#nothing like a punch to seal the deal with

[nade2308]

"Look at this fucking beaut."

Or as I like to call it: Love at first punch

@thethistlegirl

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Cimson Blood

Chapter 41: Revenge

Summary: A surprise trip to America has things turning in a direction no one thought they would

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,390

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, a/b/o, alternate universe, dead dove: do not eat, graphic violence, torture, on screen death, stabbing, knives, choking, punching, blood, aftermath of death, emotions, angst, trauma, very small hint of comfort

A/N: Please, please heed the warnings. This chapter deals with some heavy topics and rehashes a lot of Chapter 34. I've put a trigger warning before everything starts and if you don't want to read it then skip from there to the next section. You'll be able to put two and two together from there.

Also if you haven't seen, I went back and changed a pretty major plot point from chapter 34 onward and it will need to be read to really understand this chapter

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“You’re in charge.” John says, passing over the keys to Dr. Keller. “Hold down the fort. Take some time for yourself.” 

“Invite over Ashley.” Kyle winks as he passes. 

“Cute.” Dr. Keller says, rolling her eyes. 

“Call if anything happens.” John continues, ignoring Kyle’s remark. “You know how to get a hold of us.” 

“I do.” Dr. Keller nods. “I’ll make sure the cottage is still standing when you get back.” She glances at the car. “Take care of her.” 

“We will. We’ll make sure she’s still in one piece when we get back.” 

“You better.” Dr. Keller says, giving him a look. “Safe travels.” 

Kyle closes the car door, cutting off the rest of the conversation. You’re squeezed in the back of the car between him and Johnny. It is a tight squeeze between the two of them and their broad shoulders. It’s not the most comfortable position, but the decision to leave one car behind has sealed your fate. 

Simon is in the front passenger seat, looking about as happy to be there as you feel. His arm is leaned against the door, his gaze set out the front windshield. His scent is thick in the air, musky and leathery. It’s a mixed cocktail of scents in the small enclosed space, but Simon’s is the loudest. 

John opens the driver’s side door, climbing into the car. It felt cramped before, but now it feels almost claustrophobic. 

“Just an hour drive and you can stretch your legs.” He says, and you know he’s talking to you. 

“Where are we going?” You ask as he drives down the long driveway. 

“America.” He says, giving you the same answer he gave you before. 

“Why?” You ask, knowing what the answer is going to be. 

“We have some things we need to take care of.” He answers simply. 

“What things?” You pry, already guessing where this conversation is going to go. 

“I already told you.” He replies. Simon glances at him, but says nothing. 

“You told me nothing.” You purse your lips. 

“It’s a surprise.” He says, almost like he’s rehearsed this before. 

“I hate surprises.” You say, leaning back in your seat, your scent souring a bit. “If you bothered to pay attention you’d know that.” The last bit is hardly more than a murmur, but you know he heard you in the enclosed space. 

It falls silent in the car, the five of you sitting there awkwardly after the exchange. It’s been a long time since you’ve been so bombarded by their scents all at once, and it’s been a long time since they’ve been so surrounded by your own scent. It reminds you of that time months ago after Simon returned from his solo assignment when you’d kissed in the car and nearly drove them all insane with an explosion of your scent. 

Only this time, your scent has gone sour with your displeasure and agitation at the lack of information from John.

This time Simon is the first to cave, cracking the car window to let in some air and disperse the heavy scents. 

It’s going to be a long hour. 

Traveling is your worst nightmare. 

Or, at least, traveling like this. 

It’s only the five of you on the plane, some private jet that Kate had procured. It’s a nice plane, but at the same time, being enclosed with your pack for nine hours isn’t exactly ideal. You thought the cottage was bad at times, but at least there you could go outside and escape from them. 

Now you’re really stuck with them. 

Thankfully they’ve mostly left you alone for the duration of the flight, letting you sit in your seat with a book in silence. John and Simon have been in a corner conversing for the better part of the flight, glancing at you every so often. Johnny has slept through most of it, reclined in a seat not far from them. You wondered for a moment if he was faking it to listen in, but when the snores started you knew he really was out. Kyle is in a position not unlike your own, huddled in a seat with a book, minding his own business. 

You really want to know what John and Simon are discussing, what has held their attention for so long. It’s gotten heated a few times, John’s brows pulling into a frown, his lips moving rapidly. Simon’s shoulders keep squaring and relaxing, giving you insight into the rise and fall of emotions during the conversation. You can imagine his face mirroring John’s, his brows pinching in worry or frustration or perhaps even anger. 

Whatever it is, it’s serious enough to last a good part of the flight.

You’re ushered into a car almost as soon as the wheels touch the tarmac and the plane has stopped. You’re stuck between Johnny and Kyle again, but at least the SUV is spacious enough to not have you crammed in like sardines. Your legs are stiff and sore after sitting for the better part of eight hours, but you’re not about to complain. Not with the way John’s hands are gripping the steering wheel. 

If you didn’t know better, you might have thought he was having second thoughts about whatever is happening. 

You still don’t know. 

They still haven’t told you. 

The airstrip the jet landed in looked to be a private one as well, isolated in a grassy area with rolling hills of green and a few sparse trees missing their leaves. You almost fear it might be Texas again, given the warmth of the air for a time so late in the year, but you want to believe they wouldn’t be that cruel to you. At least you hope that’s the case. 

The drive takes longer than the one in England, time seeming to stretch on endlessly as it did in the plane. You’re tired after the flight, but curiosity is keeping you awake and aware. You almost wish you had your book, but it’s stuffed in the back with the small bag you’d been allowed to bring. The others had small bags as well, and you can only imagine what is inside them. 

It makes your insides crawl with nerves. 

The exhaustion becomes too much as the naked trees and rolling hills continue to pass by outside the car. It’s quiet in the car, the tense silence not even enough to keep you awake as your head begins to droop onto Kyle’s shoulder. 

You’re jolted awake as the car comes to a stop. 

The muffled sound of car doors closing outside reaches your ears as you peel your eyes open. 

“Come on.” Kyle says softly, gently shifting you with his shoulder. “Time to get up.” 

You let out a quiet grunt, rubbing your eyes. The world outside is full of grey sky and naked tree limbs from the angle you’re at. John and Simon’s doors slam as they exit the car, the warmth on your other side disappearing as Johnny gets out as well. Gravel crunches outside as Kyle opens his door, easing you so you’re sitting upright. 

The SUV is parked facing another one, and the world behind it opens into more green fields. Kyle slides out of the car, hitting gravel before offering you a hand. You blink the sleep from your eyes, taking the offered hand. 

There’s three other SUVs parked in the gravel, people dressed in plain clothes moving around an old, rickety barn. John is standing halfway between the car and the barn, conversing with Kate. You blink in surprise. You haven’t seen her since she dropped you off with your pack almost a year ago now.

Whatever they’re discussing, it seems to be serious. 

Kyle puts a hand on your back, leading you towards them. 

“Hi honey,” Kate greets you with a small smile, the seriousness melting on her face in almost a performative manner. “How are you holding up?” 

“I don’t know.” You say, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Depends on why I’m here.” 

“You didn’t tell her?” Kate says in surprise, turning back towards John. 

“I knew what she’d say if I told her.” John says. 

You purse your lips again, disliking being talked about as if you’re not standing right there.

Kate looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t, instead she takes half a step back. “Better get this over with, then.” 

John turns towards you, wrapping a hand around your wrist. “Come on.” 

You almost dig your heels in and demand he tell you, but you don’t. You have a feeling you’re about to find out regardless as he leads you towards the barn. Simon and Johnny are waiting by the doors, Kyle following close behind you. Nerves are starting to flutter in your stomach, your insides twisting in fear. What the hell is on the other side of those doors and why does everyone seem so serious about it? 

Johnny’s face is hard set, Simon’s eyes blank as John pauses in front of the door for a moment. 

They’re not themselves. 

You’re looking at Task Force 141. 

Simon slides the barn door open, your stomach clenching painfully. It’s dark in the barn, but not dark enough you can’t see. Grey light seeps in through holes in the roof and sides, giving the barn an eerie look, like you’re about to step into a horror movie. 

John’s hand tightens around your wrist, tugging you forward into the musty air inside the barn. You want to dig your heels in now, fight him and scream not to drag you inside. Your hand is shaking, curling in on itself until your nails dig into your palm. 

“Hi darlin’. Didn’t know you’d be joining us too.” 

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut, the breath leaving your lungs. 

“Phil.” You breathe, nearly choking around his name. 

He’s seated in the middle of the barn, restrained in a chair. He looks far too comfortable and casual sitting there, greeting you like he would an old friend. 

There’s a table beside him filled with all sorts of instruments. Knives, scalpels, an ice pick. 

Your stomach twists as you realize what’s about to happen. 

The other four approach Phil, leaving a gap so you can see him as you linger behind. You have half a mind to turn and run out the now closed door, but something keeps your feet frozen to the ground. 

“You’re wasting your time.” Phil says, addressing the four members of your pack now. “I don’t know where Shepherd is.” 

“That’s not why we’re here.” John says, his voice deeper and rougher than it had been just outside. “You tortured a member of our pack.”

“Our omega.” Johnny says through gritted teeth. 

“Oh I see, a little revenge then.” Phil says, a smirk lifting on his lips as he stares at you. “And you brought a little audience.” 

***Content Warning: Torture ***

You jump as Simon takes a step forward, rearing back before punching Phil across the face. His head snaps to the side from the force of it, a grunt leaving his lips. Simon grips his chin, yanking his head back to the other side so Phil is looking up at him. 

“We’re going to do the same to you that you did to her.” He growls out. 

The words have a shiver tickling down your spine. 

Simon releases Phil before drawing his fist back to throw another punch. Nausea churns in your stomach as something cracks, the sound echoing in the silence. 

“Solid hit, big man.” Phil grins, spitting onto the floor before sitting up straight again. “You’re going to have to hit me harder than that.” His eyes flicker to you as you stand there in shock. “You can ask your omega how hard I hit her.” 

Johnny surges forward, wrapping his hand around Phil’s throat. “Give me a knife. I’ll cut his tongue out.” 

Phil lets out a choked sound, your own throat constricting a bit from the memory of Phil’s hand choking you. Tears fill your eyes as Phil’s face begins to go purple from the lack of oxygen. 

“Easy.” John says, easing Johnny off of Phil. “We’re not done yet.” 

Phil lets out a choking cough, his hands straining where they’re tied to the arms of the chair. “Not bad.” He coughs out, his face still red. “Gonna have to try harder than that.” 

John punches him in the face, sending his head snapping the other direction. Blood trickles from his lip, his tongue darting out to lick the wound. 

“Of course the alpha would spill the first drop of blood.” Phil says, letting out a chuckle, his gaze returning to you. “This is going to take a while, sweetheart. Why don’t you go back outside and wait for your boys to be done, hm?” 

“No.” John says, his hand closing into a fist again. “She’s going to watch every last bit of this.” 

Your stomach churns as he throws another punch at Phil, this one landing with another sickening crack. You don’t really want to watch this, but at the same time, there’s a sick sense of satisfaction filling you as your pack takes revenge on your behalf. Your omega is nearly purring, watching in glee as they drive punch after punch into Phil’s face. 

“You’re going to have to try harder than that.” Phil chokes out around Simon’s hand where it’s wrapped around his throat. 

“We’re just getting started.” Kyle says, grabbing a knife from the table. 

Phil lets out a pained yell as Kyle stabs the knife into his bicep, slowly dragging it down his arm. It’s deeper than Phil had cut you, blood pouring out of the open wound. Your stomach twists, nausea bubbling up into your throat. How easy this all seems for them. 

How easily Phil had tortured you. 

Your fingers trace the thin, pink line down your own arm, your skin burning with a reminder of what happened to you. 

The realization of what’s happening settles in as Kyle drives the knife into Phil’s chest, dragging it downward in another deep cut. You do want to turn around and go outside. You don’t want to watch this anymore. 

The soft call of your name has you coming back to yourself. Your pack has turned to face you now. You hadn’t even realized that you had turned your head away. Tears have trailed down your cheeks, your breath hitching. 

It’s John that’s called your name, his hand outstretched. He’s holding the ice pick. Your shoulder throbs at the sight of it. The memory of one almost exactly like it being stabbed into your scent gland has a whimper leaving your lips. You know what he’s asking, what he’s offering. Phil inflicted the worst pain you’ve ever felt onto you. Now you’re being offered the chance to do the same to him. 

Your omega is screaming, yelling at you to take it, to return what he did back to him. It’s his fault this happened. Weeks of pain and agony that you will always remember. He did that to you. 

You’re moving before you even realize it, your fingers wrapping around the cold metal. Your omega is taking over again, driving that instinctual violence forward again. Simon is standing behind Phil, holding his head to the side. He looks like shit, his face already bruising and covered in blood. The metallic scent of it is strong, your mind flickering back to those soldiers, his soldiers, the ones you killed with that knife. You wonder what happened to it, if it’s still laying out in the forest, the last lingering remnant of the violence that happened there. 

You stare down at Phil, at his exposed neck. He’s jerking against Simon’s hold, as if he knows and understands what’s about to happen, as if he can already sense the pain that’s about to be brought on him. Does he? Does he really understand? 

He’s about to. 

Your hand moves before you can stop it, driving the ice pick as hard as you can into his scent gland. He lets out a yowl of pain as the metal slides under his skin and into that sensitive spot. You remember it, the lightning-like pain rushing through your body, every nerve-ending on fire, every movement agony for days and days and days. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” You say, pushing the ice pick as far as you possibly can into his body. “It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt. Worse than all those years I sat in that institute thinking about my family, the family you helped tear me away from.” You take a step back, leaving the ice pick in his shoulder. “You’ll never forget it, that kind of pain.” 

Simon wraps his hand around the ice pick, pulling it free. Blood seeps out of the hole, pouring down Phil’s chest. He jerks in his restraints, his eyes squeezed shut. 

“You deserve to feel that kind of pain.” You say, taking another step back. 

“Look at you.” Phil laughs, tilting his head up with a wince. His eyes are on you, focused solely on you as you stand there. “Tough little thing. Turning more and more like your father, aren’t you?” His words bite at the back of your brain, your omega screaming at the insult. His eyes leave you, instead roaming over the three members of your pack standing in front of him. “No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t hide her away from this world, could you?” 

He’s not talking to you anymore. 

“You’d always leave a stain on her. Eventually it would come around. She’d get caught up in a life like this, a life of violence and bloodshed. Proud of yourselves?” He lets out a chuckle. “You ruined such sweet innocence.” 

“Shut yer fuckin’ mouth.” Johnny growls as Simon moves back around so he’s standing next to you. 

“Ooh, hit a nerve did I?” Phil laughs, turning his gaze to you. “You know your dad never checked you made it to the institute? As soon as you were out of his sight he could finally stop caring about you.” Phil licks his lips. “I should have just taken you right then. No one would have known the difference. None of this would have happened. You’d still be just a sweet little innocent girl, just like you always should have been.” 

Anger and rage burns through you at his words. Years of repressed fears and emotions surging out all at once. Later you’ll wish you could blame it on your omega, that she took over in this moment, but that’s not the case. It’s you in your true form, in your own rage at Phil for his words, for his actions, for the ways he’s ruined your life even still years later. 

Time slows as your fingers wrap around the knife strapped to Simon’s side. It slides out of its sheath easily, your body moving forward as you grip it tightly in your hand. It won’t be the first time, your brain flashing back to all of those men, men who would have done worse things to you had your omega not acted on instinct. She’s screaming at you now, still, clawing at the poorly constructed cage you’ve forced her back in, calling for violence. 

You’ll give it to her. 

The knife cuts through his skin easily, sliding downward as you stab it into his neck. Blood spurts out, coating your hands in the slippery liquid. Adrenaline courses through your body, your vision going red as you yank the knife from his throat, blood spraying out of his artery from where you’ve severed it. It’s like some gruesome renaissance painting as you’re pulled back, an arm around your waist tugging you backward away from the quickly fading body in the chair, your mouth still open in an enraged scream. 

The knife drops from your hand as you’re tugged backwards, your body falling against a solid one. Your legs feel like jelly as the adrenaline pumps through your system, your blood covered hands shaking as you stare at the lifeless body of a man you once thought of as a family friend. A man who played such an integral part in your life behind the scenes. A man who was almost your alpha, a man who would have been your alpha had it not been for the woman standing outside. 

The man who tortured you and brought you more pain than you’ve ever felt in your entire life. 

He’s dead now. He can’t ever hurt you again. 

Nausea churns in your stomach as you sit there, staring down at your blood-soaked hands. It’s deep red and sticking to your skin, no matter how much Kyle tries to wipe at it with a t-shirt. Your body has gone numb as reality has settled in. 

You just killed a man. 

“Easy.” Kyle says, his hand warm against your chilled skin as he wraps his fingers around your arm. 

You’d jerked away from him, nearly slipping off the edge of the trunk. The trunk of the SUV is open and you’re seated on the edge of it, toes pushing into the gravel below to hold yourself up. Kyle had been trying to wipe the dried blood off of your hands, but no matter how hard he scrubbed, some of it wouldn’t come off. 

“Here.” Footsteps approach in the gravel, the rocks crunching under boots. “Go help Simon.” 

Rougher hands replace Kyle’s, wrapping around your wrists. You jump when the cold water hits your hands, shocking you out of your dazed state. You lift your gaze up to John’s face as he wipes the blood from your hands, the shirt quickly becoming stained with red streaks. 

“This wasn’t our intention. I just want you to know that.” He says, his gaze focused on your hands. “We didn’t bring you here to kill him. I just thought you might want to know what was going to happen to him. Closure. Maybe you could rest easier knowing he wasn’t ever going to see freedom again.” 

“He won’t see anything ever again.” You murmur. 

“It doesn’t make you a bad person. Heat of the moment. He was saying some vile things to you.” John tries to comfort you. 

“But that doesn’t mean I had to kill him.” 

“Maybe not. He wouldn’t have lived much longer regardless.” Your hands are starting to feel raw with how hard John is scrubbing them. It’s almost like he’s trying to wipe the fact you’re a murderer from your hands. “None of us will think any less of you for what you did.” 

You stare down at your hands as John finally relents his scrubbing. The blood is gone, but you’ll always remember the look of it staining your skin. “I’m sorry.” 

John squats down in front of you, his hands closing around yours. They’re so warm compared to your own chilled skin. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“But I do. Phil was right. I’m not innocent anymore. I’m not a good omega. I lost that when I let her take over.” Tears slip down your cheeks, warm against your skin. 

“That doesn’t make you a bad omega.” John says, reaching up to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “You’ve done what you had to do to survive because of our failures. We failed to protect you like we promised and we forced you into situations you shouldn’t have ever been in. We will never be able to apologize enough for what we did.” 

“I’m scared, John.” You whisper. “I don’t want to be like this anymore.” 

His brows furrow. “Be like what?” 

“I still feel like she’s in control.” You say, more tears sliding down your cheeks. “I don’t think I’ve come back to myself at all.” 

Tears still sting your eyes as you sit in the back of the car, watching the flames through the rearview mirror. 

“Unfortunate that the old barn burned down.” Kate says, her voice slightly muffled through the closed car door. 

“Feel sorry for the poor soul stuck inside.” John says. 

“Too bad they’ll never be identified.” 

Their words nearly make you sick again. How easily they talk about it, how easily they can detach themselves. It is their job, you suppose. This is just a normal occurrence to them. It scares you, how easily they confront death and dismiss it. It’s cold and unwelcoming, just like their attitudes had been upon your arrival. You should have known just by that. You should have turned and left when you wanted to. 

Maybe then you’d have less blood on your hands. 

Phil did deserve it, after everything. At least this way you know he won’t try to find you again, won’t try and get revenge of his own against your pack. One less loose string to worry about, John had said. 

There’s just one more that needs to be tied off. 

“Any sign of Shepherd?” John asks. 

“None yet.” Kate answers. “Alex and Farah are investigating a couple of leads. You’ll be the first to know if they find anything.” 

“Good. The sooner we can find him, the better.” 

“He can’t hide forever.” Kate says. “We’ll find him eventually.” She glances towards the car. “You’ll be alright?” 

John is quiet for a moment. “Eventually.” 

“You need anything...” 

“We’ll be sure to let you know.” 

Cold air rushes in with the smell of smoke as Kyle opens the car door. He slides in, quickly closing it. 

“We’re almost ready to go.” He says, shifting so he can put your seatbelt on for you. You’re glad he’s doing it. You’re not sure you could have managed it anyway. “Another long flight back to England.” 

You feel like you’ve spent more time on a plane in the last few hours than you have in your lifetime. You’re not even sure what day it is, or what day it will be when you get back. A week could have passed and you’d never even notice. 

“We’ll stop and get food before we go.” Kyle continues. You know he’s trying to talk to keep you distracted. “Anything you want in particular?” 

Food is the last thing you want right now. 

“Something we can eat on the road I suppose. Don’t want to linger too long anywhere.” Kyle trails off as the doors open, Johnny and Simon climbing in. It’s a tighter squeeze this time thanks to John’s coat that he put on you to keep you warm. You don’t really need it in the car, but his scent is the only thing keeping you sane right now. 

“Ye doin’ alright?” Johnny asks as he puts on his own seatbelt. 

You hum in response, not trusting yourself to answer. You don’t trust yourself to say much of anything right now. 

The smell of smoke hits your nose again as John opens the driver’s side door, climbing into the car. “Let’s get out of here.” He says, putting on his seatbelt before the car rumbles to life. 

You lean back in the seat, staring at the smoldering ashes in the rearview mirror until they disappear around a bend as John drives away from the scene. Warm fingers brush the back of your hand, Kyle’s gaze down on your lap as he slowly curls his fingers around your hand. You stare at his hand for a moment before you look away, curling your fingers around his. 

You don’t remember much of the flight back. You slept through a good part of it, reclined in a seat just like Johnny had been on the flight to America. You barely remember the drive back to the cottage, spending most of it in a sleepy daze with your head propped on Kyle’s shoulder. 

Dr. Keller is there to greet you when you return, some delicious smell wafting from the open door of the cottage. It makes your stomach churn after hours of no food. You haven’t had much of an appetite, the memories of what had happened too fresh to allow you much else but the blissful ignorance of sleep. 

You drag your feet up the steps of the cottage, passing Dr. Keller in a haze as you head straight for the comfortable familiarity of your bed. You can hear quiet voices through the wall as you manage to work your heavy limbs out of your clothes and into something more comfortable. 

You just want to sleep more, sleep forever if it were possible. In sleep you don’t see the blood staining your hands, the spurt of blood from Phil’s neck where you’d stabbed him. You don’t see the light fading from his eyes, his body falling limp as he dies by your hand. In sleep you’re not a murderer, you can go back to when things were easier, when nothing mattered but being a good omega for your pack. Back when your only stress was making a good impression and doing your job like you’re supposed to. 

What a shitty omega you’ve become. You can’t even hold your pack together anymore. 

It’s not like they’re putting in much effort themselves, though. 

Maybe you should let things fall apart. Maybe it would be easier on everyone if you just moved past this, moved on to an unhappy, short life in a care facility while your pack got to live out the rest of their days with nothing but a painful memory of the short stint they got as a full pack. 

Phil was right. You’re not a sweet innocent little girl anymore. That person died as soon as you were forced into this pack. Maybe this was inevitable. By being forced with them you would always become like them. Good omegas learn to adapt to mesh well with their pack, giving up personality and wants in favor of making alphas happy. Maybe this is what they want, maybe this was the way things were always going to end up. You were doomed from the start to become just like them. 

You press your face into your pillow as tears slide down your cheeks, willing yourself to fall into the sweet embrace of sleep once again. 

“John told me what happened.” Dr. Keller says as you sit outside in the cold morning air. “I just want you to know that it doesn’t make me think any less of you.” 

You wish she would. You wish she’d yell and reprimand you for killing someone. You wish any of them would call you a bad person, a wicked soul capable of taking the life of someone else. 

They’re all acting like it’s normal, like it was nothing. 

You hate it. 

“You’re not a bad person.” She says. 

“I killed someone.” You retort. 

“Did you?” 

Her words make you pause. You did. You remember the blood staining your hands, the warm spray of it from Phil’s neck. It was your hand that drove the knife. 

“I want you to walk me through what happened. Step by step.” She says. 

You let out a sigh. It’s not the first time you’ve been over it in the last day. “They were torturing him, but he wouldn’t stop talking. He said that he wished he had just taken me instead of sending me to the institute, and how that way I’d still be an innocent little girl.” Your voice starts to shake. “I got really mad. I barely remember grabbing the knife.” 

“Right there.” Dr. Keller interrupts you. “Walk me through that second by second. What were you feeling beyond just anger?” 

You pause for a moment, thinking it over. What were you feeling? “Blinding rage.” You say. “I was so angry because he helped ruin my life just because he wanted me.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Just the idea of being his...” Nausea churns in your stomach. “It’s like my brain went numb. It acted on instinct. I didn’t even know Simon had a knife until I was grabbing it.” 

“What was your omega feeling in those moments?” 

You pause to think again. You hadn’t taken into consideration your omega during your ruminations, when you’d told Dr. Keller your side of the events the last few times. “She was...angry too. But, at first, she liked it. She liked Phil being tortured. She wanted me to stab him with the ice pick.” You swallow thickly. “Why did I do that? Why didn’t I say no?” 

“Revenge is a fascinating part of human thought processes.” Dr. Keller says. “In the moment, it fires up those reward centers of the brain. It feels good, feels satisfying. The desire to act on those impulsive needs to dole out justice against someone that wronged you is natural. While it’s not the best idea, it’s just human nature to want to get revenge. In the heat of the moment, logic is the last thing on your mind. Throw in an uncontrolled omega and you may find yourself doing things you don’t want to do, and you don’t know why.” 

“So it was her fault.” You say, wiping your nose. 

“Not exactly. Instincts are complicated things to consider. Instincts don’t care about your feelings or what society considers acceptable. They’re natural, ingrained behaviors in response to certain stimuli and events. A bear chases you, you run. An alpha threatens you, your omega fights back. While yes, what you did may be morally questionable, in the moment, your omega didn’t care about morals or societal expectations. You felt threatened and uncomfortable and your omega acted on your behalf.” 

“It’s because she’s out of control.” You say. 

“Yes. You let her out of that specially crafted cage you learned to keep her in, and now she’s going to fight tooth and nail to stay out. You’re in a very delicate state and it’s not surprising your omega decided to act for you.” 

“She’s so violent.” You say quietly. 

“Omegas and alphas only show themselves for a handful of reasons. Usually those involve danger or extreme emotions. Omegas especially show themselves when violence is needed. We are all fighters at our core, even omegas. You yourself may not be a violent person, but your omega is unsettled. She’s on high alert and any perceived threat could set her off, or any moments of high emotions, such as witnessing what you did.” 

You look down at your hands, imagining them covered with blood again. “I wanted to leave. I should have.” 

“We can’t change what we’ve done in the past. Your omega was likely largely responsible for what happened in those moments. While that doesn’t absolve you of guilt entirely, that also means you weren’t fully in control of yourself when it happened.” She reaches out, putting a hand on yours. “I believe you when you say you didn’t want to do it. I don’t think you’re capable of it in your right mind. You’ve been through a lot over the last few weeks. I thought it was a bad idea to take you, but you know John.” 

“He thinks he knows what's best because it’s what he thinks is best.” You murmur. 

“You can confront him about that.” Dr. Keller says, leaning back in her chair. 

You snort. “That will go well.” 

“It might. Your pack has expressed their willingness to change, to adapt to what you want. You have the power to change your pack. If you don’t like the way they’re doing something, then tell them.” She gives you a pointed look. “They won’t know what to change if you don’t tell them what you want to change.” 

“I’m scared to ask them.” You admit. 

“Why? Why are you scared to ask them?” 

“Good omegas adapt to their pack, they don’t ask. They don’t ask their pack to change just for them.” 

She gives you another look. “Don’t go regressing that far on me.” She shifts in her seat, leaning closer to you. “We’ve talked about this before. You’re a part of this pack too, just as much as they are. You have a right to communicate your needs and your wants just as much as they do. You’re an equal in this pack, and they’ll be the first to agree with that. While their actions of late have been questionable, they do still care about you and want to make you a true equal in this pack.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” You huff. 

“Then let them show you.” She says. “What’s the harm in asking?” 

“They say no.” You say. “I don’t think I could handle it if they said no.” 

“But what if they say yes?” Dr. Keller squeezes your arm. “You’ll never know until you ask. In my professional opinion, I think you hold more power now than you realize. A lot of things happened to you, but a lot of things happened to your pack as well, and within those bonds.”

“Yeah. They’re all fractured now.” You say. 

“They’re in rough shape, but they’re not unfixable. You have to want to fix them. You’re the only one that can fix them.” 

“I don’t like that power.” You say. “Part of me wants to end things.” 

“But, that means there’s a part of you that wants to repair them. As your doctor, I suggest listening to those thoughts more than the ones telling you not to. It won’t be easy, but I think it’s worth your time to try.” 

Tears fill your eyes as you sit there, thinking over her words. You do want to try. You want to try so badly, yet you can’t help that nagging in the back of your mind that everything will go back to the way it was before. 

“What do you need?” Dr. Keller asks softly, brushing some of the hair from your face as you cry. 

What is it you need? A new brain, a reset button, some amnesia? All things you can’t have. You’ll have to choose with what you do have. What do you have? A pack that desperately wants to help you. They’ve told you that themselves. Kyle told you things would get better, but here you are with more blood staining your hands. Kyle wouldn’t lie to you. Not like that. 

You have the power now. 

“Johnny.” You sniffle. “Get me Johnny.” 

NEXT ->

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[5eraphim]

Okay so this has been stuck in my head for WEEKS and I finally decided to stop bein scared and ask you to write about it lol

So as a DBD player, I got to thinking that it would be kinda cool if survivors could fight the killer even if it was just once per round and then this scenario popped into my head.

How would Killer react to Survivor!Reader biting them as a defense/distraction/etc? My favs are The Shape, The Executioner, and The Mastermind! Headcannons would be amazing but if you could maybe branch out to make one a one-shot kinda deal? Maybe NSFW if you feel spicy?

P.S your writing and fics LITERALLY give me life YOU’RE SO GOOD 😭🧡

My deepest apologies for how long this has been rotting in my inbox, I thought this prompt was a lot of fun, and again, I'm sorry it took forever for me to get around to answering this. Hope you enjoy all the same!

Characters: Michael Meyers, Albert Wesker, Pyramid Head (Dead By Daylight)

Rating: R (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, GO PLAY OUTSIDE!!)

Content Warnings: Yandere, smut, noncon, stalking, choking, violence, sacrificed to the entity, predator/prey dynamics, obsession, sadism and masochism, reader is kept gender neutral

Word Count: 1.6k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

The Shape

It's almost too predictable for a killer like Michael Myers to wind up in a situation like this. As the survivor he brought with him into the entity's realm made physical payback, her signature, Micheal can't help but attract the "feisty" type.

A man hiding behind a mask, Michael competes with fierce determination and an almost primal compulsion to hunt, stalk, and slaughter like no other. Of the three, Myers would be the most likely to anticipate physical retribution from a survivor, according to him, all part of the hunt. 

Myers prefers to remain hidden by shadows as long as possible, awaiting his perfect opportunity to go in for a decisive kill. But remaining hidden in the dark is a luxury you don't have at your disposal on account of being Myer's obsession.

You didn't want it to come to this. Even before the match started, you prayed to fight any killer, but Myers, your disappointment only grew as you realized minutes later that you were his obsession.

The idea of fighting back physically was a spur-of-the-moment decision; you knew you only had one chance of pulling this off, and if you missed, your fate would be sealed. You usually weren't one to opt for such a risky strategy, but you were too blinded by your fear of Myers. You would do anything to get away.

Even though you couldn't see him, you could feel Myers' eyes locked in on you, no doubt following and trailing you from behind. The paranoia was torture, but you forced yourself to stay strong and ignore Myers, to focus solely on supporting your team. 

When Myers inevitably tracked you down and caught you after getting distracted by something else, you had so much pent-up nervous aggression that you couldn't hold back your body's instinct to fight back.

Fear overtook any lingering traces of rationality as you struggled blindly against Myers, but you had just enough determination reserved to take aim and fire a single punch, aiming for his head, landing against the cheek of the mask; it was just enough to disorient him long enough for you to wriggle free.

Despite the offense, Myers didn't think you had it in you to fight back like that. It excited him! As though you were holding back on him before, and now you were starting to fight back like you really meant it!

After enduring the pressure of being his obsession and succumbing to the fear of it all, you little humanity left to hold onto, almost nothing but your primal fight or flight instincts; it was truly a beautiful sight for him to behold.

The next time he cornered you, Myers decided he ought to follow your lead, only instead of going for your head, he would go for your throat, not with the knife, but with his hand.

And for just a moment, he'd keep you there. Only needing one hand around your throat to keep your entire body pinned into place on the wall behind you. Wood planks made contact with your back at odd angles, the dull pain radiating up and down your spine as you were face to face with Myers, close enough to hear his breathing behind the mask while he observed your face- knowing you believed he was seconds away from slitting your throat. 

Likely, as Myers holds you in such a compromising position, he takes out all his own pent-up frustrations on you. Leaving bitemarks all over your neck and shoulders while he quickly shreds the clothes from your body.

Just as you gave into primal fight-or-flight instincts, he was giving into his own primal urges. He'd won the hunt, and now it was time to let his libido take charge. Half-undressed, he ruts against you, and you can hear his heartbeat racing. Maybe even feel his body warming as his blood flows rapidly, but he remains as silent as a corpse.

After having his fun, Myers will take great pleasure in sacrificing you to the entity. Even if he couldn't take down everyone on your team before this, the opportunity to sacrifice his obsession in such a thrilling bloodbath overshadowed any regular trial as a ruthless killer. 

The Mastermind

It wouldn't take more than an instance of fighting back physically against him for Wesker to decide to hunt you down right away. He would've never suspected another survivor would be bold enough to try something like this on him. Wesker wants to know what makes you think you're strong enough to try something like this.

His reaction would be determined primarily by what point in the trial you try this.

Albert might think it's insufficient enough to ignore if it's early or if he's doing well.

But given how infamous of a hothead he can be, more often than not, any time you try this, expect to be met with hostility.

Wants to see you go from physically resistant to begging him for mercy. On the outside, he pretends to see brats like you as nothing but a petty annoyance to be dealt with, but on the inside, he absolutely loves doing this; keeping the weak in check is how he stays strong.

Wesker doesn't exactly get any legitimate pleasure from being hurt, but he will tap into the pain when fighting back. He does this partly out of loyalty and obligation to the entity but equally out of a petty vengeance to hurt you back twice as hard as you hurt him.

Wesker waits patiently before fighting back, taking care of those annoying teammates first to give you his undivided attention. As well as strategically lying in wait after the confrontation before striking while your guard is down. 

The very first thing Wesker does after tracking you down is wounding you exactly where you hurt him, though he's sure not to let you go until he's drawn blood.

Don't expect him to show you any mercy from here. Might go as far as pushing you down, wiping his shoes against your back as you writhe below, trying to squirm out from under his boot.

It's good foreplay for him, seeing the foolish survivor who dared to fight back, bleeding and barely alive. He won't fuck you in the muck for his own sake, of course. Wesker will push you up against a wall face first while he is taking you from behind.

If he's feeling especially good after sweeping a trial, he might leave you with just enough life to hold onto while you crawl to the hatch. More likely, you won't live long after such a brutal session. But even if you don't die, Wesker will be sure to leave you so beaten and tormented you'll regret trying to fight him like that and won't want to try again. Even if Wesker secretly hopes you will.

The Executioner

While the others welcome the resistance, even if only to crush it, Pyramid Head would likely resent you for trying to physically challenge the killer and disrupt the natural order of things. It was an injustice, and it was imperative to punish you for this.

Imagine playing as a "Gen-Jockey" survivor, the kind of teammate who provides the bare minimum to the rest of the team, putting your own survival above the lives of your teammates, the type of survivor Pyramid Head hated the most. A coward.

All that to say, it was an extreme shock after he cornered you and felt your teeth sinking into the exposed flesh above his glove. 

While you were combative and aggressive now, Pyramid Head knew you couldn't keep this up forever. You were, to him, nothing but a coward deep down. Even if you wanted to pretend like you had any real fight of your own, it wouldn't be long before you surrendered to your own exhaustion. Perhaps he was even doing this as his way of offering you a "fair shot" to find your way out before he got his hands on you. Like he would ever let that happen.

Since you tried to bite him earlier, he'd punish you by fucking you from behind, bent over a broken desk crushing your face against the hardwood surface. He was an inescapable force while you were powerless to stop any of this from below.

Would only give into his beastial nature to hurt and fuck you if he's already managed to kill the rest of your team. It's not his style to slaughter his obsession until he's taken care of the others, and he doesn't want to let anyone pass by without judgment.

If he doesn't get this opportunity during the trial, Pyramid Head will fantasize about killing you off last while staying buried inside you, feeling your pathetic body crumbling and going limp beneath him.

Paradoxical feelings of sadism and protectiveness for you as Pyramid Head is obsessed with being the only one alloweed to hurt you, judge your soul, or torture you. But all this cruelty is undermined by his motivation to keep you from getting hurt by others.

He is most likely to let you live after making love because the instant gratification of an orgasm, as well as the satisfaction of punishing you himself, will keep him from sending you up to the entity. 

Consider this Pyramid Head's very niche kind of post-nut clarity.

[bumblesimagines]

The Torment of Loving

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Jordan's broken the first and most fundamental rule of becoming friends with benefits with someone: falling in love. Now, they have to deal with the consequences.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Gen V warnings, mentions of disapproving parents, drug usage, sexual content, Jordan pls get a therapist jordan pls, falling for the fwb trope, implied unrequited feelings

~~~

There was nothing Jordan Li hated more than not having control over their feelings. 

It reminded them all too well of the trapped, suffocating feeling of being around their scrutinizing parents. They loved them, just as long as they remained in the body they'd come out of the womb in and just as long as they remained pitch fucking perfect. Their grades, their clothes, their popularity, anyone they showed a smidge of interest in. It all had to be perfect for their parents otherwise they'd spew a big lecture that'd sucker punch the air out of their lungs and make tears spring to their eyes when they listened to the disappointment dripping off their sugar-coated tones.

So, when that suffocating feeling reared its head again and slithered around Jordan's chest, constricting their heart and making their blood buzz, they despised the reason for it. They despised the out-of-control sense that filled their head and the fact the cause of their newfound troubles wasn't over their parents or losing points or getting a bad grade on an assignment. It'd been over a goddamn guy. 

A guy who, more often than not, had them listening to his every word as if he were a preacher speaking to the most loyal devotee; a guy who could make their heat warm and ears dust with soft pink despite the playful scowl on their lips; a guy who could make heat shoot right to their gut and make them weak at the knees with just a few teasing words. Jordan found it embarrassing. Andre and Luke enjoyed teasing them over their frat boy-like tendencies, and yet there they were, acting like a little high schooler with their first boyfriend; and they weren't even a couple.

(Y/N)'s half-lidded eyes skimmed the label on one of Jordan's foundation bottles, the blunt they'd been exchanging hanging loosely from his lips and filling the air with the smell of weed. Jordan watched him from their spot on the bed, limbs sprawled out and head resting back on one of the soft pillows.

"Bet you don't even use all this shit." (Y/N) murmured, tugging the blunt from his lips and exhaling the smoke into the already semi-clouded room. For whatever safety concern the school deemed necessary, the large windows in each dorm were permanently sealed shut, forcing them to either keep the door cracked open and risk a staff member catching them or deal with the smoke until the vents took care of it. 

Jordan merely hummed, more focused on how (Y/N)'s sweatpants hung from his hips, only needing a careful tug to slump down his legs. Their lips slowly curved into a lazy grin at the knowledge, their eyes dragging back up until they found his face once more. The glass of the bottle clacked with the desk of their vanity when (Y/N) set it down, his legs bringing him back toward Jordan to offer them the last hit and head finally turning toward him. 

Out of instinct, Jordan morphed into their femme form and sat up in their bed, the shirt and briefs they'd been wearing feeling slightly baggier against their body. They wrapped their lips around the blunt, dark eyes ensuring to hold eye contact with him as they inhaled deeply. (Y/N) chuckled and shook his head, setting the blunt aside on the cigarette tray on the nightstand. Jordan exhaled the smoke, the buzz in their head making them hyperaware of almost everything; from the way the sheets rubbed against their skin to the subtle yet audible beat of (Y/N)'s heart. 

"You're a pain, Jordan." (Y/N) said with a soft sigh, tone teasing yet with a hint of exasperation. "You've had an attitude all day and then practically drag me in here the minute school ends." 

Jordan shrugged, unable to find an excuse for their hot and cold behavior. They'd woken up tired from a night of tossing and turning whilst they'd argued with themselves about their feelings toward him. By the time the sun rose, they'd finally come to terms with the fact they were indeed agonizingly head over heels for a fuckbuddy. Their irritation from lack of sleep and bubbling anticipation mixed with jealousy when (Y/N) chose to sit beside another classmate instead of them, only intensifying when Jordan watched them flirt the whole damn class. They couldn't help it; lashing out was their biggest defense mechanism, and apologizing never came easy to them. 

"You like my attitude." Jordan grinned and slumped back into the pillows, their hand raising and fingers wiggling to beckon him closer. (Y/N) rolled his eyes, his knee digging into the mattress and making it creak softly as he reached back to slip off his shoe. He did similarly with the other before carefully toppling on top of Jordan, forcing their knees apart. (Y/N) released a low noise, his head tucking itself into the space between their neck and shoulder. 

A twinge of longing struck Jordan, their eyes raising to stare at the ceiling above them. Relationships had always been shaky ground for them, a thin tightrope with a long drop into heartache below. They'd suffered plenty of rejection from their parents, especially their father who always hoped his 'son' would return to him. It was ironic, in a way, how much everyone longed for their masc form but they only hooked up with (Y/N) in their femme form. It was automatic for them, really. Guys preferred her and girls preferred him, but no one ever wanted both. Besides, the only time they'd ever seen (Y/N) show interest in a guy had been during a dumb drunk game of spin the bottle where he and Luke had aggressively made out to the amusement of everyone, including Cate. 

"Your heart's beating really fast, J." (Y/N) yawned, breath fanning against Jordan's neck and making the hair on their body rise with goosebumps that quickly followed. He lifted his head, the lazy smirk on his face a signature look of his that Jordan had grown to look forward to each day, even if it meant rolling their eyes excessively at it.

"Yeah, 'cause-" 

Jordan sighed blissfully (something that made their cheeks warm with embarrassment) when (Y/N) cut off their snarky response with a kiss. Slow, and lazy, the sort of kisses that'd typically have Jordan scoffing and wanting something quicker. Kissing was intimate; the quicker and rougher, the less room there was to allow anything other than the feeling of desire to form. That ship had long sailed for them, though. (Y/N) gently dug his teeth into Jordan's bottom lip, his fingertips slipping beneath the gray tank top and slowly sliding around their stomach. 

"Tease," Jordan hissed, pulling their lip free when a trickle of saliva threatened to slip from the corner of their mouth. (Y/N) only chuckled in return, his wrists forcing the hem of the shirt upward until the shirt was bundled right above their newly exposed tits. The smirk returned and his head lolled to the side as his fingers massaged the underside of their breasts. Their chest began rising and falling with rapid, expectant breathing. "You're suck a dick, (L/N)." 

"It's fun watching the all-mighty Jordan squirm." He answered with a teasing coo, and the thought of shifting crossed their mind but they quickly shoved the urge away.

They enjoyed a good wrestle with (Y/N) before anything sexual began, and as much as they liked the idea of having some sort of upper hand during, they simply couldn't risk making him uncomfortable. Being rejected when their heart skipped every time they locked eyes simply couldn't happen. The very idea of it made their heart lurch and throat tighten with unease. 

Before their thoughts could drag them out of the fun, they huffed at him, "Come on," They groaned half-heartedly, as if the way their hips rolled came from anything else other than the kneading and massaging. "Get on with it al-"

A sharp, hissed curse escaped them, head digging back into the black pillow case as their mouth fell open at the combined sensation of (Y/N) latching onto one of their hardened buds while simultaneously grinding against them, the fabric of the briefs pressing against their heat and leaving a wet patch behind. Jordan's blunt nails dug into the back of his shirt, fingers curling and threatening to shred the shirt at the feeling of his hot tongue swirling around their nipple, a strangled whine falling from their lips when he dragged his teeth over it before swiftly switching to give the other attention. 

"Jesus," Jordan exhaled, cheeks ablaze and hazy mind struggling to focus on not losing their grip and accidentally shifting. They'd always been used to being the one making others squirm and flush prettily but they hardly minded giving up some control and allowing themselves to act like a pillow princess. 

(Y/N) released them with a soft pop and drew back to admire Jordan's heaving, saliva-covered chest with a satisfied grin. He grasped the collar of his shirt and tugged it off, giving it a brief check over any tears. "I still can't believe you tore my shirt, J." He muttered with a light huff and Jordan giggled at the memory. 

"I bought you a new one, you fucking crybaby." 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes and tossed the shirt aside blindly, leaning down to press a kiss between their chest before littering kisses down to their abdomen and below their belly button. Jordan raised their hips when he tugged at the waistband of the briefs, their face no doubt flushed red as he peeled the briefs down their legs and arched a brow at the evident wet spot. Jordan lightly kicked his thigh when he snickered, their eyes automatically rolling. 

"Not that I'm complaining," (Y/N) started, letting the briefs fall on the floor. He dragged his palm along their inner thigh, pausing inches away from where Jordan wanted- no, needed him the most. Jordan's lip jutted out to form an annoyed pout. "How come you never want to fuck when you're a dude?" He tilted his head.

"W-What?" Jordan exhaled shakily, eyes wide and head jerking to look at him so quick it almost gave them neck pain. They scrambled to prop themselves up on their elbows, a thousand questions and words running through their hazy head but their mouth refused to form any coherent sentences. "I- I- I thought you- that you didn't like guys?" 

(Y/N) stared at them blankly. "Jordan."

"You- You never- How was I supposed to know?!" A long groan of disappointment left their throat when (Y/N) pulled his hand back, the look on his face practically calling them the biggest dumbass alive. Delight curled around their gut and they pursed their lips, shifting into their masc form and studying the indifference on his face. 

"You know how many times I've slept with Luke and Cate? Or Andre?" 

"You've what?" Jordan's brows knitted, more out of furious jealousy over confusion. They shot upright, their hand clamping around the nape of (Y/N)'s neck and fingers digging into his skin. "Why- I thought I was-" Jordan scowled. "Why the fuck do you need them when you have me?" 

"Well, I can't exactly do some Eiffel Tower shit with just you, can I?" (Y/N) grinned cheekily, and it suddenly made sense why Luke and Cate had always been incredibly chill about the other kissing and cozying up to (Y/N). Jordan chalked it up to them being secure enough in their relationship to not care but the new knowledge abruptly made them question every innocent interaction between him and their friends.

"(Y/N)- fuck."

The high-pitched whimper that left them was downright humiliating, eyes squeezing shut and forehead dropping onto his shoulder when (Y/N) wrapped his hand around their leaking length and gave it a light squeeze. Jordan grunted, teeth digging into their lip almost hard enough to draw blood before (Y/N) pushed their shoulder and forced them onto their back once more. Jordan's heels dug into the mattress, and (Y/N) barely had to do any work as Jordan began rutting up into his hand, movements clumsy and increasingly desperate. 

"Thought you were smarter than that, J." (Y/N)'s tone dripped with amusement and Jordan's second scowl proved incredibly short-lived when (Y/N) swooped down to press their lips together in a needy, lip-bruising kiss. Jordan tore away, their back and neck arching at another squeeze, the pad of (Y/N)'s thumb pressing along a vein and forcing incoherent babbling out of the supe. 

With their neck bare and inviting, (Y/N) leaned down to suckle bruises into their skin, teeth sinking until they left imprints that left Jordan's mind woozy and jumbled. Between the desperation in chasing their release and the sensation of (Y/N) marking their neck, it only took (Y/N) leaning down even further and giving their still slick chest some more attention for Jordan's movements to turn sloppy. (Y/N) grinned against his skin, moving his hand at an unrelenting pace even as Jordan covered their stomach and chest in sticky release. 

"I love you," Jordan whined between babbles and noises, the words barely registering until they were a panting, almost teary-eyed mess staring up at him. (Y/N) retracted his hand, smearing the mess Jordan had left behind along their chest until his hand was mostly clean. They flushed at the way their length twitched at the action, the energy they lost returning faster than the average supe's due to their abilities in masc form. 

"I'm hungry." (Y/N) sighed, and Jordan found themselves both thankful and dejected he'd ignored the confession. He disappeared from on top of them, reappearing by the drawer and taking out a rag, cleaning his hand first before teleporting to the bed and cleaning the mess off Jordan. "Let's get Vought-A-Burger, and then we'll see how much you can take in this form, J." 

[55sturn]

✮ DEALER!MATT WHO… / HEADCANONS

loosely inspired by @worldlxvlys and their incredible dealer w/ benefits series!

DEALER!MATT who always has a joint rolled for his favourite customer, way before she knocks on his door.

DEALER!MATT who makes sure to have her favourite cartoon queued up on his tv so he can hit play the moment the roach burns out.

DEALER!MATT who always lets her roll the next joint, chuckling when she gets him to lick the length of the open side, sealing it shut.

DEALER!MATT who has a fuck ton of brightly coloured lighters with flower stickers and god knows what else drawn and plastered on them, always making sure to pocket one of them so he has a reminder of his favourite girl wherever he goes.

DEALER!MATT who lets her tag along on late night deals because he hates leaving her alone when she’s high.

DEALER!MATT who lets her crash at his place almost every time she comes over because she gives the best cuddles.

DEALER!MATT who breaks another dealer’s nose and jaw after sucker punching him because he sold some laced shit to his girl.

DEALER!MATT who can’t help but trail his finger tips along her thighs because he loves seeing her squirm and he finds amusement in the way goosebumps show up the second he touches her.

DEALER!MATT who goes silent the moment he hears her gasps and whines as he kisses down her neck, and has to hold himself back because those sounds spilling from her mouth are like heaven to him.

DEALER!MATT who pouts when she won’t kiss him goodbye after she picks up her weed and can’t stay.

DEALER!MATT who loves to leave dark hickies wherever visible when he knows she’s going out either that night or the next because he doesn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.

DEALER!MATT who gets squirmy and fidgety when he’s high, but only around her because he wants nothing more than to feel every possible inch of her skin that he can.

DEALER!MATT who nearly rips into the upholstery of his couch as he digs his nails into it because he’s so sensitive when he’s high and she can’t stop teasing him.

DEALER!MATT who will refuse to name any other dealers the moment she asks because he’s right there and she doesn’t need to buy from anyone else.

DEALER!MATT who refuses to accept monetary payment from her, instead opting for a more physical payment, loving the way she twitches and writhes beneath him.

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[solarsturniolo]

Pugs ‘N’ Kisses // M.S. // PROLOGUE

By Natalie 💋

Summary: Matt has always been the one person you can count on. Whether it be for advice or a holiday event, he always knew how to take care of you. There's nothing he wouldn't do for you.

Other Parts: Chapter One,

Warnings: Smut / Stalking / Voyeurism / Cursing / Obsessive Behavior / Possessive Behavhior / Minors DNI

You never really thought much of it.

Ever since you became friends with him, Matt had always been a sweetheart to you. Opening doors for you, kicking his brother’s ankle if he tried to take the booth seat, driving you everywhere you could possibly want to go; no matter the circumstance, Matt was always someone you could rely on, and he made that clear. He invited you to any outings that he and his brothers attended. He spent hours helping you build that matching furniture set for your bedroom, insisting that he could do it all himself for you. He made himself available for you whenever you needed him. 

Matt made an impression on everyone in your life, and a good one at that. He would help your mom set the table on nights when he was invited for dinner, and he would happily do the dishes once everyone was finished. He was a schmoozer, a charmer. From asking how her day was to empathizing with her frustration with whatever meaningless squabble happened at work with Theresa that works in the next cubicle over. He knew just the right questions to ask and just the right emotions to express on his face. He’d send you a smile across the table, reminding you that he still had his attention on you. One time you were almost sure that he winked at you, something the group chat heard plenty of that evening once he had left, though after some evaluation you assumed it must’ve just been a trick of the light.

After dinner, your mother would always insist on putting a movie on for everyone to watch. A desperate attempt to make you all seem like a normal family in front of your guest, though anyone with half a brain could see through it. You would try to weasel out of it, but Matt would just smile and tell you ‘I don’t mind,’ which was all you needed to give in. Halfway through, every single time, your father would notoriously begin to critique whatever had been put on. It was very easy for Matt to get on your father’s good side, all he had to do was agree with everything he would bitch and moan about. ‘The quality is garbage,’ he would grunt, and Matt would reply ‘It’s like it was recorded on an iPhone 4’ to which your father would laugh and playfully punch his shoulder. ‘This kid knows what’s up,’ he’d approvingly remark, spending the rest of the film making little jabs at the movie with Matt following him up in agreement. 

The biggest impression he had made, and the most important in his eyes, were your friends. Of course your parents’ approval mattered, but they didn’t know the real you, not the way your friends did. Granted, it took a lot of work. They were certain that he and any other human with a dick and balls were bad news. Fair enough, he thought. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, he knew it would take a lot of time and effort. But you are worth that. It had taken almost a year to get your friends one hundred percent on the Matt bandwagon, but he really sealed the deal on your birthday. 

He greeted you at your house that afternoon with a gorgeous floral arrangement in a beautiful glass vase. He knew your friends would be over, he was betting on it. They all watched with envy glossed over their eyes as you admired the beautiful arrangement, and while you were happily distracted, to not take the attention off of you on your special day of course, he brought in three much smaller bouquets; one for each of your friends. From that moment forward, everyone was team Matt. Your parents and friends would ask about him regularly. “When is Matt coming over again?” “You and that Matt boy still friends?” “You should invite Matt!” 

It felt good. Being liked by all of the closest people in your life was important to him. It gave him leverage, access to more sides of you than just what you showed him. He got to see your girly side with your friends, and he got to see your more domestic side with your family, though his favorite side of you was when you were with him. Just him. Not him and your friends, not him and your parents, not him and his brothers. Him.

You had to admit, that was your favorite side of yourself as well. Something about him, maybe it was his aura, maybe it was his horoscope chart, or maybe he was just the first decent guy you had ever gotten close with, but something about him made you feel at ease. He didn’t give you butterflies, instead he made all of the noise and static go quiet. Your hands never shook as long as he was holding them. Your body never felt cold as long as he was next to you. It was a weird feeling; A good feeling, but weird. You had never felt this way about another person before. 

Matt felt the same way. Any day that he got to spend with you was a good day. Any day that he got to speak to you or see your face was a good day. Any day that you made an appearance of any kind became a good day. Summer nights running down the beaches of Cape Cod, rainy days cooped up in your bedroom listening to your favorite vinyl records, late nights sending Game Pigeon games back and forth for hours. It didn’t matter what you did together, it only mattered that he got to do it with you. 

The only thing that mattered to him was you. 

a/n: Welp…good luck yall. @flowerxbunnie and I already planned out this entire story.

Tags: @flowerxbunnie @mattslolita @mattsbratt69 @oversturn @simplysturn @soursturniolo @megamett44-lover @sturnybabes @jjmaybankswifes-blog @plasticferal @cupidsword @liz-stxrn @sturniolosreads @sturnioloskies @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @matthemunch44 @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chris @tillies33ssss @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @breeloveschris @meg-sturniolo @ellie-luvsfics @mattsfavwh3re @lustfulslxt @braindead4l @xtravrgnoliveoil @ghostlythinggoingaround @taekwite @leah-loves-lilies @querenciasturniolo @whicked-hazlatwhore @lacysturniolo @sara2233445

[satoruhour]

racer jjk are so good 😩 i wonder if u can make a part two where is explain how the boys (gojo, geto, nanami, toji) and the reader first met. THANK YOUUU

a/n: thx baby glad u liked them 😉 here you go! also mb if this is lacklustre guys 🧍‍♀i didn’t wanna write smut bc it’d be too similar ig. fun little post! pls still support me 🥹 (nanami’s is a bit suggestive!) / pt.1 here

✶ GOJO

you actually meet his ass when he almost crashes into u and while making a difficult drift turn before swerving at the sight of you. plus  surprise … you’re the police chief’s daughter. gojo at this point is still using a jacked up camaro, so it’s a wonder he’s able to still speed so well away from officers. but it’s not like he was running away from any crime, he just so happened to stumble across an interrogation of a fellow classmate initiated by the police chief’s son (your younger, cop worshipper brother). it was hardly an interrogation tho, more of a bully circle. gojos an cocky man but hes not entirely closed off from things happening around him. when theres people being wrongfully treated he steps in, but he’s pushing the limit a little running away from your brother and his police chief dad. especially when he’s got ties with the racing scene lol. bro doesnt exactly care tho, cause he knew the modifications he made to his engine he’s sure to get away lmaoooo.

there’s a rush of adrenaline that matches the exact moments when the first gear change happens and his foot presses down hard on the break, feeling the familiar sensation of the steering wheel under his fingers as he turns it to the right. nothing like a successful run of a difficult drift route, even more so with an annoying fucking kid chasing him. he was miles behind too, and gojo has to laugh out to himself in the driver’s seat before he yelps out at the shadow on the street.

“damn street lights. don’t even want to spend a few thousand to fix it,” he scoffs, thinking the figure would’ve apologised and ran away, but he’s a little pumped to see you, a relative of the very kid he was running away from. “don’t wanna chase me with daddy over there?”

you notice he’s nodding his head toward the incessant siren, your hotheaded father and your insufferable brother, two of them who butt heads all the time but still manage to get along. you couldn’t care less though, because of their arrogant, conceited behaviour; you vowed never to be like that. your father failed to raise you how he wanted you to turn out: dyed hair at sixteen, a stick ’n poke a year later, colluding with the “wrong” people (they were harmless, he just didn’t like them).

so he turned to your brother, corrupting his mind, and since then, you’ve been a ghost in the house, happy to even be ignored by the conservative kin that find people who are different a ’hassle’. with a story like this, gojo isn’t exactly clueless to your situation so he reaches over and opens the door to the passenger seat in a silent offer.

what’s a little salt in the wound, right?

gojo giggles when you slip in like he knew you would and you simply shrug, knowing this would seal the deal. you know you’re right when you hear furious honks from the police car which is quickly approaching, but watching gojo evade police on the news made you confident he’d outrun them every. single. time. “ooh, doesn’t sound good, princess. i’ll pick you up if you get kicked out of the house.”

it was such a dirty, rude comment that you would’ve slapped him but instead you just burst out laughing, weird noises and all before you’re patting the hand on his stick shift, “drive, hotshot.”

all you can do is roll your eyes with a smile, not missing the exhilarated smile and blush on his cheeks. you already feel at home in the 1969 camaro he’s driving, seeing the exact same car later that night when you’re waiting on the sidewalk with a bulk of your things.

“so much for being daddy’s girl.” gojo smiles, a little sickeningly that you want to punch him (you hear it’s like that from his friends and you find it to be true), but you accept the ride anyway, with a promise he’d get something more later.

✶ GETO

the first time you see him is before a race, having stumbled into the bustling underground of cars and the peak of 2000s fashion because you’re still navigating japan even after six months on an exchange program. it’s difficult when they have different parking lots for every monument building, which all look the same, mind you. it was like a puzzle for your poor mind, especially since there was tons of undocumented alleys in the area you were in. u immediately get hit by the smell of petrol and smoke and conversation and it’s like woah…. stepping entirely into a new world sort of??? even with his fame suguru stays humble tho, keeping gojo ans nanami close to him while keeping his distance from fangirls and stuff. shit gets messy !!!!

gojo nudges geto so hard he almost falls if not for his mazda behind him, and he’s ready to shoot a glare towards satoru but then he looks past the annoying man and into the crowd to find you, doe eyed and looking all around the place like a deer caught in headlights. you’re all dressed up in a cute get-up, hair framing your face so cutely he has half a mind to talk to you. plus, it’s clear you don’t belong here, and there isn’t anything wrong with that but the people here sometimes tend to be a tad bit… stuck-up.

there’s already a few in the crowd giving you weird looks and others giggling, clearly put off by the confused glances you exchange between your phone and the area. geto is prepared to head your way, but his resolve hardens when he sees todo and his gang start to approach the poor person who can only freeze in place.

geto pushes off his car immediately, completely disregarding whatever comment gojo was making while nanami watches silently. todo’s already asked you a question, and when you don’t answer, everyone knows the next thing he’ll do is to humiliate you, but not before geto interferes.

“she’s mine, aoi.” shoving him away, todo only scoffs and spits on the floor beside you because he can’t do anything except leave the place before anything escalates. it’s a clear rule, too, that anyone’s partner or significant other is off-limits, unless you want to propose a race to win them over — but even so it’s not that simple.

the murmurs only heighten when geto asks if you’re okay, a palm on your back to lead you away from the action of everything. thankfully, his mazda and the other two men are stationed at the corner, and the crowd’s attention slowly pulls away from you and onto the revving engines of the two competing cars.

“you okay?” geto looks down, shielding the bright car park lights and peeking a glance at where you were meant to go. it’s a quaint cafe in the basement of a building near shibuya square — a place which could be accessed by the parking lot, but it looks like you took an early turn and ended up in this one instead.

all you could muster up was a nod, mind going a hundred miles per hour just like those cars that were going to race; you’re more focused on his brown eyes that hold yours too well, though, dark and hypnotising that he has to repeat his question.

“yeah. for the most part, i guess. tha—” you mumble, but before you can bow and thank the man who’s already making a mark on your mind with his imposing stature, his friend chimes in.

“don’t mind aoi, he’s just intense like that.” you look past geto to see the white-haired racer who sports a bright grin, and to his side, a blonde, bored-looking guy who’s around the same age. “where you headed?”

geto waves a hand at them and cuts in as you answer, “i’ll take you. don’t mind those two idiots.” his sudden offer has your heart jumping just a bit; a mean brooding guy looking for a little cafe who’s holding a cinnamoroll event at the moment? what a sight to behold.

you’re all prepared to go when gojo tosses the keys to his mazda, and you’re thinking that maybe it really was further than expected but the man is soon leaning down to whisper into your ear.

“but before you go, want to watch me race?” geto grins, noticing that you’re at a loss for words again. you do that a lot, huh. it wouldn’t hurt to show off a little to get you absolutely speechless.

“i’ll treat you to whatever you want in that cute cafe, too.”

✶ NANAMI

ok the small drabble i wrote was sorta how they met but yes basically that!!!! nanami comes in at first (but you’re not doing much, just hanging around in the back), panicking cause he’s got an important race tmr (he just doesn’t gojo to win over whether he would have to borrow one of gojo’s dodge chargers) and hes like ? hes wondering what’s wrong with his dodge and when your dad mentions how he may need to order the parts his world falls apart fr 😭. and then he ends up borrowing it from gojo LMFAOOO. since you guys roughly know their meeting (nanami’s return to the shop after your father fixes the car and then eating you out wheeew) ill highlight life with nanami after that whole shebang!

you like to recall the first time you’ve met nanami, hardly a meeting, really, because you didn’t even see his face, but you hear his voice. a deep timbre with a seriousness to it that tells you that he could’ve fixed his own car if he tried and maybe just lacked the parts. however, you’re appalled when your father comes home later that night and tells you it was a dodge charger they were dealing with, a 1968 release that was no doubt passed down in his generation.

so when you’re peeking out of the supply room the second time nanami returns, you’re not surprised by his blonde hair, possibly a descendant of european blood, but had been born and raised in japan. it wasn’t uncommon, but it felt like he was such a specific ethnicity with the features he had. you’re right when you’re out with nanami a few weeks later, learning his grandfather was danish, smiling as he talked about his family.

it was by chance that he got into the racing scene, getting acquainted with gojo briefly because he was always infuriating in class — but then the both of them began to grow out of high school and entered university, introducing nanami to both geto, gojo’s best friend and to racing. it had made an impression on his heart immediately, reluctantly asking to ride in gojo’s car as they sped through the night and then trying his hand at it later.

“so geto-san was the one who taught you how to drift?” you ask from the passenger seat, a calm atmosphere surrounding the two of you as nanami takes you out for a casual drive along the freeway, bringing you to his favourite place to drift ever since he’s trained there. it was a clean ascent once he reaches the mountain, jogging over to open the door for you before sticking out a hand.

“thank you… kento,” you feel his hand tighten around yours, bringing you around to the front before leaning on the front of the car with you, the jangle of the bracelet he’s got you making noises when he pulls you into his side. it’s been a month with him, yet he already feels so committed, albeit stoic.

but you realise, in the midst of it, you’re the only one who can manage to pry a smile out of him, the lines on his face fading away when he picks you up from your dad’s shop. the loud engine is always an indicator, greeting him at the door of the garage as your father sends you off with a grin, leaning into the driver’s seat to press a peck through the window.

“when you say my name like that,” nanami mumbles, appreciating the scene with his lips in your hair; and while nanami is all soft and gentle with you, sometimes his carnal instincts get the best of him and he says the filthiest things, unprompted, “it makes me want to eat you out on the hood of my car again.”

you roll your eyes with a smile, because you’ve already done it twice: one in the shop and another in a secluded car park, but you know nanami hasn’t glutted his appetite for you yet, and he makes sure you know he never will.

✶ TOJI

the drabble previously mentioned how you were a little older megumi — through tutoring megumi, you met toji. it was a chance encounter sort of, u put up an ad at the end of your second year of uni since the winter break was a little longer than usual, so you decided to earn a bit of pocket money thru tutoring in the one subject you were most comfortable in: humanities. the syllabus in schools nowadays has become harder too, even going as far as to research papers and then scoff in disgust at the intensity of the questions lol … it’s routine in the school system to do that, gearing up for the questions you might be asked when u first get an enquiry call on the line. you hang up with a time and address and when u reach megumi opens the door, but toji emerges from his man cave (garage. hes obsessed w/ his corvette) later and jesus christ hes (almost) six foot of pure dilf that youre considering sidling up to him instead LMAO. esp with how the house looked, it wouldnt be so bad being a old man’s bitch

the doorbell you rang reverberates throughout the house, albeit a bit muffled, but the door opens quickly and you’re met with a black spiky-haired kid, who looks a few years younger than you. but megumi didn’t really need an introduction, because you’re pointing it out to him once inside.

“aren’t you the kid that got suspended for beating up gang members?” sometimes his seniors never knew when to shut up. to this, megumi just sighs.

“yep, that’s me. i told you my name over the phone but,” he extends a hand, “i’m fushiguro megumi.”

you hum and take his hand, introducing yourself as well before a thud makes you snap your head to the noise, where a larger and taller man emerges from the door that connects the living room to the garage. he has features similar to megumi’s and he’s currently clutching his toe, stubbing it on the cabinet on his way out and cursing his head off.

it isn’t difficult to match name to face for him as well, remembering a report you did on the increasingly popular racing scene starting up again. don’t ask — it was a pretty open assignment and you didn’t hesitate to write about the culture back then, something you always wished you lived in.

now, you’re not too taken aback by casually stumbling across fushiguro toji’s home, but more of how he managed to maintain his physique for so many years. if there’s anything your research told you, he was more on the lanky side in his twenties, the right side of his mouth clear from the scar while dominating the drifting scene back in the 80s.

“who’re you, kid?” a little annoyed at the name but you open your mouth to introduce yourself, and toji nods, although confused. it seems like he’s not too involved in megumi’s grades, because when you tell him megumi himself had called you over a bad grade in literature and social studies, his expression drops into an ‘o’. 

“ah, i would’ve taught him myself but…” you knew he dropped out of high school before, living a crap life trying to pay off debts his father had left him and turning to racing and winning bets to make a living out of it. it was scary how this information was so accessible to you via one of his interviews, but you can tell he’s put it long before him, choosing to focus on raising megumi and maintaining his corvette.

“make yourself at home, alright, doll?” doll. you stutter out an affirmative reply.

though when he said that, you hadn’t imagined wandering into the same door he had came out of before. he was probably checking on the condition of his car, knees protruding out of the corvette’s side as he rolls out on the creeper at the sound of someone approaching. you didn’t wish to do this, truly, but when some kids from megumi’s school had attempted to play a prank by picking toji’s lock to get back at megumi, the latter had discovered them after coming out the side door.

needless to say, megumi still holds up his reputation, chasing them down for more than three blocks (it was seven) before proceeding to, you assume, beat them up. you imagine it’s routine for toji at this point, but you still want to at least let him know.

“he’s off again?” toji sits up after hearing your explanation, using the wrench to scratch his temple. sure, he’s only like twenty years older than you — it certainly doesn’t stop you from checking out how his muscles bulge against his compression shirt, or the grey sweatpants he’d got on that you told yourself not to peep at. “don’t mind the kid, i’ll lecture him when he returns later.”

he sighs and grumbles under his breath, expecting you to leave, and when you don’t he just raises an eyebrow, a silent prompt for you to explain what else you needed. you only pointed to the hood. 

“uh… toji-san, if you’re keen on getting back into racing,” toji fully stands up to his height, curious on what you have to say, but also wondering how much balls you had to talk about racing in front of him, “you should really change your 283 cubic-inch V8 to a 327. i, uh, heard the specifications on the new engine has better fuel delivery and horsepower.”

toji relaxes when you actually know your crap, not wanting to deal with another annoying fan begging him to get back into racing, although you’re not entirely off the hook. “and why should i listen to you, hm, doll?”

he stands there, unimpressed, but you didn’t research cars like a madman for nothing. it was a rabbit hole you had commended yourself for diving into, too, because you always had wanted to start, just, how? and that changed when you finally had the opportunity to delve into the complicated world of cars with the help of your friend’s dad who was a mechanic. “um… you really don’t. just giving some pointers, or at least, recommendations that go well with your ’66 corvette.”

oh my god? you know the exact year his chevrolet was released too?

the ex-racer only nods slowly, keeping it in mind for the next time he has the time to switch to an updated engine, but he didn’t expect help to come from your hands the next time, working under the hood like a professional while still leaving the heavy lifting to him. you had fun each time in the garage, exchanging intel and geeking about cars while you both open up to each other — all under the guise of tutoring his son.

since then, toji has taken his corvette out to meet you more than he takes it out for errands, meeting you with a promise that he would take care of your university fees. but none of the time spent with you would’ve warned him that you two would be changing his next engine, too, except that maybe, you were finally his girl.

why does toji’s always end up the longest bye. also this is the only req i’ve gotten, i swear i don’t bite guys. ♡ thirsts and drabble requests are open!

[na0koz]

hiii i was wondering if you could write about toxic vi from arcane? <3

cw: mention of sex, ghosting, alcohol, arguing, wall punching, gaslighting, vi is just mean

hell yeah

i don’t think vi would be toxic in the way that i write jinx, like she wouldn’t be completely psychotic and obsessed, like she just wouldn’t be the best girlfriend, y’know.

she’d be veryyyy possessive but still refuses to put a label on your relationship. i don’t think she likes committing like that. but if she catches wind of someone else flirting with you, or you flirting with someone else then she will be having words. beats up the other person and maybe yells at you too.

she is so so mean. uses personal stuff you’ve told her against you all the time, purposefully to hurt you. she knows how to get under your skin and make you cry and she uses that skill to her advantage.

if you argue then she’ll storm off and come back a couple days later, sweet talking you trying to get you back while you stare at her with your arms folded over your chest. “please princess, you’re the only person i wanna be with, i need you.” kinda shit.

she does ghost you a lot though. she’s not reallyyyy sure how to do relationships ‘properly’ so she thinks it’s fine to disappear for a days or weeks and come back like nothing happened just because she ‘wasn’t feeling like a relationship’.

really fucks with your head a lot. acts like she didn’t say stuff when she definitely did. called you a slut once for pretty much no reason and then when you brought it up in a later argument, where she said you were “being stupid, baby” and she’d never say that about you because she loves you.

like i said earlier, she’s different to jinx in how they’re toxic. i guess the way to describe it would be that vi is actively toxic, because she argues and ghosts you and all that bs, while jinx is like secretly obsessed and crazy about you.

she never tells you anything. you probably started seeing each other as a result of a one night stand, so there wasn’t any like talking stage beforehand. she picked you up from a club and thought she wouldn’t mind seeing you again after she’d fucked you. but you guys barely talk properly, if you do then it’s you talking and her half-listening. you don’t know anything about her family or anything like that, nothing about her past.

she’s not that physical when she’s angry, but she has been and will be if she gets worked up enough. punches walls for sure. her apartment is so messy from her punching shit and throwing stuff. in a particularly messy argument you said something that just really rubbed her the wrong way. she punched the wall by your head as a result and made you cry. cue the sickly sweet, yet empty, comforts and apologies.

once ran into someone she knew while you were on a ‘date’ (going to a bar, making out in an alleyway, then fucking at her apartment), and introduced you as her girlfriend. you asked her about it, a smile on your face as you thought she had finally decided she wanted to seal the deal with you. she then burst your bubble saying that she “kind of had to” call you her girlfriend because you’re definitely more than friends, but you are not her girlfriend. she makes that very clear.

she did try to do something for your birthday, (doesn’t give a fuck about anniversaries) not very well though. she missed it by a couple of days and probably only knew about it from hearing it from a friend of yours. showed up to your door with some kind of ugly wilted flowers and a bottle of whiskey. she may have already popped the cork of the bottle and had some on her way.

her answer to everything is just sex, unfortunately. her idea of making up after an argument is just fucking you to make to forget how horrible she is, rather than actually apologising and talking with you.

basically, she fucks with you so bad, your friends hate her, you hate her (sometimes), she acts like she hates you but truthfully she is just terrified but the feeling that you give her. she is evil.

[stellarbit]

Devotee

Word Count: 3.8k Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Imperial Warnings: NSFW smut with little plot, piv, creampie, oral Summary: You joined the imperial army because of CF 99. They trained you as a freedom fighter and you hadn't stopped thinking of Crosshair since. He'd yet to come across someone who looked at him like you did, and he wants more

Crosshair never substantially interacted with civilians before the Empire. In just one week, he transitioned from dealing with those outside his squad on a need-to-know basis, to leading and training not just regular clones, but also regular people.

It was dismal work that, to him, proved nothing more than his superiority over the majority. Still, there were those who looked down on him for being a clone. Not that it mattered. They were of no significance to Crosshair, it only showed their lack of vision and poor taste.

However, when you came under his command, the opinion of another became of some interest to him.

As a new recruit in a promising class of soldiers, you were part of the elite he was tasked to train between assignments. Among your cohorts, you stood the straightest—rigid as a board, chin raised, eyes fixed forward. It caught Crosshair’s attention in the wrong way.

Walking the lines of you, he stopped in front of you and turned his hawkish gaze on you. Under the weight of his stare, your eyes wavered from their focus.

 In a low, annoyed tone, he challenged, "Something on your mind?"

You hastily shook your head, sealing your lips tightly to maintain composure.

Crosshair took your silence as insubordination. His voice sharpened, "You answer when spoken to by a superior officer."

You responded promptly this time, "No."

“No…?” Crosshair pressed, dragging the etiquette out of you.

You swallowed, willing yourself to relax and offered him a subtle smile. "No, sir."

Crosshair turned to face you fully, his expression tightened with displeasure. He heard attitude in your voice and with it the opportunity to let off some steam.

“Congratulations. You earned yourself an extra hour of training today.” His crisp tone fixed your posture, forcing your eyes forward again.

With a sharp nod, and a dry mouth, you squared your shoulders. “Yes, sir.” He made an annoyed noise and walked on. You’d spent too long planning your first interaction with him for it to have gone that poorly. The worst of it was that you didn’t even know how it managed to go that poorly.

Despite that, it was your first training session under Crosshair’s leadership and you were going to make the best of it. The exercises were more intense than you’d experienced since the Clone Wars. But you had experienced it before.

By the session's end, you still had enough energy to spare. Training to be the best and serving with the best was your ultimate goal. Disappointing Crosshair on your first day was not an option.

The other soldiers filed out, some muttering snide comments. Your instinct was to grab them by their hair but you stood determined to impress. Keeping your composure was crucial; losing it would only show weakness.Once the doors closed and you were left alone with Crosshair, all you could think to do was stand at attention, silently waiting his next command.

Crosshair took slow deliberate steps towards you. He’d been planning this all morning. Using you as a punching bag was going to serve two purposes. keeping the others in line and venting the rage that was consuming him—not just the condescension from the regs but also his fresh frustration with his brothers.

He halted a few paces away, his voice icy. "Anything to say, or is speaking to a clone beneath you?"

Your composure instantly vanished, head whipping to face him. “Absolutely not!” You protested.

"No?" Crosshair began to circle you like a predator assessing its prey. "Then you’re insubordinate." Having once embodied insubordination himself, he recognized it well and had no tolerance for it.

"Insubordinate?" you repeated, shocked. Your mouth opened and closed, searching for the right words. "Sir," you scoffed, tracking his movements, "I think you’re misunderstanding."

A cruel smile flickered across his lips, his eyes challenging you to further provoke him. He paused while still in front of you, taking two long, intimidating steps closer. "Are you questioning me?"

The severity of the situation was beginning to dawn on you. In a sudden panic, you turned towards him, your hands raised in a gesture of surrender. Your words tumbled out in a rush, "No, no! I'm not trying to— I mean, I didn’t mean to—" As his smile twisted into a snarl, you blurted out, driven by desperation, "I'm here because of you.."

Once the words were out, you wondered why you had been so fearful of expressing them in the first place. There was a pride swelling in your chest at the admission, genuine satisfaction in declaring it aloud. His expression didn’t change, but he fell silent,  waiting for you to continue.

You slowly lowered your hands, clearing your throat before adding, "Your squad helped retake my city from the Separatists. I was among the freedom fighters you aided." As you spoke, you watched his features soften, the simmering rage cooling into something more reflective. "I enlisted because of you and your squad. I want to help people the way you helped us. There were rumors about clones leading the best of us and here I am.

"In the Mid Rim?" His voice was a low murmur, recognition flickering in his eyes. You nodded, a spark of hope lighting up your face as he pieced the memory together.

Crosshair scrutinized you, shifting his stance slightly. Your eyes were wide, not with fear or challenge, but with something he hadn't expected—admiration. The smile on your lips wasn't mockery but genuine, warm respect.

You fidgeted under his gaze; it wasn’t a seething stare-down but a thorough inspection. The sensation of his eyes on you ignited a warmth in your stomach that quickly spread throughout your body. His focus intensified, sending heat creeping up your neck and flushing your cheeks.

With muscle memory, Crosshair plucked a toothpick from a compartment on his forearm, stepping closer as he placed it between his teeth. His expression, previously tight with anger, now relaxed into a scoff. "You came here because of me?" he asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

Crosshair rolled his head to one side, pulling out the toothpick to point at you. “You were an archer.”

A giddy flutter ran through you. “I was.” You didn’t think he would remember you. “Actually you showed me-”

"How to ricochet a shot," he finished for you. He all but forgot that mission—it had been a relatively straightforward one for Clone Force 99—but he did recall your group. Your enthusiasm back then had been noticeable.

Your squirming and the flush of your cheeks didn’t escape him.

“Well then,” Crosshair drawled, stepping away and easing the pressure off of you. When you visibly relaxed, he continued, “Then let’s see how good of a student you turned out to be.”

When the extra hour was up, you’d barely broken a sweat and your shooting accuracy rounded out to crisp 93%, Crosshair had to admit - he was impressed.

While you wracked up your training blaster, Crosshair felt something more than being impressed. He toggled through what it could be, almost settling on approval, until you faced him again.

You were smiling at him and whatever it was it didn’t matter anymore. He just wanted more of it.

From that point on, whenever his duties allowed, you had the privilege of receiving Crosshair's exclusive tutelage. He had intended to make your training a form of punishment, and perhaps to others it might have felt that way. But you clung to his every command, turning it into something different for both of you. It turned out there was more than one way to let off steam because Crosshair always felt lighter after your sessions.

At some point he even found himself looking for you in hallways. When the day came that he spotted you and you kept your attention forward, with not a glance his way, his approval soured to annoyance.

Over dinner, he thought about what that meant for your next training session. He was barely a bite into his solitary meal when a tray clattered down in front of him. Mid-bite he glanced over his fork to find you out of uniform and, again, smiling at him.

Swallowing his bite, Crosshair sat his utensil down to ask, “Why are you here?” His tone was more cautious than curious.

You settled into your seat and lightly shrugged, “I saw you headed this way and I’ve been trying to catch you alone.” You gave him a wink, adding, “Trust me, I see you more than you see me.”

Crosshair studied you for a moment, his sharp gaze softening slightly. “Is that so?” he asked, half-joking yet intrigued by your boldness

.Your eyebrows bounced as you quickly replied, “I followed you into the military. You don’t think I’d follow you to the cantine?”

There it was again—your unabashed admiration for him. That unfamiliar, stirring feeling returned, churning something inside him. Crosshair was momentarily taken aback, reveling in the pleasure of this new sensation.

You hummed at him, snapping him back to reality. He blinked, then chuckled—a rare sound from him. “How shameless,” he remarked.

Laughing as you took a bite, you managed to say, “Coming from you?” Setting your utensil down you leaned forward. “I’ve seen you in battle, you pose when you shoot and you and I both know it.”

He stopped mid-bite, slowly lowering the fork with a little smirk. Crosshair forgot what it felt like to banter or be lighthearted. It spurred that feeling inside him.

“If that’s where your focus was in battle, no wonder the mission took so long.” He said in a teasing tone.

Pressing a hand against your chest you laughed innocently, “I was just watching your back.” No matter how you tried, you couldn’t tuck your smile away.

The Clone Wars had been grueling. Imperial boot camp less so, but still a challenge in conformity. You did it all for the chance to be trained again by Clone Force 99. To do for the Galaxy what they’d done for you. Even one session would have made it all worth it. This unfettered attention was beyond what you imagined.w1

“What is your schedule after this?” Crosshair’s question brought you back to focus.

You shrugged, frowning in thought, “Just headed back to my barracks.” You couldn’t resist pushing him. Daring a flirtatious tone you asked,“Why? Trying to catch me alone?”

Crosshair stood, tilting his head back with a lazy smile. “Something like that.” The low tone of his voice sent a chill down your spine. 

“Let’s go.” He said as he waved you on and he left the table.

“Go where?”

“My barracks.” Crosshair said just loud enough for others to hear.

You didn’t hesitate to abandon your tray, nearly tripping to get around the table and catch up.

As you walked, Crosshair found himself discussing small, inconsequential details of training schedules and mission outlines - things that, without his brothers, he’d keep to himself..

"You're different from the rest," Crosshair finally admitted, his voice low as if confessing a secret.

You met his gaze, your expression serious. “I’ll take that as a compliment, because so are you.," you responded earnestly. ”So thank you.”

You could’ve swore you saw his step falter, but regardless in a few more steps you made it to his barracks.

Crosshair let you cross the threshold first, giving him the chance to watch you peruse his space. The room was devoid of life, his new cohorts adhering to strict barracks regulations. Your buzzing about brought a warmth to the space. 

After circling the room, clearly in awe of being in the barracks of the men you so admired, you paused at a rectangular table in the center. Running your finger along its edge, you seemed lost in thoughts of what it must have been like when the entire squad was together. The placement of a rifle nearby hinted at which bunk was his.

Leaning back against the table, you took a deep, satisfied breath. This moment, here in this space, might have been the happiest you’d ever felt. Resting on one hand, you turned to face Crosshair, your expression radiantly beaming.

You were by no means a soft person, if anything he would mark you as fierce. Strong, resilient, and fierce.

And, perhaps his favorite, loyal.

In a few slow strides, Crosshair met you at the table just as you perched yourself on top of it. He scoured your face, and while he wouldn’t call you soft it’s exactly what you made him feel. The feeling inside him grew feverish for more of you.

Crosshair leaned into your space, hands gripping the table on either side of your legs. He couldn’t get enough of the way you looked at him. Admiration, adoration, and Crosshair knew there was attraction. The longer he watched you heat through him and he started pressing his pants.

“Are you enjoying training?” To anyone else he may have sounded imposing, but you saw beyond that. He was teasing you and pinning you with his full attention. The last and only time he’d been this close to you he’d been wrapping his arms around you to show you proper shooting form. And just like the last time, the very scent of him made your core ache.

“Yes.” Your smile squirmed, refusing to go away. You gave them to him so often and freely and still Crosshair wanted more.

He lost all tolerance for the space between you and slipped his right hand down the length of your thigh until he angled it out of his way. “Then I must not be doing a good job.”

The sudden advance took your breath away, but quickly and hushed, you responded, “That’s not true. There’s no one better than you.” Your eagerness got the better of you as you hung a hand on his bicep. A few stars came to your eyes as you added, “You’re exactly what I thought you’d be.”

“And what’s that?” He tilted his head, eyes falling to your lips for only a second.

“The best of us.” You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

His eyes flared with a sharp inhale. When had anyone looked at him like you were? You were so devoted to him and, beyond that, he suspected you were desperate for him. In one motion he slid his fingers under your thighs, wedged himself between your legs, and pulled you against him. A small noise left you and Crosshair purred, “Am I now?”

Steadying yourself with a grip on his shoulder, you managed a little scoff,  “Oh, don’t act like you don’t know that.”

Crosshair raised an eyebrow with a small smile, “Tell me anyways.”

For awhile you thought you’d been deluding yourself that Crosshair at least found you attractive. Now that you had concrete proof, you felt frantic for him. 

“You’re-” you started, interrupted as he stepped even closer. Crosshair pulled one leg to wrap around him, encouraging you as you continued on a gasp, “The epitome of precision and skill” 

Crosshair’s hips rolled into you on their own, suddenly very fervid to show you what you did to him.

Feeling him rock hard against you, you cursed under your breath. Slowly, you slid a leg to hook behind him. “Crosshair.” His name felt heavy on your tongue.

He only hummed in response and before you could second guess yourself you confessed, “I’ve wanted you since the moment I met you.” You took a deep breath and pulled him in. “And I want you right now.”

He snaked a hand behind your neck and angled you towards him. “I know you do.” His voice was strained, grunting against the urge to jump you and the pressure between you. “And I think I’ll have you.” His tone sent a thrill through you all the way to your core.

In a burst of motion, you tugged him against you and pulled him back by the neck. You moved your lips against his as you both fell back onto the table, Crosshair laying across you. His cock dug into you as your hips ground together. After a moment of shock, Crosshair’s eyes fluttered shut and he moved to consume you.

With a hand under your hip, Crosshair pulled you up just enough to give him the space to pull down his pants. They fell to the floor and his hand met yours at the hem of your pants. You both fumbled with the clasps and worked to wiggle you out of them. Simultaneously you stripped off your shirt, tossing them aside and grabbing each other’s faces. 

Crosshair maintained the kiss while pulling you to the edge of the table, his fingers sliding between your legs to your slit. He found you completely slick, feeling like velvet as he dipped his finger into you.

He moaned into your kiss at the feeling of you so wet for him.

His touch strummed you, pushing you into a feverish frenzy. “Crosshair.” You whined through kisses. Again, he only responded with a hum. You pulled away, panting and reaching between you two.

You found the length of him and gave him a few pumps that he leaned into.

“I need you.” Your words were another confession, an invitation, and a plea.

Crosshair’s huffed a laugh as he removed his fingers. Two were glistening with your juices with a small strand of you hanging between them. He brought his fingers to his open mouth, sucking the taste of you off his fingers.

Slipping them off his tongue, he directed them right into your mouth. The taste of you on him sent your eyes rolling back only for a moment until you felt him slip inside you.

The sudden fullness of him jolted you up right, your hands dropping to his hips. You pulled him against you in time with his rhythm. You both needed him to be deeper.

You squirmed around him, whining as he hastened his pace. The sounds of your body working against each other only heated the room. His moans stood out the most to you, stoking the growing ache inside you.

Not once did he look away from you. You were stunning as you writhed before him, cradling your hips against his. And never did you look up at him with anything other than a lopsided smile.

“Say it again,” He panted, relentlessly driving the full length of him into you.

There was no question as to what he wanted. “I need you, Crosshair.”

As soon as the words were out, his mouth was on yours. He groaned against you, filling you him in a smooth, long thrust. Pulling back just enough that his lips brushed yours, he ordered, “Get up and turn around.”

In perfect tandem, he slid out of you and you slid from the table. You quickly bent yourself over the table for him and he didn’t make you wait.

Crosshair leaned over you, putting one hand between your legs and the other on your face. He lifted your chin, aiming your gaze to the viewport in front of you. The pitch black night made a black mirror out of the glass and your reflection, dizzy and lost in lust, stared back at you. 

Your eyes moved to Crosshair’s. The moment your eyes met his in the reflection, his cock met your folds and pushed right through you. He held you in place as he fucked you, his hand just out of view as he made stroked your clit. 

“Is this what you came here for?” His voice reverberated from his chest into your back.

Had your fantasies played into your journey to Kamino? ”Yes.” The affirmation came out a happy trill.

Crosshair moved your head so that his mouth reached your ear. “You know what you are?” Every word that came from him pushed you further to melt around him.

“Tell me.” You sobbed. The kiss he pressed against your ear ended with a light bite, pulling a whimper from you.

“Mine.”

That was it. One single word and you were crying his name. Your orgasm hit and a moment later Crosshair sheathed himself deep within you. His cock swelled, throbbing and cumming in waves until it leaked out around him.

You slumped against the table, both exhausted and elated, but Crosshair gave you no time to rest. He pulled out of you and dropped to his knees, watching as his cum spilled out of you. After a few drips, Crosshair spread you with his thumbs and gave you a long lick. He started at your clit and ran his tongue all the way up.

“Crosshair!” His name was a mumbled moan from you. “You can’t.”

From his knees, Crosshair turned you around to stand before him. “Too late.” He crooned before diving back into you. His licking and sucking made it hard to stand. When he put two fingers in you and started curling them inside you, another, almost painful, ache bloomed in you. You were so sensitive and his mouth was already bringing you to a second release

You dared look down, not expecting to see his brown eyes looking up at you. With your full attention; Crosshair hummed into you and focused his fingers on a soft spot inside you. The stimulation struck something more in you. Warm pressure pooled between your legs while you reached the brink of release.

“If you keep that up I’m going to-”

You didn’t need to tell him, he knew you were close by the way you convulsed on his fingers and the noises you made. He rocked his fingers harder into you and as his mouth focused on your clit. Impatience took hold of Crosshair and in his drive to see what more you could show him he took your clit into his mouth. He sucked on you, swelling your bundle of nerves so much that when he let his teeth lightly graze you, your entire body shuddered.

The pressure that built around his fingers snapped and you came around him. His fingers didn’t stop though and they kept playing you until your own cum coated his hands. You couldn’t stop the shakes hitting you or the way the floor became wet from you.

Only when you were on the verge of collapsing did Crosshair let you go. You barely caught yourself, elbows catching the edge of the table as your legs gave way. 

Drained in every way you huffed and puffed with a barely there smile. “That was-”

“Have you ever came like that?”

You didn’t have to look at the small puddle you left to know what he was referring to. Getting your feet back underneath you, you admitted. “Never.”

Crosshair got to his feet, helping you straighten out as he went. “Good.” Tipping your chin up he returned one of your smiles. “Let’s keep it that way.”

Your knees went weak again as you said, “Sir, yes sir.”

[short-honey-badger]

Phantom Pain part 2

Masterlist

Part 2 of my mini fic. I hope you enjoy this one as well!

You jerk away from his hand with a sneer, cheeks flushing at the unexpected kiss, "Please get off of me," you demand, tone not leaving any room for joking. Just because the two of you apparently belonged together didn't mean he could get all touchy-feely with you immediately.

You are pleased when he actually lets you go and plops back into his own seat. You turn and examine him with a frown, flickering your eyes up and down his rather impressive form. Your soulmate was handsome in a rugged sort of way with dark eyes and a carefree smile that could put anyone at ease. Anyone but you, at least.

"Shanks," you say his name and the man perks up like a puppy. You furrow your brow at him, trying to recall why his name sounds so damn familiar, and you jerk back even further when it finally clicks, "Red-Haired Shanks? The Yonko?" You demand, and your voice goes a little shrill at the end. Your heart wants to beat out of your chest, and your eyes are wide as dinner plates. It would be your luck that someone so terrifyingly strong would be your soulmate. This must be to make up for your own cowardly and wiley ways. You were a firm believer in not your monkey, not your circus.

This man made other people's business, his business, and that wasn't something you wanted to deal with. Not like you had much of a choice if he was believed, but you would not hide away how you felt. You've never held back before. Why stop now?

Shanks just laughs when he feels your annoyance and frustration stream down the bond the two of you share, "Yep," he pops the p and leans in close to you, and you lean away in response, "The one and only," he gives you a smug little grin and you suddenly want to wipe it off his face with a well-placed punch, "You still haven't told me your name yet, Hon."

You reach for your mug to give yourself a little bit of time to think about how you want to respond. Running was out of the question. His entire crew was in the building with him, and you didn't think you could get very far anyway. And even if you did manage to get away, Shanks knew what you looked like and could easily track you down with the connections he surely had.

You let out an explosive sigh and mourn the freedom you once had, and then quietly tell your soul mate your name.

"_," Shanks says your name softly, tasting the syllables on his tongue, and you shiver at the way he says it. How can he say your name with so much emotion attached to it? How can he care so much about you already? It's enough to almost frighten you.

Shanks stares at you, brushing away your rising confusion that he feels. You were nothing like he had expected out of a soul mate, surly and snappy with a bad attitude. But you were his, and he would show you how much you meant to him even if you didn't want anything to do with him. You were made for him, just like he was made for you.

"I like it, your name I mean," the redhead says, and satisfaction curls hot in his chest when he feels your embarrassment. Who knew that you were so shy? He wonders if it is your biology or you responding to him.

"Thanks, I guess," you murmur and give him a strange look. What an odd statement to make, but your soul mate seemed like an odd man anyway, so what was new?

Shanks grins and reaches out to drag you closer by your stool, causing you to flail for a hot second as you lose your balance. The Yonko saves you from the close fall by wrapping his arm around your waist, "Oopse," he says with that smug grin, and again, you want to wipe it off his pretty face with your fist. You can feel his joy and playfulness over the bond you share with him.

"Insufferable," you grumble lowly. You shift in your seat just to feel how tightly he holds you, and the longer you stay, the more you feel that freedom slips further and further away. You have run from this your entire life, and in one fell swoop, your fate had been sealed by walking into the wrong tavern.

"Can't help myself, Baby," Shanks says, and you can feel his joy and giddiness at you accepting your place at his side. Maybe not fully, but he could tell that you didn't plan on running anymore. His arm tightens around your waist, and Shanks leans in to drop a kiss on the top of your head, "I wanna know everything about you."

You huff through your nose, eyes rolling to the heavens, and when they come back down, they settle on Shanks, who looks eager just to be near you. You suppose his open affection would be something you'd need to get used to.

"Finnnee," you draw out and then tip up the remainder of your drink, "But you are buying the rest of the night," like hell would you spend what little money you had if your soul mate was here. You would happily let him pick that up for you.

"I think I can handle that. Pick your poison, Baby," he says easily, and hours later, you find out that the redhead was serious about wanting to know everything about you. Shanks had asked you every question under the sun, to the point that you had snapped at him to be silent for two seconds just so you could take a breather and think. This man was overwhelming in every way possible, and it made you wonder why fate decided the two of you belonged together. However, for all your dislike and disgust for soul mates, you couldn't deny that yours wasn't a bad one.

"Alright, that's enough. You're a sponge, aren't ya, Sweetheart?" Shanks says, and you blink up at him, vision a little swimmy. Huh, guess you had drank more than what you thought.

Shanks stands and steadies his soul mate when you seem to sway to the side. He gently pulls you off the stool and laces his hand with one of your own, "I think it's time we got back to the ship," he says and makes sure to keep his voice clear. The Yonko didn't want you to think that he had kidnapped you or something. He watches your vision sharpen as you process what he said.

You swallow harshly, hand clenching around his own and your free hand tangling in his dark cloak. Fuck. You weren't ready. How were you supposed to be there for someone else when you could hardly be there for yourself? This man was so strong and you were so weak in comparison it was pathetic.

Before you could spiral further, Shanks grabbed your attention by tugging you into his chest and kissing the top of your head just as softly as he did earlier. He could feel your fear and anxiety flowing between the two of you, and it made his heart ache that you were so fearful of something so good.

"Don't worry. We'll take this one step at a time,_ " he says your name again, and you feel yourself relax just a bit. He says it like it's the most important thing in the world, and maybe it is to him. He grins at you when you calm down and pulls away, but keeps his hand tangled with your own, "Now let's go. I wanna show you my ship. We've got a lot to catch up on."

Shanks pulls you out of the tavern and down to the harbor, and you have no choice but to follow behind him, completely forgetting your now dry coat left hanging by the door.

[willowsnook]

Vodka,Hawaiian punch, tall

andrei iosivas x bsf!reader

it's always been you

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

Being best friends with an NFL player definitely had its perks, but getting to meet your favorite football stars? That was the real highlight. After the Bengals wrapped up their game against the Cardinals, you found yourself on the field, chatting with Andrei and Ja'Marr when you spotted Kyler Murray talking to Joe Burrow.

Your eyes lit up, and without a second thought, you looked up at Andrei with your best puppy-dog expression. "Please, please introduce me to Kyler Murray."

Andrei raised an eyebrow at you, clearly not impressed. "Why do you want to meet him so badly?" There was a hint of something—jealousy?—in his tone.

"He was the quarterback at OU when I was there! He’s my guy," you said as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. Ja'Marr, sensing the tension, smirked at Andrei, clearly enjoying the moment.

"I’ll take you over, Y/N," Ja'Marr offered, his voice teasing. Andrei immediately shot him a glare.

"No, I’ll do it," Andrei grumbled. "Come on."

You barely had time to register the shift in his mood as he led you across the field. When you reached Joe and Kyler, Andrei greeted Kyler with a casual handshake before introducing you. Kyler gave you a wide, charming grin, and your heart skipped a beat as you practically swooned. Andrei’s jaw clenched in response.

"It’s so great to meet you!" you said eagerly, almost too excited. "I was at OU the same time as you. You’re a legend!"

Kyler grinned, clearly flattered. "That’s awesome! Did you make it to a lot of games?"

"Every one," you gushed, your smile widening. "You’re a superstar." You could have sworn Kyler blushed a little, but you didn’t notice the way Andrei’s expression darkened. You got your picture with Kyler, quickly posting it to your socials with a cheeky caption about meeting one of your favorite players.

Later, after discussing post-game plans, you headed back to your place to change. Your roommate, Sarah, was waiting for you in the living room when you finished getting ready.

"Going to seal the deal with Andrei tonight?" she teased as she grabbed her purse.

"I wish," you grumbled. It was no secret to any of your friends that you had a crush on him but he was completely clueless. It seemed like nothing you did clicked with him and you were too much of a pussy to tell him straight up but you wore his jersey each week for fuck's sake.

When you arrived at the bar, Andrei was already there, sitting quietly and fidgeting with his straw, his usual playful energy noticeably absent. You slid into the booth next to him, nudging his arm lightly.

"You okay?" you asked, noticing his distant expression.

He nodded, not looking at you, still silent. As the night went on, more teammates joined, and the bar grew louder, but Andrei stayed unusually quiet, barely engaging with anyone.

Finally, you’d had enough. Grabbing his arm, you pulled him away from the group, dragging him out onto the bar’s patio.

"Alright, what’s going on?" you asked, crossing your arms, eyes locked on him.

"Nothing," he muttered, looking away.

"You’ve been acting weird all night," you pressed. "What’s up?"

He hesitated for a moment before finally blurting out, "The picture of you and Kyler... it was nice. I can get you his number if you want."

You smirked, finally catching on. "Why would I want his number?"

Andrei crossed his arms defensively. "I don’t know, you seemed into him."

"Nah," you teased, a playful glint in your eye. "I’m into someone else."

Andrei’s jaw tightened, and he sighed heavily. "Oh. Well... okay," he mumbled, looking dejected. "I’ll leave you to it then."

As he turned to walk back inside, you grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Andrei, stop."

He looked down at you, confused, and you took a deep breath, your heart racing. "It’s you, dummy," you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. "It’s always been you."

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, the weight of your words slowly sinking in. "Really?" he finally asked, his voice soft, filled with disbelief.

You nodded, biting your bottom lip nervously. "Yeah, really."

Andrei let out a slow breath, his entire demeanor shifting. His expression softened, the tension in his jaw fading as a smile spread across his face. He took a step closer to you, his hand hesitantly brushing against yours. "You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that."

You blinked, surprised. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. "I thought it was obvious. The way I’ve been around you, always wanting to be near you… I was too scared to mess up what we have. I didn’t want to lose you."

Your heart raced as the realization hit you. The late-night conversations, the way his gaze lingered on you a little too long, the subtle touches—it all made sense now. You laughed lightly, shaking your head. "We’ve both been so stupid."

Andrei grinned, the tension between you two dissolving as he stepped even closer, his hand now fully holding yours. "Guess we have."

For a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. The sounds of the bar, the noise of people talking and laughing inside, faded into the background as Andrei reached up and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. "I don’t want to waste any more time," he whispered, his gaze locking with yours.

Your heart fluttered at his words, and without hesitation, you leaned into him, your lips meeting his in a soft, tender kiss.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless but smiling. Andrei rested his forehead against yours, still holding you close.

And as you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you knew that nothing would ever be the same between you two—but it was a good thing. Because for the first time, you both understood what had been right in front of you all along.

[reality-detective]

Bombshell by Clint Eastwood 👇

Clint Eastwood’s Stark Warning: “Barack Obama Presidency – The Biggest Fraud on the American People”

Clint Eastwood exposes the Barack Obama presidency as ‘the biggest fraud on the American people.’ Dive deep into the controversies, scandals, and secrets behind Obama’s legacy, from the Benghazi scandal to the SEAL Team 6 tragedy. Uncover the truth now!

Legendary actor and filmmaker Clint Eastwood boldly claimed:

“One day we will realize that the Barack Obama presidency was the biggest FRAUD ever perpetrated on the American people.”

Eastwood, known for his fearless critique of Hollywood and politics alike, pulls no punches in his assessment of Obama’s tenure. Eastwood’s statement brings fresh scrutiny to a presidency that was celebrated by many yet criticized for its scandals and failings. Let’s dive deeper into the unfolding story.

Clint Eastwood: A Fearless Voice in a Hollywood of Silence

Eastwood’s words matter. This is not just another Hollywood actor parroting opinions. He stands apart from the Hollywood echo chamber, a space where most actors are afraid to speak out against the political mainstream. Eastwood’s condemnation of Obama comes at a time when the Obama administration is still debated fiercely.

Barack Obama: Nobel Peace Prize Winner with a Kill List

Obama’s controversial actions tell a different story. The Obama administration was marked by military interventions and controversial drone strikes that led to civilian casualties. Critics mention Obama’s “kill list” – a classified list of individuals targeted for drone strikes without trial.

The narrative of peace clashes with extrajudicial killings. The drone program under Obama raises serious questions about human rights and the ethical implications. Was Obama’s portrayal as a peaceful leader nothing but a crafted illusion?

SEAL Team 6: The Tragic Story and Unanswered Questions

One of the most gut-wrenching events is the suspicious fate of SEAL Team 6 in 2011. Conspiracies have surrounded this incident, suggesting the team was set up or used as political pawns.

Was this merely an unfortunate accident, or does it point to sinister dealings within the Obama administration? Critics argue that the truth about SEAL Team 6 has been hidden, and call for accountability and criminal prosecution, placing Obama’s role under intense scrutiny.

The Benghazi Scandal: The Truth Behind the Treason

One of the most haunting legacies of the Obama presidency is Benghazi. An attack on the U.S. consulate in 2012 left four Americans dead, spiraling into a political firestorm. Allegations of negligence, cover-up, and treason were leveled against both Obama and Hillary Clinton.

The Obama administration’s mishandling of Benghazi endangered American lives and demonstrated a betrayal of trust. The symbol of treachery still lingers over the Obama-Clinton era.

Obama’s Legacy: A Tarnished Record or Unfairly Targeted?

Eight years of the Obama presidency left behind a polarizing legacy. To some, he was a beacon of hope; to others, a symbol of failed policies. Eastwood’s scathing critique calls into question whether the rosy image of Obama is based on reality or political spin.

Issues like the Iran nuclear deal, mishandling of Syria, and IRS targeting of conservatives add more fuel. Hero or fraud? Visionary leader or master of deception?

Why the Truth Matters

Eastwood’s statement is a call for accountability. It's urging us to look beyond the polished speeches and uncover the truth about Obama. From the SEAL Team 6 incident to the Benghazi drama, the Obama administration's alleged misdeeds left a mark that can’t be ignored. This is about truth, justice, and the trust between a nation and its leader. 🤔

[donationwayne]

DONATIONWAYNE BUDDIE FIC MASTERPOST

Title: Miles and Miles Pairing: Buddie || Words: 6.6k || Chapters: 1/1 || Main Tropes & Tags: Seal!Buck, Returning Home From Deployment, Secret Relationship, Established Buddie, Married Buddie, Buck as Chris' Dad, Comedy, Fluff Synopsis: Three years after moving to LA Buck decides to surprise Chris and Eddie at the end of his final tour. Of course nothing goes according to plan. The 118 have a lot of thoughts about the mysterious Eddie Diaz.

_____ Title: Response Time Pairing: Buddie || Words: 2k || Chapters: 1/1 || Main Tropes & Tags: Established Buddie, Married Buddie, Secret Relationship, Buck & Eddie know each other before the 118, Buck as Chris' Dad, Comedy, Fluff

Synopsis: The 118 respond to a call, which isn’t unusual in itself. But it might explain a lot to Probational Firefighter Evan Buckley’s new crew. Eddie tries to burn the kitchen down.

_____

Title: Blame Me (For Mistakes You've Made But You Can't Own) Pairing: Buddie || Words: 4.5k || Chapters: 1/1 || Main Tropes & Tags: Sick!Buck, The 118 as Family, Pre-Relationship Buddie, Fluff, Comedy, Angst, Casual Mentions of Childhood Neglect & Trauma, Maddie Buckley as Evan Buckley's Parental Figure Synopsis: Buck goes into work sick and the 118 take care of him. We delve into Buck's complicated relationship with illness, due to his parents relationship with ill children.

_____

Title: I'm Alone In The City (And Nobodies Coming For Me) Pairing: Buddie, Bobby & Buck || Words: 18.1k || Chapters: 12/12 || Main Tropes & Tags: Bobby as Buck's Dad, Buck!Whump, Buck's Loft Burns Down, Discussion regarding Eddie's Will, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Angst with a happy ending Synopsis: The one where I burn Buck's loft down with Buck inside! When Buck wakes up cold, scared, and alone all he wants is Bobby (his dad). Buck and Eddie finally get their shit together.

_____

Title: Feelin' Good (Could be Better) Pairing: Buddie || Words: 24.6k || Chapters: 10/10 || Main Tropes & Tags: Emotional Whump!Buck, Athena Grant and Bobby Nash are Evan "Buck" Buckley and Maddie Buckley's Parents, Angsty!Buck, Margaret Buckley is her own warning, angst with intermittent fluff, mutual pining, Protective Eddie Diaz, Outing, Margaret Buckley and Phillip Buckley Bashing

Synopsis: The Buckley parents arrive in LA, turning Buck's already shaky mental status from precarious to worse. Buck consents to join Maddie, Chimney, and his parents for dinner. Buck is super fine, he'll just bake about it. And think about kissing Eddie, obviously. Secrets are revealed, leaving the 118 reeling.

Authors note: **This fic deals with Margaret Buckley as a emotionally and physically abusive parent. (Trigger Warnings Available or msg me)

_____

Title: punch my face (do it because i like the pain) Pairing: Buddie || Words: 3.7k || Chapters: 1/1 || Main Tropes & Tags: Emo/Alternative Teenage Evan Buckley, Athena Grant and Bobby Nash are Evan "Buck" Buckley and Maddie Buckley's Parents, Evan "Buck" Buckley & May Grant are Siblings, Fluff, The 118 As Family, Mention of Eddie's Will,

Synopsis: When faced with a potentially abusive father on a call, Buck goads the man into punching him to keep the kids with their mother. The 118 learn a little bit about Buck as a teenager.

This is mostly fluff. Maddie and Buck make jokes at their own expense.

_____

Title: this could be a disaster Pairing: Buddie || Words: 15.9k || Chapters: 11/11 || Main Tropes & Tags: Wedding Fluff, Christopher Diaz is a Little Shit, Brief Tsunami Flashback, Canon Divergence, Clipboard!Evan Buckley, Groomzilla Evan Buckley, Everything That Could Go Wrong Does

Synopsis: Light hearted romcom about Buck and Eddie's wedding day, which was it turns out is a disaster. Nearly everything that could go wrong does go wrong. Chris is sarcastic about it. Maddie is going to kill them if they sneak off to see each other more time. Bobby and Athena are Buck's parents. The lesbians save the day. Business as usual.

_____

Title: obsessed with the things that you do, low-key I need you to move (in) Pairing: Buddie || Words: 27.8k || Chapters: 9/9 || Main Tropes & Tags: Teenage Chris, Canon Divergent Post-Season 6, Eddie Goes to Therapy, Eddie Adopts A Cat, Mutual Pining, Angst and Fluff, Coming Out, Gay Eddie Diaz, Bisexual Evan Buckley, Christopher Diaz is a little shit

Synopsis: Eddie adopts a cat while Chris is away summer camp. He goes to therapy and comes out to his parents. He continues navigating life post gay realization while being deeply and embarrassingly in love with his best friend.

Buck pines over Eddie.

Chris figures it only a matter of time before they finally get together.

_____

Title: come on, you can show yourself Pairing: Buddie || Words: 8.7k || Chapters: 1/1 || Main Tropes & Tags: Coming Out, Blow-Job Gone Wrong, Mutual Pining, Gay Eddie Diaz, Bisexual Evan Buckley, Eddie & HenRen bestieism, Getting Together, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Eddie tells HenRen about his Will, Eddie sees footage of Buck during the Well collapse

Synopsis: Eddie goes to a gay bar, says Buck's name during a hook up, curses Frank extensively, and comes out to Hen and Karen. They talk about the will and the well and the Buck of it all. Also Buck shows up.

_____

Title: Because Regardless Of How Soft The Touch, I Still Bruise Pairing: Pre-Relationship Buddie || Words: 3.3k || Chapters: 1/1 || Main Tropes & Tags:

Bobby Nash is Evan "Buck" Buckley's Parent, Worried Bobby Nash, Athena Grant is Evan "Buck" Buckley's Parent, Pre-Relationship Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, past self-harm, Evan "Buck" Buckley Needs A Hug, Margaret Buckley and Phillip Buckley Bashing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis: After sustaining an injury on shift, Buck stays with Bobby and Athena while he recovers. They discover some hard truths about Buck's childhood.

_____

Title: Backtrack Pairing: Pre-Relationship Buddie || Words: 3.3k || Chapters: 1/1 || Main Tropes & Tags: 07x09 Spec, Implied Pre-Relationship Buddie, Worried Buck, Buck has a feeling realization, Angst, Divorce Era 2.0

Synopsis: Speculation about what could happen if Buck finds out about Kim (S7x09). Buck catches Eddie in public with Kim, he confronts Eddie about it. He also has some feelings about it.

[howi99]

Knight and traitor 1

Jaune: *bleeding out, unable to move as Cinder is about to finish Pyrrha*

Jaune: *weakly* God... Devil... I don't care who might be listening... I will give you my life, my soul *cough blood* ... My very existence... But please, give me the strength to protect them...

*time stop*

???: *a silhouette made of light appears* Well well well, what do we have here? You think of yourself quite highly if you think your soul is enough of a payment. *Sit next to Jaune, lighting a... cigarette?*

Jaune: *slow chuckle* I always was greedy after all... *Cough more blood* Always wanted to keep everyone in my sights safe.

???: *taking a drag from her cigarette* Hm... Greedy you say? *Chuckle* i know a thing or two about that. *Look at Cinder* Say, if i help you with your little problem, will you give me a name?

Jaune: ... What?

???: *rubbing her chin* I got some... Bad memory with my old name. I uh... Kinda have a bad reputation.

Jaune: ... And you want me to name you?

???: Hey, that's a better deal than your soul, isn't it?

Jaune: ... And how will you help me protect my friends?

???: *laugh* Now THAT'S the real question! *Get up and goes to Cinder* Now, as you can see *try punching Cinder, but his fist only goes through her, aimlessly* I can't interact with anyone. BUT! *Walk back to Jaune* I can be your sword!

Jaune: ... What?

???: *cough* I mean, as of right now, i'm basically just a wandering soul. But if you make a pact with me, i will be able to fight by your side! *Grinning* You got some mean Od in ya.

Jaune: Od?

???: *shrug* Eh, think of it as your Aura. It's a synonym from where i'm from.

Jaune: hm... Alright, i'm good with that.

???: Neat. *Looking at Jaune* Also, don't know if you noticed it, but i took the time to heal ya. The weird lady told me i could only do it once, so don't take that for granted.

Jaune: *still unable to move* I did feel like i wasn't dying anymore... Thanks.

???: So, that name?

Jaune: hm.... We name people with color. You got something to help me with?

???: ... I'm blond?

Jaune: *sigh* Yeah, like my whole family. Anything else?

???: ... I like red?

Jaune: Eh, that will do. Your name is now Red!

???: ... You lack imagination.

Jaune: Well, RED, i'm kinda more preoccupied in saving my partner ass over thinking of a name.

???: ... *Shrug* Eh, fair. The pact is sealed.

*time resume*

Jaune: *gasp for air* RED! STOP HER, NOW!

Red: *appearing before him* Roger that! *Goes to summon her sword, but nothing appears* ... Fuck!

Cinder: *turning her head to see what is causing the commotion* Who... *Shack her head* no matter, i got the maiden power, that is enough... For now. *Leave*

_________________

Jaune: And that's about it.

Qrow: *look at Red* So, you mean to tell me that this is some magic bullshit?

Jaune: More or less bullshit then the maidens?

Qrow: ... Fair *drink from his flask*

Red: *looking at Qrow* ...

Qrow: Something to say?

Red: *shacking her head* Nah, you just remind me of someone... *Take a cigarette from her pocket* Want one?

Qrow: ... Eh, sure. Been a while.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  HOLD ME LIKE A GRUDGE

SUMMARY : dean is a demon. it’s Christmas Eve and it’s exhausting to keep fighting him, but he’s accidentally knocked out by the reader. so, she took him back to her parents’ place to clean him up... but her whole family is already home.

PAIRING : demon!dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : cenric (OMC), guren (OMC), koro (OMC), kandora (OFC), meliora (OFC)

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, implied cheating, fluff, fun family time, toxic relationship, rough sex, intoxicated sex, p in v, unprotected sex

WORD COUNT : 4.8k

A/N : fall out boy song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — hot tub sex and drunk sex. let's pretend demon!Dean lasted for a long while. wtf is that name? it’s from the video game Destiny, probably (they have badass names, especially the villains/sometimes they’re ridiculous, lmao). XXxx

Y/n and Sam split up in their search for Dean. 

Both were in search of him… and Crowley. But mostly Dean. 

Dean didn’t behave much like any other demon. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He settled for over drinking, dancing, singing bad karaoke, sleeping with random women—which stung, killing people in self-defence. The list goes on, but he’s more bored than evil.

She knew Dean, even now, as a demon. This was Dean when he was bored. Not Dean being evil. That just wasn’t Dean. 

She didn’t know it, but he was keeping tabs on her, too. He’d fool Crowley by promising to seal deals, pretending he was going off with a girl or two, getting away for some ‘Dean time’ doing random shit… 

He was just going out to see her. There’s something that he can’t shake off about her. It might be the possessiveness, the ownership he feels towards her… it’s something he doesn’t understand, a tug deep within himself that yearns to be whole. A part of him that’s sure that missing piece is her. 

Crowley sent demons after her. Of course he did, to slow her down, to throw her off. Dean lied to Crowley, the way he always did to get what he wanted. Instead of fleeing because ‘you’re getting too attached, let’s move on’, Dean stayed behind to make sure she made it out safely. 

It irked him to feel that guardianship, that… need or whatever the hell it was that compelled him to keep her safe. 

But, one thing led to another, she was outnumbered by about fifteen demons. She’d gotten at least five of them by the time Dean decided to show himself. He didn’t completely protect her from harm, but he saved her from possibly deadly blows. 

She was stunned to see him there and she looked absolutely ravishing. Covered in blood. Her soft hair falling free from the tie holding her hair in place and out of the way. The focused furrow of her brows. The irritated scowl on her pretty face. 

Dean got distracted. It was his first mistake, ever since he became a demon. He felt time slow down with only three demons left, the two of them moving in sync like nothing ever happened, like nothing stood between them. 

“Six!” She shouted, expecting him to get down, but he didn’t. She punched him square in the face and his body fell loudly with a thud, but she didn’t let herself get distracted. 

She killed the last three demons in a breeze because even they were astounded that the knight of hell, Dean Winchester, was knocked unconscious by a smaller hunter. By a human.

She didn’t bother cleaning up. Fifteen bodies? If Crowley didn’t want to be tracked, he’d clean it up on his own. Instead, she carefully pulled Dean out of the warehouse she was staying in as she stalked her boyfriend and Crowley.

She found his car nearby, poor Baby was a complete mess. She hid her stolen car behind the warehouse next to a bunch of tumbleweed, took everything that was hers, wiped it clean of prints and other evidence, and left in the Impala. 

With Dean in the backseat, she wondered what she would do now. She didn’t expect for this to happen. The plan was originally to see what Dean and Crowley were up to, call Sam, then go back home as Sam took care of the rest.

It was too late for that. Her family was home waiting to celebrate the holidays. All of them cleared the schedules to get together, they’d planned it a whole year before, even she did and she was supposed to bring Dean. 

Guess that’s still the case, except he’s a demon now… and she’s kidnapping him. 

It was a long ride back home. It was inevitable that Dean would wake up completely pissed. 

He glared at her from the backseat, cuffed with his arms behind him. The road was empty so there was nothing to put them in danger as he wasn’t secured with a seatbelt. Most importantly, it wouldn’t matter that she swerved so hard that he fell onto his side with a grunt before letting out a deep growl. 

“Bitch!” 

“Oh, stop it, it’s the least you deserve after everything you’ve done,” she muttered, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. Her heart hammered rapidly with anger and hatred, but she focused on driving herself home safely.  

“I just helped you out,” he reminded her darkly, leaning against the car door to sit back up. 

“Yeah, and I’m thanking you by saving your life,” she retorted.

“I’m fine.” She scoffed at him, but stared at him from the rearview mirror for a few seconds before he looked back at her. She realigned the car when it veered off slightly. 

“You’re a demon.” 

“I’m still me, sweetheart, just because you don-” 

To prevent further conversation, she pulled out the first cassette tape she touched and shoved it into the car deck. The ride to her family’s home was tense and irritating because Dean decided to sing along tunelessly. 

It was better than having to hear his insults or cruel comments. He was funny sometimes, too, when they made pit stops… even if she currently hated him. 

“Ah, here we are, awesome,” Dean murmured sarcastically as she killed the purring engine of the Impala. 

“Shut up, I’m tying you up in the basement,” she glared at him. He scoffed as she got out of the driver’s seat, walking around the front of the car to unlock the door for him.

“Hey! We’ve been waiting for you!” She heard from the doorway. It was her little sister who was now walking towards them. 

“I’m going to shout,” Dean told her, gazing up at her with a feigned innocent expression. Green, sparkling eyes wide and a pout that almost reminded her of when he was human. 

“Shut up,” she whispered harshly before lifting her head with a sweet smile towards her sister. “Hey, Dean’s got.. an embarrassing situation going on, think you can distract everyone for the meantime?” Her sister stopped where she was, her eyes flicking to Dean for a heartbeat or two and then to her older sister. 

“Sure,” Kandora shrugged, quickly turning around and jogging up to the door. 

“Cute,” Dean grunted. Y/n gripped the back of his red flannel and harshly yanked him out of the car, holding back a snicker when Dean bumped his head on the top of the inside of the car. “You know, this is the body of the man you used to make love to,” he reminded her with a sneer, leaning his back against his car as she shut the door. 

She smiled at him sarcastically, “yeah, and then you used this body to fuck whores, so I don’t really care.” She grabbed the middle chain between the cuffs and tugged him the whole way to the entrance where they removed their shoes.

When she was fully inside the house she could hear her sister telling a story loudly while laughing hard along with her family. 

She quickly made her way down to the basement, turning the light on before pushing Dean. He stumbled over the stairs and glared back at his lover when he regained his balance. 

“Smart, no one could hear me here,” he told her with a smirk. She frowned at his words, freezing in the middle of uncuffing him after leaving him over an ugly rug where a devil’s trap was painted underneath. 

She had a few quick flashbacks of her and Dean having sex in the soundproof basement when they could get away from all the family time. No one could hear them—and hopefully no one knew what was going on. Those were the perks of a retired hunter family. 

She undid the cuffs and he gently massaged his wrists even if they healed up quickly. She watched curiously and then looked away to hand him a few clean up supplies that weren’t necessarily dangerous to her or her family.

She turned to look at him and opened her mouth.

“Let me guess: shut up and stay put?” He smiled down at her in an attempt to be charming, but she rolled her eyes, pretending it didn’t work.

“Oh, you’re so smart,” she praised bitingly, patting his cheek in a demeaning manner. He scowled and moved away from her to clean the demon blood off himself.

She made her way back upstairs to join her family who were now somewhat silent. Music played softly in the background. Thankfully, it wasn’t irritating Christmas music, but songs she recognised were her oldest brother’s favourite songs.

The scent of her favourite food wafted up her nose, arising hunger into her stomach that growled like a great beast. The lights weren’t too bright either, which allowed her to relax when she settled in the kitchen with her family as they waited for the food to get ready.

Her mother, father, two older brothers, and little sister sat around the table doing random things waiting for the food to finish cooking.

“Honey, you made it,” her mom, Meliora, smiled happily, halting when she saw the bloody state of her daughter, but her happy expression didn’t falter. 

“Hey, mom, guys,” she smiled at her family bashfully, not looking them in the eyes. “I’m gonna clean up, just wanted to say hi before going upstairs,” she informed them.

“Good, you stink,” her brother Koro snorted playfully. 

“Yeah, you didn’t have to say come hi, we could already smell you were here,” her oldest brother Cenric remarked just as mischievously. 

They all broke into laughter and Y/n shook her head, giving her dad, Guren, a kiss on top of his greying head before making her way out of the kitchen to clean up. 

Once she was done cleaning up—wearing cosy clothes from her past that her mom kept—she made her way downstairs again. Much to her dismay, she saw Dean wearing only a black t-shirt having the time of his life telling the embarrassing story about the time she got so flustered, she spit her milkshake out into the face of a woman who flirted with her when they were undercover for a Lamia case.

She wondered how he got out of the devil’s trap. She figured that maybe her parents removed it, but that wouldn’t be safe. 

He smiled brightly when he looked up and saw her, acting like nothing was wrong in the world. It looked domestic, way too painfully domestic. The casualness of him leaning against the couch next to Kandora who was holding a mug of warm Champurado in her favourite yellow mug looked too natural. He wore only some socks and really looked like a boyfriend right now. 

“Hey, babe,” Dean grinned and she forced a smile, making her way to him. 

“Hey.” 

As he wrapped his arm around her he murmured into her slightly wet hair, “you’re so lucky.” She hummed a laugh, feigning amusement and wrapped her arm around his waist to pinch his back harshly.

He tightened his grip around her and released a strained laugh before adding to the conversation, talking to her family and answering their questions the same way he would have if he weren’t a demon. 

“I know we said no partners, but Dean and I were working a last minute case,” she began explaining to her mom.

“It’s okay,” Meliora smiled, “Dean explained already.” Her mother kissed her forehead and got up to check the food. “Besides, he’ll make sure there are no leftovers that will go bad.” 

“Right,” she murmured, laughing softly as her mother disappeared into the kitchen with Guren getting up to help her out as well.

It was almost normal, except he’d sneak a couple of drinks—mostly alcoholic eggnog—until she could smell it in his breath, but he seemed completely unaffected by the alcohol. It was something her family didn’t catch on to throughout the evening. Although, the only one who knew about Dean’s drinking problem was Kandora—they told each other everything.

Dean was a bit more handsy as he got less sober, and he held his tongue most times to keep the conversation appropriate and respectful, save for a couple of swear words he’d exchange with Koro as they told each other stories. 

When they all sat at the dinner table to finally eat, Dean kept his hand on her thigh. Occasionally, he’d pet her, sneaking his fingers teasingly between her thighs, brushing over the thin material of her thick leggings. 

In response, she’d pretend to be cute and couple-y by lifting food up into his mouth and whispering warnings into his ear. She knew it only egged him on, he’d stare at her with a little smirk and even dared to kiss her with his mouth full of food, the corner of his lips smudged with tamale sauce. 

He was even playful. It would have warmed her heart, except it was very irritating and hurtful to know it wasn’t even real. When Kandora dared him to eat her mom’s spiciest salsa with his tamales, he accepted the challenge, and permitted her to serve him what she wanted him to finish. 

Y/n didn’t know if he was pretending or not, half the time. 

Still, Dean kept up appearances by overeating, taking at least two servings of everything, even the cherry pie her little sister made especially for him once he finished eating tamales with Meliora’s spiciest salsa. 

Even she resorted to drinking eggnog with alcohol to make the night easier, to loosen up a bit as Dean got clingier. She played along with Dean and finally, she was able to get away as midnight came and her family cleaned up to go to sleep. 

It sucked to watch Dean help her mother wash dishes, the way he would have if he were human. As if he were truly her Dean. She was just glad he didn’t plan on hurting them, at least so far he hasn’t tried. 

He just fit in perfectly with every single one of them, the way he always did. Easily moulding himself into whatever environment he was placed in. Everyone adored him, he was always so real, so loveable, so easy to talk to. He had a light to him that no one could recreate, one everyone was drawn to like moths to a flame.

“You drank too much,” she commented as she walked upstairs to her room with Dean behind her. 

“Was the only way I could deal with you and not be an asshole with your whole family there,” he grunted, stepping in front of her to open the door, falling straight into her pink bed rather than holding the door open for her or shutting it behind them. 

“Real thoughtful,” she muttered, shutting and locking the door of her childhood bedroom. “Get off my bed,” she ordered, making her way next to him. He only smiled, eyes closed, trying to be cute as he snuggled her pillow, verdant eyes fluttering open as he gazed up at her through long, beautiful lashes.

“Just join me instead and we can show this bed the action it’s been missing since you moved out,” Dean purred, turning over onto his back. He reached out for her wrist and tugged her forward, catching her with his arms around her waist. “You’re criticising me for drinking, but I can smell it on you, too,” he narrowed his eyes up at her.

“Shut up,” she muttered, squirming and wiggling until he let her roll over next to him. “I can’t stand you.” She grabbed the pillow beneath his head and yanked it out with a snicker, placing it between her legs as she turned over on her side. 

“I’m still me,” he retorted, turning on his side to face her back. 

“So ya keep sayin’,” she mumbled in irritation, trying to make her head stop spinning when she closed her eyes. 

He sighed and scooted up on the bed, staring up boredly at the pink ceiling, the bright light at the centre. He knew she wasn’t asleep, she kept moving, trying to make her drunkenness stop her from sleeping peacefully. 

He knew she wasn’t going to stop being angry at him, which was a complete one-eighty from the last time he saw her. She’d begged for him to come back to her, professed her undying, unchanging love for him… now, she seemed almost disgusted by him. It made him wonder what changed.

Irritation boiled in him, even jealousy made heat rise up his chest to his ears and neck. What if there was someone else?

“I’ve always wanted to get in a hot tub,” he broke the silence, staring at the back of her head as she stilled. She grunted in response after a few moments of silence and lifted the pillow between her legs up to her mouth, tight against her stomach as the alcohol decided to turn against her. “Wanna… get in?” He asked, grasping her hip and squeezing.

“We’ll… drown..” she lied, tightening her grip on the pillow when his touch sent sparks of pleasure down to her clit.

“Nah,” he murmured, sliding his hand beneath her shirt against her warm stomach to turn her onto her back, tight against his body. “Come with me,” he murmured, sliding his hand up higher.

“Fine,” she inhaled sharply, getting up faster than she should have to avoid his touch. Dizziness from the alcohol made her stumble, but she caught herself on the wall, facing the Christian Bale poster on her wall. 

“Careful,” he told her, getting up from the bed to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself. 

“Let’s just go cross it off your weird bucket-list.” She made her way to the door, forgetting to unlock it as she tugged it hard. 

“You’re drunker than me,” he chuckled, unlocking the door, wrapping his large warm hand over hers to turn the doorknob and open the door. She pursed her tips and unfocused her gaze on the door until he removed his hand from hers.

They quietly made their way down the stairs and she held the wall to balance herself while Dean watched her closely. Making their way blindly through the house to the backyard, Dean laughed softly to himself, which made her shush him.

“Sorry,” he whispered, completely unapologetically, “it’s just that you’re such a good girl,” he began explaining, an undertone of sexualness in his words, “I can’t believe you agreed to this.” He sighed gleefully, opening the glass door to the outside where the hot tub was.

“I… not always,” she argued, noting a few times in which she proposed scandalous ideas to him. He started to unbuckle his belt, his shirt riding up his tummy.

“No, not always,” he agreed quietly, staring straight into her eyes as she stared hungrily at the bit of exposed skin. “But you never want your family to know we have sex,” he told her, shoving his jeans down his legs, revealing the lack of boxers.

Her eyes widened and she looked away, walking past him to fill and turn the tub on. He smirked, pleased with her reaction.

“You were really loud in the basement, though,” he recalled, pulling the shirt over his head and toeing his socks off. “So pornographic,” he added dreamily. Her face heated up and she turned to glare at him. “Hey, sorry, beautiful… Come, take your clothes off.” He laughed, then bit his lip seductively, trying to reel her in with a tilt of his head. 

She scoffed at him, but began removing her clothes. He shrugged and dipped his fingers into the tub, testing the waters before stepping inside. She stripped down to her bra and underwear, which he tilted his head at disappointedly with a frown. He held his hand out for her to take and carefully helped her inside.

She scooted far away from him and slid inside so only her chin rested above the water to combat the biting December wind. He rolled his eyes at her, but let her do as she wanted, staring up at the sky which was frosted with stars, the whole gated community dark and asleep. 

“How’d you get out?” She broke the awkward silence, looking around the white glazed bricks separating her parent’s home and the neighbours’ homes. The lights inside were shut off, except for the Christmas lights decorating the inside and the outside of their houses. No one was awake to peep.

“Devil's trap not gonna work on something like me,” he told her smugly, playing with the water. She hummed in irritation, looking at him. “Come closer to me,” he requested, making his way halfway to her.

Begrudgingly, she made her way to him, staring curiously at his still handsome face. 

“What?” She murmured, tilting her head at him. Dean gently brushed his knuckles down her cold cheek and she moved away slightly, brows furrowing with perplexity. 

“You know, to really cross it off my bucket list, we need to have sex,” he reminded her. She considered his words and grimaced, moving away from him. It stung, demon or not, to see the woman who once loved him unconditionally become disgusted by the thought of sex with him. 

“No,” she whispered, “we’re drunk.” 

“It’s not like we haven’t done it drunk before,” he pressed, splaying his hand over her back and cupping her jaw. She inhaled and became tense, pushing him away.

“You getting separation anxiety?” She asked scathingly, hoping to change the subject. He released her reluctantly and relaxed on his side of the tub.

“From who? Sam?” Dean asked boredly, playing with the water again, his mood sour.

“Crowley.” He glared at her, this time, he pounced on her, holding the back of her head to press his mouth to hers roughly. His tongue forcibly parted her lips, tasting the sweet eggnog and bitter alcohol in her mouth. As bile rose up to her throat, she whimpered and pushed him off. “You ass!” She splashed water into his face and he growled at her, eyes flickering black.

“Why are you being difficult?” He shouted at her, gripping her arms tightly.

“I’m not some meaningless lay,” she spat, reaching up between his arms, burying her fingers into his hair to pull roughly at his longer, honey strands, until he loosened his grip on her arms and hissed. 

“I never said you were,” he seethed, wrapping his hand around her throat. She tugged his hair harder and so he immediately let her go, running his fingers down his face tiredly. “Is that what this is about? The women?” He inquired casually, like they meant nothing.

“What?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest, shuddering at the cold breeze despite the flush of alcohol and the hot water.

“You heard me,” he whispered threateningly. 

“Yes! Okay?” She admitted, then sighed, tears welling up her eyes. She blinked them away and clenched her jaw to keep her breath steady. She turned away, ready to climb out of the tub when Dean grabbed her elbow, moving them both into each other.

He didn’t say anything, but for the first time since he was a demon, his green eyes were cast downward in shame and regret. 

“You told me that if you couldn’t have me, no one could,” she reminded him quietly. 

“I meant it,” Dean reaffirmed, pulling her closer.

“That just applied to me, then?” He remained quiet, averting his gaze from hers. “What makes you think I’m letting you go now that I have you back?” His eyes snapped back to hers and they darkened. 

He leaned down to kiss her again, but this time, she took his face in both of her hands, angling his face to control the kiss. Dean wrapped his arms around her, keeping her tight against his body.

Her soft tongue smoothed over his, teeth scraping, and lips bruising. Possessive and hot, she slid one hand away from his face between his legs where his cock was already erect. She curled her hand around him, pulling a deep groan from him.

He slid his hands up her back, finding the clasp of her drenched cotton bra, darkened red from the water. He quickly rid of it as she pressed and kissed him, her hand tugging his cock slowly.

His blunt nails scraped the silky skin of her shoulders, pulling down the straps until she released him for total removal of it from her body. He walked forward with her until her back was pressed against the heated wall of the tub and pulled away from her mouth to catch his breath.

He panted against her mouth, kissed her deeply once more before trailing open-mouth kisses down her neck and shoulders. His tongue picked up warm droplets that rolled from her velvety skin, his teeth grazed her collarbones and the tendons of her neck, suctioning her pulse and the sensitive parts of her.

“Remember that cat your sister had?” He murmured against her skin, moving her up slightly to attach his lips to her nipple and remove her underwear. 

“Um, yeah, Tickle-toe?” She mumbled absent-mindedly, arching her back. 

“Yup,” he chuckled, removing her underwear completely, throwing it out of the tub. “Always tried getting into the room when we were having sex? And then when we finally did let him in, he’d just stand there watching, or he’d lick you, or scratch me, like it was trying to be a part,” he retold, grasping both of her thighs. “Yeah, that’s Crowley.” 

She laughed softly, wrapping her arm around his shoulder, her nails digging painfully into his skin to the point of breakage. Dean moaned softly, pushing her fully against the wall of the tub, spreading her thighs wide open so they were pressed against the wall. 

He nuzzled his face into hers, brushing his lips softly against hers as his cock nudged teasing through her folds and past her clit. With her free hand, she wrapped a hand around his cock and guided him to her entrance. 

Dean was gentle at first, slowly pushing in while his teeth sunk into her bottom lip. The pull out and the push in was slow as he felt the drag of the water, the way it slowed him before he began to fuck her earnestly. He released her lip to smash his mouth against hers, matching the painful thrust of his hips against hers.

She clung to his waist, moaning wantonly into his mouth as his cock stretched her walls, the length of it brushing wonderfully against the most sensitive parts of her, driving her crazier and crazier, driving her deeper into pleasure.  

“Think I’m gonna fuck someone this good, this raw, with this much passion?” He panted against her mouth as she pulled him closer. She gasped loudly, squeezing his cock so tightly he growled deeply against her. “D’you think I’ll ever feel this love for anyone, for someone who isn’t you?” Her toes curled and she dropped her forehead to his shoulder, moaning his name softly, pulling his body closer to hers.

“Please,” she whispered, chuckling breathlessly as he thrusted roughly and shallowly into her. He tightened his grip on her thighs, bruising her thighs, cutting her soft flesh with his fingernails, moaning with her as his body thrummed with life he hadn’t felt since he became a demon.

She squirmed as she approached her orgasm, her warm walls pulsing around his cock. Her mouth found his once more, their lips moved together messily, violently like their love, until they both fell apart. 

He sucked her bottom lip and pulled away breathlessly with a smirk. 

“Come with me,” he whispered, unhanding her thighs so she could wrap her legs around him instead. He held her closely, too, folding his arms around her waist.

“Ask me again in the morning,” she murmured, kissing his prickly jaw. “When I’m not drunk. When the afterglow’s gone.” She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth and he nodded in agreement, staying in the tub for a few moments before they untangled each other's limbs.

“Will your answer be different?” He quizzed, holding her chin between his two fingers. She tongue poked out to lick her bottom lip, followed by a thoughtful bit of her lip.

 “No.” 

Dean dipped down to peck her lips, lingering for a few thuds of his heartbeat before pulling away and kissing the top of her head. 

“I’ll stay,” he promised, moving both of them out of the tub into the freezing cold. Dripping in water, they put their clothes back on with much difficulty, laughing quietly. Somewhat drunk still, they cleared out the tub and tried to get dry with Dean’s t-shirt before heading inside to shower and sleep in her childhood bed where they continued to do unspeakable things in the darkness as quietly as they could to not be discovered.

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Against Me

Jason Todd x (Fem) Reader

- ANGST -

TW: Nothing brutal or dark written in this fanfic, just a few cuss words. Normally by Jason Todd. Just (Y/n) going through a terrible heartbreak ☹

Summary : You had a talk with Jason at the apartment right after the Black Mask incident. To reason with him about why killing criminals isn’t the right way to make the world a better place.

dividers by @rookthornesartistry

Bruce forbids you to go and talk to Jason. Not after what he brutally did. You heard the two argue in the batcave with Alfred trying to calm them down. Your whole world watching the two bickering at each other’s throats. Jason killed Black Mask while on the ship, endlessly beating him to a pulp and shot him through the head afterwards. Bruce couldn’t allow this to happen. Even though it just did. So he confronted Jason furiously about the incident. 

Alfred couldn’t stand them arguing, he tried his best to help them. As for Dick, well, as much as he wants to lend Alfred a hand. He stepped back because he would rather not be involved between Red Hood and Batman. 

After the argument ended, Jason stormed back to his apartment. You tried to go after him but Bruce stopped you, telling you to stay away from him. Dick agreed with Bruce that you should keep your distance from Jason. You ignored their order, hopping on your bike to go to Jason’s apartment.

Eventually you reached his place, rushing off only to see the apartment door was slightly left open.Your heart struck a panic through your body, placing your hand on the knob, opening it fully to see if he was still inside, “Jason? Jason, are you still here?” You called out, closing the door quickly before twisting the knob to shut it, “Jason, we need to talk, please…” 

“About what?” Jason revealed himself, coming out of his room seeing that he’s packing his things in his red backpack. He was going to leave Gotham. 

“Is it true? That you killed Black Mask?” He didn’t consider expecting you to ask him that. With a cold-killing gaze, Jason walked over to you , “I did. The bastard deserves it. I beat him to a pulp and shot his brains out.” He answered heartlessly. 

You shake your head in disapproval, wishing that he didn’t say what he just did, “Jason, this isn’t how we do things around Gotham. We don’t kill.” 

Jason threw his backpack angrily onto the floor, turning his furious scowl away from you, “You’re starting to sound like that old man. I’m doing things that he won’t do. I’m taking them all down!” He landed a hard punch towards the wall, consumed with anger and resentment. Causing you a little startlement, you took a step back. His outrage scares you, “J-Jason…”

“It’s always Bruce and his fucking moral codes.” His voice is still poisoned with outbursting hatred, “Do you know how many times the criminals escaped from Arkham Asylum? Criminals like Penguin, Scarecrow, Riddler, Mad Hatter and many others?!” 

Your lips remained sealed, hesitating to answer his question. His behaviour worries you completely. “If you keep this up, Jason, you will never go back. I don’t want you to walk down that path. The more you kill, the more rage it will consume your body and soul. Your mind will be trapped in the dark forever.” You explained, conceiving him to change his ways on to deal with criminals in Gotham City, “I’m not a vigilante like you, Dick, or Bruce. I may not be one but all I know is that there are ways to solve the situation but that does not include killing. If you do that, you’ll be stuck there forever.” 

Jason turned to glare at you silently before speaking up, his muscles tensing with bursting veins crawling through his skin. You can still sense the anger within him. Still praying and hoping that he will listen to you…but he didn’t

“I thought we were in this together, (Y/n). On the same side, you and I. Seems like I was wrong.” Jason began to doubt you, your body shaken by his words. It hurts to admit that he was right. “I thought you were the only one that understood me better than anyone…” he threw his backpack over his muscular shoulder, walking past you to the apartment door. You slightly opened your cold lips, then zipped it close not knowing what last words you wish to say to the man who’s breaking your heart as he leaves you. 

Jason opened the door, looking over his shoulder to see you’re not facing his direction as he said his last words to you, “I don’t care what people think of me anymore. If you’re not with me, (Y/n)....then you’re against me.” He slammed the door and left, leaving you all alone in the apartment. 

The man you deeply care about so much…

The one you loved more than anything…walked out of your life forever. 

You dropped your knees to the floor, a river of heart-breaking tears streaming down your cheeks. Crying in your hands after watching him leave…

A Month Later… 

Things haven’t been the same ever since Jason left Gotham and decided to leave somewhere else. He didn’t tell you where he was currently going before he even left his old apartment. Gotham is still falling into madness. Nothing ever changes there. Criminals roaming through the city as they rob banks, steal from people and commit other similar crimes. It’s a good thing Batman is around. Nightwing too. Normally he remains Bludhaven to protect the town but he helps out Batman sometimes. 

Alfred constantly checks on you to see if you are holding up alright. He noticed that you haven’t been keeping up with your daily meals every time he cooks you something. He even tried to comfort you. He knows how much Jason means to you. 

‘If you’re not with me….then you’re against me…’ 

His words haunted your mind and soul, crawling through your broken heart. All the memories you made with your former lover, how could you possibly forget? He was your first love too. With him gone…

It’s like you lost an important part of yourself…

You think about him every single day nonstop. Trying to erase him from your heart didn’t solve the heartbreak you’re going through at the moment. Finding it difficult to move on. Your heart aches whenever a memory of Jason continues to plant every inch of your mind. 

Denying how much you miss Jason hurts so much. It made you painfully wanna throw up and snap yourself into pieces. Screaming inside with an aching heart. 

Forever trapped in a mind full of memories of your first love…

a/n - Before anyone ask. NO, I will not be writing a part two for this because this looks better as it is. So, please don't force me to write a sequel for this. Thank you.

UNTIL NEXT TIME 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔