue making contact with my stomach. I flinch at the contact, slightly unexpecting, and Chris looks up at me through his eyelashes. 

I drink in the sight of him, remembering every detail as his hands push me down against the table. His hair has fallen over his eyes, the dark ringlets tickling my stomach with his painfully slow movements. 

Chris lets go of my left wrist, his hand taking hold of the shot he poured. My newly free hand moves without thought, entangling itself into his hair, tugging his further up my body in anticipation. 

He hums out a moan with a taunting smile on his face as his tongue dips into my belly button, lingering for an extra moment. The salt sticks to his tongue as he brings the shot glass up to his lips, wrapping them around the glass before quickly throwing his head back. His jaw flexes as he stretches his neck, and I watch as his Adams Apple moves as he swallows. 

Chris squeezes my hand as he swallows the bitter flavor, his lips coming down for mine to grab the lime. In a moment of weakness, I suck the lime further into my mouth so he has no choice but to graze my lips with his. 

As anticipated, Chris’s lips make lingering contact with mine. His tongue pokes out and wedges itself beneath my lip and into my mouth, grabbing the bottom of the lime and pushing it into his mouth. 

Moving back slightly, I keep him from moving any further with a hand in his hair. With hooded eyes, he looks at me as he bites into the lime, some of the juice falling into my mouth and some of it dripping down his chin in a sensual manner. 

He turns his head slightly, silently asking to move. I let go of his hair, and he turned his head, spitting the lime out of his mouth and onto the kitchen floor. He looks at me with a smile, “Do you still want your shot?” 

“Will it also be a body shot?”

“Whatever you want,” He tells me. 

I pull his hand in between us, guiding his ear to my lips, “What I want is to go to your bedroom.”

Chris looks at me, “Beg me.” 

“Please, Chris, I wanna go to your room.”

He smirks, “Again,” he tsks. 

I roll my eyes in annoyance, “I’m not begging.” 

“Then you’re not getting in my room,” he replies. 

I leave a long pause before letting out a big sigh, “Please, babe? Can you take me to your bedroom?”

He hums in acceptance, “What do you wanna do in the bedroom, mama?” 

I look at him and swallow harshly, “I want you to touch me.”

“But what do you want to do?”

My voice wavers into a whisper, “I want to take a shot off you,” I tell him. 

“Mmmm, that’s a good girl,” Chris says, “Always telling me what you want.” 

I blush, and Chris moves away to start cleaning up the kitchen. I see him gather a new shot glass, a lime, and some salt before helping me off the counter with a hand on the small of my back. 

Together, we walk towards the staircase that’s slightly blocked off- he keeps a hand on the small of my back, nodding a slight hello as we pass his friends. 

He lets me in front of him when we get to the stairs, watching my backside as I make my way up, stopping outside his room and waiting for him to unlock it. 

With a quick twist of his wrist, the key had unlocked his door, and he led me into his bedroom, sitting on his bed with his knees apart. I made my way closer to him, standing between his knees and giving him a shy smile.

“Can you take your shirt off?” I ask him. 

He nods, his hands falling to the hem of his henley, pulling it off in a swift motion, “Where do you want me?” he asks. 

I cock my head as I look at him contemplatively, “Maybe just lay down.” 

He nods and does as I say, “Can I, um-” 

“You want me naked?” he asks.

My cheeks turn hot at his words, “Can I take off your pants?” I ask him. 

He laughs at my shy demeanor, “You gotta get naked for me too, then, ma.” 

Without a second thought, I drop my hands to my jeans, fiddling with the button before allowing them to pool at my ankles. His hands find the hem of my shirt, this time, pulling it over my head gently. He rests his hands on my back before letting me unbuckle his belt.

“Chris,” I whine lightly.

“Yeah?”

Instead of replying, I push him down onto his bed. His head stayed propped up by some pillows, and he brought his hands behind his head so he could watch me. The two of us were naked, and I finally decided to let the looks of him sink in. 

His cock was sporting a healthy erection, just as arousal was beginning to pool between my legs- we were clearly both turned on. 

“C’mere,” he says, motioning for me to step towards him. “Wanna see if my baby’s worked up for me.” 

I happily make my way over to Chris’s head, legs spread slightly for him to feel my cunt. Without a moment's rest, the pads of his fingers made their way to my bare skin, feeling the warm, plush skin and rubbing my clit slightly to create some friction. I moan lightly at his touch before he pulls his fingers away and rests them on my bottom lip. 

“You wanna taste yourself for me, mama?” he asks. 

I dip my chin as a nod, his fingers now resting on the parting of my lips. My tongue darts out at his long digits, coating them lightly as I taste myself on his fingers, making Chris moan in appreciation. 

I hollow out my cheeks before taking his fingers out of my mouth, a small smile growing on my face. 

“Gonna use this on my stomach, okay?” he asks, referring to the fingers I had in my mouth seconds prior. 

Wordlessly, I nod as Chris drags his fingers down his happy trail- from the bottom of his belly button to the base of his cock- at an agonizingly slow pace. My eyes watch his fingers desperately as they mimic the exact path my tongue will take. 

I clear my throat, “Salt?” I ask. 

“Yeah, baby. Add some salt.” 

I took the metal salt shaker that made its way onto his nightstand and used it to disperse salt into a thin line along his body. Chris reaches under his bed and produces a bottle of tequila, “From my stash,” he informs me. 

I laugh, filling up a shot glass most of the way, feeling slightly overwhelmed at the thought of taking another double tonight.

I pick up a lime wedge and hand it to Chris. Dismissively, he sets it back on the table, “You won’t need that. Promise,” he tells me, a hand making its way into my hair and pulling me close to his mouth. 

I can feel his breath fanning on my face as I study his eyes up close for the millionth time tonight, “Okay,” I agree. 

Chris hums with satisfaction, “You’re such a good, obedient girl for me, baby. Always listening to me so well.” 

This time, I hum in reply, the praise making me feel extra warm. “I wanna listen to you, Chris,” I tell him. My lips pucker up slightly before placing a small, aromantic peck on his lips.

He smiles at me, “Good idea, baby.” He lets my hair go loosely, allowing me to lean back. “You’re gonna tell me if anything is too much, right?” he confirms. 

“Yeah, Chris. I’ll let you know. You get to use me until I say otherwise.” 

I watch as a satisfying grin spreads on his face, “You’ve always been my favorite girl, you know?” 

With a small laugh, I bring my face down to be level with his naval. He gathers my hair into a makeship ponytail in one hand and holds my shot glass for me in another, “I need to see you, mama.” 

I smile, my tongue darting out to lick my lips, “Okay.” 

Looking at Chris out of the corner of my eye, I bring my tongue to the beginning of the line of salt, licking slowly down to the base of his cock. My left-hand finds his balls, fondling with them lightly as I make my way down to his cock. 

He lets out a moan, “When you get there, keep your tongue out, baby. I wanna feed you your shot.” 

I turn my head towards him, giving him a slight nod, my tongue still working its way down his body. Giving the base of his cock a light kiss, I tilt my head up for Chris to pour the shot. 

Feeling the alcohol glide down my throat immediately, without the need to swallow or for a chase, made me gag lightly. I closed my mouth, savoring the flavor of salt on my tongue before Chris moved my head. 

Directing me down further to where his cock is, he rests my cheek on his left thigh. My tongue darts out, lapping around the base of his cock as my hand continues to play with his balls. 

“That’s right, baby,” he praises me, “You can get up on the bed if you want.” 

With a nod, I crawl up onto the bed, my mouth moving from the base to the tip. 

I begin slowly licking the tip, watching the precum develop, and swallowing it as it comes. With a keen fascination, I loosen my jaw and begin to put his cock into my mouth. 

Chris lets out a groan, “Fuck.” He reaches around his body, one hand finding my breasts. He rolls my nipple between his fingers and fondles my breasts, eliciting a soft moan from the back of my throat and around his tip.

I continue to push his cock into my mouth before I gag lightly and call it my limit. My hand jerks off what is left outside my mouth, and Chris begins to lose it. 

His hands are tugging at my hair, and he is gently pushing my head forward onto his cock, loving the way my throat closes around the tip when I gag. Chris was in a state of euphoria. 

“You good, mama?” he chokes out, pulling me off his cock slightly for reassurance. 

Instead of verbally answering, I push his cock further into my throat, humming a reply, sending vibrations up through his body. 

My tongue flatted against the underside of his cock, my head moving faster as I prompted Chris to fuck my mouth. His thrusts grew from wary to forceful as I began to gag, drool, and moan around him with each movement he made. 

Tears grew at the brim of my eyes from the intensity, “Do you like it when I’m rough with you, mama?” 

Unable to reply, I affectionately squeeze his thigh, “I know, baby. It feels so good to please me, huh?” he says. His hand leaves my nipple, entangling it into my head roughly so he has more control to ride out his orgasm.

With an especially deep thrust, I let out a long groan, my eyes rolling back slightly with satisfaction. Chris’s cock begins to twitch in my mouth, and I instinctively hollow out my cheeks, sucking harshly on his shaft. 

Chris looks down at me with a smile, “I’m close, mama, I promise. Then I’ll fuck you good as a thank you.”

I nod, my voice significantly hindered by his cock lodged in my throat. With a final few thrusts from Chris and a gargling noise that arose from my mouth, he emptied himself into my mouth with a loud, resonating moan. 

Giving me a minute to recover, he slid his cock out from my mouth and found a water bottle on his nightstand to feed me. 

With a smile, I look at him, “I love having your cock in my mouth.” 

With a small laugh, he rests his hand under my chin, wiping away some cum that didn’t quite make it into my mouth, “I love fucking your mouth, baby.” 

I bite my lip in excitement, allowing him to use me as he chooses one again. 

“Lie down, hmm?” he asks. 

I do as I'm told, taking his spot on the bed as he straddles my body. He leans down towards the mattress, his lips finding my cunt. I can feel his breath fan across my body as he begins to lap his tongue in a circular pattern, hitting each part of my cunt. 

Unceremoniously, his teeth begin to nip at my clit, creating the perfect amount of friction to make me moan out loud- probably loud enough to be heard over the music playing downstairs.

“Chris, please,” I beg.

“What, mama?” he asks, coming up for air with a small pant. His lips were wet and puffy from the time he spent attacking my clit, and I could see a bit of my arousal begin to make its way down his chin. 

“I need you inside me, please,” I whimper. 

Chris hums, sending my hips upward with a jolt. The action makes him laugh, which in turn does not help my squirming, “I’ll get inside ya,” he promises. 

With one last feathery kiss to my clit, he sends a series of kisses up from my naval to my lips. By the time he has reached my lips, there are drops of my cum trailing up my body as a result of my cum dripping off Chris’s chin. 

He leaves a few soft kisses on my lips before I bring his head to mine, holding it there while I nip at his bottom lip. He smiles, sliding his tongue into my mouth and allowing me to take control of the kiss as he adjusts himself against me. 

I feel the tip of his cock poking at my entrance before he slowly buries it into my cunt. I let out a gasp, my jaw falling slack as Chris’s tongue laps at the inside of my mouth, trying to regain my attention. 

“C’mon, mama, I know you can take me,” he tells me. 

“I can take you,” I parrot back. 

“Yeah, baby,” Chris agrees, “You’re doing so good.” 

He stills for a moment, and I look down between us to see his cock has filled me completely, and he’s allowing me a moment to adjust. I grind my hips against him, my clit rubbing against the base of his cock, making both of us groan. 

Looking back up at him, I give him a quick peck of encouragement to start thrusting again. He gently rolls his hips before slowly pulling out and roughly pushing back in. 

He began to make this a rhythmic approach, filling the silence between his skin and slapping on yours with a series of breathy moans and chants of both of your names filling the room. 

Chris kept his mouth atop mine and intertwined our fingers as he continued to fuck me.

My mouth fell open, and I felt my pussy begin to quiver around his large cock. My orgasm was blinding, leaving me gasping and moaning into Chris’s mouth, giving him ammunition to go faster and harder.

With his bed rocking underneath us and the sound of wet skin repeatedly hitting each other, Chris finally released into my tender pussy. 

Pulling out slowly, his hand brought mine to his mouth, leaving feathery kisses on each knuckle. 

“You okay, mama?” he asks, “Do you need me to get you anything?”

With a shrug, I reply, “Can I please have another shot of tequila?”

[familyvideostevie]

a kind of hunger | chapter 2

joel miller x fem!reader

series masterlist

an offer from your employer sets your life on track and throws it into a new kind of chaos at the same time. where does joel miller fit into it all?

length: 5.9k

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem!reader, unspecified age gap, heavy petting, joel having a moment with r's tits, hand stuff, dirty talk, painful sex for a second, riding (p in v sex), like a really small smidge of breeding kink, emotional turmoil from r cause what else is she gonna do, some plot! wow! a/n: finally! another chapter. it’s short but i think we’re getting somewhere. Let me know what you think! huge thank you to @macfrog for your eyes and for keeping my sanity in check and @bageldaddy for teaching me how to use commas, letting me borrow your bar, and telling me to just “slutty hallmark it.” this is for you guys. 

navigation | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀

---

Bill’s offer costs you one night of sleep and that’s all.

Taking over the bar goes against every rule you've had for yourself up until now, everything that’s kept you going and on your feet.

You lose when you stick around. You get hurt when you get attached. Always keep moving. 

But your night with Joel seems to have shaken something loose. You’ve got a pit in your stomach, a hunger set alight by his eyes and his hands and his attention. It’s like he reminded you how to want, how to stop letting the world turn under your feet and dig in your heels instead.

And there’s what Bill said, the thing that won't leave you alone. You think no one notices, but I notice. We all notice.

It’s easy to lie to yourself about a lot of things: that you don’t mind this life, its constant movement and instability. That it’s made you crafty. That if you picked up and left right now, you’d be fine. No one would miss you, no one would notice. The names and faces you’ve learned would fade as soon as you found new ones somewhere else. 

You’ve been a tight fist your whole life, only hanging onto what can fit into your rough and weathered palm, half-moon crescents bleeding that damn desperate hope you can never seem to scrub off. It means a whole lot of avoiding things that could matter so you can’t lose them, can’t let them slip through your fingers. A family who saw your need for space and control and turned it into isolation and disinterest, who drove you away as soon as you were able to leave. College was a bust. Relationships gone sour have taught you not to rely on anyone. Failed experiment after failed experiment, just looking for something to stick. It’s better to be alone, right?

That tight fist keeps anyone out, anyway. It’s carefully rolled bills in plastic bags in the toe of a pair of sneakers just in case. It’s talking just enough to get you a place to stay, a job, a ride, but not enough that anyone remembers your face, even if you wish they would. 

It’s not one big thing. It’s a million small ones. And nothing ever lasts. You never last; always cutting and running before it can get real, before they can see the truth of you and find it lacking.

You’ve been looking for the missing piece for years now, the thing that will make you feel like you’ve finally made it somewhere where you’re needed enough to stick around. Where you can stop quitting, where you can put down roots. Where you can be wanted.

You just aren’t sure it’s possible. You’ve done so many things, seen so much, that you feel like it’s too late to be anything other than this.

It’s easy to believe all of that until someone like Joel sees through it – until someone like Bill tells you none of it is true. 

Fuck it. 

You call Bill the next morning and tell him you'll take over Frank's. 

According to him, the turnaround will be quick. He'll have someone "official" draw up the paperwork. You tell him you won't change the name. You tell him you will make some repairs, fix the cracked vinyl booths, and give the floors a refinish, and –

"Do whatever the fuck you want," he grumbles over the phone. "It's your bar."

It sure is. 

You own something, now. You belong somewhere – even if it’s just because you have payslips to sign and counters to clean. But maybe this time, if you try hard enough, you can get it right.

You have a meeting to tell the staff that you’re taking over. There are only five of you – two college kids from a town over, the guy who works part-time at the garage by the highway, and an old butch called Pat you find vaguely frightening who’s been working here longer than you care to ask. 

It’s probably the first time all five of you have been in the same room. None of them seem disappointed in Bill’s retirement, and they’re on board with your plan for renovations. Especially after you assure them they’ll be paid even if you close for a bit to get it all done.

Joel doesn't come in. You notice, but don’t spare it too much thought. You can’t because the bar is a fucking nightmare all week.

The keg lines keep blocking, the jukebox dies a sudden staticky death, and some asshole scratches the pool table hard enough to tear up the felt. Everyone and everything is pissing you off. It’s an effort not to spend all of your breaks on that milk crate in the alley with your head in your hands. 

It feels like Frank’s is hazing you. After all you’ve done for it, you feel a little betrayed.

“Why the hell do you think I’m retiring?” Bill says when you call to bitch about it. “This shit is a fuck ton of work.” 

By Friday, you're at your wit's end. 

The rush has come and gone, and now it’s slow. Slow enough that you might be worried, but Pat has told you before that this is just how it is in small towns, sometimes. 

That, or maybe your bad mood scared everyone off. Maybe they're tired of the shitty atmosphere, of the cloudy glasses and squeaking stools, maybe they –

You pop an olive into your mouth.

“Chill the fuck out,” you mutter to yourself. No one is around to hear.

The only patrons left are some bikers at one of the back tables playing cards. Their laughter is too loud without the music going. The mats behind the bar are sticky under your boots, and your temple has started to throb. You feel like locking yourself in the office just for the silence.

The air shifts when Joel steps inside.

The hunger you feel is a familiar fire, coals that stoke themselves and never go out. Lust, infatuation as you take in his broad shoulders and grey-streaked hair. You’re strung out and a fuck might help.

But there’s also a weight in your chest at the sight of him, one you haven’t felt in a while. It sits heavy above that smoldering flame in your belly, a bruise you can’t stop yourself from pressing on.

Maybe part of you expected him to stop coming in after you fucked. Regardless of how it made you feel, you’re just some woman who serves him two fingers of liquor when he wants to run away from his life. Just someone who gave him one good night and nothing more.

But this weight – this big, thorny emotion that looks like affection and attachment and something real – you don’t know what to do with it. 

It’s never been this way with a one-night stand. Yeah, you know the weight of him above you, inside you. You know the taste of his sweat on your tongue, the feel of his head between your thighs. That kind of shit usually doesn’t change anything with you, but Joel is…different. 

Careful, that voice inside you says. 

Joel peels off his jacket and tosses it on the otherwise empty bar, pushing up his sleeves to reveal his tanned forearms. The stool creaks under him and his gaze is heated as it travels over you. He doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he’s looking. 

He shakes his head when you hold up the bottle of whiskey. 

"Water's fine," he says.

You blink. If he’s not here to drink then what is he here for?

He seems like he always does. Relaxed, like the room was made to have him in it. But you look a little closer, now that you figure you can. The deep scar on the bridge of his nose stands out and his cheeks are a little pink. The temperature must have dropped once the sun went down. His jaw isn’t tense so much as set, determined. He rubs his chin with a flat palm as you fill a glass using the soda gun.

“Whatever you want,” you say. 

He looks around the bar. You figure he's taking in the out-of-order signs on the beer pulls, the flickering light pointing to the restroom, maybe even the goddamn ruined pool table. 

You pick up a rag and start to clean to keep your hands busy. 

 “Quiet for a Friday,” he says. "Things goin’ alright?”

You bristle at the implication. It’s been a shitty week, and you don’t need anyone reminding you that you’re probably not cut out for this.

“Fucking peachy,” you snap.

Joel raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t rise to it. "Seems like things are a little tense.”

You swallow a flash of genuine annoyance. 

"All it takes is a roll in the sack and now you're a talker?"

Joel isn't phased. He takes a small sip of his drink, rolls the glass between his hands. Nice hands, you think. Hands that felt so good between your --

"Just makin’ conversation," he says lightly.

You’ve always thought you were hard to read – hell, you’ve been told that many times. One of your flaws, people always say, but it makes it easier to slide in and out of places without too much damage. And yet, Joel, a man who has been in your bed once and sits at your bar when it suits him, sees right through you.

Your shoulders slump.

“I’m just tired,” you tell him.

Joel rubs his beard with one wide palm. He moves his jaw back and forth like he's giving you the chance to shut him down, like he’s chewing on the silence.

"Heard somethin'," he says. "Wondered if it was true. Thought I'd ask." 

"Are you asking?"

He eyes you, takes another sip of his water like it's a tumbler of amber liquid instead. Like anything you pour him is something to be savored.

"Guess so." 

You set the glass down and put your hands on the wood, leaning towards him with your head cocked. 

“Are you keeping tabs on me, Joel Miller?”

“Nah,” he says, eyes flashing before they slide down to your lips. “Ran into Frank in the frozen aisle at the store.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. "Known him and Bill a long time." 

That explains why he looks like he belongs here. He's probably been in this room more times than you have. All of the things you don't know about Joel hang in the air between you.

"Does Bill...?" 

Does your buddy know you fucked me in the apartment I rent from him?

Joel shakes his head. "Frank told me Bill was giving the place to one of his employees. Figured it was you."

And that’s that. But it sounds like a compliment.

“Well, it’s me alright,” you sigh, slumping a bit. “And there's a lot of shit to do.”

Joel puts a hand on your forearm. It's a light touch, a quick one, but it sends sparks along your skin. A moth to a flame.

“Ain’t no small thing. Ownin’ a bar. Big deal, if you ask me.”

You roll your eyes but pride swells in your chest. He’s right. It is a big deal. 

And here you are in your bar.

With Joel, who fits into all of this somehow. You just don’t know where yet.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you,” you say with a smirk.

You want to draw it out of him, make him flirt with you for the answers he seems to want. You want something to sink your teeth into after this week, something to play with.

Something to make you feel in control. And that’s what Joel gave you, last time you saw him. He pushed when you pulled, met your touches and your quips with attitude and hands of his own. You felt alive, you felt present. You felt wanted. And it was fun.

If you’re not careful, you might forget what sex was like without that – his attention, his touch. Your name in his mouth. But now that you’re giving staying here a shot, maybe it’s time to indulge. To reach out and take.

Joel snorts. He leans forward and raps his knuckles on the wood. “Should we toast to it?”

You laugh. “I don’t drink on the job.”

He raises his water glass.

“Alright,” you scoff. “Fine.” 

You pour yourself some water and clink your glasses together. Joel’s eyes never leave yours, not when he takes a long sip, not when he sets the glass down. He keeps looking at you with that heavy, unshakable gaze. 

It’s unnerving, the way he makes you feel. You’re still tired, still annoyed, but there's electricity at the base of your spine, the embers in your belly. You want to talk to him. 

You clench your hands around your glass. You want to touch him, too.

“So,” you say. He’s wearing a henley this time, the buttons at the top undone just enough to give you a glimpse of a peak of chest hair. You swallow and flick your eyes back to his. He’s smirking. 

“So,” Joel echoes. “Why’d you take it? The bar.”

You shrug. “Seemed like a good deal.”

“Bill ain’t in the habit of good deals,” he huffs. “He must like you.”

It’s an effort to squash your smile. “I don’t think Bill likes anyone much.”

“Real asshole, ain’t he?” 

That gets a laugh out of you. “Well, he’s your friend.”

“Not much choice in a small town.”

You hum.

The noisy group from the back stumble their way to the door, waving at you as they file out into the night.

“Those idiots ruined my pool table on Tuesday,” you hiss, though you smile at them.

“Gotta be pretty fuckin’ bad at pool to do that.” He looks around and realizes he’s the last one in the bar. “You closin’?”

“It’s only eleven, Joel.” 

His eyes rake up and down your body. Is he thinking about how he touched you, how you fell apart under him? Heat curls lazily in your belly. He runs his finger around the rim of his glass.

“Damn shame,” he says. 

Normally you wouldn’t shut for a few hours, but it’s pretty dead for a Friday and…

And Joel is looking at you like that and you want to touch him.

You don’t mess around with regulars.

You’re already breaking your rules by taking over Frank’s. What’s one more?

The pulse between your legs agrees with you.

“Colin,” you call over your shoulder, stepping back from Joel’s hot gaze. The barback appears immediately.

“Yeah?”

“I’m shutting early. Go home. Tonight’s tips are yours.”

He sputters. “Are you sure?” His gaze flicks to the stacks of glasses behind the bar, the tables that still need wiping down.

“I’ll take care of it. See you next week.” 

He just shrugs and turns on his heel. A minute later the back door slams and you know the kid is gone.

You lift the bridge and slide out from behind the bar. Your boots are loud on the shitty floors with no one in here and each step to the door feels longer than it should because of his damn stare. You feel Joel’s eyes on you as you lock the door and flick off the neon BAR sign that hangs outside.

When you turn around, his eyes are dark.

Joel stays on his stool, one foot on the ground so that his knees are spread wide, watching you. One hand rests on his thigh, thick fingers tapping to a tune only he hears. His other arm is on the wood of the bar, stretching his shirt across his broad chest. 

When Joel looks at you, sometimes it feels like he’s the first person to ever see you.

“Gotta settle up,” he drawls.

“What, you gonna tip me for water?”

“Not exactly,” he says, words dragging in his mouth. “Got somethin’ else in mind.”

The air in the bar sparks and crackles like one of those long Texas summer days when a thunderstorm looms like a threat. The electricity of it crackles down your spine, turns it molten, turns you dangerous. It’s never felt like this before with someone you’ve slept with. Just being close to him is enough to kick your pulse into gear. You feel hyper aware of every part of your body as he looks at you like you’re offering him something better than what you can pour.

Which, you guess, you are. 

“And what would that be?” 

He hums.

“C’mere.”

You can see his cock straining against the front of his jeans. 

“Bossy,” you say. “That for me?” You jerk your chin towards his lap and take your time walking back to him.

He smirks. “You wanna go upstairs?”

As soon as you step between his knees, the hand on his leg moves to your hip. Two fingers sneak under the waistband of your jeans to find bare skin. You brace yourself with one palm on his thigh, another on his neck, and thread his soft hair through your fingers.

“I don’t see why we have to,” you say slowly, watching him carefully. “No one’s here. And I know the owner. She won’t mind.”

The hand on your hip slides further back and his fingers press hard into the swell of your ass. 

“Oh, that right?” he chuckles. “Well, as long as we ain’t breakin’ any rules.”

You’re not sure who moves first. You’ve got a few inches on him by being on your feet so you pull him towards you just as he surges up and your mouths meet sloppily, hungrily. Joel tugs you closer and you dig your fingers into his thigh as he swallows your giddy laugh, his beard scratching your skin deliciously.

You’re going to fuck him. In your bar. 

“Somethin’ funny?” he asks, lips trailing over your jaw. He’s got both hands on you now, one on your ass and the other on your hip, holding you like he expects you to disappear.

“No, not really–” You cut yourself off with a gasp when he nips your pulse point. “Joel.”

He kisses you again, licking into your mouth. You remember the sounds he made in your apartment and tug on his hair. Joel’s moan is your reward. You press close and grind your hips against the hardness in his jeans and he growls.

“Hard as a rock the second I step in this damn place,” he says, holding you there. You pull back to see his lips spit-slick, his pupils blown. Seeing him undone like this by your touch is just as thrilling as it was last time. His teeth scrape down your neck and he unbuttons your jeans.

“Sounds like a – ah – you problem.”

Joel’s fingers drag through the curls above your cunt before he goes where you really want him. You gasp against his temple when he circles your clit.

“Seems to me I’m not the only one,” he rasps.

The fingertips on his thigh become nails digging in even harder when he slips one finger inside you.

“Gonna leave bruises, sweetheart,” Joel says. Your cunt clenches around him. “You like that? Markin’ me?”

“Maybe I do,” you groan. “You left some last time.”

The angle can’t be ideal but Joel fucks you as best as he can with one finger, then two. You drag his face back to yours and suck on his bottom lip, tugging his hair all the while. Every part of you feels like it’s on fire, like you’re burning up from the inside. 

His other hand rucks up your shirt until you tug it all the way off. He pulls down the cup of your bra with one hand and rolls your nipple between his fingers. 

You could come like this, Joel’s hands everywhere. 

Gripping him through his clothes isn’t enough. You scramble to undo his belt and get your hand in his jeans, button popped and fly down. 

He grunts your name when you spit into your palm and take him in hand, velvety soft and tip leaking. 

“Careful,” he hisses. “Don’t want to stop this before it starts.”

“I’ll be gentle,” you say. He thumbs your clit in response and you gasp.

Time blurs with his fingers inside you. Your strokes are lazy but he hisses each time you drag your thumb over his tip. Is it going to be this, you two pawing at each other against the bar until someone bursts?

“Joel,” you gasp. “Joel, I want –”

He finally returns to your clit with a strained smirk. The veins in his neck are visible, telling you it’s getting to him, too. 

“You remember what I said last time?”

Ask for what you want, you hear me? You ask and I'll do my damn best.

You could have him bend you over the bar. You imagine it, quick and dirty, the wood digging into your waist as he slams into you, flesh on flesh. It would be better than last time, you know it. But you want to see him.

You want Joel’s face in your neck, your hands in his hair as he fills you up. You want to watch him fall apart under you.

You dig your nails into him again and he hisses. You lean forward so your lips drag along the shell of his ear.

“I want to ride you, Joel,” you say. 

His eyes flash. He kisses you hard, swirls your clit one more time, and pulls his hand from your cunt. Your knees feel a little weak so you keep your hands on his shoulders. 

Joel brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

“Gotta get at least a taste,” he says. “Just as sweet as I remember.” You surge forward to kiss him. You can taste yourself on his tongue and he groans into your mouth.

“Alright, baby,” he says, breath a little ragged. He thumbs your nipple again. “Where’re you gonna ride me?”

“Booth,” you manage. “Over there.” You jerk your head back towards the cracked vinyl seats he’s never once sat in since you met him. He pats your hips and you step back. The stool scrapes loudly on the floor as he stands. 

He cups your cheek with one callused palm and just looks. His hair is a mess from your hands, lips swollen from your kisses. And yet he’s looking at you like you’re the answer to all his problems. 

“So damn pretty,” he says.

Somehow you make it to the booth, a tangle of lips and hands, shedding pieces of clothing as you go. Your bra, his shirt, his belt. Shoes toed off and left in a pile, Joel shoves the table between the vinyl benches to the other side so there’s enough room for him to sit, for him to drag down his jeans and boxers and take his cock in one hand. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of it. God, he’s thicker than you remember. One of these days you’re going to take him apart with your tongue.

You could just stand there and admire him but you’re so wet you think you’re going to drip onto the floor. His solid thighs, the dark hair gathered into curls at the base of him trailing up to his navel. If you were a painter you’d put him to a canvas.

Joel spreads his legs wide, and you run a hand down his bare chest before balancing on his shoulder as you step out of your bottoms. It’s almost funny – the two of you naked but for your socks, Joel’s pants around his ankles.

You want him too badly to spare a thought for laughter.

A condom comes from somewhere – his wallet, maybe, or his pocket, you don’t much care – and he slides it on with a hiss. 

It’s different than last time. More desperate but in a fun way – and you know this won’t be the last time. You know each other’s bodies, now, and this can be quick, can be dirty, because you’ll be doing it again.

So you don’t waste any time straddling him. Joel lines his cock up with your entrance, his other hand on your hip.

“You ready?” he asks. You lean in to kiss him and sink down at the same time in response.

You moan in tandem as he fills you, the angle different from when you were on your back, so different. The stretch is deeper, and somehow you feel fuller than last time. It’s overwhelming, it’s all-consuming, it’s a little painful.

“Fuck,” Joel groans. “So tight. I ain’t gonna last long.” 

It really is a tight fit, so tight you think maybe he was right to ask if you could take him without at least one orgasm to prepare you. The girth of him is splitting you in half, stretching you so much you whimper against his mouth.

Joel’s hands cup your face. “Y’okay?” he says, strained. “Hey, talk to me.”

Your eyes are shut tight, knees pressing hard into his solid thighs as you breathe.

“Need a sec,” you say. “It’s different like this, it’s –”

“I know, baby,” Joel murmurs. “Doin’ so good so far.” 

He shifts his hold on you just a little and you whine. The vinyl cracks underneath his shifted weight as he whispers an apology into your shoulder.

The pain of the stretch dulls to an ache and you know what’s just on the other side. You roll your hips and the head of his cock presses exactly where you want it. It sends a shock wave of pleasure through you so intense that you fall forward a little, Joel’s face pressed to your chest.

He presses a kiss to your breastbone, so light you almost miss it as you start to ride him in earnest. Your knees press into the rough vinyl and Joel’s lips find your nipple. 

“Didn’t give these ‘nough attention last time,” he says. “My mistake.”

His tongue laves at your breasts, one after the other as you swirl your hips over and over. You tug on his hair as your thighs start to burn but you keep going. 

Joel’s teeth scrape against your nipples, the skin of your chest as he nips and soothes, nips and soothes. You’re going to be covered in marks tomorrow. 

Maybe it’s the thrill of that, of just seeing him again, maybe it’s how bad you want him, who fucking knows – you’re already so close.

Everything fades away but this. Joel is everywhere, on you, around you, inside you…It’s just the two of you, limbs tangled and sweaty, panting each other’s name.

The smoldering in your belly is a fire climbing higher and higher and you’re going to explode with the heat of it.

Firm, rough-skinned hands hold you steady as you lift and sink, gasping every time he hits that spot inside you. 

“Joel, I –”

His grip turns bruising as he starts to fuck you on his own, the wet smack of his balls filling the bar.

“I know, baby,” he pants. “I know. You hear that? You hear me fuckin’ you? You’re takin’ my cock so good.”

You plant your hands on his shoulders and try to meet his thrusts.

“Swear I dreamed ‘bout this,” he growls. “How wet you were. Those fuckin’ noises you make when I –” He circles your clit with his thumb and you keen. “There we go. Just like that.”

“Joel –

“Gonna ruin this booth,” he says with a rough chuckle. His forehead is tacky when you press yours against it.

“I – fuck – need new ones anyway, don’t I?” 

Joel grins, all teeth as he pounds into you. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says, breath hot on your lips. “Soak my cock. Know you can, so tight and –”

Your orgasm rips through you, a broken litany of Joel and yes and god knows what else torn from your throat as he fucks you through it. His thrusts become erratic and you try to keep your seat as he finishes with a deep groan. 

Joel presses more of those light kisses to your collarbones, the base of your throat, so like the one he left on the back of your hand that first night. You drag your fingers through his slightly sweaty hair.

“I’ll move in a second,” you say, catching your breath. 

“Take your time,” he says. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” 

His grip on you is practically gentle, fingers lazily stroking patterns into your skin. You drag a hand up and down his chest. 

It’s tender. It’s…something it maybe shouldn’t be. Something that doesn’t belong in whatever you’re doing. 

You get out of his lap as carefully as you can and stand in front of him, naked. Fucking with a condom is smart and all, but you wonder what it would feel like to have him dripping between your thighs.

He doesn’t hide his stare, though it’s not as charged as before. He’s looking just to look.

“Put your pants on,” you grumble at him. He laughs. 

You scoop your clothes off the floor and head for the bathroom. The tarnished mirror displays your sated smile and bright eyes. You run a hand over the bruises he left on your neck, your hips. Well-fucked is a good look on you. You look exhausted but happy.

Joel is dressed and back at the tabletop when you return. He’s got his usual bottle of whiskey on the wood, two glasses already sporting a pour each. 

“Not workin’ anymore, are you?” he asks you. 

You laugh. “No.”

The soreness starts to settle into your thighs when you take the stool next to him.

The momentary silence isn’t uncomfortable. It is comfortable, which is the strange part. Sitting here with him at your bar after he fucked you a few feet away and sipping at your drinks. 

Joel, for his part, seems unbothered. You can’t figure him out. It makes you feel a little unsteady to know that he sees right through you, but you don’t know what he’s thinking. Would he tell you if you asked?

“So,” he says. “What’re your plans for the place?”

You sigh. A piece of his hair is sticking up and you tuck your hand between your thighs so you don’t smooth it. It’s different with your clothes on.

“There’s a lot to do,” you tell him. “Jukebox is broken. Neon signs need replacing. Plumbing could do with a refresh. I want to refinish the floors, maybe tear off this ugly wallpaper –”

“Make sure you get a good gel for that,” he says. “Shit’s old and won’t come off easy.”

You lean your chin in your hand and shoot him an amused look. 

“Do a lot of wallpaper removal in your spare time?” you ask.

He fiddles with his watch, jaw working around whatever it is he wants to say. 

“I’m a contractor.” 

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he grumbles. “You think I sit on my ass all day?”

Honestly, you don’t know. Most of the thoughts you have about Joel aren’t to do with his job. You have no idea what he does when he isn’t here.

You shrug. Joel rolls his eyes.

“Well, I am,” he drawls. He takes a long sip of his whiskey. “And I know the folks around here who you’ll need. Materials, all that.” 

“Are you offering to help me, Joel?” You keep your voice neutral.

He looks at you head-on. It feels like he’s seeing through you again. “If you want it.”

“If we do that, it has nothing to do with…” You gesture between you. “With this.”

Joel just looks at you, letting you sort out what you want to say. 

“I mean, I don’t want charity, okay?”

He shakes his head. “Ain’t charity. I owe Bill some favors. This’ll square us up. You’ll cover all the other shit, I guess.”

“It’s not his bar, anymore,” you remind him, but it’s a weak protest. 

Joel knocks back the rest of his drink.

You’ve been working out how to finance the renovations all week. All that cash you’ve squirreled away over the years finally has a purpose, other than a cushion in case something really bad happens. It’s looking tight between paying the staff and sourcing the work. You’d only be able to close a week at a time and any delays will fuck the whole thing. 

But if Joel’s offering discounted labor, materials on the cheap? You could get it all done faster, get it done right.

“Why do you want to help me?” you ask. 

Joel huffs and if you knew him better you’d say it was in offense. 

“Let’s just say I’m invested in the state of this place,” he says. “And you really gotta replace those booths.”

Your face feels hot. “Asshole.”

“So,” he says. “You interested?”

It’s not a bad idea. Hell, it might even be a good one. Money aside, Joel, whatever his story is, is connected in this town, and if you’re staying it would do you some good to start making some connections of your own. Start settling.

The fist in your chest, your heart, your mind – it loosens just a little bit. 

“I’m interested.”

Joel knocks on the bar once, twice, and stands. He digs in his back pocket for his wallet and hands you a business card with his phone number. 

“I’ll be here Monday morning,” he says. “We can start goin’ over stuff, figure out when you wanna close. All that. Call me anytime. Sound good?”

You just nod. The fatigue is starting to hit and Joel must be able to tell because he just smiles at you.

“Goodnight, boss lady,” he says. “Put the whiskey on my tab.”

Joel grabs his jacket and unlocks the door, sliding into the cool night with a wave. 

“You don’t have a tab, asshole,” you mutter, but you’re smiling a little. 

It feels like pieces are falling into place.

You know you could get the bar fixed up on your own. But with Joel’s help, it’ll get done faster and you might even have some money left over at the end of it. 

It’s a lot all at once. But for some reason, it feels different this time. It’s not another job about to fall through, not another relationship going south because you got spooked. It’s not you getting bored and cutting your losses. 

You want this. You want it to work. Usually, you’d have left by now, before you got too attached, but it’s too late so you’re going to make it work. 

This thing with Joel, though – you’re going to have to be careful. If you’re not, it’ll run away from you and – well. You don’t want to lose control of it.

You look around the bar and sigh. Unwiped tables, a booth that no one should sit in, floors to clean. A few hours of work before bed. 

You know you’re going to spend them trying not to think about the man who just left. 

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback!

[definitelynotabirthblog]

1000 word quick drabble. I challenged myself to write imperfectly for an hour and post whatever came out. This is the result. Not too bad for something that hasn't had about a million edits.

-------------

A CALLOUS CABBIE

The clutch on their car had been making very strange noises since Thursday. There is no way it would be fixed in less than three days, five including the upcoming bank holiday weekend. Bella's contractions started at 11pm on the Saturday night, only as painful as day two period cramps and twenty minutes apart at first, but by 3am on the Sunday morning, the contractions head steadily increased in frequency to every five minutes with the intensity of them now rendering her unable to talk when they peaked. It was time to go to the maternity unit, but with no functional car of their own, they were relying on the local taxi service to help them make the fifteen mile journey.

Brendon booked the the vehicle for as soon as possible using the company's app on his phone. Within ten minutes, a black Honda had appeared outside their house, the low rumble of the engine humming. Brendon swung Bella's hospital bag over his left shoulder and, supporting his wife with his other arm, walked her slowly out to the car. As she shuffled in, the driver took in the sight of her bump in the rear view mirror and frowned.

"I hope there won't be any accidents on that seat. A drunk puked on it last week and I've only just had it fixed" he huffed.

"We have sick bags in case. But she doesn't feel sick, do you baby?" Brendan asked Bella.

"That's not what I meant," the driver sighed. "I meant any... fluids. The last thing I need is any nasty stuff on my seat."

"My waters haven't broken yet," Bella insisted. "But if they do and I make a mess on your seat, we will pay for the cost of getting it cleaned."

"And what about the cost of the fares I'll miss while I'm getting it cleaned? Whose going to pay for that?" he argued back.

Brendon looked at the driver, speechless. Bella rolled her eyes and looked at her husband.

"Run in and get a towel to put under me sweetie."

Muttering under his breath, Brendon got out of the car and ran back to the house. Less than a minute later, he was back carrying a large fluffy towel. Bella lifted her bottom up and allowed him to spread it beneath her.

"Happy?" Brendon said, sarcasm evident in his voice.

"Ecstatic."

The vehicle revved up and started to move. For the first tenty minutes minutes of the journey, Bella was able to breath through the contractions as Brendon held her hand next to her. The cool night air brushed her face through the open window, distracting her somewhat from her cramping womb. As a particularly nasty pain cut through her as the vehicle turned on an intersection, Bella felt warm amniotic fluid engulf her crotch. Crying out as the contraction peaked, Brendon looked at his wife's drenched bottoms and gasped. The driver glared through the rear view mirror.

"What the hell was that?" he called back.

"Baby?" Brendon said, ignoring him. He looked at his wife, who glanced down at her pants and shot a panicked look first to her husband and then at the driver.

"Just a really bad one. It's going now."

But less than two minutes later Bella was roaring as another pain pummelled her uterus, head thrown back, hand snaking down to her crotch.

"Oh god, it's coming! Brendon, it's coming now!" she squeaked.

"Stop the car please," Brendon called, as he removed his wife's seat belt.

"Why?"

"Because my wife is giving birth!"

"I'm not stopping now. We're five minutes away. Tell her to cross her legs."

"Excuse me? I said stop the car! I need to call an ambulance!"

"And whose is going to pay for my missed fares when we have to hang around for an hour for it to come?"

"I'll pay you double. Just stop the fucking car!"

"No," he said plainly, taking the slip road onto the motorway.

"Brendon! Please! It's coming out!"

Bella's pleading brought Brendon down from his rage as she whimpered beside him, her hands cupping her crotch. He could see the patch of wetness had grown as more fluid leaked out of her. Car being driven at 80mph or not, he needed to act. Grabbing Bella's hips, he swivelled her body 90 degrees so she was facing him, her shoulders resting against the interior of the car door.

"Take my pants off!" she gasped. Brendon dragged her bottoms down her legs in one swift motion, exposing her labouring vulva. There, sat between two puffy lips and under the glistening jewel of her clit, was the centimetre square dark patch of their firstborn's head as her body forced it into the world.

"Oh my fucking god, I need to push!" Bella yelled, as she bore down. Fluid dribbled out from behind the swirls of the infant's hair as the centimetre patch of hair grew to an inch. Brendon held her legs open and instinctively she put her feet on his shoulders, bracing her legs against him as she pushed.

"You're doing it baby," he said, his voice breaking as he gently supported the taut perenium with his shaky fingertips. Bella's stretched pussy neared a full crown, her feet by his ears. Grunting with effort, she pushed like she was trying to shit a boulder, as her baby's head stretched her battered vagina to its limit. She shrieked with pain as their child's head popped out with a slosh of bloody fluid into its father's waiting hands. Pushing once more, a wriggling baby tumbled out onto the car seat, swimming in fluid. Brendon put the child onto its mother's chest, covering them both with his own jacket.

"How are we getting on back there?" the cabbie shouted, as he finally slowed his vehicle, the lights of the hospital shining through the cat windows.

"You'd better fucking believe we won't be paying for any damage you arsehole," said Brendon as his child cried, breathing oxygen into its lungs for the first time.

[jd07201990]

“Oh, come on Chuck! This’ll be my second time! You can’t keep forcing me to work another 40 years, just to make it to retirement and do it all again! It’s not yours or my fault that there aren’t enough young folk to take over our jobs! Hell, maybe if we paid a bit more, the few of them out there would apply!”

“It’s Lieutenant Roth, Billy. Now go change out of that equipment and take a shower. Whatever this remote does to strip away all those years, it sure does leave a young man ripe!”

“Don’t call me Billy! I haven’t been Billy in 30 years! Its Bill Damn it! And how am I supposed to explain this, again! to David?! You know he’s not into, well… this!”

“Put your shirt down Billy and quit your complaining. We’re doing something different this time, changing things up, trying something new. See, we couldn’t afford to pay higher wages all these years, because we’ve been stashing extra money away, for a new program. This remote can do a lot more than just wipe away years, Billy. The company has a whole app-store full of features, but they cost a hell of a lot. We only had enough for 2 new features, and we think it’ll really help solve this town’s aging population issue.”

“Wha… what the hell are you saying? What do you mean, something new?! Chuck, dude… you’re seriously starting to crack! What the fuck does any of this have to do with David?! And who is, “We”?!”

“I’m only going to tell you this once, son. It’s Lieutenant Roth. Now, I guess there’s no beating around the bush with you young-bloods. So I’ll get right to it. “We” is me, the Governor, and the Town Board. We investigated every possible fix, and it comes down to this. All the youth are moving out in droves, going to college, or fleeing to the city for excitement, leaving us aging folk to do the hard work around town. With the remote able to take years off a person, we’ve decided that all our current retirees, in every department, will be regressed, and the new feature we purchased will ensure you all follow your new, youthful instincts, providing us with a full generational bump in population.

You will be the hot-blooded virile stud you were way back in the day; you remember? Except this time, just as David isn’t attracted to this prime of your life look, YOU won’t be attracted to David, or any man for that matter. You see, we need all the help we can get, so with this little app, you’ll be chasing pretty women, and will certainly end up settling down, once one of them catches. Ah, by the look on your face, you know exactly what I mean.

Good, because you and the rest of the retirees are going to have your hands full, working these jobs getting paid just enough for a double-wide and a truck, leaving a trail of gals before you settle in with one, and have a whole mess of kids. "

“Ch… Lieutenant, sir… Wha… you’re insane dude! Fuckin’ totally cracked! You hear yourself! You can’t do this! I can’t be… I can’t chase… I don’t… don’t like…. Fuck… fuck dude… what the fuck are you doing?! Quit pointin’ that shit at me bro! My.. my head!”

“Don’t worry son, I’ll let you off the hook for all that mouthing off. It’s got to be rough having your brain completely flipped inside out, dumped out and filled with everything you need to be a, productive, member of society. Isn’t that right Billy?”

“Wha.. Oh, hey Lieutenant! So uh, is it ok if I head off to the showers and hit the road? Kind of a slow night huh sir? If it’d be alright, I want to go down to the Strip and hit the bar. The dudes and I figured we’d start the weekend early, ya know? Gotta get get some tail on lock before the storms hit. Thinkin’ I might run into Becka too, you know, from Thornton Stables? God she’d look real pretty, all knocked up good n’ proper!”

“Oh alright son. Go ahead, take the night off. But you’re on call. Got it! One or two beers, maybe a shot, take some cash and buy the lass one of those fruity drinks, and you treat her like a lady, young man. Got it?”

“Got it Dude! I mean Lieutenant! I’ll make a lady outa her yet! Thanks for the money too! Ya know how rough it is on the town’s wages! Although you and the Board seem to be doin’ alright. I hope I can get to where you are, Sir!”

“Don’t worry Billy, you’ve got a good 40 years or so to work your way up! Go have fun tonight!”

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark on Me, Part 16

Summary: will your marks ever be enough?

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, scratching, blood, minor blood kink, slapping, mentions of abuse from Peggy, sex in front of someone, PIV sex, unprotected sex, mild breeding kink, creampie, mentions of reader's IUD removal, arrest, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.6K

Previous

Series Masterlist

“Woah, woah,” Bucky says, jumping in front of Steve. His hands press into his friend's chest as he shakes his head. Using force to push him back. Not able to say in words just what Steve needs to realize, “You can’t just barge in there.”

“The fuck I can’t. Move. Immediately. I need to see her,” Bucky shakes his head. His normally bright eyes are worn. Exhausted to a point of unrecognizing. “Please?” Steve softly begs. “I need to know she’s okay.”

“She’s not,” Bucky responds. The heavy weight of needing to tell Steve that you aren’t okay finally getting lighter as he says two words. “She’s alive, but she’s not okay.”

Bucky’s hands fall to his side, while Steve’s mouth falls open. His mental exhaustion starting to catch up with him. “I don’t know what that means, Buck.”

“Bruce checked her vitals. She’s stable, but mentally, and physically worn. She survived, which is the best possible scenario. We got her out, and she’s here.”

Steve gulps, his eyes looking around at all the closed doors. He knows that he’s going to get one chance to bolt to your room. If he goes to the wrong one, someone will stop him from going into another room using brute force. He has one chance. “What does that mean?”

“She’s a survivor,” he answers softly. Proud of you for remaining resilient and strong.

“Did — did, my god,” his voice cracks as he shakes his head. “Did someone touch her?”

“Yeah, but she isn’t talking to tell us who or what they did, but — you can see she’s been beaten,” Steve swallows bile, his eyes don’t return to Bucky. One shot. One moment to get this right. They wouldn’t put you in the front of the house, or in the back, you’d be too close to an entrance. They’d put you on the level floor, close to where food was, and you wouldn’t have to walk far. They’d make sure you have your own bathroom.

“Steve,” Bucky says, but doesn’t attempt to grab at his friend as he rushes past him. Bucky knows if anyone tried to keep him away from his Shy Violet he would bully past them. Bucky stands frozen while Steve dashes to the room he thinks is yours, and slings the door open.

Sighing, smiling, crying when he sees your sleeping form curled into a ball on the bed. You look so tiny, and infant-like. Your body seizes and twitches around, and you hold your legs to your chest tighter, and Natasha turns to watch Steve.

“She hasn’t eaten much, but Bruce gave her some medicine that would take away the pain, and help her sleep,” he takes slow calculated steps towards your bed. Hearing words coming out of Nat’s mouth, but not understanding anything. “She’s got her open wounds cleaned. Steve don’t.”

He lifts the blanket off your body, wincing when he sees the bruising and rope burns. Steve slowly lets the blanket fall before leaning over and kissing your forehead. Falling to his knees beside you, he leans onto your mattress. Just staring. Watching you sleep even if it’s not peaceful.

He’d been an idiot, and it cost you so much pain. The marks on your body is the pain that he can see was inflicted on you, but what’s worse is knowing the hurt he caused. All of this could have been avoided had he just held you close. Hidden you, Bucky, and Shy, but he was an idiot. He’s the reason that you are not only feeling all this suffering and turmoil, but he’s also the reason you seem so defeated.

It has been too long since he last saw you, and all he wants to do is gather you in his arms, and hold you until you can’t feel any bad things ever again. He makes a silent vow that you’ll never feel this again. Especially feel pain that’s connected to him in any way.

“Steve,” Nat says softly, but he waves a hand towards the door. Nobody could make him leave your side ever again. You and him would have a ribbon sewn onto each other. Have you wound so tightly close to him that people won’t know if it’s a leash for you or for him. Tethered together for all eternity. “She’s not the girl you left behind.”

“I wouldn’t expect her to be,” Nat cringes as she watches her friend. He’s so tormented imagining the things that they did to you. How they could have altered your way of living because he was a fucking idiot. “I failed the one person that I actually lo…”

“Steve?” He leans in closer to the bed, while your eyes try to focus on the man in front of you. Your breathing is erratic and wild, nose flaring as you see him. You thought you’d see him sooner, but he comes in at the last goddamn second, while you’re now a broken shell of the woman he met all those months ago.

“Steve Rogers?” You have to be sure because of what you have pumping through your veins. A rage that is so deep that you are equal to his darkness now. A blackness that has tainted your soul, and you’re not sure you can ever be brought back to the light.

“Yeah, Dovey, it’s me,” it all happens so fast. Sitting up just enough to have your weight balanced, so you can reach out in front of you. Curling your fingers slightly so you can claw down his face, desiring nothing more than to hear him scream in agony. Instead he inhales deeply, biting his tongue as he takes the assault.

You grit your teeth as you watch the mark on his face darken as beads of his blood pool to the surface. Hating yourself for finding even his flaws beautiful, and hating him all the same. There’s not much of a difference between love and hate. The sentiments are wrought with so much passion, and the blinding rage you feel is too similar to the pure love you once felt.

“Scream!” You sit up in bed, and Steve gets a front row seat of every scrape, cut, bruise, burn, and whatever torture Peggy enjoyed. Glancing so quickly over your body, but keeps his gaze on you. You hate that you saw his small reaction to your battered body, “Curse me! Hit me! Just hate me! Hate! Me!”

“I would never,” his voice is so calm and soft it makes the absolute anger simmer inside of you. Bubbling to the surface until you try and push him away. Hitting on his arms over and over again because you’re so angry. You're angry that the vile woman had you tied up like livestock and you couldn’t fight back. You let Steve feel just how much with every blow, and still he doesn’t move.

He absorbs every harsh hit to his body, before you stop. Resting your head on his shoulder, “I can never hate you.”

“But you said,” tears well in your eyes as those disgusting images of him leaving you rush through your mind. “Y-y-you pulled out, and took yourself away from me! You k-knew what coming inside of me meant! And you treated me like — like a fucking whore! Fuck you, Steve Rogers!”

“Dovey.”

You flinch away from him, but the same power in your eyes is gone. The fury is replaced with sorrow. Your words are more defeated, showing just how exhausted you are, “Don’t you fucking dare! You have no idea,” the images of how tender and caring he was play through your mind. The weight of your arms over your head, and just how sore you are. How vulnerable and weak you felt being in their presence and all you wanted was for him to use his stupid thick arms to wrap around you, and hold you tight. Telling you it was okay and this was all a dream. But you still feel them on every blemish on your skin.

“They marked me,” your voice cracks, and you curl into yourself. Unsure if someone laying their hands on you and marking you in some way is what bothers yo because that was Steve’s privilege, or if you’re reeling with the abuse they dealt you. It’s all so confusing and going through waves in your mind. Everything that has happened plays over and over. Steve slowly starts to move to the bed, and you're so done with fighting and hurting, you don’t object. He grabs at your body, pulling you into his lap, and relaxes his chin on your head, and you retch. “I see them all over me.”

“I don’t,” he’s such a fucking liar. All he does is lie. Everything he’s ever told you was false. “All I see is the most beautiful, strongest, brave, amazing woman I’ve ever met. And,” he takes a deep breath, and presses his entire hand on your neck. Using his body heat to warm up the only mark he cares about. “Dove.”

“Don’t call me that,” he holds you even tighter, realizing that you’re not going to reject him just yet. You need to feel anything but the pain they made you endure. Their pain was to torture you, while his pain was to claim you. Vastly different, and still your mind blurs the two together.

“That’s what I always call you.”

“I prefer Dovey,” his chin resting on your head is replaced with his mouth. He presses his lips against you, and holds it there. He had been so stupid. He didn’t deserve any form of forgiveness from you, but he was going to take every bit that you gave him. “I’m so tired.”

“Sleep. I won’t be leaving you. You’ll always be right by my side. I’ll never leave you again.”

“What if I asked you to,” he nuzzles his face against your head, and you wish it was that simple. They used his love for you as a weapon. The love you felt for him was bastardized as they made fun of the desperate little bird in love with Steve who he could never love back because he will always be in love with the devil. “What if I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

“I can’t do that, Dovey. Being away from you for a few weeks was torture. My blood sizzled with so much hatred towards the people that took you. I was on my way back to you, but I was too late. But I can’t walk away from you ever again.”

“Why?” For one word it packs on so many questions and convictions. Why was he so sure he couldn’t stay away from you? Why did he feel the need to leave you then, but now that he was without you there’s a difference? Why should you believe anything he says when he can change his mind so carelessly, leaving you vulnerable to vultures.

“Why?” You ask him again, sitting up from his embrace, but remain in his lap. Your bloodshot eyes and tear stained face look at him with so much confusion. How could he possibly ever feel the things that you felt? Things shouldn’t be this hard, and feel so raw. That’s all it’s ever been with Steve, transactional to a degree, but you were the one always paying him, and he took savagely and selfishly. “Why, Steve?”

“Because I love you,” you slap him hard across the face, watching his blood smear across his skin. A weird desire to lick it off of him, telling him that every drop of blood and inch of him belongs to you. Asshole. “I do, Dovey. I love you. And I feel like a coward that it took losing you in the most horrific way to realize it. To understand that my actions are only about how you are the only thing that matters to me. If you say the words, I’ll throw it all away just for you. Because you’re all I need in this world.”

All these words don’t even compare to the actions that he has done that led you to know how much he loves you. But the way that they hit you has a knot rise in your throat, stopping your ability to say anything. You just stare at his stupid handsome face streaked in blood and reddened from your slap. Hearing the words for the first time in person is a punch in the gut. You never thought three words would sound so beautiful.

“I know it doesn’t mean much right now. I failed you, Dovey. The one thing I swore I would never do. I let influences control my mind when it should have been you controlling it. I didn’t see reality because I thought I was protecting you, and instead I allowed my nightmare to come true. I’m sorry, Dovey.”

Words still never break past your lips, but you know Steve isn’t lying. You know that man isn’t telling you what you want to hear because you spent over a year trying to get him to admit his feelings. It’s the timing and the conviction that has rendered you speechless.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life telling you how much I love you and trying to make up for the things that I did. You say the word and I’ll do it. Whatever you want.”

“If I asked you to cut your hand off?”

“Which one?” Prick. You wouldn’t let him actually do that, it’s just silly. “I’m not asking to hear it back from you. It’s my turn to understand what it feels like not to hear it. But I do, I love you.”

“I don’t love you anymore, Steve,” his mouth turns up in a grin as he nods his head. Pulling you in close to him as he holds you once more. “I heard you tell me you loved me while I slept. Saw that video so many times while I was there. Had Loki taunting me. He told me that you said pretty words to make my legs spread. Funny thing though, you were nothing but a monster, and I still spread my legs for you. I ran, and you chased. I pushed you away, and you pulled me closer. Since I walked into the club, you’ve never let me live my life. I didn’t want you then, and I still don’t want you now.”

“Okay, Dovey,” he didn’t realize how the sting of your words could cut so deeply. Hitting him right to his soul, even if he didn’t believe them. For someone so beautiful, you knew what to say to make it feel worse than scorching metal on his skin. He wonders if you felt this bad while he avoided saying three words to you, he’ll start every conversation with ‘I love you’, just so you don’t forget. “I understand.”

“But,” he feels the tiniest glimmer of hope. There’s a bit of the same lightness in your voice as there was before. A bit of that cheeky tone that you used to use. Like you came back if only for one syllable. “I need you.”

You feel the gulp that he swallows right down to your core. You don’t want it, but it’s enlightening to know that part isn’t broken. You wrestle with wishing that it was broken and wondering how you ask Steve to fuck you like he hated you. Give you something that is vastly different than what you had to watch on a never ending loop. Show his passion with furiously stabbing into you, and overstimulating you, degrading you. Hate and love are powered by the same deep settled desire. And you wanted to feel both emotions with every thrust.

“But I can never love you ever again.”

“That’s fair,” he solemnly says. His fingers dig into your skin with how tightly he holds onto you. “As long as you let me keep you right by my side forever,” it is a fair trade. He’ll have to accept that you just need him. It’s all you have to offer him. It’s all that remains with your hope. Your need for him. Everything else was ripped out of you.

“What did you do to the bitch?” You look up at him with a teasing smile that is borderline demonic. You want to hear every gory detail of how he pulled her apart limb by limb. “She was the worst one. Everything she did to me was personal.”

“I know,” he pauses long enough for you to turn in his lap. Sitting face to face with him, while your legs wrap around his waist. “It’s the reason why I have Sam and Clint guarding her. After I got to her, she was forcefully and painfully tied up and brought to the club basement. She’s awaiting your punishment. While I have some colorful ways to dispose of her, I think the decision should lie with you. It’ll be the first step of my apology.”

“You — you want me to punish her?”

“If you choose. Torture her, make it quick, talk to her, whatever your mind can come up with,” oh. Oh! She broke the sane part of you, now what remains is a hellcat that wants her to suffer. All you can think about are delicious ways that you can serve her a better dish that she served you. And there was one thing that she used as a weapon, and you are going to take it back. Put the gun back in his holster. And she was going to watch every agonizing second of it.

“Looks like the brat has returned,” her voice gives you a second of pause until Steve squeezes your hand. His crystal blue eyes stay locked on you, and you can’t turn away from Peggy. “He couldn’t even finish the job. You know why?”

Steve’s throat rumbles with a growl, and it’s you that squeezes his hand. Giving him the same comfort he just gave you. She doesn’t scare you anymore. Turning to look at him with a smile. “Why don’t you sit in the chair, Captain,” you give him a wink. Cupping his cock, and wiggling you fingers at his balls. Making sure to move over his package, starting to claim him in front of her, “Lose the shirt,” he doesn’t hesitate to remove the shirt, and you watch his inky back as he glides over to a chair.

Waiting for him to sit down, and spread his legs wide. His own hand fondles himself as he smiles at you. He’s such a devil. He knew exactly what it was you’re wanting. You want this mark to be one that Peggy sees first hand. A front row seat to the most beautiful and magical moment, and she couldn’t say anything.

“What happened to your pretty face, Steve? You always said that you didn’t want your face marred with ink,” a low chuckle releases from your lips as you walk behind Steve. You told him those three marks you left on his face, running from above his brow, slashed through his lip, were sexy. They were yours in the heat of the moment. Even in anger, you still need Steve. While your body healed, Steve scarred.

He loved pain, and a pain that showed how irrecoverably he belonged to you was so much sweeter. He continued to pick at the cuts, and made them a bit deeper, a crude reminder of how vicious you can be. Making them scar, staining his face in a beautifully macabre way. “Oh, I did that to him.”

“Let me guess, you got a backhand for that?”

“I got cradled, and held against his chest while he kissed the top of my head,” her head twists towards Steve, and he confirms your words with a nod. Steve would never hurt you to put you in your place. He deserved the anger you felt towards him.

“Whatever makes you feel better, princess.”

“Have they been treating you nice? Told you what happened to your organization?”

“Drugs and pussy?”

“Mmm,” you wish she could see the malice that was zigzagging in your eyes. The way your body was buzzing like it was on drugs with anticipation. She had no idea what was coming for her.

“Sluts and drugs will always be in business. You destroy one, another will pop up.”

“What about what you were doing to me? Do you make auctions like that a normal occurrence?” She smiles at you, but refuses to answer. “I’m sure you pick a ‘prime slab of meat’ to sell to your wealthiest clients. Telling them what they want to hear because you are the police. You control where they go. And the underground system to keep your clients away?”

“Honey, if you only knew the politicians and people in power that love to come suck from my teat for women they can use. They all buy you whores. Ask Lark. She was a fun one. Nothing was off the table for her. You see she’s the worst kind of addict. The one that wants her fix so bad, she’s willing to be filmed and fucked stupid by the AD and judge at the same time. I’m sure pretty boy, Steve destroyed all the videos of evidence. Good for him, he’s always looking out for me.”

“Dovey,” god, he’s so good. You turn to look at him, needing his strength because this is harder than you could have ever imagined. She is a vile human, and you wanted her to pay in the worst possible way. “I love you, baby. I love you so much that it hurts. I’m so fucking in love with you. I can’t wait to marry you and fill you with my babies.”

“I need that,” you hear her tongue clicking as you walk towards him, “Almost as much as I need you,” you straddle his legs, letting your dress ride up your thighs, leaning into him, and kiss over the branding scar, “Do you need more?”

“Names,” he whispers into your ear. It’s exhausting trying to pry the right information out of her. Your hands rub up and down his blackened skin. Lips kissing over his body as you start to grind over him. Loving the feeling of your body being able to still have that effect on him.

“Sloppy little whore. Too bad. I had you primed and ready for secretary Ross to purchase you. Did you see me in the audience? Steve, do you realize what kind of slut you have grinding on you? You and I could be rich, baby. There were more that were willing to pay millions. Does Stark ring a bell?” Steve grips tight to your ass, holding you in place as you turn to look at her. “Howard Stark. The deal was for you to be passed from Ross to Stark. Ross was going to rent you out.”

“You’re lying,” this changes everything. You have to watch Steve’s small movements to know if you’re doing the right thing or not. This could go wrong so fast, and you just wanted her to see how much Steve loved you. If she wanted to perverse his affection for you, so could you.

“Suit yourself. Go ahead and kill me,” Steve starts to maneuver you over his lap, and you forget about her. Just look at him, and nod. You were ready. He had what he needs. More information and names.

“This is new, Dove, what’s your word?”

“Ink,” you whisper, lifting off him enough, so he can free his member. Clarence springs free of his confines, and you stroke his veiny cock a few times. Your fingers are barely able to circle around him. Rubbing his spongy head through your slick, you sigh as you sink over him.

Throwing your head back, you mewl out his name when he’s fully sheathed. Reaching up to your straps, so you can pull your top down, letting Steve almost fully see you. You commit the feeling of him splitting you open to memory. Relishing the slight sting, and it all goes to prove how very right, if not slightly painful you are for him. Your body always accommodates his size.

“Are you seriously fucking her in front of me?”

Lifting yourself up off him, you slam yourself back down. Setting a slow and hard rhythm while his hands on your ass cause your skirt to rise higher and higher until all Peggy can see is your walls clinging to Steve. Hugging onto his steel rod as you let him impale you. Picking up your neediness and pace, you go harder. Harder. Harder until you’re panting. Yipping every time he crashes into you.

“Dove.”

“Harder,” you grunt. His hands hold tightly to your body as he tries to calm your movements. “Fuck me like you own me. Like you paid to destroy me for every man. Ruin me.”

“Sick fucks,” her voice setting off his anger. He picks you up off him, and spins you around to where you're on your knees facing her. Kneeling behind you, he pounds into your warmth so hard you see stars. Screaming out his name, you disappear into his harsh pleasure.

Just feeling every inch of him, and despite how hard he thrusts into you, his hands are soft. Coaxing you through each snap. Your legs quiver as your body succumbs to his ministrations. Trying to find something to grip onto to ground you, but you slip further into sin. Just where you belong.

Still shoving into your wet heat, he lifts your back up to his front. Cupping your tits, while giving each peak a pinch. His mouth bites along your neck. “You’re so perfect for me, Dovey. No pussy has ever felt better than yours. I have never allowed anyone to claim every part of me. My mind, body, and soul are yours to own. And I will claim you over and over again, until you love me again. People tried to rip you from me, and me from you, and here we are. I love you, my sweet Dovey. And I will destroy you every night. I will degrade you, because you’re my fucking slut. My whore to use and own. My filthy girl that I love with every fiber of my being. And you are the only one who will ever own all of me.”

A gurgled scream of pleasure rips through your chest as your entire body heats up. You have waited so long for him to hear exactly all that he’s saying. You absorb him. Hold it tight to your heart, so maybe it can thaw the ice that has frozen around your heart. Little by little his love and warmth were chipping it away. Melting the remains.

You want to love him as fiercely as you did before, and you would. Eventually. “Come on my big fat cock.”

“Come on Clarence,” he sees the slight grin on your face, knowing you were becoming his sweet girl again. “Steve, fuck me so hard and deep. Come inside of me. I want to feel you in my belly. I want…”

“Don’t you fucking dare! Steve!”

“I need to feel you inside of me. Do it,” he takes a deep breath before he bites down on your neck, and your body trembles as the euphoria overtakes your body. Beautiful rounds of sparks light up your body. Your walls clamp down on his cock, and his cock pulses thick, warm, creamy cum straight into your belly. Letting your body milk every drop for itself as the two of you fuse together.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Am I?” He asks, starting to kiss over his teeth marks. “Or was Loki for putting his hand where it didn’t belong and ripping her IUD out? She was checked out, and you better be glad you didn’t damage anything you worthless cunt.”

Steve lets his softening cock drift out of you before he pulls up his pants. He pushes his fingers into your used pussy before he picks you up. Letting you koala around his body as he walks over to Peggy. Giving her a smile before cramming his fingers into her mouth while she wriggles around, trying not to taste the two of your releases. He wants her to savor the two of you becoming one, something she never got.

“I know what you did to her. She doesn’t keep secrets from me. I know she’s unprotected right now, and we’re both willing to take that risk. I know how you tried to beat her down because you’re an insecure little bitch. You thought you had my love, but it’s not even one ounce of what I feel for Dove. Have a nice life.”

“You’re not going to kill me this time?”

“No. Sam and Bucky went through your house, and found everything we needed. Oh, you sure did like running that cock sucking mouth of yours. I can’t wait for all these politicians to realize how you sold them out. There should be a team of police with a warrant to legally obtain the evidence from your house, you know, legalities. All those whores you used to keep doped up, and sent off to prison when you were done with them, I hope you enjoy their company. Fuck you for trying to take what belongs to me, you piece of shit,” his foot presses against her chair as he pushes her back away from him.

Her chair makes a loud screeching sound, and he smiles at his cum drying around her lips. Holding onto you tighter as doors burst open, “Peggy Carter, you’re under arrest,” a voice screams, and you snuggle in tighter. Blocking out all the screaming.

“Sorry, you had to hear that, Tony.”

“Nothing I didn’t suspect. Thanks for getting us what we needed,” Steve gives the man a solid nod before he walks you away from the chaos, not stopping as he leads you completely out of the basement.

“Let’s go home, Dovey.”

“Steve?” He places you into the passenger seat of his car, reaching over you to buckle you in before he pulls out a package. Smiling at you, while you take it from his hand, “You won’t be mad at me if I take this?” he shakes his head no, while you take the small pill out of the package. “Do you want to talk about an appropriate contraceptive for us? Because I prefer when you come inside of me.”

“Do you not want an IUD anymore?” You shake your head no, grabbing a drink from the water bottle in your cup holder. “Dovey, you can use whatever makes you feel comfortable. I’m not going anywhere. I know you will let me know when you’re ready for a baby. You still want kids?”

“Are you still ending this within a year?” A nod has never meant so much to you. He vowed that this life was over for him. He didn’t want the risks that came with it, especially with children involved. “Then, yes, I still want babies with you. Until then can we go snuggle with Ember?”

“Yes, because enticing you with a little bitty baby boy is what I aim to do. Make you desire to have a baby sooner rather than later,” you weren’t unaware that’s what you were doing every time you begged to see Bucky and Shy.

“We have to wait at least a year, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, and you lean over to him, kissing on his mark of your lips. Pecking on the skin over and over again, “You keep doing that, and you’ll have to suck my cock until we get to Bucky and Shy’s.”

“You know I will.”

“I know. It’s because you love me,” he looks over at you, smiling so wide. He’s so much more beautiful when he’s happy.

“I do love spending time with you. And I love that you are patient with me. And you love that I am getting there.”

How things have changed. Now it is Steve that’s having to just know that you do love him. You can’t say it yet. But one day you’ll be able to say it again. You’re only slightly trying to make him suffer for making you wait. But it’s more than that. It’s having to watch the way he loved you in the way he moved, and the way he felt you. It’s having to see how much he cared while other people laughed at his stupidity. It’s hearing him say those stupid words for the first time while you slept. That’s why it’s this is difficult. He felt it, he said it, he just couldn’t tell you.

Despite the struggles you’re facing, he’s remained consistent. Wearing every mark you have inflicted on him like a badge of honor. But in so many ways those marks were earned. The first day that you let him inside of you. The new ones on his face being the day that you broke down. Screaming how much you hated him, while he let you deal with your emotions through anger.

Now over his heart is a cage with its door open. He let you go enough, fly out on your own, to know you would come back. He doesn’t keep you locked away in your cage, but instead has made you his equal. His only thing that keeps him alive and sane. Somehow some stupid naive girl found a way to tame the beast. And to mark him, claiming her territory. And for you he will always be.

Yours.

Always yours.

Embedded in your skin, while you linger all over his.

The End, Friend

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@theinheriteddutchess @annaallicce @feyfantome @jesevans @tittittoee

@bananapiedreams @onclouds999 @darkserenity24 @abbatoirablaze @ashychangeling

@identity2212 @mrsevans90 @weirdothatwritess @floralwsloki @thestralwriting

@ambearsstuff @kandis-mom @hoodiesandicedcoffee @awhoreformoree

@nyxbellabarnes @buckybarnesisdaddy @rogersbarber

[gguk-n]

The Sky Between Us (Charles Leclerc x Reader)

Summary- Meeting Charles was an accident, but being with him was a choice. Did Y/N have any say in keeping Charles by her side tho?

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1- Whispers of Adventure

If someone was to tell Y/N 2 years ago that she would be standing in a hotel in Austria involved in a heated argument with her boyfriend, she surely wouldn't have believed you. But here she was, eyes red, mouth dry and tears ready to spill. It wasn't always like that she reminisced.

Y/N was on a girls trip to Monaco, a trip that took months to plan and a lot of saving on their part. But Y/N was happy to be there, between all the glitz and glam. Everyone seemed so rich and wealthy, the 5 girls felt embarrassed asking for the prices of stuff before making the purchase, so they kept to sight seeing and eating food. On the second day of the trip, Y/N was out grabbing coffee for herself while her friends caught up with some sleep when she ran into a man, quite literally. It was like in the movies, her coffee cup, now cold but still half full, had landed smack in the middle of a man's white shirt. It looked horrible, this would stain and she had just ruined a strangers white shirt in all of this. Y/N profusely apologised and offered to either pay for the dry cleaning or buy him a new shirt. He seemed amused at the proposition. "I'm Charles, by the way." he said. "I would like to know the name of the woman about to buy me a new shirt." he asked. Flustered, Y/N raised her hand forward and introduced herself, he was quite attractive, she wasn't going to lie and probably around her age.

There was a garment store down the street, Y/N didn't really pay much heed to the store, how much could a plain white shirt cost, she thought. As the sales clerk pulled the same white shirt he was wearing out of the rack to ring it up, she asked, "Just wondering, it's a dress shirt, right? Must be slightly expensive, hmm." She nodded mostly to herself. Only moments later, Y/N was about to find out that the shirt cost almost 5000 euros, her mouth lay open in shock. She quickly collected herself and moved Charles away from the cashier, "What kind of job do you do that your shirt costs how much I make in a month?" she looked perplexed. "I travel the world due to my work." he replied. "I got that much, but damn dude, I want to apologise to you for ruining your shirt worth 5000 euros, I'll get on my knees and beg but I wouldn't be able to buy you that shirt. Any way I can pay for the dry cleaning. I'm pretty sure it costs in 1000s of euros, anyways." she rambled on. Charles laughed at the anguish of the woman in front of him. "This isn't funny Charles. Fucking hell. I had to go and bump into the hot rich white man while in Monaco at that." she mumbled while running a hand through her hair. Charles smirked, "I have a proposition" he began. "I'm not selling my organs for a shirt. You are fucking loaded, buy it yourself." Y/N cut him off. "Hear me out for a minute" the french accent thick. "Go on a date with me and that's the shirt sorted." he continued. Y/N seemed to mull her options over and agreed to the date.

It had been 6 months since the eventful day when Y/N spilt coffee all over Charles shirt. A quick google after the date let her know that he was a driver for Ferrari in F1; that explained his luxurious taste. Charles had yet to officially tell her about his profession. He kept the answers vague when asked about his work, enough that he didn't give it away but enough to not tell the complete truth. Y/N wasn't going to end his fun, he could tell her when he wanted to, she decided.

Charles wanted to show her what he did and finally stop lying about his career, he thought. So a week before a GP he called her; Y/N answered immediately. "HI CHARLIE" Y/N's voice echoed through the phone. "I missed you," she continued. " Not as much as I missed you." Charles cooed. "That's why I was hoping maybe you would like to come see me." Charles asked hopefully. Y/N smiled. She wouldn't give up the opportunity to see her boyfriend but she wouldn't be able to buy a flight ticket on such short notice. "Ahh, baby, as much as I would love to see you and hug you and kiss you; I won't be able to fly out to Monaco anytime soon." Y/N added. "Who said anything about Monaco?" Charles questioned. "I'm gonna be in Monza, Italy for work, this weekend. You can join me too." Charles said. "Won't your bosses hate me, for disturbing your work trip." Y/N joked. "They wouldn't dare" Charles declared. "On one condition." Y/N said. "And what is that?" Charles asked. "Dinner date at the most fanciest restaurant in Monza on Sunday?!" Y/N said hesitantly. That was the easiest thing. Charles wouldn't mind spending the night with his girlfriend. The perfect end to Ferrari's home race, he thought. "By the way, there's a race this weekend, you might want to keep some casual clothes for the race." Charles said in the most nonchalant way as possible. "OOhhh, races aren't really my thing." Y/N chided. She was in the mood to mess with her Charlie. "Its so boring to watch rich men drive around in circles" she moaned. "I promise you, you'll have fun. Don't worry." Charles tried to reason with her. "If it's required for your 'work' thing, than I can be a supportive partner I guess." she groaned while looking like she was in deep thought.

Friday came around a lot quicker than Y/N expected. Charles had flown her out. At the hotel, they got dressed to leave for media day for the race. "I don't see the charm of going on a day when there are no races." Y/N said as she fixed her white shirt. She had looked up all the Pinterest mood boards for how a Ferrari driver's girlfriend should look and did a bit of shopping. Who knew a Ferrari jacket cost that much, she thought. This was the last time she was gonna tease Charles; she took the Red Bulls Racing hat out and put it on her head. Charles mouth dropped open, "Are you wearing that?" he stuttered out. "My friend said I should support a team, so she lend me her RedBull's hat" Y/N read out from the cap. "I can get you stuff, don't worry about that." Charles was out of words, how could his girlfriend be wearing the opponents merch. He quickly rummaged through his stuff to get his Ferrari shirt out and on himself before his girlfriend jumped ships. Watching Charles made Y/N burst out laughing. "God, I can't keep this up. I was gonna wait for you to tell me." Y/N said in between laughs while putting the Ferrari jacket on and keeping the RedBulls cap away. Charles was now standing in front of her. She knew; the whole time. "I know you are an F1 driver for Ferrari. One quick google search and your face is plastered all over my screen." Y/N said while cupping his face. "Why didn't you tell me that you knew?" Charles enquired. "I was hoping you would tell me what you do, like I told you what I did." Y/N replied matter-of-factly. Charles closed the distance between them and kissed her lips.

All of these good memories seemed to have been over shadowed in both Charles and Y/N's mind as the two stood in the hotel in Austria, 2 years later. Y/N had only told Charles that work was gonna be hectic for the next couple months and she wanted to focus on it since she could be promoted. Charles wasn't willing to reason, he kept up the demand that Y/N drop everything for him. "Why can't you be like the other girlfriends? Who are there to support their boyfriend? I literally have to beg you to be there for me." Charles shouted. Y/N was taken aback, "Baby, I've been there as much as I could be, you know me and work." she tried to reason. "No, I don't and I don't wanna know either. If you love work so much, then why are you even dating me?" Charles asked. "You did not just say that, Charlie, I love you and that's why I take the time out to spend it with you. Obviously, I wanna be there as much as I can but it isn't possible with work and stuff." Y/N answered. "If you can't be there for me when I need you, then I don't need you" Charles said. "You don't mean that" Y/N lips quivered and the tears threatened to spill. "We are done Y/N, have fun with work and all the things more important to you than me." with that Charles left their shared hotel room with all his stuff.

[rapunzelbro]

The amount of times I have refreshed the angel dust x reader tag----Anywayyyy, I dunno if you do hurt/comfort (if not that's okay please ignore this lol) but here is a idea for a oneshot! GN!reader x angel dust where they're in a secret relationship because he's trying to protect you at all cost from his boss (reader can know about his situation or not its up to you!) but Valentino somehow found out about it and is pissed about it. You can use creative freedom to fill in the angst parts and whatever happens next, but please make it have a happy ending ^^

Imagine being in a Secret Relationship with Angel

Omg yeah I can! I wish there were more too so haha I shall provide I suppose. This is uh. Super angst. But I promise it’ll be a happy ending lmao I promise. Thank you for requesting. Just a reminder yall my requests are still open! Just give as much details and I’ll make it happen. Anywho enjoy!

Masterlist Character Taglist

Being in a relationship with Angel Dust wasn’t often easy, Well at first that is.

When you first met Angel he always had his guard up, on some sort of drug at all times, and pushed serious conversations aside with Sexual remarks to drop the conversation entirely

So when you were able to actually break his walls months later, it was honestly a shock to you. Because damn was he stubborn. Honestly you didn’t think it would be possible

He started telling you small things about himself after the first month of letting his walls down, introducing you to Fat nuggets, and watching movies with you.

After the third month, he tells you his real name is Anthony. You said it suits him and you swear you see him blush

The fourth month is when you ask him out. He is super hesitant on accepting, but you don’t push him for an answer, he later comes in your room

“Y/N.. I.. I want to say yes, but I’m so terrified ya know? I just can’t I don’t know what would happen”

“Why would you be terrified?”

He tells you everything. Everything about the man who tears him apart, the man who hurts him on the daily.

He is trying to hard to explain how terrified he is of you getting hurt, and all you can do is gently take his hands as you look at him

“Angel, nothing will happen, no one needs to know but us. If you’re scared still, I get that, I’ve been there before. But I’m not scared of that prick, and he won’t find out okay?”

He finally makes eye contact with you and he begins to calm down, hugging you as you two just sit in silence before he quietly responds

“Then, I accept”

It’s months after that when he introduced you to his Best friend Cherri. You two are super hesitant about telling her, but you eventually decide to.

She’s super super happy for you two but don’t think she won’t get super protective

Will pull you aside at the club when Angel isn’t there

“If you hurt Angel you and I are going to have a problem okay? You break his heart I break you”

Yeah she scared the fuck out of you for that. Angel never did find out about your conversation.

It’s been almost a year of hiding your relationship when it suddenly begins to turn sour

The calls from Valentino, get more frequent, more violent on the phone.

Angel comes back to the hotel limping, bruised and bloody

You practically sprint and grab him, carrying him to his room take care of him the best you can, talk to him when he is ready, or be a shoulder to cry on.

Angel doesn’t know why Valentino is being more violent, he didn’t do anything wrong, he kept your relationship so quiet that it was basically impossible for him to know about you two

Except Valentino did find out. He heard Angel talking in his dressing room to you, he investigated throughly after Angel said I love you, to you.

Valentino got Vox to look at the cameras around Hell, he saw you two together. You don’t hold hands at all, not in public, if it wasn’t for that phone call, he wouldn’t of thought anything of it

“That little whore is going to fucking pay”

You and Angel are at Val’s bar after Angel reassured you he wouldn’t be there. You two are talking when Angel stands up to grab you more shots

That’s when Valentino appears, gun pressed up to the back of your head

“I Wouldn’t move an inch if you want to live perra tonta~”

You’re absolutely frozen as can be. You don’t move a bit as he leans closer to you

“I have all eyes on you, I know you’re with Angel Dust, you’re fucking with my property. Now here’s how things are going to go down tonight if you want your precious Angel Cakes to live. You’re going to break up with him, and stay the FUCK away from him. Do I make myself clear?”

You are silent visibly shaking as he presses the gun harder as he becomes impatient with you

“Do I make myself clear!”

He sounds absolutely pissed as you quickly nod your head frantically

“Perfect, now fucking leave”

You don’t have time to explain to Angel Dust but you leave before he makes it back with your shots, Valentino is no where to be found.

“Y/n? Where did you go” “Amore mio?”

You didn’t reply to his texts, you didn’t know what to do, you were trapping yourself in your room.

You were in a panicked state as the tears just didn’t seem to stop, nothing made sense, you two were so so careful? How did you fuck up?

Angel knocked at your door. No answer. He knocked again before he eventually used the spare key you gave him, which you forgot about

Angel instantly rushed over to you when he saw you crying, which caused you to flinch

He instantly froze in his tracks when he saw you flinch, concern building

“Y/N what happened.. why are you crying”

You are struggling through sobs as you explain what happened, Angel is so fucking pissed he can hardly contain it but has to for you, he just listens as he sits next to you

“Amore mio, i shouldn’t of I left you alone I’m so sorry. I don’t know how that asshole found out but I’m not fucking this relationship up because of him”

“But he will kill me”

“Sweetie, there’s a thing called acting you know, all we have to do is play the part, pretty easy for me, as you’ve seen.”

He takes your hands with a slight smirk

“I’m not letting him fuck this up okay? Who cares what he thinks? Val is literally blind as shit, I’m surprised he even knew it was you. Probably had to have someone point you out to him”

Yeah that made you laugh, which Angel was thankful for.

For then on, you two had your ‘breakup’. You were never seen in public together, or not without disguises. You had most dates alone at the hotel together

You weren’t letting the one good thing to happen end because of a stupid fucking moth

And he wasn’t going to either.

Angel Dust tag list: @vendetta-ari @brithedemonspawn @satansmanager @storydays @saturnhas82moons @zamadness @fizziepopangel @saitisfied @the--rebel--fae @mcueveryday @rainbowbunny15 @molarloo

[ladykailitha]

Steve's Rewind

Just an idea I had stewing in my brain, buckle up this is going to get angsty as fuck. Thanks to my discord for helping me with some of the fiddlier details.

Here we go.

The Harrington family were once a clan a powerful magic users, though their bloodline is diluted now they barely have the smallest spark of it left in their blood. It allows them to use the device left to them by their ancestor. Althenea’s Life Spool, or the Spool most of the time.

It allows the user to go back and do over one event at the cost of one year of their life. In addition they remember the previous timeline. It is handed to the eldest child on their 16th birthday.

Usually only members of the Harrington clan remember previous timelines, but when Steve meets El, he finds out that the experiments done to her and the other children make it so she can see the previous timelines, too.

She commends him for the two times he’s used it so far.

The first time was on Nov. 12th, 1983. The night he went to Jonathan’s to apologize about the camera. The first time, he ran. Their screams ringing in his ears as he flees. Only now all the Byers family is dead, along with Nancy and the Mind Flayer breaks through to the surface world, screaming like a banshee.

He doesn’t know what will happen if he runs back into that house, but he knows at least he’ll have tried.

And while it doesn’t work out perfect, he’s pretty satisfied with the results.

On Oct. 31st, 1984 he thinks about using it again, but doesn’t. He doesn’t know what event started the relationship with Nancy to go south. So he leaves it be and silently deals with the broken heart.

On July 5th, 1985. Steve learns that El can see the previous timelines too and asks him to rewind so Hopper lives. Steve tells her about the cost and she turns pale. He asks her if she still wants that and she shakes her head. No. That would not be fair.

Then on Mar. 29th, 1986, she comes to him again. This time it’s all of Hawkins that swings in the balance and he agrees. He was just waiting for her to return so that they could plan out what needed to be changed.

So they hatch out a plan: Give everyone an extra twenty minutes to get into place. Towels in the vents of the trailer. Time for Hopper et al to kill the demogorgon, time for Jason and his cronies to find the Creel House, come up empty and leave, time for El to get into a better place to protect Max. Steve stocks up on flares and torches to bring as much heat as possible to the Vecna fight.

They win, Eddie and Max escape unharmed, Vecna and Upside Down falls. Everything is good for awhile.

Eddie and Steve start dating and they’re really happy. Until Steve arrives to their favorite gay bar a little late because of work and finds Eddie in a corner with another guy and just leaves.

When Eddie stumbles home that night Steve tears into him and threatens to break up with him.

Only Eddie starts crying.

Like full on sobs and the truth comes out, that guy had roofied Eddie and was assaulting him.

Now Steve is devastated and cleans Eddie up, putting him to bed. Then he calls El. Tells her he’s going to rewind the events of that night. And at first she argues against using the device for something so trivial especially one that didn’t end in someone’s death. If he wouldn’t do it for Hopper, what’s so different about this moment.

He reminds her that Hopper is alive, that his being in the Russian prison camp is part of the reason they were able to defeat Vecna and she concedes. Asks again why this is worth a year of his life and he explains that it’s not about his relationship with Eddie. They talked and Eddie already forgave him and said that he would have done the same thing. It might take a bit, but they’ll be fine.

No, the reason Steve wants to do this is because Eddie has suffered so much. Because none of the other Party members got introduced to this shit by watching a nice girl who had done nothing wrong, twisted and torn apart before their eyes.

That the witch hunt and getting off the murder charges had put a dent in Eddie’s confidence. This would destroy it entirely.

This is about a person who deserves a boyfriend who would give up everything for him to show him how loved he is, even at the cost of one year of his life.

El eventually agrees.

Steve goes to the back of the closet and pulls it out. But Eddie finds him, tells him he overheard him talking to El and he won’t let Steve do that. He’s not worth a year of his life.

Steve kisses him gently and explains what it is and what it’s done. Sometimes things work out for the better, sometimes they don’t. But always, always, always the change is worth it to the user. It’s why after nearly five hundred years the Spool has not been used up, because the string is finite, it will run out one day. But each person that has been gifted it knows the change is always worth it.

Once his father rewound cheating on his mother. The demogorgon that killed Barb, killed her instead and the world ended. He hated having to go back rewind that moment, but he knew the consequences of that moment needed an empty house that day.

Eddie sighs in relief. The moment can be rewound. So he puts his trust in Steve. That his boyfriend whose family has had this device for literal centuries knows the cost better than anyone, understands what hes’ doing.

Steve rewinds the moment and they are stronger together for it.

Steve will use it only use it one more time, when the birth of their daughter kills Robin who was their surrogate. They wait a year and everything turns out fine the second time.

Then on Julie Barbara Munson’s 16th birthday, her papa gives her his most precious item. A small spool of red thread.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

south africa but i've never been there also i'm drinking

HELLO MAGGOTS this is the good omens mascot here hello hello. my psychiatrist just spent today telling me how I won't be able to be out in college when it starts in May and I'll be misgendered etc etc it's all a good time. So my solution:

My darling cousin @imchronicallyonlinesowhat (the one who thought Sir Terry Pratchett looked like Sudha Murthy, was a kindly old woman and was married to Neil Gaiman because their book cover fonts were similar, OG maggots know the PAIN) who lives in South Africa asked me to make a South Africa post. FYI, she's moving to Australia for college, so you can be assured I shared my Australia posts with her she is SO prepared she won't say marmite instead of vegemite and she knows the Wibbles are inherently sexual. SOUTH AFRICA (I've only had a teeny weeny bit of cheap ass wine so far):

There a lot of white people there it's ineffable. There are enough of them there that my cousin regularly talks about not ever marrying someone who doesn't have some masala.

Afrikaans is a gorgeous language. I thought my cousin was showing me her Afrikaans notes once. She wasn't. It was her English notes, she just has the most illegible yet neat handwriting in the world.

They don't say yo but they say YOH and it sounds very much like a bass drum.

People at my cousin's school pump their hands in the air while saying jesus-jesus.

There's a trio of white boys that rule the school kind of like a genderswapped mean girls. They all look the same haircut-wise, they're Catholic and they're called the Triumvirate.

I'm realising here that my knowledge of South Africa is limited to cuzzy's school. But the wine is shit and I promised my blood-relative so I am continuing.

The books are fucking expensive and so everyone has to pirate shit. This sounds like the US.

Everyone is TALL. Like VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY TALL. The standard of height is insanely different from India. TALL.

If you don't have a last name you're going to get into legal trouble.

The no hat no play rule applies here as well as Australia apparently.

The wine cost like 2.5 dollars in USD if my conversion rates are correct, it smells like battery acid and tastes of rotted grapes. Nothing to do with South Africa, it's just that I cannot remember a single other thing about South Africa other than it's a country in Africa that's presumably in the South.

My braincells are already frying. For my cousin's sake, I'm going to compile all my Australia posts here so that she knows what to expect! Australian maggots your continent is about to be graced with the Good Omens Mascot bloodline. Notably the one with the Sudha Murthy fuck up so that's doubly fun. @howmanyholesinswisscheese, @im-a-sentient-magic-carpet, @madfangirlontheloose @obsessed-sketches @drconstellation and any other Aussie maggots be prepared and welcome her.

Toot Toot Chugga Chugga by the Wiggles is an Ineffable Husbands Song

Deaths in Australia in 2015, an ask

VEGEMITE IS NOT MARMITE, another passionate ask

Pt I Australia but I've never been there

Pt II Australia but I've never been there

Oh I hate cheap wine. @imchronicallyonlinesowhat I hope you appreciate this, blood of mine. I'm such a great cousin.

[dreaisgrayte]

Under the Goddess' Veil [TEASER]

A/n: This fic was a tad bit spur of the moment to take a break from rewriting some of Lady of Amberguard. Turns out I really like the idea and haven't been able to stop writing on it for 2 days. I will say this will be a bit of plot in the first 4 or 5 thousand words but from then on...dear Lord forgive me for the absolute FILTH I have planned.

Description: I'll give a silly one for right now, basically a maiden gets sacrificed to 5 dragons and a lot of fucking happens. The end.

Pairings: Obanai Iguro, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Giyuu Tomioka, Uzui Tengen, and Kyojuro Rengoku x reader

ENJOY!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“I was supposed to be sacrificed to you for the honor of my village…” You trail off, trying to connect the dots. You glance in the direction of Sanemi, his usually stern eyes softening when they connect with yours. “Are you going to eat me?” Your words sound pitiful, like you had accepted that fact already – and you had. You’d be raised on the single constant that you would be fed to the Gods atop the neverending tips.

Uzui appears in front of you, a lazy smirk playing with his lips as he leans down to be eye level with you. “Not in the way you’re thinking.” He purrs, rolling his smirk into his mouth.

Kyojuro pushes forward, his long hair whipping in the wind Obanai was still creating. “Your humans assume when we request a maiden to be given to us that we would feast upon her supple flesh,” He sighs, looking at Obanai as he speaks. “Every century our loneliness becomes unbearable. There was the occasional soul that attempted to harm us, wanting to take the hoard for themself, but that didn’t last long. Other draconics would visit us, but some of them would fight for our territory.” Your eyes are drawn to Sanemi again and his plethora of scars. He avoids your gaze at all costs, he finds the outer wall of the cave particularly interesting.

Kyojuro continues with a solemn smile. “Then one day a beautiful woman found her way into the lower tunnels. She came begging us to help her village, people were sick – dying. She was ready to give anything to us for the sake of the people.”

Uzui, who is leaning against the wall, pipes up again. “So she gave us her body.” Your brows knit together. Her body? What exactly did that mean? Kyojuro shoots him a glare before setting himself in front of your gaze, staring into your eyes.

“The women before you were scared, frightened of the big bad monsters within the Ponorich peaks. Most of them tried to escape with no avail…they would get lost and starve or stay within our sight and do the same thing. There were others that would find our hoard and selfishly conspire to harm us to take it.” Kyojuro’s eyes are bright swirls. “We want a mate, a bride.” Bride…you had dreamed about a day adorned with joy once. It had been a quick thought, squashed by the reality that you understood from a very young age. Though, now perhaps you could live the life that had been taken away from you.

The wind dies down and you quickly look behind to find Obanai stepping onto the edge in a graceful manner. He nods his head at you, an ethereal glow still present in his eyes. It made your stomach dip in the strangest way. "You can have one of us,” He waves his arm to the group of men, their eyes trained on you. Obanai steps forward, picking up your hands softly. You peer at him through your lashes. “Or all of us." He finishes. A distinguishing feeling glides through your very being. Something that tells you if you were going to die for the village the least you could do was live for them.

"I-I'd like to have all of you..." You stammer, your confidence dropping with every second. When did you decide to become so brazen? Here you were, a maiden surrounded by five men that surely looked upon you with heat and desire.

"Are you sure you can handle that little doe? Becoming the wife of five hungry dragons isn't going to be easy. You will ache when you are without us and you will ache when you are with us." Giyuu coos, placing a hand on your back. It sends licks of warmth that jolt to where you had never been touched.

“You will become ours in every way possible.” Uzui is now to your other side, hand upon your waist. “We will take you whenever we want,” A piece of hair falls to the side of his ear, distracting you for a moment until he brings your gaze back to him with fingers under your chin. “And you can take us whenever you want.”

Kyojuro hangs his arms around your shoulders, placing himself square behind you. The thin material of your slip does nothing to hide the warmth radiating off the man. “When our heat occurs you will have to be careful. One of us may ravish you and then two more join in.” He nudges your head with affection and your stomach stirs.

“Are you willing to make sacrifices?” Sanemi asks, still standing a few feet away from the huddle the rest of them had now created around you.

“I was raised to do so.” You reply, a confident nod moving your head.

[savvyreyes4587]

Never give me your back

(Pm!Dazai x Gifted!FemReader)

Nakahara Chuuya x Gifted!femReader (but not really?)

Summary: To say it was your plan to be at Yokohama's most famous hotel and in its casino\club wouldn't be true but what wasn't really in your plans was meeting a certain redhead and the baggage that came with him.

Author's Note: So here is the prologue and let's see how it works from here, also slightly edited so ignore any mistakes if you find one, also Dazai, Reader and Chuuya are 16 here.

Info: Wc(2k-ish) Violence, drinking, gun and bullets, I suppose.

Go to Life Waster Series

Dazai Osamu prided himself by how intelligent he was and how he managed to look beyond and see what others couldn't and that was exactly what had him frustrated in this very moment… What was it that he was missing?

The slug had told him that the sheep were looking for a certain someone, someone that Chuuya implied was like him in some aspects but to no avail, not the sheep, not the government… no one was able to find that person.

No matter how many paths Dazai followed, they all led to dead ends and now, he was faced with the choice of finding that person no matter the cost or it would be his end, at least in his eyes.

"Sir?" Someone calls for Dazai and he had half the mind to shoot whoever it was that broke his chain of thoughts but then his eyes drifted to the security cams on his desk, showing a live stream of the HQs casino slash nightclub and Dazai's eyes doubled in size when he saw…

He only thought to himself at that moment as his hand tightened around the gun in his hand… There is no way the slug figured it out before me.

Earlier that night

You regretted the decision you made the second you made it, why did you listen to Keisuke? That man didn't know shit about you yet he did but perhaps you should have stayed home instead of accompanying him to the meeting he had.

The Shady meeting he had if you might add because nothing about this meeting was normal in any shape or form and your gut feeling has been giving you signs since he told you about it but the nature of humans being the way it was… you ignored it.

Now, your ignorance had you sitting at the bar in one of the most expensive hotels in Yokohama, drinking scotch and questioning your existence… not a good combination by the way.

The other thing that had your stomach twisting with nerves was the fact that if anyone here caught wind of who you were… it would be over for you and whoever decided to tell on you.

You took in a shaky breath, hand barely able to hold the glass that contained your drink and you figured that the only way to calm yourself was probably to get somewhat drunk and loosen your nerves.

Without a second thought, you downed your drink, fighting against the burn that settled in your throat and the slight sting in your eyes and you had to close your eyes momentarily to steady yourself which also served as a reminder to why you didn't usually drink.

Everything suddenly felt heightend for you, the music was overwhelming, the speakers blasting, the movements of people around you and it made you feel like wanting to crawl out of your own skin, a sensory overload.

You needed to disconnect from all this, you had to but you also knew that the way your hand began clawing and scratching at your arm was no good sign… you had to stop… scratch harder… no, stop… draw blood…

The hand you used to claw at your arm was beginning to dig deeper, to draw blood but that's not what you wanted so why didn't it stop… Why wouldn't it stop?

Stop it! You are my greatest creation and I won't have your anxiety ruin it.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

Go away. You're not here anymore.

I'm not yours anymore, I'm not-

You just realised that your hand was stuck, no longer sedating the unexplainable itchiness and you looked down to figure out what had it stuck but the moment you did you saw it.

It wasn't a what, it was a who. There was a gloved hand holding yours, keeping it away from your now red and angry arm and your brain didn't even comprehend the whole thing until the person who held your hand talked.

"Take it easy, Doll. Deep breaths." His voice was so… calm and relaxed and it somehow drowned the other sounds around you, making that dark cloud of thoughts disappear.

Your raised your head, your eyes meeting those cobalt blue ones that stared into your soul and you wondered if he could recognise how fucked up you were with the look he was giving you.

But something was still off about you and you couldn't for the life of you figure out what it was.

"Sorry to break it to ya but you kind of need to breathe, Doll." The redhead spoke again and you now understood what was wrong with you… you might have left the state you were in but your body was still in defence mode, where even breathing was barley allowed.

Slowly but surely you took one breath, then another and it almost felt like your lungs wanted to cry in relief at the feeling of air entering them again.

The embarrassment of the entire situation kicked in your brain as the gears started turning again and you felt your cheeks heat up in an instant.

"I-I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened, I-" You stuttered and stumbled over your words, adding insult to injury to this already embarrassing moment.

But when the redhead simply gave you an understanding smile and took a seat beside you, the embarrassment subdued at the thought that he didn't find what happened with you alarming.

He talked in that voice of his again. "No need to apologise or explain, Doll. I would get overwhelmed in a place like this, especially if it wasn't usually my scene."

He then tapped the bar and told the bartender to refill your scotch and ordered a new one for himself before he turned to you again.

A gloved hand was extended to you. "Chuuya Nakahara."

You pondered for a moment whether you should tell him your name or not but figured that it would be no harm to do so… like come on, what were the chances you meet again, right?

Shaking his hand, you told him your name before taking your glass of scotch and taking a huge gulp from it.

Chuuya downed the entire glass and it didn't look like he had the slightest issue with the burning sensation it left behind.

He tapped his glass for a refill before he turned to you, his blue eyes piercing through you. "So what brings you here, Doll? It's obviously not your scene."

Your fingers drummed against your glass, a habit you should have gotten rid of a long time ago but answered nonetheless and if you somehow screwed up anything, the alcohol was taking the blame.

"A friend of mine has a meeting here and thought it would be a good idea for me to come here too." You found your gaze wandering all over the man, from his face to his suit to that weird looking hat he had on.

Who was Chuuya Nakahara?

Chuuya said before he downed another glass. "Well, I'm glad he did, Doll. Otherwise, how else would I have been able to meet you?"

"But I'm also curious, what kind of friend leaves their friend alone in a place like this? I mean he must understand that some people wouldn't miss an opportunity to take advantage of you and hurt you." He questioned.

And that actually had you laughing, like straight up laughing out loud because he didn't just say that but he was excused, he wasn't aware of who you were, he didn't know that no one would be able to hurt you with what you had.

"Sorry, that was rude but trust me, Chuuya… no one can hurt me." You told him and you could almost swear you saw his eyes shine with a new light, as if he won the grand prize but as soon as you saw it, it disappeared.

He sighed. "Perhaps but sometimes we are the ones who hurt ourselves and you definitely seem the kind to do that."

Your body movement stopped all together and your blood ran cold in your veins while your skin paled. "I'm not--"

"Oh yes, you are. I know a haunted look when I see one and what happened with you a few minutes ago, it wasn't just about being overwhelmed… it was a triggered reaction but what exactly triggered you, Doll?" Chuuya asked and you felt your body kick into flight mode as you immediately jumped to your feet and went to walk away from the redheaded man.

But his hand caught your wrist and pulled you back to your seat and he looked you in the eye while his grip tightened on your wrist.

And he made the biggest mistake of his life when he asked again and said what he shouldn't have said. "What are you afraid of, Time Weaver?"

Your eyes burned blue and so did your body, you let the monster out as you stared him dead in the eye. "Certainly not you."

Blue ropes shot out of your body and slammed him to the nearest wall when you heard Keisuke call out for you. "Run! They want you!"

From the corner of your eye, you saw Chuuya get up and recover from the impact of the slam you gave him but you didn't comprehend that soldiers entered the club, with people screaming and running, it was hard to keep track.

Bullets rang in the air and you closed your eyes, knowing there was no way out of this, you just had to get Keisuke out and away from here then the rest could be solved or at least you hoped it would be.

Then everything went quiet and your eyes fluttered open and you took in how everything barely moved, the bullets directed at you were stuck mid air and Keisuke was stopped mid run to you.

You walked with slow and steady steps to him and shot out your ropes again, grabbing his body and walking up to the elevator, you put him inside and clicked on the G level before going back to the club.

A slight humming was what you let out while using your ropes, moving everyone and everything to suit your own purpose and a smile graced your lips as you saw the final image of the scenario you created before you went to stand behind chuuya.

With confidence you snapped your fingers and the world went back to its normal speed and you watched in amusement as the guards that were shooting at you were now in front of the bullets meant for you and how they fell to the ground as they got shot by them.

Chuuya was watching the scene with angry eyes and he looked left and right for you but didn't think about checking behind his back.

You had one rope out and almost… almost wrapped it around his throat from behind when you felt the cold bite of a barrel on the back of your head…

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He tends to lose his mind when he's angry." A nonchalant voice spoke behind, digging the gun deeper into your skull as Chuuya turned around.

His eyes widened when he saw you behind him but simply gave him a smile and was going to slow down time again when you sensed a hand holding the nape of your neck and suddenly you couldn't feel your ability… what the…

You turned around to look at the man who did something to you and stared into one uncovered eye as he smiled mischievously at you.

"Welcome to the port mafia, Time Weaver." Was the last thing you heard before someone knocked you out and everything went dark.