#otherwise I feel like if I keep going down this road it’s going to be a lot more serious next time

[rosicheeks]

😬

[pearlymel]

The last time when...

Synopsis : you're an assassin. Your next mission? Get rid of your husband.

Warnings : Sylus × gn! reader, angst angst, death, miscommunication, blood, 1.6k wc.

Notes : if this broke your heart a lil bit, then i will make an apology letter by making a part 2 where they're all a happy family and alive 😓

When was the last time you looked at your husband and thought; how crazy must you have been to be with this as equally crazy man?

Or when was the last time he looked at you and thought; how lucky he was that you were able to tolerate him, to marry him, even.

He knew. And you thought you were able to hide your true occupation just well.

He seemed calm right in front of you while your hands were shaking.

He.. was the target?

Let's take this back to yesterday.

You were pushing your motorbike to its limits as you tore down the dark, winding roads, the sound of gunfire ringing out behind you. Bullets whizzed past you, narrowly missing their mark as you expertly maneuvered the motorcycle to avoid getting hit.

Your heart pounded in your chest as adrenaline rushed through your veins. You could hear the shouts and curses of your pursuers, their voices full of anger and frustration.

Despite the danger and the high-speed chase, you manage to keep your composure and reach for the gun holstered at your waist. With a quick and practiced motion, you whip it out and aim it behind you, training it on your pursuers.

Bullets continue to fly in your direction, but you return fire, hoping to buy yourself some time and discourage them from closing in on you.

You safely escaped, for now.

You were either going to get killed by them or by Sylus if he finds out you put yourself recklessly into danger.

Let alone burrowing his motorbike for this mission.

Stupid organisation, you mutter to yourself as you kick your boots off, the snowy weather certainly wasn't helping with your thoughts either.

You had hoped to leave your old life behind, especially after marrying Sylus. But that was a year ago, and the phone call from your old organization has shattered that illusion of peace. These assholes.

They had one more job for you, a job they think no one can ever successed in, unless it was you.

They didn't even tell you who your target is. Just simply send in you the location instead.

As you push open the door to your shared bedroom, your heart sinks when you see that Sylus is still awake. His eyes are fixed on you, and judging by the expression on his face, he is far from pleased.

His arms are crossed in front of his chest, a stern frown creasing his forehead as he regards you silently, waiting for an explanation.

“i was visiting a friend,” you explain, your grip of steel around the doorknob.

Sylus doesn't seem convinced by your flimsy story. He continues to stare at you, "Visiting a friend," he repeats, sarcastically.

“Mephisto says otherwise.”

That damned crow.

“I'd like it if you stopped stalking me.” You say bitterly. And it's true, his eyes seem to be everywhere, anywhere.

That's why you made sure to quit being an assassin before getting together with him. You wanted a happy, peaceful life as well.

“You're saying it like I'm some sort of creep or stranger.” he drawled, stepping closer to look down at you, and his crimson eyes seem to shine brighter in the dark as he lifts your chin up.

“I'm your husband, i have the right to know why my partner is late.” he squinted his eyes at you before letting go off your chin to turn away.

“Get some rest.” Sylus retreated back to bed. You both didn't speak a word that night, both of your backs facing the other, and you think the weather might have become colder.

—

They have threatened to hurt the people you love most if you don't do this one last mission.

You still feel upset that you didn't clear things up with Sylus last night, you hate fighting with him, but if it has to come down to this, then you'd rather protect him.

You made sure no one would follow you this time, not even Mephisto.

Let's say you did some adjustments on him.

Sorry lil guy.

It's probably not clever to leave your trail of footsteps behind on this particularly heavy snowy day, but they said your target would be here. Right at this time. And this place.

What an odd feeling.

Your body goes taut as you suddenly hear the sound of snow being crushed underfoot. It's a familiar sound that immediately puts you on alert. In a flash, you turn around, your gun gripped tightly and ready to fire.

Sylus.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you recognize the figure emerging from the falling snow.

Shock flood through you, your body instinctively relaxing a fraction as you lower your gun, "Sylus," you exhale breathlessly, the tension in your muscles melting away momentarily.

He observed you with a gaze that felt like it cut deep into your very core. There was no anger in his eyes, no hatred, no rage. Just a quiet resignation. “It's strange,” he says, his voice low, “fate bringing us here like this.”

He wasn't armed. He most likely knew.

Wait, he's.. the target?

He noticed your reaction, but there was no flicker of fear in his eyes. Despite your step back, he continued his approach, slowly and deliberately. His eyes never left you, yet there was not a threat in them, just...resignation...understanding?

Sylus was close, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, so warm in the cold, he reached out and gently brushed the hair that had plastered itself to your face, to reveal your expression of fear.

“step… back.”

“and why should i do that?”

“I'll shoot,” the words slip from your tongue quicker than you could stop yourself from saying it.

He simply lifted one eyebrow at the sight of the gun now pointed at his chest, unperturbed. “Is that how you greet your husband dearest?” he asks, the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth with his head tilted slightly to the side.

He was so infuriatingly calm, like there was nothing to worry about.

His smile only widened, and he lifted his hand to rest it on the gun, his fingers gently tracing the barrel, bringing it closer to him, and you gasp, “but don’t you know how much I love getting under your skin, sweetie?”

“Don't—!” you drawed your hand back when his fingertips played dangerously near the trigger, sending your heart to almost stop. You step back again.

He knew you wouldn’t shoot.

“What the hell are you doing?” he said, his voice dropping the smooth façade once you aim the gun at yourself.

“Put that down, now.” he stepped closer to you, your warnings going through deaf ears before he became impatient, resolving this by using his evol, the energy manipulation red and black strands wrapping around your hand and taking the weapon away from your hold to throw it to the side.

Well, you were certainly no match for him.

“I can explain.” You sounded defeated, a fool. You knew you were going to face the consequences if you don't do something now. “I'm really sorry.”

“do that when we get home—”

Sylusd didn't get to finish what he was about to say, and he didn't freeze either when he heard the familiar sounds of gunshots going off.

Gunshots. Aimed directly at you.

He had no time to look around at the source of danger, everything felt like it wad going in slow motion when be was reaching his arm, his body out to protect you and shield you.

Only to find you on your knees in a blink of an eye, your body limp and falling into the pile of snow.

Sylus shouted your name in fear as he knelt beside you, gathering you gently in his arms, his voice a strangled gasp. He held you close, his eyes wild while his hands palpated your body, searching for the wound.

Two gunshots. Shot right through your chest and stomach.

No, no, no.

Sylus has never felt more scared than he was right now, with your crimson blood seeping quickly, melting down with the snow, even when he was taking off his coat and shirt, all to apply pressure on your wound.

He clutched you, his hands trembling, “stay with me," he pleaded, his voice hoarse. "Please, please stay with me.” His mind raced, frantically thinking of what to do, of why the blood wouldn't stop running down, your eyes so tired and almost dull, oh how he felt so helpless right now.

He clenched his jaw, the unfamiliar tears starting to gather around his eyes.

“You’re not quitting on me,” he muttered, the anger in him rising. “You don’t get to quit on me, damn it. You’re not dying on me. Not today, not anytime soon.”

“So—sorry..”

Your last breath. Sylus’ world came shattering down as your eyes lost their light and your body went still in his arms. There was no breath left, no pulse, just deafening silence and the harsh wind.

Your last words were an apology. Not an ‘i love you’ nor ‘take care’.

He refused to believe it. He refused to accept that you were gone, that your lips would never say his name again, that your hands would never touch his skin again.

”Don’t leave me.”

…

“please?”

…

“Are you really.. going to leave me to be alone again? ”

Sylus only remembers seeing red and white that day. The prettiest angel resting in his arms with their precious blood mixed with the cold embrace of the snow.

[bunny-jpeg]

emotional support boyfriend

oscar piastri

cw: smut, agoraphobia, oscar is a sweet boyfriend, plot, fluff, gentle sex, praise kink, slight angst, depictions of violence, trauma

this bunny runs on comments & reblogs! feed the rabbit!

you swallowed, "this is silly. i don't need an emotional support boyfriend, my love." oscar was seated beside you at the stairs as he got his sneakers on.

"not a big deal, i'd be sitting on the couch otherwise."

oscar had been really good after the... incident you witnessed only four months prior. you wished that it had happened at a location further away from home, but it was rather only a few blocks from your flat. you had been avoiding it as much as possible, but it was hard. and it still left you shaken.

when you got up from the steps and waited for oscar to do the same you watched him stand up then zip your sweater up to your chin before he kissed you on the lips.

it was simply going to the store, getting a few items for dinner then walking home. ever since the incident, you had taken alternate routes that doubled your time getting there and back, or having oscar do it if he was home. you wanted to avoid the intersection as much as possible because the anxiety you felt was a lot.

it was easier to just avoid it, but your therapist thought that maybe it would be good to try and approach the anxiety more head on. and while you were comfortable with doing it alone. oscar wanted to be there just in case.

the walk started slow, you held onto oscar's hand as the two of you walked down the main road. oscar kept close to you, he was a grounding presence.

oscar chatted with you and you smiled. you held onto him a little tighter when a motorcycle went by. and he simply leaned in to kiss you, continuing talking. you passed by the bus stop without much fanfare, at least your brain felt a little quieter. the anxiety of the event didn't wash over you into a panic.

"here. for a job well done." he said as he slipped a bar of your favourtie chocolate into the basket.

you giggled, "i don't need treats like a dog."

oscar kissed your cheek, "not like that. i'm proud of you." and while it all felt a little silly, you appreciated it. to know that whatever progress you make about your intense anxiety, you weren't going to do it alone.

when you got home, you felt better than other times you were in the area. you didn't feel the throb of dread in the pit of your soul and the anxiety rush up into your chest. while a little shaky when you walked by the bus stop, you managed to pass by it not once, but twice. oscar there the entire time to support you.

"you did so well."

you swallowed, "it was just a walk." you made a face when he kissed along the bridge of your nose, "nothing too serious. wasn't like i had to tend to another victim." the words felt weird on your tongue.

four months ago while walking back home from work, you saw a belligerent drunk man attack another man at a nearby bus stop. the man was hit and bleeding and you tried to tend to the gash in his head while another man who was walking the opposite direction of you tried to talk the drunk man down. the police were called and you were interviewed while oscar heard the sirens and came down the street. you weren't home and he was worried. you were told you did good by everyone and that he would be "perfectly fine". but you were left rattled and going near that intersection made your blood run cold.

oscar kissed your lips, "no need for that, love." he kissed your cheek with his hands on your face lovingly, "you did so good. your therapist will love hearing about this. i'm proud."

you felt something flutter in your chest and you rested up against your boyfriend. you know he worried, he kept his phone on silent while working unless it was a message from you. just in case.

it wasn't till after dinner that you got more cuddly with your boyfriend. the food felt filling and your brain didn't feel rattled. it was a success and you wanted to keep riding that high. and that left you two in your shared bedroom with oscar's lips on you.

his hands up your shirt, he asked, "is this okay?"

you nodded, "perfect. it's amazing. yes, oscar, yes." you then giggled before you put him in for a hot kiss and let his hands explore your body. you felt warm all over as he felt you up. he was a gentle lover, he always had been. you didn't believe there was a bad bone in his body, except maybe in the heat of competition.

but he'd never lay a hand on you unless he had your consent. your enthusiastic consent. sex was meant to be fun so to hear you giggle as he got your shirt off excited him.

"you did amazing today, my love.' he said as he got into your space once more. your chest up against his as he got you onto the bed. soon you were both undressed and you laid there out on the bed under your lovely boyfriend.

his hands careful on your hips as he rubbed up against you. you moaned softly as you could feel his hard cock up against you. your heart hammered in your chest, but not in a way that scared you. but rather you felt excited all over.

you looked up at him and he got between your legs, he rested on his heels and his cock stood at full attention. before he could say anything you spoke, "i want this, oscar. please. i don't want anyone else."

he broke into a smile and said, "well, i can't say no to that."

you shifted your body a little to give him more access to your soft skin. he ran his fingers across you and you shuddered a little bit before he took a hold on his cock to guide it inside you pretty cunt. he shuddered when he felt your wetness across his length.

he started to move slowly, and his words poured like a fountain. and it made you feel hot all over you. he leaned forward and pressed his chest to you.

"you look so good." he said, "i love you."

you felt a little heat in your cheeks as you moved against him. your nails held onto his shoulders as the two of your moved together. you whined, "you don't need to praise me, oscar."

he chuckled and kissed your jaw, "yes i do. i want to praise you." he held onto your hips and moved a little faster. he loved the feeling of you, he also loved spending time with you. being with you was a treat for him and it made him feel hot all over.

the kisses continued, loud and wet in your shared bedroom. he moved against you. his cock felt snug in your pretty cunt, like a perfect fit for the both of you.

"you look beautiful." you giggled as you scratched across his shoulders. you could feel the shudder of want through your body.

he laughed, "no, no. you're beautiful. you're the beautiful one." he kissed the corner of your mouth, "i'm just your boyfriend. you're the real star." he cupped your breasts between his hands for a moment as he moved against him.

you blushed more, "you flirt." you tightened your legs around his waist as he moved against him. the kisses continued as he moved against you.

"only for you." he blushed. you covered your face but oscar quickly took them away and said, "i want to see you." he smiled down at you.

"okay. okay." you giggled.

you would've thought all about the romantic moments with oscar. but the pleasure coursed through your body even heavier as he laid more kisses onto you. his hands played with your chest as he moved against you. and you moved back against him. it was a hot feeling between the two of you, like a wire that connected you.

your cheeks stained with heat as the two of you really rutted against one another. your lips felt tender from all the kisses. oscar gazed at you with love and even cupped your face for a moment. it felt nice to feel his big hands across your face.

oscar would always make sure you were okay. always.

you held onto him and placed wet kisses onto the side of his neck. when you held on tightly, you climaxed. your back arched a little to be closer to him as the pleasure clawed through your body. your eyes squeezed shut a little bit. and your heart pounded in your chest.

"i love you." you said.

"i love you too."

he came soon after and held onto the covers on either side of you, he didn't want to bruise you in his hard grasp. you took him by the face and messily kissed him. which made the driver melt a little at the feeling. he groaned into the kiss as he rocked against you a little more, which made your toes curl.

when he eventually stopped, he broke the kiss and looked at your blissed out. oh, you looked gorgeous. he pulled out of you and got down on the bed beside you. he got a strong arm over you and looked at you. he peppered your forehead and cheeks with kissed. a silent praise as you both tried to come back to earth.

"you did so good." he said when he was able to find the words. he also pulled you up against his bare chest.

you wrapped an arm around him and buried your face into his neck. you felt protected and loved. you were cared for in ways that you couldn't find the words for. it was comforting feeling that made you believe that any progress could be made about all the mental aches and pains.

he kissed you on the lips once more and said, "i love you." <3

[threebea]

The Jedi should have done something about Tatooine and the Hutts. If only they sent Jedi to Tatooine and not just ignored it--

Oh hi Quinlan. How's Tatooine circa TPM?

Anyway the Jedi should have done something about slavery in the galaxy outside the Republic's borders and not focused just on the Republic--

Huh. The CIS were pretty cool with helping the Zygerrians reestablish their slave empire that the (checks notes) Jedi dismantled.

Anyway, the Jedi should never have joined the war at all. Sure the clone army existed and the clones would have to fight no matter what the Jedi decided to do, and yes, as far as the Jedi knew the clones were created by one of their order and so they had a responsibility to them in whatever capacity they could, and the clones being brainwashed into loyalty for the republic was established so convincing millions of them at once not to fight would be impossible that early on. And sure, Dooku, a Sith, led the galaxy's worst capitalists that wanted to make naboo look like child's play and kill countless civilians if the Republic didn't give in to all their demands, and yes the Jedi were linked psychically to the cosmos in a way where they could feel imbalance, death, and darkness, but they should have taken the moral high road and (checks notes) let both civilians and clones die from droids. Droids who are programmed and aren't going to hesitate about killing anyone. Droids who can't be negotiated with.

Of course they could have... Negotiated with the Sith Lord? Who wasn't actually the head sithlord in charge.

Then again the other Sith Lord who had been duly elected into office wouldn't have allowed that but...they should have tried!

Well they worked with hutts to use hyperlanes for the war they could have chosen not to fight in had actually tried harder! They were lazy and chose the easy path of being forced to dirty their hands because otherwise fascist billionaires and corporations would send programmed droids to kill civilians (like Naboo during TPM) until the Republic gave into their demands (unbridled capitalism which as we recall were totally cool with helping the Slave Empire they previously dismantled become a slave empire again).

The Jedi should have helped people and not tied themselves to the senate. They could have just negotiated with a galaxy worth of planets on a case by case basis.

Listen. Star Wars is a metaphor. It is not a one to one comparison of reality. The Jedi did all they could to help people and they did things that wore them down in body and soul because they had to make that sacrifice or let people suffer and die. There is no alternative in the galaxy they existed in. The Empire that Palpatine made is what they saw the CIS becoming.

Palpatine saw the Jedi as one of the biggest threats to his fascist empire so the plan was always to kill them. It's not illegal to be a Sith he might say, but he certainly made it illegal to be a Jedi.

I would love to know what people think, with the GFFA being what it is, and the size it is, and the Jedi numbering about ten thousand in the end what they were supposed to do as an alternative that would have had any of this end different.

If they hadn't joined the war people would have been enslaved and died and the Jedi would have still been hunted and killed.

If the Jedi removed themselves from the republic in protest of the war but still fought independently to help people they would have lost so much access, more clones for sure would have died, and the Jedi would still be hunted down and killed at the end.

If the Jedi left the republic before the war and were independents they would be slaughtered faster than they were on genonosis because they don't have the numbers. The droid army would get them or the republic run by Palpatine would get them. Keeping in mind Palpatine was elected and the Jedi had nothing to do with his election beyond saving a teenage girl and bringing her to beg her case to the senate on behalf of her people (the death toll was, as we remember, catastrophic).

If they retreated to the mountains and meditated then they just let people die without even trying to help and feel the cosmos become darker and more imbalanced by the suffering they could feel but we're ignoring. And years later Palpatine would show up to kill them because that aspect of his plan would never change.

They should have taken the moral high ground doesn't work in the scenario they were given in the universe they existed in. Not for them. Not when they are powered by empathy. It would have been a corruption of what they stand for if they didn't try to help people. And they tried. It wasn't their corruption that let the galaxy down. The Jedi were aware of their own flaws. They were aware they shouldn't be generals. They knew they shouldn't be commanding a clone army. They were under no illusions that the choices they were being forced to make were good, but even at their most morally questionable they didn't sell out the galaxy. It was the politicians that voted in a mass murdering fascist with thunderous applause to not just be supreme chancellor, to not just have emergency powers, but to be an emperor.

The Jedi even tried a coup. The last thing they would want, but they tried it anyway to hold back a Sith Emperor establishing his empire built on slavery and suffering who would later build a weapon that could destroy entire planets.

The Jedi did not lead to the downfall of the Republic. They were the last shield to be shattered.

[puckinghischier]

wait i’m crying imagine helping luke with his curl routine and you being the only person he trusts to touch his hair

“luke, hold still,” you tell him, massaging the diffuser around his head.

“it tickles. and it’s really warm,” he argues, twitching again, causing you to huff in frustration.

luke’s currently crouched down in front of you in his en-suite bathroom, sitting not so still while you try to do his newly implemented curl routine.

“honeybee, my knees hurt, we gotta take a break,” he pleads, bouncing slightly.

you turn off the hair dryer and let him stretch his legs to his full height.

“you know, if you’d let me make you an appointment at a salon we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” you tell him, looking up at his lop-sided curls.

a few weeks ago you convinced luke to start a curl care routine, knowing his hair was in desperate need of some TLC. when you first started dating, you saw the 3in1 bottle sitting in his otherwise empty shower and immediately dragged him to the nearest salon supply store to get a curl specific shampoo and conditioner set.

once he finally agreed to start a whole routine (with your help, of course) you picked out several creams and gels to lather into his hair after every shower.

so your new pre-bedtime routine, three nights out of the week, is making sure his hair is hydrated and taken care of. when you suggested letting a professional do a generalized curl care appointment to get him started, luke refused, arguing that you could do it just as good as any salon can.

“i told you, i don’t want them touching my hair,” he reiterates to you, giving the same response every time you suggest it to him.

“luke, they’re literally professionals. they know tricks that i don’t. maybe they could even do something to your hair that lasts for a few weeks, so we wouldn’t have to do this several nights a week. plus, it would help when you’re on the road,” you try to persuade him, reaching up and ruffling his curls around with both hands, trying to keep it from drying unevenly.

the first time he was on the road and it was a hair night, you tried to call him and walk him through it, but he claimed his hair didn’t turn out as soft and shiny as when you do it.

the next time, you had jack come and watch how you did it one night, having him step in to help luke since they typically room together, but he said jack didn’t do it right and he came out looking like he had a clown afro the next day.

“i don’t care. it’s just hair, it can wait until i’m back home,” he grabs your hands, pulling them from his hair and placing them on his shoulders.

you scoff in offense, swatting at his chest. “it is not just hair. it’s one of my favorite features of yours!”

“still doesn’t mean i’m going to let some stranger at a salon get all touchy with it,” he shrugs.

you roll your eyes at his stubbornness, not knowing why it’s such a big deal.

“if you don’t want to spend the money on it, i’ll literally pay for it. i just think it’d do some good, i don’t know why you’re so against it,” you offer.

luke shakes his head no, reaching up to move a stray piece of your own hair out of your face. “s’not the money,” he assures you. “it won’t feel as good as when you do it. love the feeling of your fingers all in my hair. s’comforting,” he says so casually, not even aware that his words caused butterflies to erupt in your belly.

you feel your face flush, biting your lip to hide the smile trying to break out on your face.

“well i’m not saying i’ll stop doing it. i’m just saying that maybe a trip to a salon once a month might prevent more bad hair days on the road,” you try to compromise, not wanting him to know how much his words affected you. you didn’t want to give him more reasons to refuse the idea.

“and i’m just saying, i don’t want anyone but you touching my hair,” he leans down to press his forehead against yours, locking his wide eyes onto yours dramatically.

before you can get a reply out of your mouth, he leans forward and presses his lips to yours, taking your hands off of his shoulders and bringing them up to his hair, emphasizing his point.

you toy with the flat curls, forgetting what you were meant to be doing until your fingers came into contact with a wet patch.

pulling back from the kiss abruptly, luke lets out a frustrated whine while chasing your lips with his.

“we have to finish drying your hair! if i don’t finish it soon it’s gonna dry all flat on one side because we didn’t diffuse it properly,” you pull back from him completely, grabbing the abandoned hair dryer on the counter.

luke groans, stomping over to stand in front of you, crouching back into his earlier position.

“just hurry. if we do this too much longer i’m going to have to tell my coach i can’t skate because i have stiff knees from my girlfriend’s curl routine she makes me do,” he crosses his arm and pouts like a child.

“keep up the whining and i’ll make jack do it next time,” you threaten, turning the hairdryer on and continuing the task at hand.

luke’s body tenses. “i swear to god if you bring jack over here to do my hair again i’m shaving it off.”

“you wouldn’t,” you gasp at him, not believing he just said such a thing.

“try me,” he responds, smirking at you through the large mirror.

[zablife]

Being Benny's Girl Would Include

Benny Cross Masterlist

A/N: After creating a similar list for Johnny, I now have one for Benny. Ty to a lovely anon for requesting it!

Warnings: slightly nsfw, drinking, mention of injury, mention of a weapon

♡ There are many sleepless nights, worrying about him out on the open road. And you have good cause bc he's constantly returning to you bruised and bloodied.

♡ You learn how to dress wounds, even sew a few stitches, bc he's too stubborn to go to a hospital, preferring your gentle touch instead. "You're better than any damn doctor, sweetheart."

♡ If you pout when he returns, he'll try to make you forget how upset you've been with a bit of teasing that cleverly puts something else in the forefront of your mind. "Did you pray for me every night like a good girl? On your hands and knees? Let me see."

♡ When you're feeling clingy, he'll take you down to the bar with him, not giving a shit what the guys think when you leave lipstick on him or pluck the cigarette from his lips for a drag instead of lighting your own. In fact, he encourages your behavior, flipping his chair around in hopes your small hand will nestle into the back pocket of his Levi's.

♡ Benny's not much of a talker, but he opens up to you bc you're the first person who's ever really cared enough to ask the right questions. That makes him want to tell you things he's never said out loud. He confides the ring on his pinkie came from his granddaddy, the only real father figure he ever knew.

♡ He gifts the important possession to you as a sign of his devotion and his heart skips a beat when he thinks about how you wear it on a chain bc it would slip off your delicate finger too easily otherwise.

♡ You're his sweet girl, an angel so precious he has restless nights worrying about you amongst all the burly men in the rough bars and pool halls he frequents. His concerns over keeping you safe giving him full blown insomnia after Kathy is attacked at a house party.

♡ You'll prob find yourself in an empty field the next morning, caged in by Benny's muscular arms, holding his .38 in your trembling hands. Nodding toward the line of beer bottles in the distance as he softly instructs, "squeeze the trigger real slow as you exhale. You can do it, darlin'."

♡ You didn't see the need considering the protective way he drapes his arm over you, eyes cautiously scanning the room with a feral look in his eye. Everyone knows what it means. Touch her and you're a dead man.

♡ He's been known to take things too far, esp when he's drinking. Once a guy collided with you at the bar, spilling beer down your white dress and turning it sheer. The unlucky son of a bitch found himself on the street seconds later facing the broken end of the bottle inches from his throat.

♡ The novelty of having your honor defended loses its appeal with every trip to county. Benny senses it in your anguished sigh and furrowed brow when you come to bail him out, hanging his head shamefully the moment he catches sight of you.

♡ Since there's nothing he hates more than disappointing you, he tries to keep his impulses in check and focus on your needs. "You know I'd do anything for you, angel."

♡ Nothing made your heart race with excitement quite like the day he stole you away for a winding ride that ended under a magnificent orange sunset. When he removed his shirt to make love to you in the tall grass, you glimpsed your name freshly inked over his heart.

[laurfilijames]

Easy Access

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Fingering. Unprotected intercourse. Creampie. Semi-public sex.

Summary: Unable to keep your hands off of each other since Will's return home from tour, going to a party at Benny's proves to be no exception, especially when he discovers you're not wearing any panties under your sundress.

A/N: It is so rare that Will is smiling and happy so I've made it my mission to give him every ounce of joy he deserves and packed it all into one delicious fic for you, all while indulging in the slutty "bend me over and fuck me in a sundress" fun which is still very much IN 😤 I am also celebrating my 1 year Charlie-versary of when I posted my first fic for one of his characters, which just so happened to be Will Miller, Breathe.

---

Three days had passed since Will returned home, meaning it had been three days since either of you stepped foot out of the house.

Keeping your hands off of each other since the moment they made contact again was proving impossible, your attempt at making up for lost time a challenge both of you had eagerly accepted.

Even now as you sat in his truck on the way to Benny’s, Will had his hand planted firmly on your bare leg, your short sundress giving some relief from the sweltering summer weather, but his palm felt like it was on fire the longer it lingered there, spreading a heat through your whole body that rivaled the sun beaming in through the open window.

He gave your thigh a squeeze before reaching for your hand, bringing it up to his mouth where he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, letting it linger there so you were able to feel his breath and the soft prickling of his beard.

Pulling up to a stop light, Will glanced over at you, smiling against your hand as he sent you a wink that ignited even more fire through your veins.

“You look good, sweetheart,” he praised, his familiar drawl low and enticing.

“Do we have to go?” you joked, tilting your head as you squirmed in your seat, seeing his smile grow into a chuckle that you had missed more than you ever thought possible.

“Yeah, we do. Unfortunately we can’t stay locked up in the house all week.”

His eyebrows rose on his forehead when he looked at you, and when he tucked his lip between his teeth after he stopped speaking, you wondered how much effort it would take to convince him otherwise.

You nodded, giving his hand a squeeze as he looked forward at the road again when the light turned green.

“I know you’re looking forward to seeing your brother.”

Will nodded in response, using his free hand to turn his truck left onto the next street. “Yeah, I am.”

Benny had deployed nearly two months before Will had, Pope along with him, and with Frankie, Tom and Will all on their own tours, this was one of the longest periods they had all gone without seeing each other.

Frankie had arranged it all, gathering everyone together for a dinner at Benny’s as a reunion, the need to celebrate each of them returning home safe a priority and perfect excuse to smoke a giant slab of meat and toss back some beers.

“We won’t stay too late,” Will assured, stealing a glance over at you again, his eyes traveling up your legs to your chest that bounced along with the movement of his truck over each bump in the road.

“We can stay as long as you want, Will. I can’t keep you all to myself forever.”

A sort of growl mixed in with his laugh as he shook his head and tried his best to focus on driving, and you felt your pulse quicken as you watched his hammer in his thick neck.

“See, sweetheart, that’s where you’ve got it wrong.”

He pulled onto Benny’s street, slowing down as he approached his brother’s house and found a spot not far down from it, parking his truck behind Catfish’s.

Unfastening his seatbelt, he leaned over the console to get closer to you, his expression somewhat serious even though the hint of a smile played on his gorgeous lips.

“All I want is to hide away with you forever,” he admitted, making your heart feel as if it would burst in your chest.

Before you had the opportunity to say anything in response, Will reached over to close the space between you, his left hand cupping the side of your face to keep you in place as his mouth crashed into yours, a surprised gasp that turned into a soft moan tumbling off your tongue as his danced with it.

It was dizzying, the passion in that kiss and every one that had come before it since his return unlike anything you had experienced before, the crave you felt to taste him on your lips again and again an addiction you could never be rehabilitated from.

You heard him chuckle quietly after he had pulled away, his thumb rubbing your cheek while you kept your eyes closed, almost feeling afraid that if you opened them, he wouldn’t be there. Everything you did in the last three days felt otherworldly, too perfect to be real, and even now you let your fingers dig into the tattooed skin on his forearm just as you had so many times already in order to believe he was actually there with you.

A sigh of relief blew past your lips when you finally did open your eyes, finding him staring back at you with a warmth that made his eyes seem to glow in the late afternoon sun, the smile he flashed at you grounding you just as much as it disarmed you.

“I wish we never had to leave that bed,” he purred, moving to pull the handle to open his door to step out.

“Who said we can’t carry on what we do in bed anywhere else?” you replied, cheekily, grinning in reaction to seeing his eyebrows raise high on his forehead in amusement as he walked around the front of his truck and over to the passenger side, giving you a somewhat warning look as he opened your door for you.

“You’re playing with fire, here. Better watch yourself.”

You chewed on the side of your lip as you hopped out of your seat, feeling mischievous in knowing he had yet to discover your dirty little secret, excitement mixing with arousal as you wondered how he would react when he noticed.

Closing your door, you met him at the open door of the back seat, standing to the side as he reached in and grabbed a dish off the floor, leaving another that contained one of the other appetizers you had prepared for you to carry in as he lifted the small cooler full of beers out of the bed of the truck.

You made a point of leaning in as far as you could to reach it, bending at your waist as much as you could even though it wasn’t necessary due to the height of the truck, but knowing this angle would allow for him to see your bare ass.

“Are you not wearing any panties?” he asked, surprise and amusement in his voice, the expression on his face matching when you stood upright and faced him.

You grinned and shrugged, watching his sly smile reach his eyes that were now tinged with a darkness that you knew was lust.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he huffed, slamming the door shut before turning to step onto the sidewalk. “Jesus Christ,” he added under his breath, clearly wondering how he was going to manage now.

With satisfaction giving you a spring in your step, you followed, walking up the driveway beside him, hearing music coming from the backyard along with the familiar laughs of your friends.

Will paused, quickly meeting your lips in a forceful kiss, the deep breath he took when he parted telling you how hard he was working at keeping his composure before reaching the gate that would lead you into the party.

He flicked the latch on the gate, but grabbed the top of it with his large hand before letting it swing open, blocking the entrance so you were stopped beside him. The look he gave you was stern, adding to the flurry of excitement already pulsing wildly through you, and his voice held a tone that made you hold your breath and your skin tingle, feeling the light, humid breeze tickle the sweat on your legs as your less-than-innocent sundress moved with it.

“If you’re gonna play games like this, you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences,” he warned, the corner of his mouth pulling upward ever so slightly as he backed himself against the door to open it, still holding eye contact with you as he let you pass by him.

You didn’t know how long you had been there for, the only thing you knew was that your need for Will was increasing with each passing second and that he seemed to enjoy torturing you, the game you had set up to have him begging for you effectively reversed. It was difficult to keep a steady conversation with anyone - impossible, even - your focus drawn across the yard to wherever Will was standing, seeming to latch eyes with him each time and feeling his locked on you when you forced yourself to look away.

The way he was making you feel almost had you regretting your decision not to wear panties and make it known to him, but as you watched him lick his lips and rub the back of his neck as he half-listened to something his brother and Pope were laughing about, you knew your choices would be rewarded despite him acting like punishment was a more suitable response, and if you were honest, that was exactly what you were hoping for.

You knew you were pressing your luck, sitting down on an old lawn chair, your gaze fixed on Will to make sure he was watching as you blatantly crossed your legs, knowing he could see your naked sex before the overlap of your bare thighs concealed you again.

Despite the somewhat smug grin on your face, your heart was racing uncontrollably, the nerves coursing through you growing at a furious rate as you took in the unreadable expression on Will’s face. You couldn’t decide if he was angry or amused, his arms folded across his chest, his stance sturdy and confident, chewing on a toothpick that he rolled from side to side across his lips with his tongue, and it made you wonder if he couldn’t decide how to feel either.

He shook his head and you noticed his chest rise and fall with a huff before looking away, plucking the toothpick out of his mouth so he could take a sip of his beer that he reached for off the picnic table.

You bit your lower lip, trying to mask your satisfied smirk, and took a deep breath of your own as you attempted to refocus on the conversation happening around you, but you still couldn’t seem to peel your eyes away from Will.

He was clearly trying to do the same, but also failing, and when he stole a look over at you again, you took the opportunity to recross your legs to give him another glimpse of what was his for the taking if he dared.

The crunch of the aluminum can being crushed in his powerful hand seemed to echo in your ears, his eyes steely as he maintained eye contact with you while his other hand subtly adjusted his cock in his shorts that you knew was getting hard.

Will licked his lips before looking back to Benny where he patted his brother firmly on the shoulder, saying something to him as he held up his empty beer can, taking a step in the direction of the garage.

Catching your gaze again, he tilted his head, nodding for you to follow him before he disappeared around the wall of the building.

With your mouth now feeling dry, you downed what was left of your drink and stood, politely excusing yourself from the others who sat near you even though you hadn’t contributed to the conversation in too long a time thanks to your occupied thoughts, your hand instinctively smoothing the back of your dress to make sure you were covered as you walked through the yard.

Looking over your shoulder to ensure no one was following, you rounded the corner only to walk straight into Will who lunged out and grabbed you, laughing as you yelped, your heart stopping from the scare.

“Jesus, Will!”

He continued to chuckle, his smile crooked as he still held the toothpick between his lips, his hands groping at your waist and then lower to your bare ass. You couldn’t help but join his laughter, seeing him smile and be this playful replacing the brief fright with a swell in your heart.

“I don’t think you have any idea how much I missed hearing your laugh,” you admitted, resting your hands on his warm chest as he beamed at you.

“Is that so?”

You nodded your head in confirmation, smiling as he dipped in and kissed you, your arms wrapping around his neck while his secured around your back and pulled you against him, able to feel his cock pressing against your body.

“Come here,” he said through a growl, his voice rough and lusty while his eyes continued to hold a playfulness in them, leading you in through the open door and giving the toothpick a flick that landed somewhere on the oil-stained concrete floor.

Walking far enough in so he was sure no one would see you unless they actually came inside the garage, Will wasted no time in planting you against Benny’s workbench, his kisses coming on so forceful and desperate it was hard to keep up.

Both of you were smiling between kisses, completely elated and lost in the thrill of it all, and as much as you had expected Will to follow through on making you pay for your little stunt, it still caught you off-guard when you felt his fingers trail up between your legs to stroke your wet folds.

“Here? Now?” you asked, half squirming and half leaning into his touch, a breathy moan passing your lips as you let yourself succumb to the feel of his index finger pushing inside you.

He peered down at you, his eyes shifting with amusement as you relaxed into him and started to roll your hips. “It's what you wanted, isn't it?”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip to stifle your sounds of pleasure that he was already coaxing out of you.

“You're lucky I can't get enough of you,” he growled, adding a second finger and hooking them to massage your g-spot. “If you're gonna dress and act like a slut then you're gonna be treated like one.”

His words sent a shiver up your spine, your nipples hardening against the thin fabric of your sundress, and your eyes closed as he fingered you as perfectly as always. You felt his face draw close to yours, his breath hot on your dewy cheek, his beard grazing your reactive skin as he dipped in beside your ear.

“No one's gonna know…”

You grinned when his lips attached to your neck, the thought of denying this man anything he wanted humourous, knowing that after being apart for as long as you had, nothing could stop you.

It all progressed quickly; your kisses intensifying with each one, the sound of your name coming off his lips as he told you he loved you making you delirious, your hands grasping at each other desperately.

The smell of his shampoo was awoken by your fingertips scratching through his hair, the press of his lips on yours and the way his tongue claimed your mouth while his beard chafed at your chin and cheeks all a reminder that there would never be a day you would be sated of him.

You let your hands slip down his neck and over his broad shoulders, finding a resting place on his thick chest that radiated a warmth that made his cotton t-shirt cling even more to it, and you could feel his heart thrum against your palm before his laugh rumbled through to it.

“The things you make me do, sweetheart,” he chuckled, allowing his hands to leave your body for a moment while he unfastened the button and zipper on his shorts and pulled out his cock.

You returned his smile, yours feeling lazy on your lips from the haziness of lust, and you reached for his cock, smoothing your hand up and down his length until his smile was wiped away and he clutched your jaw with his hand, squeezing it as he kissed you again.

He peppered along down to your neck, his fervor increasing as your reaction to it encouraged him more, the hand that had been gripping your chin falling to your chest where he pawed at you roughly while the other rucked up the skirt of your dress.

“I still don't think you realize how much I missed you, and I’m not even close to being done yet,” he growled, driving his fingers in your soaked cunt again.

You leaned back against the workbench, your hands gripping the edge of it for stability as your head tipped back, allowing Will more access to attack your neck and chest with his mouth, feeling the grittiness of dirt and grime left from Benny’s projects under your fingertips.

“Fuck, Will…” you breathed, riding his hand without shame.

“Turn around, I wanna see that ass,” he demanded, though his tone was light with mischief.

He removed his fingers from you and aided in spinning you around, kicking your feet apart with his as you hinged forward and resecured your hold on the countertop, his hand trailing from the small of your back where he had pressed with intention to down between your cheeks while lifting your dress back up over the round of your ass.

You moaned, arching back into him, feeling him rub his cock across your cheeks as he continued to finger you from behind, his other hand reaching around to grab your breasts and tug at your neckline.

He gave you a playful spank, but it didn’t come without a sting, making you jolt forward slightly which caused the bench to shake against the wall, his voice gruff but light mannered when he spoke.

“I know you think this dress looks all pretty and innocent on you, but only I know what a whore you actually are in it.”

“Fuck,” you gasped, his words and the way he was hitting the spot that would make you fall apart each time he moved in and out of you causing your arms to break their support, knocking over a few empty beer bottles and cans that sat amidst the rusty tools.

“Easy, baby,” he soothed, but not ceasing his pace. “We gotta be quick but not that quick.”

Continuing to prime you to take his size, you heard him chuckle again, his tone completely satisfied and humoured as if he was basking in the fact that he now had the upper hand in the situation.

“How are you gonna manage with no panties after you’re filled up and dripping with my load, huh?”

You sighed out, glancing over your shoulder at him as he proceeded to grin smugly at you, realizing you hadn’t thought this stunt entirely through.

“We’ll call it an oversight.”

Your response only made Will laugh more, the sound of it making your heart sing in seeing him this happy even if it was partially at your expense.

“You could always put it somewhere else?” you suggested, your mouth watering at the thought of swallowing his hot cum while looking up at his pleasured face from your knees that would end up dirty and scuffed.

He shook his head as he lined himself up to your entrance, pushing into your soppy cunt as his voice changed to be slightly gruff. “Not a fucking chance.”

Your nails raked across the gritty, wood surface as Will bottomed out in you, stretching you completely to fit around his fat cock, the first of his hard thrusts making the workbench slam against the wall.

You cursed under your breath, having him pumping in and out of you a reminder of how hard he had already fucked you that morning, the mix of pleasure and pain making your whines grow to soft cries.

“Does it hurt, sweetheart?” Will asked, the concern in his voice genuine even though he didn’t relent on his pace.

You shook your head ‘no’, pressing your hips back to meet him blow for blow, feeling a tingle scurry down your back at the thrill of it all.

“You know I like it,” you replied, your skin erupting in goosebumps despite the heat when you heard him chuckle in a gratified way.

“That’s my girl,” he grunted, continuing to pound you with ardor.

It was getting difficult to keep quiet, but with how loud the bench was hitting the wall you suspected what you and Will were off doing was no longer discreet to the rest of the party, so you allowed yourself to stop worrying and focus on how good it felt.

Although Will’s heavy panting and rough moans were equally as loud as you were, he gave the occasional warning to quiet down, and each time one of your wails out-did any other noises you were making together, his laugh would ring out, clearly finding the prospect of getting caught hilarious.

“Shit!” Will called out, still through a chuckle, releasing the grip of one of his hands from your hips to grab at a mason jar filled with various bolts, screws and washers as it tumbled down from an overhead shelf. It danced off the tips of his fingers and hit the floor with a loud smash, sending its contents scattering around your feet.

“Will!” you half cried, half scolded, and as you moved slightly to try to see the damage done, your arm knocked a couple of cans off the table to add to the mess on the ground.

“Jesus…” Will laughed, picking up his tempo a bit to quicken getting the job done, the risk growing with each passing second.

The rate at which he was fucking you had you a disheveled mess, the straps of your dress having slipped down your shoulders, and without their security, each hammering thrust continued to shake your body enough until your tits easily fell out.

Nearing your climax, you lost control of the volume of your cries, and in your haze of pleasure, you could barely hear Will telling you to pipe down.

Right when you were about to fall into bliss, Will pulled out of you and roughly turned you around to face him, his hand gripping the side of your face somewhat forcefully before he crashed his mouth against yours to quiet you. His other hand grabbed the flesh of your thigh and lifted it up to lock around his waist, driving back inside you with his cock that was warm and wet from you.

You moaned into his mouth, only to have him force his tongue deeper inside while he resumed fucking you with all he had, moving the hand that had been holding your face down to your exposed breasts.

Like he had given up caring if you were heard, he broke your kiss to look at you, his blue eyes soaking you up as he drank in the heavenly sight before him; your bare boobs bouncing to his movements, the sweat glistening on your chest and neck that made your hair stick to it, your swollen, moist lips that parted as you fought for breath between moans, and then his gaze fell lower where he watched your drenched cunt taking his dick.

“Fuck you are so hot!” he said through a grin, his tone hinting that he couldn’t believe you were his to treat like this.

He dipped back down to your lips, kissing you once before letting his open mouth hang against yours, stealing another glance at where your bodies connected and crude, squelching sounds came from.

“I missed this fucking pussy so much,” he muttered, his lips teasing yours as he did, and unable to take it anymore, you reached your hand around his neck and pulled him against you, kissing him fiercely while driving your hips into his to grind on him roughly.

Broken kisses continued their attempt at suffocating your sounds as you found a rolling rhythm that would see you to your end, your hands desperately tearing at Will’s thick, sweaty flesh through his damp t-shirt.

A violent orgasm ripped through you, forcing Will to press his lips harder against yours to drown out your cries, burying himself deeper inside your walls that choked his throbbing cock, your leg wrapping around his plump, half-bare ass to help ensure he didn't leave you as you rode out your high.

Even if he wanted to hold back, he wouldn't have been able to, your climax inducing his own, his thrusts slamming and stuttering as he pumped you full with aggressive spurts of cum.

“Fuck, baby,” he smiled against your lips, his forehead resting on yours as you both panted for breath, drunk on each other and completely spent.

You giggled, the thrill of your naughty behaviour adding to the post-fuck euphoria, feeling the rumble of Will’s laugh resonate through your body as he remained inside you.

He pulled away from you enough to peer down at you, his eyes heavy and lusty but crinkling at the sides as he smiled lazily at you, his cheeks blushed and covered in drops of sweat, his blond hair darkened from his efforts.

He continued to smile at you as he fixed the straps of your dress, his fingers gently and lovingly grazing your shoulders as he did, looking at you so adoringly that you could never deny how much he had missed you while he was away.

“I really like this dress,” he spoke softly, his fingers trailing down to trace the material that hugged the curve of your breasts, bringing his face close to yours as he pinched your nipple and tugged it, making you moan and arch toward him.

He kissed the space between your ear and neck, and growled as if he was already fighting to restrain himself again. “But I’m gonna rip it off of you at some point and ruin you completely.”

Will’s teeth nipped along your jawline, and before he pressed his lips on yours, looked at you with a dark, promising look that had your body set aflame all over again.

You hummed against his lips, feeling him slip out of you while wondering how much longer you would manage to stay at the party, knowing it would only be a matter of time before you were desperate for him again, and judging by the force of his kiss and the way his hands clawed at your sundress, he was feeling the same.

“You go inside and get cleaned up,” he said, nodding to the door that led into Benny’s house. “I’ll sort all this out.”

You glanced at the mess on the ground he was referring to, broken glass and various types of hardware littered all around you, and being the gentleman he always was, he took your hand and assisted you safely over to the door.

Will tucked himself back in his shorts and promptly located a broom and dustpan, beginning to sweep up when he heard the shuffling of his brother’s footsteps walking into the garage.

Benny stopped, causing Will to look over at him, laughing when he saw the annoyed look on his face.

“Really?” was all Benny managed to get out, his arms outstretched while Will just shrugged and continued cleaning up.

“You two are fucking unbelievable, you know that?” Benny hissed, pushing Will hard on the shoulder as he passed to add more empties to the disrupted collection on the workbench.

Will only laughed harder, dumping what he had accumulated in the dustpan into the garbage as Benny grabbed two beers out of the fridge and handed one to him, knocking his bottle against his and then twisting off the cap to take a sip.

“It’s good to see you happy, man,” he said, clapping his hand on Will’s back before heading out of the garage and back to the party.

---

Comments and reblogs are the lifeline of fanfic, so if you enjoyed reading this story, please consider sharing your thoughts with me and others! 💗

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls

@littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90

@paintlavillered @casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989

[luveline]

Just thinking about Aaron taking a half asleep bombshell!reader’s makeup off on the ride home late after a case!! He’s so gentle with her and knows all the steps, doing it with care so he doesn’t wake her up fully

It’s only because Aaron knows that the driver employed tonight is temporary that he touches you freely. You’ve been on a plane for hours, at the office even longer, somehow, and you don’t crack —if anyone were to ask you how you were that night, you would’ve said perfect. 

But Aaron knew you were exhausted, and alone in the car with him, you aren’t afraid to finally give up the act. You slouch with your eyes screwed closed and your GoBag in your lap, your hand skewed on his thigh. 

You have very pretty hands, in his humble opinion. Mostly because of the way you use them. Even in your fatigue your thumb is grazing against the starched length of his pants gently, a curved back and forth. 

He wishes that things between you weren’t quite so private. What man wouldn’t want to brag about being touched with such care? And by such a fiercely pretty woman? 

“You okay?” he asks quietly. 

The car crunches over the road in a constant humming like fine gravel. The driver doesn’t look from the windshield at Aaron’s voice, nor do you look up from your dozing. 

“Honey, don’t get too comfortable,” he warns. 

You hum with lips closed. 

He decides it doesn’t matter. You can get comfortable if you want to. He can very well attempt to carry you up to your apartment. He’d be happy to do that. Aaron not so secretly loves to take care of you, after all. 

“Can I see this?” he asks, taking your GoBag from you gently. 

You manage a mumbled, “Yeh,” as he takes it. 

“Thank you.” 

Aaron unzippers your bag and goes to the very back where you keep your makeup bag tucked into a fabric pocket. From there he’s familiar, unbuttoning the front clasp, searching in the dark for your makeup remover and the small cloth you keep for emergencies. He’d wait to get home, only he knows there’s still a while yet to get there what with the roadworks closing the majority of the roads the run from Quantico to DC. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, eyelashes dragging apart slowly. 

“I’m going to wipe your mascara off before you fall asleep.” 

“Do I need to keep my eyes open?” 

“I think it’ll be okay.” 

You go back to snoozing. Aaron rubs the mascara from your eyes until the cloth comes away clean, tiny gentle brushes of the cloth wrapped around his knuckle. It activates something deep within him to get to take care of you. He’s not sure if it’s masculinity or pride or love, but it feels good. He wishes he could do these things for you more often. 

From there he wipes your face clean. He can’t imagine you’ll want to wash your face when you do finally get home, so he soaks a cotton round with the slim bottle of toner he often sees you using on stolen mornings or nights where he’s not supposed to be in your room, and he rubs that over each plane of your face with long, careful strokes. You turn your head when he encourages it but otherwise don’t move. 

“There,” he says, more for himself than you as he wraps the dirtied round in your cloth, hiding both in your dark wash bag. 

Your fingernails trail gently up the outside of his thigh. Your face swerves down into his shoulder, still tacky. “Thank you, Aaron,” you say. Aaron, and not Hotch. 

“Don’t blame me if you break out,” he says, his lips against your crown. 

It is definitely love.

[rileyslibrary]

You have a few questions about Ghost’s mask and he has some answers. (platonic, self-indulgent banter)

———————————————————————

You sit side by side outside the medic’s office, waiting for your physical exams. You’ve both just returned from a mission, and it’s standard procedure for all personnel to undergo routine checks upon returning to the base. ‘It’s the protocol’, they said. Boring shit.

Adjusting your shirt, you recline on the chair, glancing at Ghost’s back. He’s slouching, elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked together. He turns to his left, looking at something you’re not interested in paying attention to right now.

He’s fascinating.

“Did you make it yourself?” You ask, nodding towards him.

He doesn’t hear you. That, or he pretends he doesn’t do so. You gently nudge his knee with yours to get his attention. He turns over his shoulder, his eyes locking with yours.

“The mask,” you say, pointing at him, then gesturing to your face, “did you make it yourself?”

He keeps staring at you, but not in the same way when he first turned towards you. It’s more ominous now, like a sign in the middle of the road warning you that there’s been an accident ahead. You don’t know what that accident entails, or what you will face if you get closer. Is it a truck that spilt yellow dye all over the road? Is it a major crash with casualties? Do you want to find out?

Yes. Yes, you do.

“I just think it’s neat.” You say, shrugging.

His eyes linger on you for a few more seconds until they end up traveling from your head to your waist. He finally looks away.

You keep staring at the side of his face, studying it; there’s a faint outline of an ear, a barely visible jawline, the skull plate sewn on his painted balaclava.

“Does it get clammy in there?” You ask again, this time louder.

You know he heard you, but he doesn’t turn to look at you this time. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising, and so does his head. He closes his eyes, and with a long exhale, he lets it all out. He stretches his neck to the left and then to the right.

“What is it that you wanna know?” He asks.

“You never removed it during our mission, not one single time,” you explain. “Got me wondering if you ever take it off, that’s all.”

He lets out an almost inaudible chuckle; it’s so quiet that you can’t hear it, but you can see his shoulders rise and fall. He slowly shakes his head as he gazes down at the floor. Hopefully, it’s a genuine reaction and not just an attempt to release the tension building up.

He straightens himself, sliding back in his seat before reclining. His shoulders press against yours, and you make room for him as much as possible. It almost feels like he’s intentionally expanding his presence; otherwise, he might have been more considerate with his posture. On the other hand, so would you with all the drilling.

“I, too, wonder about you.” He says.

“About what?” You ask.

“Whether you ever stop talking.” He replies, turning to look at you.

“I have questions.” You explain as your eyes drift to his right ear.

“I can tell,” He says and gestures for you to go ahead. “Let’s hear ’em.”

You straighten up and twist your upper body towards him.

“Ok, so,” you begin and clasp your hands together. “How does the medic check your ears if you keep them covered?”

“My ears are just fine.” He responds almost too quickly.

“How do you know?”

“I keep listening to you, don’t I?” he replies. “It’s my nerves that need checking.”

“Why?”

“Cause I keep listening to you.” He repeats. “Anything else?”

“What about your mouth?” You ask. “What if they need to check that during the examination?”

“I’m sure you’d manage that for both of us,” he replies as he leans further back, resting his head on the wall. “Since yours rarely stays closed.���

“Is that so, Lt.?”

He shuts his eyes and slowly nods.

“Do you have an answer for everything?” You ask.

“Do you want to find out?”

“Do I?”

“Do you?” He says, opening his eyes and looking straight at you.

You open your mouth to say something but decide against it. You close it and twist your body to the front, yet you can feel his eyes burning through the back of your head.

“You forgot the nose.” He says.

“What?”

“The nostrils.” He explains. “You asked about almost every single orifice in the human body except the nostrils and the arsehole, for Christ’s sake.”

“Do they check those?”

“Only if you have allergies,” he replies. “Or an infection.”

“Allergies in the arse?” You joke. “Never heard of that.”

“No,” he says, pointing at you. “Pain in the arse.”

———————————————————————

[bigboysfalldeep]

the rookie's rite of passage

Declan loved his new job as a police officer. Ever since he’d stepped foot into the academy, every push-up, every test, every drill had been worth it to finally wear that uniform. The navy blue sat perfectly on him, sharp and pressed, his badge gleaming, and his belt sitting snug around his hips. The hours were long, the expectations high, but it didn’t matter—he’d earned his place here, and he belonged.

For two months now, he’d been partnered with Sergeant Brooks, an older officer in his mid-forties with short-cropped graying hair and a sturdy, broad frame. Brooks was respected, one of those men who carried authority with him effortlessly. Everyone in the department said he was the kind of partner a rookie could learn from, someone who knew the ins and outs of the job beyond any textbook or academy lesson.

The two of them made an odd pair, Brooks heavy-footed and gruff, Declan lean and bright-eyed. Yet, they worked well together—Brooks providing the steady guidance and Declan always eager to absorb the advice. Today, their last shift of the week, Declan couldn’t help but feel satisfied. He was getting the hang of it—running plates, responding to calls, talking to the public. He was finding his rhythm.

“Almost done, rookie,” Brooks said as they sat in their patrol car, cruising down an empty stretch of road outside town. The late afternoon sun painted the horizon in gold and orange, and Declan felt that calm that came after a good day’s work.

“Yeah,” Declan said, glancing over at his sergeant. “It’s been a good week, hasn’t it?”

Brooks nodded, lips curling into a faint grin. “Not bad at all. You’re starting to get it. There’s only so much the academy can teach you, though. The real lessons—the real training—happens out here.”

Declan sat a little straighter at that. He liked when Brooks complimented him. “I appreciate that, sir.”

“Good man,” Brooks said. Then, as if considering something, he slowed the patrol car down and turned off onto an old, abandoned parking lot. The cracked asphalt stretched out before them, surrounded by a scattering of trees. It looked like a forgotten place, far enough from town that it felt isolated.

Declan frowned curiously. “Something wrong, sir?”

“Nah,” Brooks said, parking the car and shutting off the engine. He turned to Declan with that same faint grin. “I’m going to show you how I do field sobriety tests.”

Declan blinked. “Field sobriety tests?”

“Yeah,” Brooks said, unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car. “Come on. It’s a little trick of the trade. Maybe you’ll pick up something they didn’t show you at the academy. Besides, it's something we old guys show you rookies, consider it, a rite of passage."

Declan’s curiosity got the better of him. He climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him, and followed Brooks to the center of the lot. The sun was sinking lower now, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. A gentle breeze rolled by, rustling the trees, but otherwise, it was eerily quiet.

Brooks pulled a pen from his pocket and held it up for Declan to see. It looked ordinary enough until Brooks twisted it, and the tip lit up with a bright, pretty light. It was a vivid, almost hypnotic color—soft and warm. Declan stared at it a second longer than he meant to.

Brooks chuckled softly. “Special pen. Makes it easier for the subject to focus. You’ve seen this test before, right?”

Declan nodded. “Yes, sir. I know how to conduct it. Hold the pen twelve to fifteen inches from their nose, have them follow it with their eyes while keeping their head still.”

“That’s the basics,” Brooks said, holding the pen up. “But there’s a bit of an edge to it if you know how to do it right.”

Declan tilted his head, intrigued. “Okay, sir.”

Brooks gestured for him to stand still. “I’ll demonstrate. Just follow the light with your eyes. Keep your head still, all right?”

Declan nodded again. “Got it.”

The light flickered on, that same captivating glow drawing Declan’s gaze. Brooks began to move the pen slowly from side to side, the rhythm steady, smooth. At first, it was simple—Declan kept his head still, his eyes tracking the pen as instructed. But something about it felt different, strange.

Brooks’ voice came softly, low and even. “That’s good, rookie. Just follow the light. Let your eyes track the motion. Don’t think about anything else. Just the light.”

Declan felt himself relaxing, his shoulders loosening as he obeyed. His focus narrowed.

“Nice and easy,” Brooks said, the pen moving in the same slow pattern. “Now, as you follow the light, I want you to listen to my voice. You’re doing great. Just let it happen. All your limbs are feeling heavier now. Heavier and heavier.”

Declan’s brows knit faintly, but he didn’t break focus. The words were soft, soothing, weaving through his thoughts.

He didn’t notice it at first—the tingling sensation that started at the base of his spine and worked its way up through his body. It felt good, warm and safe, like slipping under a blanket on a cold night.

“Just keep following the light,” Brooks murmured. “Your arms and legs are so heavy now. It’s easier to let go. To just listen to my voice. That’s all you need to do. Nothing else matters.”

Declan swayed slightly, but he didn’t notice. The pen was so pretty, and Brooks’ voice so calm.

“Okay, sir,” Declan mumbled, his words sluggish.

Brooks smiled faintly, though Declan didn’t see it. The rookie’s movements had grown slower, his eyes glassy but still tracking the pen obediently.

“That’s right,” Brooks said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Just follow the light. Don’t fight it. Don’t think. Let everything else slip away.”

Declan’s eyelids fluttered as he swayed more noticeably now, his lips parting slightly.

It was always so entertaining to watch. Brooks had done this before, of course—tested his little tricks on a handful of rookies over the years. Some resisted more than others, but in the end, it was always the same. They all sank under eventually.

And Declan? Declan was particularly responsive.

“You’re doing great, rookie,” Brooks said, still moving the light in slow, mesmerizing arcs. “Your body is so heavy now. So tired. But it feels good, doesn’t it? To let go. To relax completely. Just listening to me. Following the light.”

Declan swayed again, his breathing slower now. “Yeah... feels good,” he whispered.

Brooks chuckled softly. “That’s a good boy. You’re almost there. Just a little further.”

He slowed the movement of the pen until it hovered directly in front of Declan’s face, the glowing light reflecting in his wide, unfocused eyes.

“Now, rookie,” Brooks said softly, stepping closer. His free hand came up behind Declan, ready to catch him. “I want you to sleep.”

With that, Brooks tapped Declan’s forehead gently.

Declan’s body went limp immediately, his head falling forward as Brooks braced him easily with one arm. Brooks guided him down slowly, holding him steady as Declan’s weight sagged completely. His breathing was deep and slow, his expression blank and peaceful.

“Good boy,” Brooks murmured, his voice full of satisfaction. His hand came up to caress Declan’s cheek possessively, his thumb brushing over the soft skin. “You’re such a natural. I knew you’d take to this well.”

Declan’s lips moved faintly, as if murmuring something inaudible. Brooks tilted his head, smirking.

“You’re already repeating my words, aren’t you?” Brooks said softly. “You can’t help it. You’re so far under now. So deep.”

The real training could begin.

Brooks shifted, keeping his grip firm on Declan as he whispered into the rookie’s ear. “Now listen to me, Declan. Everything I say becomes the truth. Everything I tell you, you’ll obey without question. Do you understand?”

Declan’s lips moved again. “…Yes, sir.”

Brooks smiled.

“That’s right, rookie. Good boy.”

“Whenever you hear me say the word tingle, you will fall back into this blissful trance,” Brooks said, his voice calm and commanding, lingering just beside Declan’s ear.

Declan’s slackened form stirred slightly, lips parting to respond. “…Yes, sir,” he murmured, his voice distant, dreamlike.

Brooks smiled, satisfied. “Good. Now get up, rookie.”

He pulled Declan upright, steadying the younger man as his weight adjusted. For a moment, Declan swayed, but Brooks held him firm until he could stand on his own. The rookie’s eyes were still glazed over, unfocused, his face soft and relaxed.

Brooks stepped back just enough to take in the sight. The young officer stood there, obedient and pliant, his crisp uniform slightly disheveled. Brooks had always appreciated the look of discipline—the sharpness of the uniform, the pride in how it was worn. But on Declan? There was something more. Maybe it was the way the fabric clung just a little tighter than necessary to his lean frame, emphasizing his youth, his energy.

Brooks reached out again, letting his hand graze Declan’s cheek. Warm, soft skin met his palm, interrupted only by the faint roughness of stubble. A line of drool had slipped from the corner of Declan’s lips, and Brooks’ thumb brushed it away, his touch lingering.

“Attention, rookie. Stand tall,” Brooks commanded, his tone sharpening slightly.

Declan’s body reacted instantly, his training kicking in despite his dazed state. His spine straightened, his shoulders squared, his hands fell to his sides. He stood at full attention, chest slightly puffed out, chin raised.

Brooks smirked, circling him slowly. “Good boy. Flex those muscles for me.”

The words sank into Declan’s hazy mind like an anchor dropping into calm waters. Without hesitation, his body responded, his posture tightening further as his muscles engaged. His arms flexed subtly, his chest lifting as his pecs pushed against the tight fabric of his uniform.

Brooks stopped in front of him, his hands moving with deliberate slowness. He placed them on Declan’s shoulders first, feeling the tension beneath the layers of fabric. His grip moved downward, unzipping the rookie’s vest to give him some breathing room and better access.

“There you go,” Brooks murmured, his hands trailing over Declan’s chest. “Let’s give those muscles some room to work.”

The vest slid open, and Brooks let his hands roam. His palms pressed against Declan’s pecs, firm and defined beneath the taut fabric of his undershirt. He stroked along the curves of the muscles, his touch firm but not rough, kneading them slightly as he spoke.

“Good boy,” Brooks praised, his voice low. “You’ve been working hard, haven’t you? Feels like it.”

Declan sighed softly, his chest rising and falling under Brooks’ touch. The praise washed over him, mingling with the trance in his mind.

"Thank you, sir," he breathed deeply.

Brooks moved lower, his hands brushing over the flat plane of Declan’s abdomen, tracing the faint ridges of muscle beneath the shirt. His fingers lingered on the belt for a moment, then slid up again to feel Declan’s biceps.

“Strong arms,” Brooks said, squeezing the muscles appreciatively. “You’ve been putting in the effort. I can tell.”

Declan murmured something incomprehensible, his body leaning ever so slightly into the touch.

Brooks’ hands returned to Declan’s chest, stroking downward again—and that’s when he noticed it.

The strain in Declan’s uniform.

The fabric of his pants, usually crisp and smooth, had grown noticeably tighter at the crotch. A bulge pressed against the material, faint but unmistakable, the tension pulling the seams taut.

Brooks let his hand hover for a moment before placing it back on Declan’s abdomen, stroking idly. His smirk deepened.

“Well, well,” Brooks murmured, his voice almost teasing. “Looks like someone’s enjoying this a little more than they expected.”

Declan didn’t respond, his head tilting slightly as he let out another soft sigh.

Brooks’ hand trailed upward again, settling on the rookie’s chest once more. “That’s all right, rookie. You’re just doing as you’re told. And you’re doing so well.”

Brooks’ smirk deepened as he stepped closer, his hands firmly gripping Declan’s shoulders, steadying the younger officer as if grounding him. The rookie stood frozen in place, his breath slow and steady, his eyes unfocused but glimmering faintly in the dim light.

“You see, rookie,” Brooks began, his voice a low, velvety murmur, “this isn’t something every new recruit gets to do with me.”

He reached out, letting his hand rest possessively against Declan’s cheek, his fingers brushing through the soft stubble that framed the young man’s jaw. He tilted Declan’s head slightly upward, inspecting him as if savoring the sight.

“Just the eager ones,” Brooks continued, his tone almost mocking. “The willing ones. The ones who absorb every little word I say, who hang onto my instructions like they were born to obey.”

Declan let out a faint sigh, his lips parting slightly as he leaned instinctively into the touch. Brooks chuckled softly, his thumb tracing a deliberate line along the edge of Declan’s jaw.

“And you, rookie,” Brooks murmured, “you were so eager, weren’t you? Hanging on every word. Following every command without hesitation. It’s why you’re here now.”

Declan didn’t respond, his lips trembling faintly as if searching for the right words. Brooks didn’t let him. He moved closer, his hands sliding down from Declan’s shoulders to his chest, fingers splaying over the open vest and the taut fabric beneath it.

“You even asked for a tighter uniform, didn’t you?” Brooks teased, his grin sharp. “Trying to look sharp for me. Or maybe you were just showing off. I know what you are.”

His hand slid lower, brushing over the straining bulge in Declan’s pants. He stroked it teasingly, his fingers pressing just enough to make the tension more noticeable.

Declan shuddered at the touch, his breath hitching.

“That’s right,” Brooks said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know exactly what you are. And now, rookie, you’re where you’re meant to be. Obeying your sergeant. Doing everything I say.”

His hand lingered, stroking the bulge again, his other hand returning to cup Declan’s cheek. The rookie’s face was warm beneath his palm, flushed and pliant, his body practically melting under the weight of Brooks’ control.

Brooks took a deliberate step back, his boots scuffing slightly against the cracked pavement of the abandoned parking lot. He glanced down at them, then back at Declan, who remained standing tall, his uniform tight against his lean frame, his face blank and pliant.

“I think my boots need some cleaning, rookie,” Brooks said, his voice edged with authority. “Get to work.”

Declan blinked once, his glazed eyes flickering faintly with confusion before the command settled deep into his dazed mind. His body moved automatically, a puppet to Brooks’ will. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, the impact of his weight against the ground soft against the cracked asphalt.

Brooks watched, arms crossed, his smirk widening as the rookie leaned forward, his hands resting lightly on his thighs, his head bowing toward the polished black leather of Brooks’ boots.

“That’s a good boy,” Brooks murmured, his voice low and almost affectionate. “You’re learning fast. Just like I knew you would.”

Declan’s tongue darted out hesitantly, the tip grazing the surface of the boot. The leather tasted bitter, cool, and unfamiliar, but Declan didn’t pause. He worked his way along the toe, the motion slow and methodical, his breathing steady as if this was simply another task to complete for his sergeant.

Brooks chuckled, shifting his stance slightly to give Declan better access. “That’s it, rookie. Don’t miss a spot. I want them shining.”

Declan obeyed, dragging his tongue over the contours of the boot, his focus singular and unwavering. The light in his eyes had dimmed further, his thoughts clouded by the trance Brooks had carefully crafted.

Brooks let the silence hang for a moment, broken only by the soft, wet sound of Declan’s tongue against the leather. He drank in the sight of the rookie kneeling before him, so willing, so utterly compliant.

“You look good down there,” Brooks said finally, his tone almost teasing. “On your knees. Maybe that’s where you’re meant to be.”

Declan didn’t respond, his movements smooth and precise as he continued to clean the boot. A faint sheen of saliva coated the leather now, catching the fading light of the evening.

Brooks chuckled as he watched Declan work, the rookie's tongue dragging dutifully over the smooth leather of his boots. The sight was everything Brooks had imagined: obedient, eager, and entirely his. When the rookie finally paused, looking up with that blank, pliant expression, Brooks reached out and ran his hands along Declan’s sides, slow and deliberate, petting him like a dog.

“Good boy,” Brooks said softly, his fingers pressing into the firm lines of Declan’s waist, feeling the tension and warmth beneath the tight fabric of his uniform. “You’ve done well.”

He let his hands linger for a moment before stepping back and barking the next order. “Up, rookie. On your feet.”

Declan moved immediately, his body responding with automatic precision. He rose unsteadily, still swaying slightly from the trance, his eyes half-lidded and his face flushed. Brooks caught him by the chin, tilting his face up so their eyes met.

“There you go,” Brooks murmured, his thumb brushing over Declan’s cheek. His skin was warm to the touch, flushed with heat and something deeper. “That’s a good boy. You’ve earned this, rookie. All of it.”

"Thank you sir," Declan mumbled, his body heavy, but his mind satisfied by the praise.

Declan blinked slowly, his breathing shallow, and Brooks’ grin widened. His hand trailed lower, fingers grazing the damp fabric of Declan’s shirt, lingering on the tension in his chest before moving further downward.

“Oh?” Brooks teased, his tone mockingly surprised. His fingers stopped at the waistband of Declan’s pants, pressing slightly against the taut fabric before stroking over the obvious strain. A dark patch of wetness had begun to spread at the front, soaking into the material.

“Are you wet, rookie?” Brooks asked, his voice laced with amusement. “You are, aren’t you?”

Declan’s lips parted, a faint, trembling sound escaping him as his face flushed deeper.

"Y-yes, Sir," he stuttered.

Brooks’ hand pressed more firmly against the damp spot, stroking teasingly. “You’ve been working so hard for me, haven’t you? Following every command, doing everything I’ve told you. And now look at you.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “You’re exactly where you’re meant to be. A good, obedient rookie. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir,” Declan murmured, the words barely audible but filled with a dazed certainty.

Brooks smirked, his hand withdrawing as he patted Declan’s cheek possessively. “That’s what I thought.”

Brooks stepped back, his eyes trailing over Declan’s form once more, savoring the way the tight uniform hugged the rookie’s athletic frame. His smirk deepened as he reached out, smoothing the fabric of Declan’s pants, wiping away the faint remnants of gravel before his hands deliberately lingered over the tension at the front.

“This uniform looks good on you, rookie,” Brooks said, his voice low, a hint of possessiveness threading through his tone. “Especially these tight pants.”

"Thank you, sir," Declans voice was barely above a whisper.

Declan stood still, his flushed face tilted downward, his breathing slow and steady as Brooks tugged gently at the fabric, straightening it with deliberate care.

Brooks’ hands moved back up, zipping the vest closed again, patting Declan’s chest with satisfaction. “Perfect. Now let’s get to the car. It’s time for the final step of your training for today.”

Declan nodded, wordless, as Brooks guided him back to the patrol car. The older man opened the door for him, placing a firm hand on Declan’s shoulder to help him inside. Once Declan was seated, Brooks leaned over, pulling the seatbelt across the rookie’s chest and buckling it securely.

“There we go,” Brooks murmured, his hand brushing briefly against Declan’s chest before stepping back and closing the door. He circled the car, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. The low growl filled the air, but Brooks didn’t move immediately.

Instead, he turned to Declan, placing a hand firmly on the younger man’s thigh, squeezing just enough to make his presence unmistakable. Declan stiffened slightly, his eyes flickering toward the touch before settling back into their glazed, empty stare.

“Now, rookie,” Brooks began, his voice soft but commanding. “I need you to focus. Focus all of you—every thought, every feeling—on your cock. Let it consume you.”

Declan’s breath hitched slightly, his chest rising and falling faster now, his body responding instinctively to the command.

“Good,” Brooks said, his hand remaining steady on Declan’s thigh. “Let it all out. Empty your mind. Don’t think. Just feel. Let it build. Let it take over.”

Declan’s eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting as he exhaled a shuddering breath. The tension in his body melted away, leaving him pliant once more, his head tilting slightly against the seat.

“And now,” Brooks continued, his voice dipping lower, almost a growl, “finish your training, rookie. Show me how far you’ve come.”

Declan let out a soft, trembling sound, his body obeying without hesitation as his mind emptied, focusing entirely on the sensation overtaking him. Brooks leaned back slightly, his hand still firm on the rookie’s thigh, watching with satisfaction as Declan surrendered completely, the final step in his transformation into perfect obedience.

Brooks’ grip on Declan’s thigh tightened as he leaned closer, his hand sliding up to firmly hold the rookie’s bulge. The strain beneath the fabric pulsed with tension, and Brooks’ touch remained steady, guiding him through the inevitable.

“That’s it, rookie,” Brooks murmured, his voice soft and coaxing. “Let it all out. Just focus on me, on my hand. I’ve got you.”

Declan’s breath came in shallow, shaky bursts, his body trembling as he surrendered completely. Brooks’ possessive hold didn’t waver, his hand firm and reassuring, controlling every motion as he guided Declan to release.

When it finally happened, Declan’s entire body shuddered, and he let out a low, involuntary groan. His muscles went slack, and he slumped back against the car seat, his chest heaving as the last remnants of tension drained from his body.

The wetness soaked through the tight fabric, against Brooks' palm. His cock throbbed visible, as he gave in completely. His eyes opened briefly just to roll back.

Brooks chuckled, withdrawing his hand but letting it linger on Declan’s thigh, a silent reminder of his control. He surveyed the rookie with satisfaction: flushed, pliant, and utterly spent.

“Good job, rookie,” Brooks said, his voice filled with pride. “You’ve learned fast. You’ve done everything I asked of you, just like I knew you would.”

Declan’s head lolled slightly to the side, his glazed eyes fluttering shut as his body relaxed into the seat.

“Now, rest patiently,” Brooks instructed, his tone soft but firm. “It’s almost time for you to come back. I’ll tell you when we’re at the station.”

He leaned back, gripping the steering wheel as he glanced at Declan one more time, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. The rookie was perfect—obedient, eager, and exactly where Brooks wanted him. The car rumbled softly as Brooks turned his attention back to the road, driving toward the station with his rookie still deep in his trance, waiting for his sergeant’s next command.

A few blocks from the station, Brooks pulled the patrol car to a stop once more, the engine rumbling briefly before he turned it off. He leaned back in his seat, turning toward Declan. The rookie was slumped slightly, one hand lazily stroking his chest through the fabric of his vest while the other rested over the damp bulge in his pants.

Brooks smirked, shaking his head with mock disapproval. “Now, now, rookie. We need some composure,” he chided, reaching out to straighten the fabric of Declan’s uniform. His fingers lingered over the taut, damp patch, smoothing it as if to hide any evidence of the rookie’s earlier release.“

We don’t want the other rookies to know, do we?” Brooks continued, his voice low and teasing. “They might get jealous.” He chuckled softly, his hand drifting up to caress Declan’s flushed face, his thumb brushing over the rookie’s jawline with possessive care.

“Don’t worry about the older guys, though,” Brooks added with a smirk. “They already know.”

Declan’s lips parted slightly, his breathing steady and shallow, completely under Brooks’ control. Brooks let the silence linger for a moment, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles along Declan’s cheek before giving him his final instructions.

“Time to come back, rookie,” Brooks murmured, his voice soft but commanding. “You won’t have any vivid memory from today. Just the little conditioning remains. Understood?”

Declan gave a slow nod, his head tilting slightly into Brooks’ touch. “Understood, sir.”

Brooks leaned closer, his hand moving to cup Declan’s chin. “You won’t bother with the wetness. It will feel natural soon. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Brooks pulled back slightly, his smirk returning. “Then rise and shine, rookie. Tingle.”

Declan blinked, his eyes slowly coming back into focus. He shifted slightly in his seat, a faint frown crossing his face before he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re at the station already?” he asked, his tone light and confused. “Must’ve dozed off.”

“It’s fine, lad,” Brooks said with a warm smile, patting Declan’s shoulder. “Didn’t miss anything important.”

Declan smiled sheepishly, still rubbing his chest absently, his fingers drifting over the wet patch without realizing it. Brooks noticed, his amusement hidden behind a professional veneer.

“Listen,” Brooks said casually, leaning back in his seat, “word has it we might be partnered for a while. If you want it, that is.”

Declan’s face lit up, his excitement palpable. “Really? I’d love that, sir.”

Brooks chuckled, gesturing toward the station ahead. “Good. Let’s head back, get changed, and call it a day, huh? You’ve earned it.”

Declan nodded eagerly, already unbuckling his seatbelt as Brooks started the car again. The sergeant smirked to himself as he pulled into the station lot, already planning the next stage of the rookie’s training.

Brooks guided Declan out of the car and toward the station, his hand lingering on the rookie’s back in a steady, reassuring gesture. Declan walked beside him, a slight bounce in his step despite the lingering haze from earlier.

As they stepped inside, the buzz of the station enveloped them. A few older officers lounging near the breakroom glanced up, their eyes immediately settling on Declan. Knowing smirks spread across their faces, subtle nods exchanged as Brooks and his rookie passed by.

“Evening, Sergeant,” one of them called out casually, his tone dripping with amusement.

“Evening,” Brooks replied with a grin, his voice calm and composed.

Their eyes darted to Declan, whose flushed face and slightly rumpled uniform made him an easy target.

“Rookie’s coming along nicely,” another officer said, his voice low enough that only Brooks caught it.

“Oh, he’s going to be such a good cop,” another muttered, barely hiding his chuckle.

Declan didn’t notice the teasing, too focused on walking straight and making his way to the locker room. Brooks kept his hand on Declan’s shoulder, steering him through the space with quiet authority, his expression unreadable but for the faintest trace of satisfaction.

Inside the locker room, Brooks stood back as Declan began unzipping his vest. The younger man’s movements were slow, deliberate, his focus entirely on the mundane task of changing out of his uniform.

“You did well tonight,” Brooks said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the room.

Declan looked up, his face brightening at the praise. “Thank you, sir. I’m just trying to learn as much as I can.”

“You’re learning fast,” Brooks replied, stepping closer and adjusting the collar of Declan’s shirt with deliberate care. “Keep it up, rookie.”

Declan nodded, his chest puffing slightly with pride as he turned back to his locker. Brooks allowed himself one more smirk, the knowing chuckles of the older officers still echoing faintly in his ears.

The rookie had no idea how much he stood out—or how much he was already fitting in.

Brooks leaned against the row of lockers, watching as Declan fumbled slightly with his belt, the rookie’s fingers working the buckle with the kind of earnest determination Brooks found endlessly amusing. When the uniform finally came off, piece by piece, Brooks made no effort to hide his curiosity.

“Go on, rookie,” he said smoothly, gesturing toward the showers. “I’ll handle the report this time. Paperwork’s a pain—you’ll learn it soon enough.”

Declan gave a grateful nod, oblivious to the sharp, appraising look Brooks cast his way as he walked toward the showers, his bare back glistening faintly under the fluorescent lights.

Brooks chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he turned and exited the locker room. The soft hiss of the showers starting echoed behind him, and he smirked to himself as he made his way down the hall to the breakroom.

The moment he stepped inside, the older officers lounging around the table exchanged knowing glances, their smirks widening.

“Back already, Sergeant?” one of them asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Rookie busy cleaning up?” another chimed in, his tone laced with amusement.

Brooks grabbed a cup from the counter, pouring himself a coffee with deliberate slowness. “He’s doing just fine,” he said, his voice calm but with an edge of satisfaction.

“Bet he is,” one officer muttered, earning a round of muffled chuckles from the others.

“Looks like he’s taking to your methods real well,” another added, nudging his partner with a grin. “Real eager, that one.”

Brooks turned, leaning against the counter with his cup in hand, his expression unreadable except for the faint curve of his lips. “He’s going to be a damn good cop,” he said simply, his tone loaded with meaning.

After some time, Declan emerged from the locker room, freshly showered and dressed in his casual clothes. His hair was still damp, and he wore a comfortable, relaxed expression, a quiet smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He stepped into the breakroom, glancing around before his gaze landed on Brooks.

“See you on Monday, rookie,” Brooks said with a playful pat on Declan’s back, his tone light, though there was a certain weight behind it. The kind of weight that suggested there was more than just casual camaraderie between them.

Declan nodded eagerly, still buzzing from the events of the evening. “Yeah, see you then, sir.” He flashed Brooks a smile before turning toward the exit.

A few older officers, who had been quietly chatting nearby, exchanged amused looks as they watched Declan go.

“You’ve got him well trained, Brooks,” one of them commented, his voice teasing but with a note of admiration.

“He’s gonna be a handful,” another officer added with a knowing grin, leaning back in his chair. “He doesn’t even know it yet, but he’s already hooked.”

Brooks chuckled, his eyes narrowing with amusement as he took another sip from his coffee. “He’s got potential. The rookie’ll be fine,” he said, but there was an unmistakable pride in his voice.

“I’m sure he’ll be quite the asset,” the first officer agreed, his tone light but with a hint of admiration. “Takes a special kind of rookie to make it this far.”

Brooks didn’t respond immediately, but his lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. He watched as Declan headed out the door, unaware of the subtle teasing from the older officers around him. He knew his rookie was already on the path to being just the kind of cop Brooks had been looking for.

“Time will tell,” Brooks murmured under his breath, his gaze lingering on the door where Declan had just exited.

[myownwholewildworld]

uniformed!joel one shot - the police officer - part ii

part i | series masterlist | main masterlist

pairing: police officer!joel x f!reader.

summary: what? you really thought officer miller was done with you? 🙄 don't be so naive. he's going to make good use of that cell he's thrown you in.

a/n: am i a rabid dog who needs to be put down? yes i am. you'll find me taking a walk and touching some grass because oh boy 🥵 please enjoy part ii to police officer!joel. as always, all interactions are welcome! i'd love some feedback if you feel like sharing. yea, that's everything i gotta say, i'll go hide under a rock now. thank you for reading! <3

warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. dark theme. a hella lot of unhealthy smut. dub-con. age gap, no age gap, you choose (joel is mid-late 40s, reader is at least of legal drinking age). power imbalance (joel is a cop). object insertion (oopsie 🥴). fingering. squirting. oral (m and f receiving). strong sub/dom vibes. mouth fucking. slut shaming. cheating. reader talks to boyfriend while being drilled. unprotected piv. creampie. overall, rough, filthy sex. joel is a bully and a dick, basically, so be warned. alternating pov. no description of reader apart from having hair that can be pulled. not proofread so i'm sorry.

w/c: ~7.7k (someone put me down, seriously).

tagging some people who seemed interested in part 2 (please let me know if you want to be removed, no pressure!):

@cestlavieinrenaissance @ijustlovemensm @fartcloudfartcloud

Joel looked through the rearview mirror. You were sat on the middle seat of his cruiser, silent and with your gaze down. You almost looked like you regretted what had happened, but he knew you had actually enjoyed it. Your slutty moans and your squirting cunt spoke for yourself ― the proof of your ecstasy still staining his uniform’s trousers.

He adjusted the mirror, paying more attention to you than to the road. Luckily, it was well past midnight, so there were not many cars around. You had parted your legs, probably on purpose, and gifted him with the sight of your tight pussy. Joel wished the interior of the car was better lit, so he could have a good look at your cunt.

Ah, yes, he knew you wanted more. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be exposing yourself like that to him. His cock twitched at the memory of being clamped down on by your narrow pussy, deeply buried in between your puffy lips. Joel bit the inside of his cheek, focusing his eyes on the road ahead.

“Is my cum spilling out of your hole?”, he broke the silence.

You felt the guilt eating you up. You shouldn’t have pushed Officer Miller’s buttons like that. You blamed the last drops of alcohol running through your veins that had distorted your reality ― as soon as they disappeared from your system, you had realised that you didn’t want what was about to happen. However, your body had betrayed you, reacting to him and his provocations.

I’m not a cheater. I’m not a whore, you chanted, keeping the tears at bay.

But deep inside, you knew you were just lying to yourself. You blamed your body, but the reality was you did enjoy it ― all of it, everything he gave you, everything he took from you. You had never been so turned on in your life ― never squirted before, never had your pussy eaten so filthily from behind, never been used like that.

You pursed your lips, eyes down and still daydreaming about him fucking you senseless ― you unsuccessfully attempted to erase those hot flashes that your mind was trying to take you back to. Unconsciously, your legs had relaxed with your train of thought, and that was when you heard Officer Miller’s question.

You jumped in your seat and pressed your knees together, suddenly very conscious of your pussy. You could feel you had gotten wet again at the mere thought of him jackhammering into your cunt on top of the hood. Once more, you felt betrayed ― you didn’t want to feel like this, you didn’t want to be this horny for him.

You slowly nodded in reply, ashamed of yourself ― your unwelcomed slick dragging his cum out of you. But you wouldn’t tell him that, you wouldn’t let him know that your hole was crying for more.

“I― I think I’m making a mess of the upholstery. Sorry.”

Why did your voice sound so high-pitched, so moany? You needed to get a grip of yourself or you were going to end up impaled again. You kept your eyes down, avoiding his ― tears of frustration gathering on your waterlines.

“Only with my cum? Or are you gushing again, doll?”, he questioned with a husky voice.

You knew he was getting horny again ― your nipples reacted to that thought, wrinkling suddenly, your breathing accelerating.

You shyly looked up at him, your gazes meeting on the rearview mirror. His eyes pierced through you and you felt exposed ― there was no point in denying it, you knew he knew. So you nodded again with watery eyes.

“Yes, sorry”, you apologised, although you were not sure why.

“Yes what?”, he insisted, his attention dancing between the road and you.

“I’m― I’m gushing”, you replied in a very low whisper, so abashed a tear ran down your cheek.

Officer Miller didn’t say a word for the rest of the trip to the station, so you had more than enough time to dwell in your embarrassment.

Joel’s horniness was clouding his mind to a dangerous degree, so he summoned all his strength to drive the damn car instead of stopping in the middle of nowhere to fuck you again. After fifteen eternal minutes, he braked as he steered into the parking lot of the station. Then the cruiser came to a halt.

He had to cup his swollen bulge, kneading it a bit, in the hopes it wouldn’t be too noticeable. What a little minx you were, confessing your pussy was leaking all over the seat. You were acting all sheepish now, guilt-ridden, but Joel knew what you really wished for. And that was getting your cunt drilled again.

Walking out of the car, Joel got to the back door and opened it up for you. He extended his hand to help you out of the car, all gentlemanly. But when you grabbed it indecisively, he hauled you out of his Crown Vic. You gasped at his brutish manners, but quickly closed your mouth when your breasts pressed against his chest.

Joel hurried his hand down, riding up your skirt a bit, his fingertips caressing your inner thighs. You looked at him, a mix of surprise and shame, when he dipped his fingers in your silky slit. He moved them up and down a couple of times, buttering your fold with your discharge and his cum. You panted at his contact and your forehead leaned against his chest as if your neck was unable to support the weight of your head anymore.

You were so receptive to his touch, Joel had to control himself. If he could, he would turn you around, bend you over and fuck into your hole until dawn. But another patrol car entered the parking lot, stopping a few metres away. He scoffed in frustration, reluctantly removing his hand from in between your legs.

Stop, don’t, please stop, you wanted to tell him.

But the words never abandoned your mouth, stuck in the back of your throat. His fingers stroked you so intimately, so good, you couldn’t muster the strength to stop him. And, if you were completely honest with yourself, deep down you hoped he didn’t. When his digits traced your whole damp furrow, you tilted your head towards him ― your lips pressed against the pocket where he had kept your panties, in an attempt to mute the moan that wanted to slip out of your mouth.

And then he unburied his hand, leaving you spiralling down with lust. You whimpered, vexed. Your eyes were still half-lidded with desire, your mouth agape. Officer Miller took a step back, breaking all physical contact with you.

“You really are a harlot”, he muttered while the hand that had explored your pussy dipped in his pants, and you knew he was spreading your gush all over his cock. That should have disgusted you, and it did, but your pussy fluttered in response.

“Please don’t say that, and don’t do that again”, you were finally able to find your words.

He cocked a brow while taking out his hand of his trousers. You didn’t look down, although you wanted to. The thought of him wet with your tacky cum destroyed a few neurons in your brain.

“Your mouth says no, but your cunt says yes. And I believe your cunt more than I believe your mouth”, he announced, unbothered by your petition.

Then he rolled down your skirt, grabbed you by the elbow, and forced you to walk in front of him. But first Officer Miller got something out of the passenger’s seat ―your purse and the paperwork― before he pushed you towards the station with your hands still cuffed.

You pondered your options when the female officer on the counter greeted Officer Miller.

“Hey Joel, another drunken bird?”, she asked, her blue eyes ignoring you completely.

“Yeah, that’s a Saturday for ya”, he said boringly, his fingers still sinking in the flesh of your elbow while he handed her your license and insurance.

“I’ll book her in for you”, said the woman, looking down at the paperwork spread on her desk.

You wanted to say something, to ask her not to leave you alone with him, to tell her what had happened. But what were you going to say, really? That you actually enjoyed being fucked stupid on top of his cruiser’s hood? That you were still wet, the dampness in your fold begging to be licked again?

While still debating, you felt Officer Miller ―now you knew his name was Joel― staring at you. He probably suspected what you were thinking, it was like he could smell fear. You dropped your eyes to inspect your bare feet, silently letting him know that you wouldn’t say a word. If you had had a peek at him, you would have seen his sly grin.

“All the cells here are full, you’ll have to go to the adjacent building, I’m afraid.” You thought the female officer winked at him.

“That’s alright. Thank you, darlin’”, he smiled at her before pushing you in front of him. “C’mon, move.”

You shambled towards the backdoor, walked out and then Joel― Officer Miller opened the door to the secondary building. You entered with him on your heels. His body was so close to yours, you felt a pleasant tingling start on your neck that shot down your spine. You cockled your lips, disappointed in yourself.

The room was not too big, it only housed four cells, all of them empty. The only decoration was a wooden desk with a chair for a police officer to be stationed. There was also a small room at the end, which had a unisex bathroom sign on its door.

You didn’t like how isolated it felt in there ― you had hoped there would be someone else in there with you. To stop him, to stop yourself. You really were out of luck.

Officer Miller pushed you to the furthest cell in the room. “Stay”, he commanded while he uncuffed you, then grabbed the keys off a metal hook, unlocked the cell and opened the door for you. “Be my guest, doll”, his tone was so snide.

You simply obeyed with averted eyes. Maybe if you didn’t look at him, your pussy would stop palpitating. You could still feel his fingers buried in your tacky slit, your clit begging to be paid attention. He had left you so unsatisfied, your brain kept going back to the moment he ate your cunt from behind. You shuddered, conscious that you had to stop daydreaming about it.

“Now be a good slut and finish what I have started. I know your pussy is asking for it”, his voice rumbled under his breath, locking the cell behind you. Officer Miller dropped your purse on the table and unsheathed his gun to leave it there too. Slowly he turned and sat down on the chair, conveniently positioned in front of your cell.

You shook your head no with teary eyes. Teary not because you were afraid, but because you really wanted to ― frustration corroding your vaginal nerve endings. Your clit twitched as you sat down on the wooden bench, looking away from him.

“You’ll give in, sooner rather than later, I bet.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Officer Miller manspreading on the chair, a hand slipping under his belt. His gaze was transfixed on you while he touched himself. You turned your head towards the wall, your clit lit on fire at the mere thought of him jerking off in front of you.

You pressed your knees together, looking for some relief and finding none. You tried not to but ended up whimpering in frustration. Joel was right ― you gave in. Your eyes welled up with shame and lust as you discreetly hid your hands between your parted legs. You caressed your clit with your index and then traced the entirety of your fold, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

His groan made you look askance in his direction. Joel had freed his cock through the zipper of his uniform trousers and was pumping himself. The sight of his veiny cock made your mouth run dry. Then you noticed he had something tied around his veiny dick. You had to take a second look, this time with no furtiveness, to see what it was.

He had wrapped your wet panties around his manhood and was rubbing himself with it. You couldn’t contain your whoring moan any longer after that. The vision of him masturbating with your underwear almost strangling his cock sent you in a spiral of desire ― you were, once again, out of control.

Two fingers slipped in your dripping opening while your thumb stroked your clit, this time more intently. Leaning your head back against the brick wall, you closed your eyes, whimpering like a bitch in heat as your digits picked up a reckless pace between your legs. Your breathing intensified, coming in and out in short bursts. Your cunt was so drenched that every time you pushed your fingers inside of you, wet, sucking sounds quickly followed each thrust.

Lava was pooling in your overstimulated furrow, your whole sex so slick your fingers slid in and out easily. Then you felt it: the climbing to the climax and then the falling. You screamed, bending over yourself, as the orgasm hit you hard, very hard. You dropped to your knees on the floor while you felt your insides melting, your inner walls trying to squeeze something that wasn’t there. Your clit convulsed one last time, a moan tearing through your throat as you looked up, eyes closed, imploring to the heavens.

You had not noticed but Joel had stood up and was right in front of you, his dick poking in between the bars ― your panties still wrapped around the base of his cock. He was whacking off with a tight grip, his hips slanted forward. “Come over here, right now”, he emphasized.

His cock had you mesmerised, it was calling you. You wanted to suck him so badly, that you mewled as you crawled towards him.

Joel gritted his teeth at the scene. You moved towards him on all fours, panting and whimpering. You were such a hot mess his cock pulsated in his hand. When you were close to the bars, you straightened your back and sat on your heels, awaiting permission. Joel grinned at the sight ― he fucking knew you would cave in. Sliding a hand in the space between the bars, he placed it on the back of your head while resting his pelvis against the metal rods.

“Open wide”, he croaked with lechery, his mind somewhere far away.

His throbbing cock hurt like hell when you parted your lips and sticked your tongue out, your eyes still damp and your eyeliner running down your cheeks. Joel fisted your hair in a ponytail and pulled it back, so your face was up. He spit in your mouth, deranged with lust, and then swiftly drove his dick down your mouth until your bottom lip was touching his hairy balls.

He held you there for an eternal minute, rejoicing in the wetness of your cavity while you simply choked on his cock. Tears sprung to your eyes at the intrusion, he was way too far down your throat. But did he care? No, he was just chasing his own release. Holding your head in place so you wouldn't go anywhere, he bobbed his waist back and forth, fucking your mouth as deep and fast as he could go.

You probably did it on purpose to drive him crazy, but your lips pressed around his girth as you tried to slurp all the fluids. You would gag from time to time, especially when he would force your head close to him, but you didn't turn away.

Joel looked down as he used your mouth as he pleased. Your eyes were all watery because of the deep intrusion, your lips rubbing against his skin, your palms against your knees as if you were all innocent.

Joel only tugged you back to free his dick when he felt your neck muscles contract, announcing you were close to throwing up.

God, how much he loved your mouth. The mouth of a whore.

You heaved, trying to catch a breath, fighting your gag reflex as much as you could. Your eyes met his. His pupils swirled with lust and that scared you.

Do I really want this?, you asked yourself again, unsure of the answer. You didn’t and did at the same time ― you couldn’t stop yourself. It was like you had lost your freewill and just turned into his plaything, letting him do with you as he deemed. You had succumbed to Officer Miller ― there was no point in fighting back, your own body was betraying you, getting wet in all the wrong places. Maybe if he finished quickly, he would let you be.

You looked up at him when he pushed you closer to his erection again. He was so ruthless ― with no care in the world, Joel dug his pulsing cock down your mouth again, the glans suffocating you once more and the fabric of your underwear tingling your nose. You unconsciously tried to clear your throat, suppressing a cough. Your bottom lip trembled because of how wide your jaw had stretched to house him. Your spit and his precum pooled in your mouth, dribbling down from your chin to your cleavage. You felt the trickle going down in between your boobs and wetting your top.

Joel grinned as he swept away a tear with his thumb.

“Now eat it like you mean it, like the slut you are”, he croaked.

Joel let go of your hair, both of his hands gripping the metal rods that separated you.

You pulled back to catch a breath and swallowed all the fluids that had accumulated in your mouth. Officer Miller was eyeing you expectantly, his dick twitching in front of you each time blood rushed through it. You broke visual contact to focus on his warm cock.

Without thinking, your fingers wrapped around his thick column and started pumping him while your tongue tapped the tip. His groan spurred you on, so you sucked on his glans like if you were a babe breastfeeding. From time to time, you would run your lips down his length, tracing the pulsating vein that fed his erection. By how his hips would sway every time you did that, you knew he loved it.

And so you repeated it, over and over again. Smother the tip, slide your lips down his cock, gently nibble and suck on his balls, and then back up ― your tongue sticking out while licking his shaft until you sealed his glans between your lips again.

Your body had a mind of its own, because your index found your clit again and caressed it softly. The core of your pleasure was heating up again ― your leaking entrance contracted suddenly when the lust reached a higher peak. You moaned with his dick in your mouth, eyes closed, as you fingered yourself unashamedly.

Then you felt it ― a hard pulsation in his cock, announcing he was close. Officer Miller tried to pull back so he wouldn’t come, but you were having none of it. You neglected your pulsing clit, threaded your arms between the bars and placed each hand on his butt cheeks. You forced him forward, pressing your palms against his ass, so he would be locked in place while your wanton mouth took him in as far down as you could.

You didn’t let him go and with a harsh, deep moan, Joel came in your mouth. His hot cum flowed in bursts and clogged your throat, almost asphyxiating you ― but you still didn’t let go. Your eyes were fixed on his, although he wasn’t looking ― Joel had closed his eyes to fully feel his orgasm, his hips still swaying back and forth in your mouth with the last wave of his release.

He fucking knew it. You were so hungry for him, you would even force an orgasm on him. His knuckles were all white due to the force he was using to grip the metal rods. His jaw was so clenched, he thought he might have chipped a tooth. When Joel regained control of his muscles again, he looked down at you and smirked.

“Aren’t you a little bitch, eh? You think because you’ve made me come a second time, I’m not gonna fuck that tight, tiny hole of yours? Well, you’re in for a treat”, he said matter-of-factly.

He just needed a bit of time to have an erection again. And, in the meantime, he was going to have fun with your body. A lot of fun.

Joel moved back his hips so his cock slid out of your mouth. In the process of doing so, a trickle of cum ran down the corner of your mouth. He quickly grabbed his shaft and with the tip, he gathered the cum off your skin and pushed it back between your lips. When you opened your mouth to collect his cum, he noticed you hadn’t swallowed.

“You gulp my cum down right now or else”, he demanded, inserting his dick in your mouth to help you keep it closed.

You tried to explain. “I’ve never don―”, you enunciated the words as you best could, your mouth still full with his spent and his cock.

He grunted, annoyed. “I don’t fucking care, don’t waste a drop of what I’ve given you. A good slut eats what is fed to her.”

Even though he was treating you like shit, your body got aroused at his words. Why? Stop, you begged to yourself, imploring for the gushing between your legs to disappear.

Joel glanced down at you with a cocked brow, awaiting. He wasn’t joking, he really meant it. So you swallowed ― twice, because there were still remnants of his sperm lingering in your mouth. You had never had anyone come in your mouth before ― let alone swallow it. It didn’t taste like you had expected it though ― it was warm and sweet, so smooth it just slid down your oesophagus without effort.

He literally had just used you like if you were his personal glory hole. You should feel ashamed of yourself ― and you did, very much so. But right now, your lust was greater than your shame. And the proof was on the floor between your knees: there was a small puddle, your fluids right there for him to see.

Oh, and he saw.

“Such a whore, you’re dripping like a broken pipe. Aren’t you embarrassed of yourself?”, he asked into the void.

You just whimpered, maddened with unspent passion. Your clit was still twitching, your opening palpitating. Had you not had enough embarrassment already? You had come five times, and you still needed more. Officer Miller was right ― you were a whore. You circled your clit, your eyes fixed on his, almost begging him to help you out.

“Don’t worry, doll, I ain’t done with you yet. Turn around”, he ordered you.

You blinked at him, unsure if he was to be trusted. A voice inside your head screamed at you not to, but you ignored it. You were so horny, you just wanted the fire within you to be extinguished.

You let a soft cry escape your lips as you obeyed his command ― you were on all your fours, your ass cheeks resting against the metal bars, your puffed-up pussy completely exposed to him. You heard him kneel behind you before cupping your whole cunt with the span of his palm, rubbing it delicately.

“Will you look at that? Obedient like a bitch in heat. With a red, swollen pussy, all ready for me to play with”, he laughed at you while you simply bleated, shaking your head yes at his words, uninhibited.

Joel suddenly slapped your cunt so hard, your arms failed you and ended up in a knee-chest position, your ass up in the air for him. “Ouch!”, you let go, your cheek resting against the concrete on the floor.

A cold, rubbery texture kissed your pussy lips and you lifted your head over your shoulder to see what it was. Joel was wielding the nightstick that was attached to his belt a second ago ― he lodged it between your damp flaps, moving it up and down to wet it with your discharge. You moaned, really moaned out loud, knowing what was about to happen.

With your forehead against the concrete floor, you closed your eyes with pure satisfaction when Joel started penetrating you with the baton. Your nails scratched the hard surface underneath, your very curated manicure ruined. Officer Miller pushed in a few more inches, your flesh parting to house the stick. And then, abruptly, you wailed in pain as the end of the nightstick kissed your cervix rather harshly.

You saw stars behind your eyes and tried to push away.

“No, doll, no. Stay put for me”, his free hand rested on the small of your back, keeping you in place.

You remained still for a minute, while you adjusted to such deep intrusion. The pain had been very intense, but it started wearing off as Joel spun the nightstick around in your hole. After a while, you finally relaxed and the cop resumed, pumping the baton in and out of you slowly. Then his hand drifted down from your lower back to your quivering clit and he kneaded the right spot expertly.

You whined, the pleasure so overwhelming it brought tears to your eyes again. You fluttered your eyelashes to clear your vision, your mouth open wide, your breathing irregular. Your womanly cave clutched onto the nightstick, all wet and sensitive. You could feel your heartbeat on your cunt, pulsating so hard it was maddening. His thumb pressed circles on your clit and you sobbed audibly, your orgasm so close you were on the verge of the precipice.

Then a phone went off, you were barely conscious of it ringing until Joel stopped what he was doing and stood up.

“No, please, please, Joel please”, you begged, almost crying, wanting to come so badly.

He left you there, on all your fours and with this baton sticking out of your weeping cunt, almost fully inserted.

“Ah, look, Sweetie is calling you. Bet he’s all worried about you”, he chuckled walking towards you, your cell phone on his hand. He had also taken something from your purse, but you couldn’t see what before he put it in his pocket. “Pick up and pretend you’re not having the best sex of your life.”

He put the phone on speaker and left it by your head. Your mind raced with panic, a very tight knot forming in your throat. This made it too real; you were really cheating on who you thought was the love of your life. And what was worst, you were cheating on him and enjoying it like the slut you were.

“Hey, honey? Are you okay?”, your boyfriend said.

“H―Hi, sweetie. Yeah, I’m fine”, you managed to reply with a steady voice.

Then Joel started jackhammering you with the baton relentlessly, so hard it forced you to close your eyes. Your moist pussy compressed so tightly around the rubbery stick, you had to cover your mouth to stop a moan from coming out.

“Where are you? I thought you’d be back like an hour ago”, he inquired, noticeably worried.

“I… I am in a nightclub, just walked out when I saw you calling”, you lied through your teeth. Joel cackled behind you while his thumb caressed your clit again, putting a sweet amount of pressure on it. “Ah, mhmmm… I should be back home in… uhmmmm… like an hour maybe?”, you bit your bottom lip, soft moans slipping out.

“You sure you’re okay? You sound weird, honey”, your boyfriend insisted.

Joel picked up a very fast pace with the baton, drilling you with it so hard the climax was fast approaching. Your whole body was rocked back and forth with the strength of his thrusts. Your clit melting at his suggestive touch.

“Yes, I drank a bit, mhmmmm… that’s all. I’ll get a taaaahmmh-xi back. Gotta go”, you talked fast, wanting to get the words out before you wailed. You managed to cover your mouth again just in time.

“Okay, take care, honey. I love you.”

At that point, the end of the baton kissed your cervix again but this time it pushed you over the edge. You had the biggest contraction of your life, your angry pussy trying to break the nightstick inside you. You came so hard, you squirted so much it almost looked like you had pissed yourself ― the puddle on the floor had grown considerably. Your eyes welled up, your creamy pussy fluttering, and your clit still writhing. You bit into your hand to suppress the loudest, sluttiest moan of your life.

“Honey?”, your boyfriend said, weirded out by the fact you hadn’t said it back as you always did.

Your orgasm was still washing over you. “Love you too”, you whispered, so guilt-ridden you wiped away some shameful tears from your cheeks.

Then he hung up.

“Oh wow, this is what love looks like to you? I almost feel sorry for the guy”, he made fun of you as he got up, the nightstick still inserted in your pussy. “Up”, he instructed you.

You had nothing to say, because you deserved his pun. There was no denying you were enjoying yourself a little bit too much. With a defeated sigh, tired of fighting your inner battle, you stood up with trembling knees. Your legs felt so wobbly you had to hold on to the bars.

Officer Miller dangled the keys in his hands before opening the door of the cell. For a second you thought that was it, he was done, even though he said he wasn’t a few minutes ago. But when he walked in front of you with his cock poking out the zipper of his uniformed pants, you knew he wasn’t.

Disappointment but also excitement came over you.

“Walk towards the bench. Get up on it on all your fours, doll.” He guided you to the farthest corner of the cell, where it was dark and hidden away in case someone interrupted.

It was like he knew all the blind spots. Had he done this before with someone else? A pang of jealousy tugged at your belly. You’re not the only one, you told yourself.

Completely surrendered to his desires ―and your own―, you followed his lead and did has he commanded. Once you were in the position he wanted you in, he walked to your side and nudged your cheek with the warm, tacky head of his cock.

“Give it a kiss, show me some gratitude”, he husked in a rumbling, raspy tone.

You turned your head ninety degrees and kissed the tip. He still had your panties wrapped around his erection. Licking your bottom lip, your eyes locked on his. A wide grin spread on his face. The motherfucker looked like a goddamn god when he smiled like that, dimples on his cheeks.

“Suck on it like if it was your personal pacifier, darlin’.”

Your tongue twirled around the plump tip as he finally took the baton out of your quivering pussy. You gasped at the emptiness you suddenly felt, his glans caressing your palate. Remembering your order, you quickly sealed your lips around the head of his cock and sucked on it, never breaking eye contact. The tip of your tongue tried to wiggle its way down his slit, slightly parting it and making him groan deeply.

You kept up the work with your smothering lips as one of Joel’s hands travelled down your back, briefly caressing one of your butt cheeks, to then cup your silky cunt. His fingers dipped in your welcoming slit, so velvety they slid up and down with no resistance whatsoever. He rubbed you softly while you worked diligently to make him hard again. One of his fingertips tempted you by getting lost in your needy hole, but he quickly removed it.

“C’mon, let’s get your wanton pussy ready again to ride some cock”, Officer Miller stepped back, his now hard cock slipping out of your mouth.

He walked around the bench and knelt behind you, your pulsing cunt perfectly lined up with his eye level. His mouth hovered over your ass cheek and then bit into your flesh ― his teeth marks were going to be there tomorrow, but that was not your main worry right now.

With no previous warning, he spread your cunt open and licked it from the clit to the perineum in one long, sweet stroke. You swooned at the feeling, half-lidded eyes and pursed lips. Moaning again, Officer Miller ate your pussy masterly while fisting himself, his tongue lingering in the right spots. He then taunted your clit while he fingered you slowly, his fingertip rubbing your g-spot.

Joel alternated his finger and the tip of his tongue to intrude in your opening. It felt delicious, his wetness mixing with yours. His hooked nose would get trapped in your slit when his mouth dropped to attend to your needy clit ― you heard him inhale your scent with no shame, dragging his nose in your silky fold as his mouth returned to your shaking entrance.

Officer Miller really knew how to eat pussy, so much so you would dream about his mouth feasting on your cunt every single night for the foreseeable future. Probably every single day too.

Your breaths quickened, fire melting your insides, your clit so sensitive you didn’t know if it was painful or delightful. You felt like you were about to ride the biggest wave of your life ― and then he stopped, standing up.

Frustrated sobs left your lips, almost mewling ― your pussy begging for release.

Your inner battle had been silent for a while, but came back with full force when you felt Joel’s cock lodged between your tumescent flaps, dousing himself with the product of your pleasure. He waved his hips against you, his dick skidding through your gushing furrow with ease.

He was going to fuck you again.

You tensed up, but you should have known this was coming. You didn’t want to cheat on your boyfriend again. Cheat for real, that was. Penetration was where you had marked the invisible line in your mind between cheating and just messing around.

Touching yourself while thinking of Joel’s cock? Not cheating.

Sucking his dick like a thirsty, panting dog? Not cheating.

Letting him fuck you with his nightstick? Not cheating.

Talking to your boyfriend while another man made you come? Not cheating.

Getting your pussy blissfully eaten from behind? Not cheating.

Him fucking you senseless with his cock? Definitely cheating.

You knew it sounded stupid, but your mind was really making an effort to make you feel a bit less guilty about what was happening.

You did not want this. Yes, you had messed around with him at first, but once your bravado abandoned you, you realised you did not want this.

Right? Right? Or at least you tried to convince yourself of it.

“No, wait”, you whispered when the tip of his throbbing cock kissed your dripping entrance.

Joel slid his drumming cock between your soaked folds, wetting himself. His mind spiralling down with desire, with lust. He took a moment to revel in the feeling of having his dick sweetly sheathed by your sodden lips.

Then he lined up the head of his thrumming dick with your drenched opening. When he heard your infuriating petition, he just cocked a brow. No, you were not going to deny him that, not after all the effort he had put into making you come over and over again. Your denial angered him.

“What a selfish slut you are”, he muttered furiously between gritted teeth before impaling you in one deep thrust ― his hips entirely flush against your pussy, his cock buried as far as it could go.

You moaned like the bitch you were and rolled your hips back into him, your trembling cunt hugging his cock.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought”, he murmured, still mad at you.

How fucking dared you tell him no? You were such an ungrateful bitch. He wasn't going to take no for an answer, not when you had been enticing him all night.

Joel spanked your ass hard, and you whimpered ― the palm of his hand leaving a red imprint on your skin. “You’re a whore. Say it out loud.”

“I am a whore, I am. I’m such a slut for you, Officer”, you wailed, bouncing your hips back and forth while he stayed still, fucking yourself with his dick.

Your neediness mildly soothed his anger, but not enough.

He slapped your ass again before grasping your hips to keep you in place, then Joel started fucking you as hard and as fast as he could, rutting into your tight hole mercilessly. His mind was just blank as the orgasm started to build within him ― the muscles in his lower tummy tensing, his balls contracting, his cock pulsating to the rhythm of his heartbeat. This was heaven, your pussy was.

He kept drilling you relentlessly, your whines growing louder and deeper, meeting his thrusts by pushing back your hips into him. The pace was so diabolical, your back arched, almost resting against his chest in a half-standing position. His broad hands left your waist and travelled up to hold your boobs while he perforated you, the carnal sound of flesh colliding against flesh filling the room.

Joel suddenly stopped, sliding out, and you whimpered, not wanting to be left unsatisfied again. You didn’t see what he was doing until he stuffed your mouth with your panties and covered your mouth with his hand, inserting his dick back into you unceremoniously.

“Don’t scream so loud or they are going to hear you. And I don’t want you to get me into trouble, understand?”, he threatened, resuming the plunging of his throbbing cock into your wanton cunt.

You just nodded, biting down on your underwear, while he fucked you stupid. So hard, so fast, so filthy, you couldn’t take it anymore. Your muffled moans announced your next climax, your pussy clamping down on his pulsating cock.

You both came undone at the same time, his hand still over your lips as Joel’s warm spent filled you up for the second time tonight. It came out of him in waves, both of your sexes beating in harmony.

Sweaty and tired, Joel let go of your mouth to move his hand down to slap your clit harshly. You whimpered, your clit so oversensitive it twitched one last time, making you come again. You bent over, resting your weight on your hands, as Officer Miller remained inside you for a few minutes, you cockwarming him with no complaints.

Suddenly hearing the ripping of plastic, you looked over your shoulder to see how he opened the packaging of a tampon with his teeth. And then, before you could think, he took his soft erection out of you and immediately inserted the tampon in your leaking hole, using it as if it was a vaginal plug to contain his semen inside you.

“Do not even think about taking it out until at least tomorrow. Understood?”, you nodded frantically, feeling slightly humiliated, but you didn’t say a word.

Joel pulled down your skirt and then placed the palm of his hand in front of your mouth. You spit your messy panties on his palm and he put them back in his pocket. You didn't bother asking for them this time, you knew he wouldn't give them back. And, weirdly enough, you wanted him to keep them.

You sat down on the bench with him standing in front of you. You looked up at him, your eyeliner all smeared on your cheeks. Your lips were swollen of eating so much dick.

“I think you’ve learnt your lesson now, right, doll?”, he asked with a smile, sweeping away the tears on one of your cheeks with his thumb. The gesture was almost sweet and caring.

You nodded again, wholly submitted to him. “Yes, Officer.”

“Good girl. Now go clean yourself up in that bathroom over there. I’ll take you home so your poor little boyfriend doesn’t worry about you”, he chuckled as you got up and hid in the small restroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. You definitely had gotten more than what you had bargained for. But as much as you wanted to blame Officer Miller for everything that happened tonight, you knew you had been asking for it. With a heavy sigh and out of tears, you washed your face, your thighs and your sensitive pussy.

Once you walked out of the toilet, all semi-decent again, you saw Joel leaning against the wooden table, arms crossed at his chest. When you approached, he got up. His frame was so broad with square shoulders, his biceps flexing in that uniform, you kind of understood yourself for giving in to temptation. He was something else. Maybe it was the uniform, maybe not, but there was something about him that made your pussy melt for him.

Forgetting him and this night was going to be a herculean task. Would your boyfriend ever live up to him? Even to a shadow of what Joel had given you?

You halted in front of him. As if you were his, he dropped a hand in between your legs, his fingertips looking for your now clean hole. You separated your legs slightly to give him access without remonstrance.

He smiled at you sufficiently when he noticed the tampon was still in you, just as he had commanded.

“Good girl”, he muttered, gently caressing your clit as a reward for your good behaviour.

Against all odds, you smiled back at him, swooning at his praise.

You did the journey back home on the passenger’s seat of Joel’s Crown Vic. From time to time he would check the tampon was still in its rightful place, stroking your clit in the process. Had your hole been unplugged, you would have leaked on the upholstery again.

You both remained silent ― your mind racing with thoughts, trying to come to terms with what you had done.

What were you going to do? Were you going to confess to your boyfriend? Would you keep it a secret? Joel had fucked you so good, you thought you would never enjoy sex with anyone else.

Damn, your mind was a tangled mess. But you blamed it on his tentative finger, still stroking your clit.

The cruiser stopped and you looked at the building in front of you. You had arrived at your destination. Joel removed the hand from your fold and you sighed, gripping the handle.

But before you opened the door, you looked at Officer Miller.

“Will I ever…?”, you didn’t finish your question because he was eyeing you with amusement, his pupils flickering with fun.

“G’night, doll.”

Had you just been rejected? It felt like it, because it stung real bad. You pressed your lips together and, without another word, you exited the car and ran to the safety of your flat.

You entered as silently as you could. You got to the restroom and changed your clothes ―or what remained of them― for your pyjama, throwing everything in the washer. Tiptoeing towards the bed, you saw your boyfriend sleeping on his side.

Guilt and embarrassment ate at you, but you kept them at bay. You were tired, only wanting to go to bed ― tomorrow would be a new day. Pushing those thoughts away, you slid under the bedsheets and stayed on your side of the bed.

A minute later, your boyfriend turned around and hugged your waist, spooning you.

“Hi, honey. Did you have fun tonight?”

His question stabbed at your heart.

“Yeah, it was good seeing the girls.”

You wouldn't believe how much fun I actually had, you thought out of nowhere.

“Mhmmm, good, good…”, one of his hands wrapped around your waist and coincidently rested on your lower belly.

You had felt his swollen groin against your butt but decided to ignore it because you were completely spent. Joel had taken all the orgasms you could have today ― you had nothing left to give.

But your boyfriend didn’t know that, so he dipped a hand under your pyjama’s shorts, looking for your slit. Then he found the tampon string and grunted.

“You’ve got your period?”, he asked, disappointed.

You hadn’t really forgotten to take it out. Weirdly enough, you still felt compelled to follow Officer Miller’s demands. You were going to leave it there till tomorrow's afternoon, his cum warming you up. You didn't want to let go of the memory, not just yet.

“Yeah, it came earlier, sorry, sweetie.” You lied ― and felt really bad for it.

He sighed heavily, disheartened, and removed his hand from in between your legs. “It's okay, good night, honey.” He kissed your neck.

You were ever so slightly disappointed in him ― you were sure a bit of blood would have not stopped Joel from fucking you.

Ah, comparison was really the thief of joy.

“Good night”, you whispered back, fully conscious of Joel’s cum sitting snugly inside your pussy.

[revelboo]

I LOVEEEE YOUR WRITING!! Especially for Prowl and Starscream!!

also, just a question—what do you think about sunder??

Oooooh, I’d honestly forgotten about him and his level of psycho. He’d be hard to balance he’s so crazy and violent, but it could be done. He’d probably be terrifyingly obsessive once he fixates on something, though

18+ mass displaced mech 🌶️

Stand Too Close Pt 11

IDW Prowl x Reader

• Tension and stress at bay for the moment, he vents against your warm skin just to feel you shiver under him, his chin on your belly, partially sprawled on you and keeping you pinned flat on your back. Not completely trusting this intimacy or that you’re not fighting him. Almost missing it as crazy as it is, the verbal sparring with you. Being able to speak his mind. To be himself. Not who he has to pretend to be. More relaxed right now than he can ever remember even before the war.

• “I like you better when you smile,” you say, fingers lazily tracing along his chevron. “Otherwise you’re just a bastard.” Those blue optics flick up to glare at you, catching your fingers and pulling your hand to him to gently bite down on your wrist just hard enough to leave the impression of his denta and, most likely, a bruise later as you gasp. In the back of your mind there’s the uncomfortable thought that you should stop teasing him, stop provoking him as good as the repercussions feel. Because you’re starting to almost like the jerk and there’s no way that’s not going to hurt you down the road. You know it. Know that the hate and resentment are still there, tangled together in the high of him. Angry sex, hate fucking, is good and all, but you’re not sure that’s what this is anymore. At some point it started feeling real.

• What is that emotion that passes so quickly across your face he almost misses it? Before he can figure it out, you slide a foot against him, along his thigh and nudge his spike with your toes. Unable to behave. “I’m the bastard?” He growls, shifting to cage you under him and press his face against your throat, feeling those soft hands on his helm, urging him higher. Mouth sliding against yours as he gives you what you want and not at all surprised when you try to bite his lip again. Realizing that he wants more than this, than something solely physical as he brushes his mouth over yours, head lifting. “Tell me something about you.”

• “Now?” You demand in exasperation as his hand slides under the back of your head to cup it and he shifts against you, that spike brushing your inner thigh with the promise of heat and passion. Those blue optics unyielding as he doesn’t move where you need him. Waiting as you swear softly, feeling his servos tangling in your hair. Why does he care suddenly? “Like what?”

• “Do you have siblings? A family?” Door wings lifting as he shrugs, he realizes that he knows nothing really. You’re a stranger to him just like he is to you despite knowing each other’s bodies intimately and it bothers him. Wants to know your dreams, what you enjoy, what you hate. All of it. “What did you do before-” Trailing off instead of finishing. Before he ruined your life. Before he took all your dreams away.

• It’s the first time he’s actually looked guilty about taking you and your heart aches as he grimaces. Every time you’ve ever brought it up, it ended in you both yelling at each other. Hating each other and trying to hurt each other. He’s never apologized for it and you doubt he ever will. There will probably always be that hurt, that pang of anger inside you at having your life derailed by him, but you don’t really hate him for it. Can’t when you’re starting to see the real him under the cold indifference. That fiery anger, that crooked smile and surprising laugh he hides from the world under all the ice. Arching up, you brush your mouth against his. Don’t want to talk about the things that are lost to you now, because they still hurt. Just want to get lost in him, replace that ache with something new. Something that feels dangerously like actual affection.

Previous

[transformers-spike]

Hello ummm can I order a uhh wholesome Starscream x human!SO with the SO being into praising him and caring for him? And he of course is drinking it all up because he needs love and reassurance more than he could ever admit

Yet again my brain decided to go for a full length novel, so I had to pull back and came up with this. Think of this as them before they got together:

“Are you alright?” “Of course I am! Why would you think otherwise?” he snarks, puffing up like a disgruntled cockatiel. You squint and look him up and down with the most “dude, just admit it” expression you can muster. He glares at you for what feels like ages, ridiculous brow plates knitted into a “fucking try me” V. You sigh, take off the welding mask and put down the torch. “I’m worried about you.” Those very same brow plates shoot up to the sky. “Pah! I don’t need your worry!” he scoffs like he isn’t bleeding out in the middle of the woods. “Sure you don’t, but I’ll have you know there’s only so much I can do! We should call Ratchet.” His fist slams to the ground, you stumble but manage to catch yourself before falling face first into the deadly spikes adorning his stiletto. Death by high heel isn’t on your “appropriately ironic deaths” list, but you should add it. If your brain didn’t slosh inside your skull like a snowglobe in the hands of a petulant two year old, you could have sworn the mighty ex-commander of the Decepticons looked apologetic for a split second. “I would rather not deal with the likes of the Autobot medic,” he declares in a slightly softer voice, although not without his usual amount of scorn. “After all, you’re doing just fine,” he croons in a sly, buttering tone. Maybe you could have believed him if he hadn’t been constantly berating you for fucking up the impromptu surgery. You are not a medic, goddammit! Much less well-versed in the art of welding shut a metal alien from a planet light years away! You’re just some car junky with pyromaniac inclinations! But seeing him this way… covered in grime and energon, wings hanging low and servos shaking. You’re glad you didn’t send him to voicemail.

You pat his leg. “Thanks, but if this happens again I’m calling Bulkhead to haul your ass back to base whether you like it or not.” Putting on your welding mask, you keep working. Starscream stays oddly quiet, not even bothering to beep at you indignantly when your torch falls out of line. It’s no Picasso, but the bleeding has stopped. After you step back to give him some space, he tests out his leg, standing up and shifting his weight from side to side. The injured leg strains but does not collapse. “Good?” you ask. “Manageable,” he mumbles in his typical “it kinda sucks but I have to be grateful” way.

Pride fills you up like a single mom downing martinis during happy hour. Although not the best compliment, it’s a Ritz-Carlton coming from him.

“Do you want to go back to base? Or just… hang out here? In the middle of the woods?” He wrinkles his optical ridge at you but doesn’t answer.

“Okay,” you drawl out, taking a seat on possibly the most comfortable rock in Nevada. Years pass by – or so it feels like – waiting for the usually extremely bitchy (thus chatty) bot to break the silence. He does not. “I think I should go,” you sit up and thumb at your car, parked all the way across the woods on the main road, a good hike from where you’re currently at. “Don’t,” he hisses. His expression is almost… forlorn if not for his angry brows. Oh fuck off, the emotionally constipated airplane war criminal can’t ask you to hang out without hurting his pride. Which makes you the responsible adult of the situation compared to the billion year old metal chicken. And by God, you are the least responsible person you know (excluding Starscream).

So you sit your ass back down and lock eyes with said chicken. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what happened?” you ask, fully expecting him to shut you down by calling you fleshling and waving your humanity over your head like a shitty “begone” charm.

Instead, he thinks about it, averting his gaze from you and turning it to the vast wilderness beyond the trees. “Vehicons,” he states bitterly. “Either it was a purely coincidental dogfight or… Megatron is after me.” His whole frame shudders, wings sinking as low as they can go.

“I see.” You pause to take a deep breath. “Do you want to tell the Autobots?”

He shakes his helm and loosens a self-deprecating chuckle from his vocalizer. “Like they would listen to me.” You scrunch up your nose. “How about I tell them? Would that be easier for you?” His optics widen for a brief moment before returning to their perpetually conniving state. “I’m not delighted with the option, but it’s preferable considering their propensity for gathering unsolicited information.” The silence returns. “Hey, I know it’s not the best time to bring this up. But you don’t even have to answer, just please hear me out.” He peers at you wordlessly. “You’ve been through-” you gesture at dry neon blue energon adorning his frame “-a lot lately. I’m not asking you to talk about your feelings or anything like that, but if you ever need someone to just… be around, I’m here.” His expression hasn’t shifted one bit. It’s completely unreadable. You continue on with gritted teeth. “Personally, I’ve never defected from an extremely violent faction and been hunted down through the sky, but I find it’s easier to suffer around friends and family. They help shoulder the pain.”

He arches a metal brow. “Are you implying we’re friends?” “I mean-” you stammer, “I definitely consider you a friend. If you don’t, that’s fine, I’m not forcing you or anything. To each their own. But that’s beside the point-” A lengthy chuckle cuts you off. “Does a friend answer their comm in the middle of the night cycle and perform surgery with sub-optimal tools?” You’re not sure if he’s insulting you or trying to make a meaningful point. Maybe both. “If so,” he continues, lips quirking into an intimidating but somehow genuine smile, “we are friends.” Your brain flatlines. “Oh,” you whisper. “OH,” it hits you like an F-15 Fighting Falcon at full speed. “I… okay. So, um, if you want to hang out and stuff, I can stick around until five o’clock. Then I’ll have to leave and get ready for work.”

“Good enough,” he scoffs good-naturedly, having returned to his bitchy old self with slightly less bitchiness. But the smile he doesn’t bother hiding betrays something deeper. Starscream is your friend. Starscream called himself your friend. Holy shit, you think you’re going to have an aneurysm.

[lomlhwa]

roadtrip (c.s)

pairing: bf!san x gf!reader

preview: idk it's a long roadtrip and san needs to let out some pent up energy

tags/warnings: fem reader, oral (m.receiving), kinda subby san idk there's not a lot of dialogue, road head can i get a wahoo, head while driving (don't do that), he's wearing grey sweatpants (yes that's a tag), you take your seatbelt off to give him head (WEAR YOUR SEATBELT), dacryphilia, pet names (baby, pretty girl), cum eating

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 833

song recs for this fic: let's! by hoppipola

a/n: dedicated to one of the biggest san stans i know (you know who you are)

you look up to check the clock on the car display and groan. 4:00pm. you’ve been on the road for at least 4 hours now. you know your destination is far but there’s only so much gazing out the window that one person can do.

at least you have the best view on the planet sitting next to you. your boyfriend, san, always looks so much more attractive while he’s driving. one hand on the wheel and one hand gripping the plush skin of your thigh. his eyes are stuck on the road, his head swaying from side to side to the beat of the music filling the otherwise silent car. 

you rest your head on the window, debating dozing off. that is, until you hear the sound of san’s clothes shuffling around on his seat. you turn your head to find that he’s adjusting his hips in his seat, seeming uncomfortable.

“you okay, sannie?” you ask, feeling concerned. could he have a stomach ache? was a pit stop imminent? he nods, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. you can tell from his facial expression that it’s an empty motion.

“just tell me what’s wrong. if you need to stop we can-” you cut yourself off once your eyes finally travel down to his lap. you finally spot his…. problem. it’s clear to you now why he was shifting around in his seat.

“oh, that’s what’s wrong,” you cross your ankles together, debating how to go about it. you’re about to suggest pulling over but when you look at him, you think you might explode if you don’t do something immediately. he looks at you with wide, teary eyes that beg you to touch him.

“aww sannie, do you want my help?” you lean towards him and you can tell he’s really struggling to keep his eyes on the road. “please, baby. it hurts,” he takes his hand off your thigh to pull at his grey sweatpants. you can’t help but lick your lips in anticipation.

“eyes on the road or i’ll stop,” you instruct as you help him shimmy his pants and underwear halfway down his thighs. he’s harder than you think you’ve ever seen him in your entire relationship. what could have even had him like this?

you unlock your seatbelt to lay your torso over the center console. not the most comfortable position but you could not care less right now. you keep your arms free so you can wrap your hands around his cock. you pump him a few times, using his pre-cum as lube. 

you shoot one glance up at him to make sure he’s looking at the road. his cute face is scrunched, trying to keep from looking down at his pretty girlfriend. you can see tears slowly streaming down his face out of desperation.

you finally wrap your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around it. a small squeak comes from your boyfriend at finally getting what he wanted. san grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. you bob your head up and down, doing your best to not accidentally knock into his arm. 

his hips buck up slightly, his tip jabbing the back of your throat. you gag, saliva pouring out of your mouth. he takes one hand off the wheel and tangles his fingers in your hair. his other hand still holds a death grip on the steering wheel.

“pretty girl,” san says, his hips continuing to rock up. he sniffles before adding to his sentence. “let me use your mouth, i need it,” he pleads, his voice cracking. you can’t help but feel like his crying is only spurring you on. 

you pull your mouth off him only to respond. “go ahead, just make sure you keep driving,” you assure him before taking him back into your mouth. he strengthens his grip on your hair before guiding your head manually. 

you place your hand on his thigh, digging your nails into it to try and ignore your gag reflex. you can’t help but gag though, considering the sheer size. shoving the whole thing down your throat is guaranteed to trigger your reflexes. 

“oh my pretty girl, i’m gonna cum,” he announces, shoving your head all the way down and holding you there. all your muscles tense as you hold your breath, waiting for him to fill your throat. in only a mere few seconds, your throat is full of his cum.

he finally lets go of your hair and lets you come up for air. some of his release slips out of your mouth and your fingers scramble to shove it back in. you swallow it all to the best of your abilities. 

you wipe the tears off his face and look at him lovingly. “feel better, sannie?” you ask and he nods. you can tell he means it this time. “i do, but i’m pulling the fuck over because i can’t leave you high and dry.”

© lomlhwa 2024

[acidblum]

COLD • A.A.

Wife!Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader (AU) pt2

MASTERLIST DO NOT BUY TLOU

PART I AO3

after what had gone down a week ago, you and your wife go to visit your father-in-law whom seems to have a few guests over and it builds a new fear deep inside you and more chaos ensues in your marital life, forcing you to take a step back, or at least try to do so.. (w/c: 5.2k im so sorry)

WARNINGS: 18+ minors dni..angst, ooc abby anderson, abby calling reader baby, slut. abby choking reader, INFIDELITY, abby hitting reader. bruises. drinking. no smut only angst, dina and ellie cameo, no mention of readers skin colour, or hair texture. (also there will be no part 3)..

A/N: i apologize for being sooo late with this one, life been super hectic lately (which i’m kinda thankful (not really) for otherwise i would’ve never finished this part) it’s been 4 months in the making and i hate to admit that but yah..pls pls tell me your thoughts and inputs on it i wanna know what y’all think about it. if there’s any mistakes or warnings missing please notify me.

After what had gone down you started viewing Abby in a different light entirely, now cold were the arms she wraps around you late at night, the weather was much warmer then how her embrace felt.

She’ll come home smelling of this awful floral perfume when you wore yours in sandalwood and honey. Unfortunately the both of you are on your way to meet with Jerry for the weekly family gathering, on any of the previous ones you would’ve had fun but not now, not after what she did.

Today you woke up with dread filling your body, usually the first thing you feel is the warmth of her body against yours but you can hear her murmuring under her breath.

“make sure to not say anything about what happened last week” she says as she’s tying her bolo tie in front of the mirror in your shared bedroom, the sun peaking through the sheer curtains and reflecting on her french braided hair.

you catch her eyes over your shoulder while you put your light cream boots on “wouldn’t dream of it, don’t worry i already learned the consequences of my actions” your sarcastic tone wasn't news to her— you stand up just to find her face close to yours, hovering over your frame.

“ Did you though?....with that tone of yours it sounds the other way around t’ me” raising an eyebrow at you a dark look washes over her face with her eyes searching in yours for answers.

she closes the distance between you, brushing her cheek against yours—leaving no room for you to take a step back before she brings her cheek against yours, inhaling as much as she could she wraps her strong arms around the front of your neck engulfing your figure. whispering “be nice or else-”

cutting her off “or else what?” A look of hatred all over your face is something you never imagined looking at her with, the love of your life, someone who you thought wanted you, And only you.

smirking at you menacingly “you certainly won’t like the outcome” from where the both of you are standing she looks at the door that leads to the living room where the shotgun is, before giving you a knowing look.

“Oh- and also, a few of my dad’s acquaintances will be there for dinner so make sure to look your best baby” kissing the side of your head she goes back to getting ready, putting the final touches of wearing her trustee black cowboy hat.

Holding yours you follow her. Choosing to stay silent but now it’s ailing you cause Jerry always likes to keep it in the family when it comes to gatherings and outings. Unless she told him something, you choose to brush it off before loading up in Abby's red truck, highly aware of what’s under the seat. Biting your nails she glances at you trying to pay attention to the road with one hand on the steering wheel. “Oh for fuck sa-” reaching out to hold your hand that you’re busy gnawing on.

You flinch, your whole body tensing up when she looks at your face. Seeing the look that she once promised to never be the reason for, blasted all over it “ ‘m not gonna hit you” rubbing her forefingers against the balm of your hand “just’ stop…please” the switch up was crazy and it prompted the lines to start blurring up in your mind, you decide to look outside disassociating as you passed by the big trees and farms thinking that whoever she's been seeing behind your back might live on one of these lands.

Pulling up Jerry's farmhouse you can see his horses roaming freely and a couple of bodyguards in working attire pass by the truck nodding their heads at Abby like some obedient puppets. She passes by them and barks her truck right behind Jerry's, killing the engine. Abby opens the door trying to come and open yours for you but you open it on your own in a haste.

Standing with her arm stretched in front of you, you hear Jerry's heavy footsteps, staring her down before giving her your back and painting a big smile on your face as you walk up the porch where he’s standing with his arms stretched wide open for you with a cigarette dangling off of his left hand “ohh here comes my favourite kid” you try to laugh Hugging him back in a shallow hug. You go on to stand to the side whilst he hugs abby just the same

“Hmph alright..hey dad” smacking her back twice before pulling away and ushering the both of you inside.

“C’mon i need the both of you to meet my new business partner”

Walking into the very expensively decorated living room, funny you’ve already been here many times before marrying Abby with your uncle and also had your wedding in the very spacious backyard but it never stops amusing you how put together it is being kept. You hear the sounds of no more than two people in the dining area, one of them giggling softly with her back towards the both of you.

when you feel Abby slither her hand on your waist to rest there casually without looking at you when the full bearded man notices the three of you walking towards them he starts addressing jerry.

“And here i thought ya’ bailed on me”

“Who me? Isn’t that a dream a’ yours eugene??” they share a chuckle before he turns around and puts his hand on your shoulder. your father in law starts speaking again “this is my very special daughter in law right ‘ere and that's eugene linden my former friend and now work partner” he finally addresses the big elephant in the room which frankly is the prettiest girl with short red auburn hair, the deepest green for eyes and reddest of lips you’ve ever seen.

“Here is his daughter Sara Linden” she takes a glance at Abby noticing how she’s turning fidgety all of a sudden beside you and tips her root beer glass at the both of you in greetings.

smiling back at her tightly you choose to ignore the odd feeling you got from the way she looked at your wife feeling as if you’re missing something—after a moment of silence eugene beckons the both of you to take a seat at the table, you sit beside abby which also puts you facing sara with jerry at the head of the food filled table.

“Sara here has her own company” already at it was jerry when Abby clears her throat and looks across the table at her in an interestingly faux surprise “oh- interesting”. putting your hand on Abby's thigh you act as if nothing is seemingly wrong. you can see her looking at you through your peripheral vision but choose to not look at her, too entranced by the one across the table trying to pinpoint why you feel something is odd. You try to chime in “wow that’s actually amaz-“ just to end up getting cut off by her

“it is! couldn’t imagine doing it any other way luckily i have a supportive family and all that..i’m sure you know quite a lot about family huh?”

Trying to stay composed you can feel abby smirk, the air feels dry and you can feel yourself heaving and your blood boiling. Instead of lashing out you take Abby's left hand and put it on the table to showcase your rings with a bright fake smile.

“Oh my- of course i do..i know plenty as you can see”

Jerry looks at you with a proud look-maybe he does have a soft spot for you- and it just sends your mind spiraling over if Abby's words about her father siding with her had an ounce of truth. maybe you’ll rat her out and see where it goes from there.

“ Now who wouldn’ dream of a daughter in law like mine??” he starts laughing with eugene while sara is glaring at your -still- intertwined hands.

Abby puts her hand on top of yours, patting it twice before pulling away, busying herself with opening another beer bottle. Taking big gulps while you’re still looking at your hand on the table. Seeing Sara looking at you smugly followed by a condescending look.

Eugene and Jerry are in their own world talking about god knows what whilst nursing their beers, the sun is setting and sounds of fireflies buzzing is filling the western humid air. and you can’t help but feel the boredom seeping in.

-

after saying your farewells and goodbyes you’re already halfway to your farm with abby who insisted to drive whilst tipsy when you offered your help, but ooh god forbid she lets you do anything talking all about how she’s ’not that drunk’

trying to put a stop to it “abigail let me drive..the car is literally swayi-”

she glances at you with crazed eyes “oh shut up you fucking slut!” she lands a punch on the steering wheel setting the horn off making you flinch. “don’t even fucking breathe or so god help me” pointing at you.

you roll your eyes at her, turning your back to her,paying no mind to your wife–still– going off at you. noticing how quiet the world is outside of the big car. when a strong fist connects with your face at wild speed. prompting your ear to ring loudly and all you can hear is the loud ringing. It's like the world stopped for a minute, nothing is moving but the trees and the cold air wafting against your burning skin.

a few minutes passed when she finally pulls up to your quiet farm, still in your shock you question how this is the first time she ever actually landed a hit on you, yes she did threaten you but never did she actually do it, trying to catch your bearings, the both of you sitting quietly in the car, blood boiling— you get out of the car. Smacking the door of her beat up truck as hard as you can.

You open the door running straight into the bedroom locking the door behind you.

Taking full strides behind you but facing none other the locked door was Abby “C’mon you can’t do that!” pounding on the door full force, whilst you try to scramble anything you own putting it into your barrel bag that you usually used for when she had work far away from home and you had to tag along. Trying to breathe deeply and ignore her yelling from the other side of the door,heading into the bathroom to check on your bruise, standing in front of the mirror with tears brimming your eyes. You spit in the sink feeling the iron taste fill your mouth, call it whatever you wanted to call it but you had to get out of there..before you ended up 6 feet under somewhere unknown in this godforsaken farm.

Opening the door with the bag in your right hand, you try to hide it behind your back. But she instantly finds it “oh no baby please no-” with knotted brows trying to hold your face in her hands you winch when her left hand rubs the bruise. You whisper “let me go abigi-”

Shaking her head in defiance tears filling her eyes.

“ i did nothing wrong don’t do this”

“You finally did it abby..look at this” pointing at your face you try to search for remorse in her eyes, anything that tells you she’s sorry for what she did..you find nothing.

“You had it coming!” she holds your hair in her fists bringing your face closer to her’s

“look at me” leaning her forehead against yours“Abigail no” you whisper—faint murmurs of her begging you is all you can hear. finally looking into her eyes that are brimming red with them beautiful pouty lips you’ve grown to love and ache for, but you know there’s no going back after this.

“i’ll just..go to dina’s for a while hm?”

“we can talk this ou-”

“just for a few days please abby” you beg “i need this” you try to put your hand on top of hers to make her ease up the harsh hold she’s got on your hair. She scoffs “and what am i supposed to do huh?” thrashing her arms around she throws a vase that is next to her on the floor, shattering it into pieces.

she pauses “Fine alright you can go..it’ll do us some good” searching her eyes “really?” she hums, turning her back towards you with finality.

“i’ll drop you off..c’mon” picking the bag you walk behind her towards the door whilst questioning what came down onto her that made her change her mind. She turns abruptly “on a second thought tho-” before you know it she has the side of your head in her palm and smashes it against the wall. And before you can react everything turns dark.

-

The sun is shining through the curtains furiously, you try to open your burning eyes. Just to find a man with his back facing you in a suit with a lab coat on standing at the door with a bag clutched in his hand talking to Abby whom still didn't notice you stirring awake in the bed you've been tucked into neatly, no longer in your clothes from the previous day -or was it days?- with an IV connected to your wrist. Wincing at the horrible pain you’re feeling on the side of your head and cheeks you try to catch your bearings, listening to what the man is whispering.

“Does your father know of this?”

“No he doesn't…and don't you dare gale”

“Just cause i owe ya’ one” she puts her arm on his shoulder in silent thanks, he nods before he walks out of the door silently. Trying to fake sleeping you close your eyes shut tightly hoping she’ll just not talk to you or call out your bluff.

Staying still you hear the clattering of things around and what seems to be Abby putting on her jacket followed by the thudding of her boots—shes murmuring under her breath and you can hear a faint harsh “fuck” spat right out of her mouth like venom. The door closes behind her and of course she locks the door shut twice. you open your eyes, trying to regulate your heart that's hammering inside your rib cage, making an effort you know you shouldn’t do.

you sit up slowly trying to get accustomed to the harsh lighting. Looking around the bedroom thinking of a way to get out of this hell, in a moment of irrationality you pull the iv needle as fast as you can-gasping at the pinch of pain—you get out of the bed, taking small steps towards the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror you think to yourself that your eyes must be deceiving you, your face looks very foreign. A bruise on your cheek with a split lip, followed with a feeling of lightheaded-ness prompting you to clutch the sink with your life. Shaking yourself awake you splash some water on your face. Knowing full well you can’t just sit still and wait till your wife comes back and ends you, it never ends well once it starts.

Calling Dina from the landline phone, you bite your nails. You don't know where abby’s gone and all you can do is hope that she doesn't come back before Dina gets here-if she would even pick up- she does interrupting you clattered thoughts “hey?”

Getting choked up upon hearing her voice you can hear Ellie in the background asking her who it is whilst JJ seems to be fussing. “Dina” whispering as you try to find your voice and failing miserably-She calls your name “breathe f’ me” you try doing as she says. Tears well up in your eyes.

“what happened?..where’s your useless wife now!?”

“Dina p-please can you-” you take a moment sniffing and trying to not think of it and the sudden cruelty that must’ve been brewing all of the past months. “and Ellie come pick m-me up?”

She replies instantly “yes of course..hang in there we’ll be there in a second”

“t-thank you dee” wiping the tears off of your cheeks-you hang up before getting up and opening the closet, taking the first thing you see and putting it on all whilst trying to keep your ears on the door—for if Abby shows up, you see the bag tucked neatly under the bed and take it out thanking god she didn’t put everything you've packed back or else you’d have to leave without anything. Tears are still streaming down your face, wetting your white shirt.

Sitting at the edge of the bed you look around—contemplating if this is the right thing to do.

it hurts physically to admit but you’ve always loved Abby and you’ve always imagined growing old next to her. She made you laugh and was the absolute most loving wife..until she cheated. You never asked if her cheating was emotional but based on the kiss that was on her collar you can tell there was more than just that happening. Maybe it’s time she understood the loss of your love and affection, fuck the consequences and to hell with what Jerry would think of you, he might even send someone searching-you’re well aware of what happens to those who choose to stay-it becomes a non-ending cycle.

A few minutes pass by whilst you’re engrossed with your thoughts before the sound of a car pulling into the driveway fills your ears, jumping on your feet in quick movement that nearly knocks you down just as fast as you stood. Praying that it isn’t Abby you clutch the bag in your arms before walking reluctantly towards the only window in the room-which is facing the driveway- just to see Dina followed by Ellie get out of the car with A look of fear blasted all over their faces.

You start knocking on the window frantically, Ellie noticing your face and -the bruise clear as day- her mouth moving in whispers calling out to Dina whose hand was close to knocking the door. You can hear her muffled words in anger “fucking Abigail-” wiping her face in distraught she gives Ellie a look and a nod towards the car, the taller brunette goes to the backseat taking out what seems to be a club hammer and you can already understand what she’ll be doing-taking ten steps back into the bedroom-

Your mind wanders to Abby, she could come back anytime now and it’ll get more severe. The history that went down between Ellie and Abby was bad and lasted until Abby isolated you and made up plans out of her head whenever you’ve voiced that Dina invited you to her house or any of that sorts. She was very adamant on making you exist as hers and have no other friends-unless it’s her-

The sound of glass shattering fills your ears prompting you to curl inwards against the wall—flashes from the other day filling your vision, Ellie helps Dina step in, who sprints towards you and you can’t help but break down in tears when she hugs you tight, rubbing your back.

“What did she fucking do now? Hm?” in a tone of concern, you can sense how hard she’s trying to stay calm with the way she’s rubbing up and down your arms in consolation. Shaking your head “what didn’t she do?” your voice breaking in agony. Ellie notices the bag in your hand-taking it without a word- pursing her lips in anger “that bitch-we need to get you out of here c’mon”

Gnawing at your lips you can’t take the idea of Abby coming after you out of your mind whilst trying not to dissociate. Dina helps you jump out the window and into the open green field-taking full strides- you get in the car hastily—praying that the blonde doesn’t come back now. Shaking you out of your trance is Dina's hand holding yours from the front seat. You look into the rear view mirror where she looks at you in reassurance.

That's how Dina always was with you, the most caring, loving, understanding. Even after telling her about Abby who always had a pristine history-she still wasn't getting it-but was very considerate about how you felt for your wife. When you showed her the engagement ring she and Ellie gave you the talk-if you were hundred percent sure of your choice- she even took a step further and went with you to pick your wedding attire.

The further the car goes the louder your heart beats against your rib cage-sensing yourself hyperventilating-you try to take deep breaths. Seeing your friends mouths move but unable to hear them clearly, you feel the need to claw at your throat. You can make out Ellie mouthing at you to breathe deep, blinking frantically. All you can see is red, vision going foggy before Dina is suddenly beside you in the backseat whispering in your ear “breathe f’ me” looking at her with tears brimming your eyes with her arm looped around you rocking you left and right, she starts taking deep breaths and it isn't that long before you start following her steps, feeling your ears pause the ringing. “ ‘m good now” you nod sniffing.

Ellie looks back “if she ever comes back i’ll kill her”

“Hell i’ll do it first” Dina retorts with her arms still around you, she glances at you before averting her eyes to the moving road outside “we’re with you” she promises.

“Thank you..the both of y’all” you whisper.

looking back at the farm. observing everything that has gone down in your memory, the marriage, the love and all the growth—all of that for nothing?..

Abigail Anderson..oh how soft and warm inside saying her name made you feel, as if every time you said it and mentioned her you fell more and more in love with her. saying it now makes the hole in your heart expand with hatred and dread.

“oh hell no” Ellie spits out when you notice what she’s talking about. Abby's truck is tailing ellie’s at a dangerous speed. you try to duck down the seat—you can feel your knees weaken. Looking into Dina's eyes “She’s gonna kill me” comes out in a choked whisper.

“Oh i’d love to see her try”

“The bitch knows where we live but don’t you worry”

“Dina baby grab the pistol f’ me”

She does as told by her wife, kneeling and taking said pistol out of the compartment under the chair, checking the glove,which seems to be loaded. A look of terror passes your face-yes you’ve thought and tried to kill Abby but now the possibilities are endless and honestly Dina would take one for you and do it with no hesitations-in the end her and Ellie have Joel and he is no easy man for Abby to try and hurt his daughter and daughter-in-law.

Soon enough Ellie is pulling up to their farm, you’ve been here a handful of times before you married Abby and once after you married her and it was hell because you had to beg her for a whole week to let you visit them and promise you’ll never ask anymore-which you never did afterwards. And every time you saw Dina and Abby was with you she'd tell you that you’re leaving-without even letting you say your goodbyes she’d yank your arm straight to the car. Making you very embarrassed and the next day you’ll call Dina to apologize.

Abby parks right behind Ellie in front of the house, before getting out of the car and coming to ellie's side of the car, tapping twice on the window. Ellie sighs—rolling her eyes before complying.

“Anderson” tapping her fingers against the steering wheel

“Cut the bullshit Williams i know damn well she's there with you”

“Uhh no she isn’t??”

“Yes the fuck she is” going as far as trying to open the car door and side track the brunette-Ellie locking it just as quick. “Not very quick Abigail..gotta work on that” she chuckles in your wife’s face whilst you’re trying to stay silent. Dina breathes before preparing and when Abby takes two steps back. Dina taps Ellie's shoulder to open the lock. Getting out of the door she tucks the pistol in her pants. Walking up to the other one in full strides.

She growls “You fucked up Abigail..big time fucker!”

“Oh c’mon she just fell”

“As if I'll believe your lies” she spits

“How many times did I tell you if you hurt her I'll kill you? Hm??”

The blonde folds her arms in defiance “she’s my fucking wife! I’ll do whatever the fuck i please to her”

Getting fed up you open the door punching your wife in the face as hard as you could, wincing when it hurts your knuckles instead, Ellie gets out of the car after killing the engine.

“You need to leave Anderson, you’re not welcome around here”

“Not without what belongs to me” she glances at you

Dina holds your face in her hand “look at what you did! Is this the way we treat what belongs to us??”

“She’s not going with you”

“Just leave Abby” tears stream down your cheeks “you disgust me”

“And i’ll send you the papers in the mail..make sure to sign them”

“Oh she will” Dina looks at Abby with her nose high.

“Are you out of your mind?” You can see a vein pop in Abby's forehead.

“I’ll always love what we had..but you broke it apart with your own paws”

Abby tries to walk your way—getting stopped when Ellie puts her gun cladded hand on Abby's stomach. “I think you heard her” raising an eyebrow at her “my dad will never allow you to tarnish our marriage” she spits in your friends faces “that’s questionable..oh my! we can go dad for dad how about that Anderson??” she says sarcastically

“Goodbye Abigail” you say in finality. Dina puts her arm around your shoulder-walking you inside their humble farmhouse, Ellie follows after shoving Abigail out the way.

a few weeks passed after what had gone down at your friend's farm—you’re still staying with them. You’ve promised to find a place as quick as you could but got brushed off by Dina saying that it’s best if you continue to stay with them.

You never know when Abigail—whom still didn’t sign the papers..will find a way to nudge herself back into your life. The bruises she gave you look dark and purple-ish as of now, you knew it’ll take some time to heal but also it’s a matter of time until someone sees it and then everyone living within a five-mile radius will know about what your wife has done to you.

“There’s a gathering in the bar today to celebrate miss moo’s 85th birthday” Dina says, shaking you out of the trance you’ve been in “i think you should come with us”

looking down at your hands. “I don't know dee..”

“it’s alright, take your time, but it’ll be a nice change hm? you haven’t been out since that day”

you nod at her from your place at the dining table. looking down at yourself you can see how unkempt you look, maybe it is a good change..hoping nothing bad would happen you make up your mind. Going ahead and taking a cold shower, you wear your usual attire with a button up shirt and a pair of jeans alongside your working boots. making sure to not forget your hat.

maybe it’ll steer their eyes away from the bruises.

-

the ride to the bar was an easy quick one, the bar is well known and everyone around the block frequents it—if there’s any gatherings it’s always done in this bar, owned by Tommy Miller and his wife maria. Even before you’ve grown into who you are now, you used to spend time with Ellie and Dina in this bar watching movies and eating popcorn for free until it was too late to go home—sometimes waking up with Tommy standing with his arms crossed looking down at your guilty—and very hungover faces.

Ellie parks her truck in front of the yellow lit bar which seems to be buzzing with people inside and out—you breathe in..and out holding on for dear life, before heading in with your head low.

The country music was bellowing all across the bar, with Tommy and Joel tending to everyone else you can make out Maria chatting with one of the regular’s to your right.

Ellie chimes “i gotta catch up with the big boss..just a sec’ ” prompting you and Dina to nod before taking your usual table—which all of you agreed upon as teenagers and now has your initials carved into the table top.

“It’ll be real nasty if she showed up here” you mutter

She chuckles before responding “Well it’ll be out of character if she didn’t”

“She’s obsessed” Ellie puts the three beers down before sliding into the chair next to Dina putting her arm on the back of Dina's and you can’t help but notice—now that’s one thing you won’t be able to experience because of her actions.

From your place at the table you see the door open up and lo and behold, none other than Abigail Anderson walks in, all polished up like a mare of a distinctive breed with her hair put in a neat braid—shame she couldn’t be as loyal as horses were. Waltzing in like she owned the place before.. “what the actual fu-” Dina spits out, of course this is the “lady” and it’s Sara.

Everyone around the bar is looking at Abby and her new plaything, some with disgust, some in amusement. Your mind can’t help but wander to her dad and you know too well that he cares too much for his legacy and reputation to allow his daughter to marry a fickle girl like the one that has her hand in your soon-to-be ex-wife’s hand. He tried to come see you but was faced with a very pissed Dina and Joel.

You can see Joel go up to Abby and treat her like any other customer, you also can see Abby smirk at him before telling him what she and her plaything wants which he responds to by pursing his lips into a thin line. When Sara seems to be searching for someone and her eyes fall right on you, prompting you to lift your hat for her to see your face clear as day— a look of fear that gets just as quickly concealed by smugness passes through her face.

Dina tries to jump up before you stop her in her tracks, you shake your head in defiance making her reddened angry face soften and her shoulder’s relax a bit before she mutters “i’m so sorry” you hold her hand in yours “you don’t need to dee” a sad smile graces your face.

“It’s only a matter of time..i feel it in my bones”

Ellie chuckles “amen to that huh?” before taking a few gulps of her beer followed by you doing the same—with a very well concealed heartache bellowing between your rib cage.

© 2024 acidblum

[theprettynosferatu]

Before the year is done there's something I want to say. This is not porn so feel free to scroll on, but it might help some people.

YOUR FANTASIES DO NOT REFLECT ON YOUR REAL BELIEFS.

You might have a particularly shameful kink or fantasy that sometimes gives you that slap of guilt in the face when you least expect it. I know I do!

When that happens, run a simple test:

- Did you harm anyone by having that fantasy and engaging with it? No? Awesome!

- Did you share it with someone who is safe, if at all?

- If you played, was it consensual, safe, and adult?

If so... you have my permission to dodge guilt!

Let's be frank. Some degree of drop, sub, dom or otherwise is to be expected. Call it the toll on the road between fantasy and reality. Acknowledge it's there, and pay it no mind. You might feel a bit iffy for a little while, but if you focus on something else it will go away. Think of it as cloudy weather. It kinda sucks but you don't stop your life for it!

Now, about your shameful, shameful fantasies: that which is taboo is attractive. Getting turned on by something you know you shouldn't do/be in real life is... completely normal. In fact, that it turned you on might be a good sign. You found it hot because you KNOW it's wrong. You have a moral compass there, friend. Trust me, some... don't. And that compass is what will keep you from doing harm.

Sometimes you'll feel sort of... exposed. Like people will be able to tell you get down to all that evil freaky stuff by looking at you. To which I tell you... HOW? Telepathy? Is Professor X around? Not only no one will know, you deserve an area of intimacy and privacy. And your head is that space. There is no celestial daddy to spank you for your sinful thoughts.

And if there is... that's kinda hot too.

And EVEN IF SOMEHOW SOMEONE PEERED INTO YOUR SOUL... they'd see... you. You with your kinks and your values and your beauty and your mistakes and your messed up humanity. And that "you" is worthy of love. Yes, with the messed up kinks, too.

We are messy bitches, humans. Our brains are these ongoing chemistry experiments that do weird shit all the time. We sexualize shame, we shame sexuality, we sexualize trauma and morality and fear... even politics and identity!

And that's perfectly fine, as long as you don't harm others. And if you accidentally do, listen, be humble, learn. We all fuck up sometimes. I sure as shit have!

So how about in this new year we, you know, extend some kindness and grace to ourselves? We deserve it. As a treat.