#so i have to cover what she doesn't do and then i have to sit in a chair and listen to her mother (our boss) rant about how she has way

[pillowbee]

Southside Social Media Celeb AU

The halloween TikTok video has 14.4 million views, 2.4 million likes, 13.6 thousand comments, and 131.8 thousand bookmarks.

It's posted by Debbie, one of the three Gallagher siblings that have risen to internet stardom thanks to one viral video around the pandemic era.

They owe their fame to a stupid one-minute video of the two eldest Gallagher brothers patiently explaining to their naive younger brother about STDs, with Debbie (@debz_thegallagher) recording and laughing her ass off behind the camera.

(The caption of that fateful video reads:

"Lip & lan: we're gonna hold ur hand as we tell u this. Carl: 👁️ 👄 👁️”

And that video goes a little something like this:

A shaky start where Debbie is settling her phone on a surface somewhere so it captures her three brothers in the shot, and then —

"Waitwaitwait, Carl. Say that again, but slower," Debbie cackles behind the camera.

A doe-eyed teen boy with a devastatingly handsome face and wavy dark hair frowns at the camera briefly. This is Carl Gallagher, who would soon rise to his own fame on TikTok (mostly posting dance covers or TikTok trends), but never quite managing to shuck off the nickname the internet has christened him with: Naive STD Boi.

Carl Gallagher defensively says, "What? I tested negative, so that's good, right? Ian asked if I got antibiotics for it and I didn't, because I don't have it!"

Sitting opposite Carl on the couch is a man, also a looker in his own right: chiseled face, with a mop of curly, sandy hair, and a pair of piercing blue eyes. This, the internet would later learn from Debbie's subsequent videos introducing her family, is Lip Gallagher. He is not on any social media platforms, much to the chagrin of Debbie's fans, because apparently he "doesn't do all that."

In the STD video, he's frowning at Carl throughout the entire sixty seconds, as if he's unsure he's hearing things right but is fearful of offending his little brother if he outright asks, "Do you seriously not know?"

"O-okay, but Dom, she tested positive?" Lip asks as he shares a look with the third person in the video: a redhead sitting on the coffee table, also unfairly good-looking, with freckles adorning his kissable face, and a pair of green eyes that’s hiding mirth and amusement behind them.

This is Ian Gallagher. He's mostly on Instagram, but would later also create a TikTok account where he would share fascinating insights into his life as an EMT in Chicago (such as his experience working at music festivals, little sketches based on real-life patient encounters, and helpful first aid tips). Half of the internet will be disappointed to learn that lan is gay, and the other half will go wild with delusional thoughts of getting together with him.

The internet, being the internet, would fawn and fangirl over all three brothers and Debbie, with most commenting something about the Gallaghers winning the genetic jackpot and asking @debz_thegallagher if she has any other siblings running around that they should know about.

(She says she does, and in a separate video, she introduces her oldest sibling, Fiona, and her youngest sibling, adorable little Liam. The internet falls in love with both of them, too.)

"Yeah, she tested positive," Carl says. "And I gave it to her," he sighs.

Debbie howls with laughter behind the camera, further agitating poor Carl.

"Yo, shut the fuck up!" he yells, but Debbie is gasping, "I can't — I can't, I fucking—”

"Debs, you're not helping," lan chastises, but he, too, is fighting to keep his face neutral. It seems like he, too, doesn't want to offend Carl in this sensitive matter.

"Look, buddy," Lip chimes in gently, "if — if you don't have it...there's no way you coulda given it to her."

Ian nods emphatically, while Carl looks half relieved and half confused.

"I... I couldn't?" His tone is soft, uncertain.

In the background, it sounds like Debbie's finally managed to catch her breath.

"No," Ian says, "but it means that she, uh..." There's a trace of a smile on his face now. "Got it from… somewhere else."

Carl nods and looks down for a brief moment.

"Oh. Like from a toilet seat?"

This sets Debbie off again.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” she yells, her bright peels of laughter drowning out whatever protests and curses Carl is hurling her way.

Even Lip is smirking now, but he quickly schools his face back to a semblance of seriousness as he speaks over Debbie's cackles in the background:

"No, no, no..."

"Uhhh," says lan, who is now smiling tightly at Carl. Carl, who looks expectantly from one brother to the next.

"More like, um..." Lip pauses, and stares right at Carl. "From another guy's dick."

There is silence from all three brothers then, but Lip's direct, rip-the-bandage-off approach has Debbie dying of laughter again in the background.

Before the video ends and loops back to the beginning, the viewers can see that Lip's face is still serious, but he's biting his lower lip as he looks steadily at Carl. Carl is frowning at the floor, letting the information that his girlfriend is cheating on him with another man sink in. Ian has his head bowed, hiding his face from the viewers, but his shoulders are shaking, probably with laughter that he can no longer contain.

Then Carl groans — “Motherfu—" — before Debbie cuts the camera off.

This STD video has 75.6 million views and counting.)

Not all of the Gallaghers have remained on the internet, though. Only Debbie and lan are active on their respective preferred platforms, so this particular halloween video of hers has garnered more views than her other recent ones because it features a reunion between her and two of her brothers from the famed STD video.

Carl Gallagher has let his natural curls take over; it's in something resembling an afro now, and the internet asks if the Gallaghers have any African American blood in them, seeing as Liam, the youngest, is black.

(Debbie never answers these questions, content on leaving her followers to keep speculating.)

Carl appears in a chef's outfit as he crosses in front of Debbie who is dancing to and miming the lyrics of Lady Marmalade (or the gitchi gitchi ya ya da da song). She is dressed up as Kris Jenner, with a short black wig to embody Kris Jenner’s iconic haircut, a boob-tastic black outfit, and a pair of sunglasses.

Ian Gallagher crosses in front of her a short second after, eyeing the camera and smirking at it and scratching his nose with his left thumb before disappearing to join Carl on the other side. He is sporting the beginnings of a mullet, and is dressed up in a black tux. No one has any idea what he’s dressed up as, not even Debbie, apparently, based on her replies in the comment section of that video—

—the comment section of the video, which looks something like this:

Debbie • 2023-10-26

They just got Krissed @cgall19 @iangallagherEMT

Champagnemamami

OMG ALL THREE BAES IN ONE VID AGAIN?? THE REUNION WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR [liked by @debz_thegallagher]

destini 🌻

this is my roman empire 😭

WhatIsMyLife

What is Ian dressed up as? 🤔

Debbie

You know what, that is a good question! idek @iangallagherEMT please enlighten us

Ian Gallagher EMT

Guy in a Tux duh 🤷‍♂️

Dave12345667

i love u debbie pls marry me

Debbie

Sorry love but I’m into girls 💕

SophiiieeeE

Am I tripping or does Ian have a mullet???

Debbie

How did I not notice that until right now 😂

amilyn

Omg im still obsessed with the gallaghers ever since the pandemic does she reply? [liked by @debz_thegallagher]

Debbie

She definitely does!! 😘

Emma | Seeing Tyler

Is carl dressed up as gordon ramsay 😂

Debbie

Yep!! 😝 WHAT ARE YOU 😡 AN IDIOT SANDWICH 🥪

knackmovesaway

Lip????? Where?????? 😭

Debbie

Sorry he hates the internet because he is Old™

While most of the comments are focused on the siblings’ reunion and halloween costumes, a small, hyper-focused portion of them are obsessing over a new detail they’ve noticed with Ian Gallagher. Apparently the tiniest, most briefest action of him scratching his nose had given people something to speculate over.

grossmatthew!

Waiiiit 👀 Ian is married now??

kay in her idgaf era

I spy with my little eye a wedding band @iangallagherEMT

Asia Deveraux ✨

No 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 tell me its not true ian youre not married right!!!!!

🐐 🐐

I hear a thousand fangirl & fanboy hearts breaking lmao congrats @iangallagherEMT

🖐️ Dani 🖐️

@iangallagherEMT husband reveal when?? 👀

JewelOsco’s Cousin

Omg u guys need to chill tf out abt ian it could just be part of his costume

Debbie doesn’t reply to any of these comments, and neither does Ian.

(But his actions speak louder than words when, even after the halloween video, the silver band remains on his left ring finger in his EMT videos posted on his own platforms, convincing his and Debbie’s followers that he is indeed married now.)

The STD video and the halloween video continue to garner steady views as the years go by, with new people coming in and commenting things like,

“My sex ed teacher showed our class this video today lmaooo I think everyone paid attention today!!”

and,

“poor carl 💀 kudos to the patient brothers tho for handling this with such gentle kid gloves”

as well as,

“tag urself im the unhelpful sister cackling in the background!”💅🏻

Carl Gallagher eventually learns to embrace his internet nickname and even gets invited to Liam’s school to make a brief appearance during their Sexual Health Awareness Month (much to the embarrassment of Liam).

One can find the Gallaghers on their respective social media accounts below:

Debbie:

@debz_thegallagher (TikTok, Instagram, Snapchat) — where you will most likely find contents on womens’ rights, LGBTQ+ issues, and updates on the other Gallaghers;

Carl:

@cgall19 (TikTok, Instagram, Snapchat) — if you are into TikTok thirst traps and viral trends;

and Ian:

@IanGallagherEMT (TikTok) and @IanCGallagherEMT (Instagram) — if you’d like to learn some life-saving tips or get content on mental health awareness, or if you’re just into funny EMT skits.

(Debbie once joked that Lip might have a Facebook account somewhere, and she is right. You can find him by searching Lip R Gallagher on Facebook — but the page is blank save for his name and DOB, which is listed only as 1995.)

***

Inspired by:

Emma Rose Kenney’s original TikTok video

That one funny scene where Lip & Ian had to gently explain to Carl that his gf is cheating on him!

And also Markiplier’s fans freaking out over the apparent wedding band that he’s wearing in this Cloak video.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Barnes Bakes Chapter 5

A request that turned into a short story. * mudak: moron or blowhard in Russian

Previous chapter Next chapter

The next Sunday was the day before Veterans’ Day, so both Bucky and Y/N had Monday off, and they used that to their advantage as they ate the new treat she had made that week, a lemon curd tart, and drank a limoncello to go along with it.  The limoncello didn’t do much to Bucky, but after two glasses Y/N was tipsy, which made her a lot more flirty and touchy with him.  

“Alright, sweet pea, your turn,” Y/N giggled.  “Who is your real life hall pass?”

“Nuh-uh,” Bucky shook his head, taking the shot in front of him.  

“Oh come on!” she whined.  “That’s not fair!  I’ve been answering every question–”

“No you haven’t,” Bucky laughed.  “You wouldn’t say what your craziest sexual experience was!”

“Because you couldn’t handle it,” she said seductively, winking at him.  He rolled his eyes at her.  “Come on, please?” she begged, leaning over and pushing his metal arm.  “Who is it?”

“Y/N–”

“Just say it,” she said.  

“No,” he shook his head.  Y/N gave him a half-hearted glare, then a mischievous grin grew on her face.  “What’s that look?” he asked, frowning at her.  Suddenly she pounced on him, straddling his lap as her fingers tickled at his neck.  Bucky yelped, toppling out of the chair and onto the floor with her still on top of him.

“Say it!” she squealed as he tried to swipe her hands away.  “Say it, sweet pea!”

“Y/N stop, ah!” he laughed, trying to be careful to not hurt her even as his body tensed up from being tickled for the first time in years.  

Her hands moved quickly from his neck to his armpits, then down his sides, which made him laugh even harder.  “Who knew the White Wolf was so ticklish, huh?” she teased him.  “Say it and I’ll stop!”

“Y/N, it’s…oh my god fine!  It’s you!” he said, trying to twist away but unable to with her sat so squarely on his core.  Her hands froze by his hips, her eyes widening as she looked down at him.  Her smile slowly slipped off her face and Bucky tensed up with anxiety.  He should have fought her off, made her stop sooner, now he’d ruined things.  He bit his lip and shut his eyes.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it’s…it’s okay,” she said quietly.  He felt her hands leave him, but she didn’t get up.  He slowly opened his eyes to look up at her just as she leaned forward to hover over him and put herself at eye level with him.  Her eyes flickered over his face, then she nuzzled his nose.  “You want me?” she whispered.

Bucky couldn’t tell what was happening, his own eyes widening at how close she was and how serious she was acting.  He slowly nodded, making her smile come back.  Her gaze moved to his lips, and she closed the distance between them and kissed him.  Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut, and he kissed her back hesitantly.  Alarm bells were going off in his head.  You just got out of a relationship a few months ago.  You’re gone all of the time for missions.  She’s busy with the bakery.  You’re neighbors, what if it doesn't work out?  She’s friends with your friends now… Then her hands cupped his face gently, she angled her head and deepened the kiss and let out a short, low hum that almost sounded like a whimper, and he was done for.

Fuck it, he thought as he kissed her back firmly, his hands wrapping around her back and holding her close.  She let out a surprised sound that he quickly covered with his mouth.  He licked at her lips, and she gladly granted him access to her tongue.  Her hips pressed harder against his core, and he moaned at the feeling as his cock hardened beneath her, the pressure making his abs tense with anticipation.  His hands slipped down her back, squeezing her hips before reaching down and gripping her large ass cheeks that he couldn’t fit in his hands.�� He kneaded the flesh there then pulled her harder against his groin.

Y/N giggled against his mouth and broke the kiss, sitting up so she sat on his lap again, her hands keeping herself up on his chest.  She smirked as she rolled her hips over him, and his eyes rolled back at the way his cock dragged through her slit, even with all the fabric in the way.  “You wanna fuck me, sweet pea?” she asked teasingly.

“Fuck yes,” Bucky groaned, his hands pushing her ass to keep moving over him.  “Please doll?  Can I?”  

Her face twisted into a look of pure desire, and she nodded as she scratched down his chest.  “Yes,” she breathed.

Bucky didn’t need to hear anything else.  He pushed himself up, heaving her up into his arms.  She shrieked as he carried her to her room, her arms and legs wrapping around him so she wouldn’t fall.  She started kissing and sucking at his neck, making him shudder at how good it felt before he entered her room and quickly laid her on her bed.  He pulled away and tugged his shirt off before rucking up her dress.  Y/N helped him as she maneuvered her body for him to slip it up and off of her, revealing that she wasn’t wearing a bra.  He immediately touched her breasts, leaning down and moaning as he kissed, licked and sucked at them, the squishiness and fullness of them making him almost delirious as he shoved them together and stuck his face between them.

“So soft,” he said breathlessly.  “Good god, babydoll.”

“Babydoll?” she asked.  “I like that.”

He looked up at her and smirked as she watched him suck her nipple into his mouth.  Y/N moaned as her nipple pebbled under his touch, her hands going back to his hair, keeping him close to her chest.  He used his free hand to undo his pants then shove them and his underwear down, kicking them off wildly.  Once his cock was free he humped against her still-clothed core, his precum and her arousal making her panties wet.  Her hands tugged at his hair, the dull pain making him moan against her chest.  “Do we need anything?” he asked.

“No,” Y/N said.  

“Thank god,” he grunted before pulling away.  His metal fingers slid along the rim of her panties before grasping them tight and ripping them away from her.  Y/N gasped and looked at him with an incredulous expression, a wry smile creeping on her lips.  Bucky stared at her now naked pussy, already wet and throbbing.  “Fuck, babydoll,” he groaned.  “Look at this pretty, chubby pussy.”  His hands moved to caress her thighs, up over her hips and kneading the rolls on her stomach.  “Everything is so soft and curvy.”  His hands moved back down as he moved himself backwards until he could lay down and come face to face with her core.  “Do you taste as sweet as you look?”

Bucky hoisted her legs over his shoulders, his hands holding her thighs down as he leaned in and gave her slit a long, broad lick with his tongue.  She gasped and gripped his wrists, her hips already starting to tremble.  He took his time kissing, sucking and licking at her, finding her clit and lapping at it slowly, wanting to taste every inch of her and pull her apart.  Y/N’s gasps and whimpers egged him on, her legs looping behind his head and holding him tightly between her legs as her hips rut against his face.  He sucked on her clit with a loud, slurping sound, his cheeks hollowing as his lips puckered around it completely.  She whimpered and then shuddered, her grip on his wrists tightening impressively as she started cumming, painting his mouth and chin with her cum.

He moaned loudly, licking up what he could as his hold on her thighs was sure to leave bruises in the morning.  He continued to lick at her, making out with her pussy then focusing on her clit again.  “Buck, I, mmh!” she moaned, one of her hands moving down to try and push him away.  “I’m so sensitive, please, I can’t!”

“You can,” Bucky said lowly, speaking against her pussy lips.  “Give me another one, babydoll.  I can’t just have one taste.”

Y/N’s fingers scratched into his hair, her hips trying but failing to twist away from the onslaught of his tongue.  He doubled his efforts, pulling himself up so his mouth almost engulfed her slit.  His eyes were nearly rolling at the wetness still leaking from her that he would use to lube her clit, then suck it into his mouth again.  Her breaths staggered, her stomach flinching and making her body shake as he built the pressure again.  Without warning she came again with a scream, even more cum gushing from her.  Bucky groaned again as he swallowed what he could catch, his eyes closing as he let himself get lost in the quivering of her thighs against his face and the smell and taste of her cunt.

When he finished he stared at her pussy again for a moment, catching his breath before releasing her legs and pulling himself up to hover over her.  Y/N’s head was lolled to the side, her chest heaving heavy breaths as her hand went limp from his hair and fell on the bed next to her.  Bucky chuckled at her expression, his metal hand gripping her chin and pulling her face up straight so he could kiss her with her cum all over his mouth.  “So sweet,” he murmured against her lips.  “Almost as sweet as your treats.”

She giggled, licking at his lips and humming at the taste of herself.  “Can I have a taste?” she asked, a mischievous look in her eye.

“Yes please,” Bucky groaned.  He pulled away and laid back on the bed next to her as she hoisted herself up then slotted between his legs.  She gripped his cock in her hand, slowly pumping him as her free hand felt along his chest and down his abs, ogling his body appreciatively before feeling down the “V” of his hips.  Her touch was like an electric current, sending tingles down his body as her fingers traversed his skin almost reverently.  She leaned down and licked at the head of his cock, and he shivered at the sensation.  Her licks became more insistent, then she opened her mouth wide and took him deep in her mouth, her tongue still feeling along the underside of his shaft until he hit the back of her throat.  “Fuck!  Oh god, babydoll!” he whimpered.  

Y/N hummed, the sound vibrating around his cock deliciously.  She hollowed her cheeks and sucked him hard as she pulled back up off of him, releasing the tip from her lips with a loud pop.  “You’re so yummy, sweet pea,” she complimented him.  “Such a pretty cock.  Feels so good on my tongue.”

He didn’t get a chance to say anything before she dipped her head back down and took him in her mouth again, bobbing her head up and down on him as her one hand held the base of his shaft upright and her other hand moved down to his balls, rolling them in her palm and between her fingers, adding even more intense pleasure to the experience.  His eyes rolled back, and he couldn't help but compare this with his last relationship.  His ex-girlfriend would barely suck him off, gagged excessively and wouldn’t dare even go near his balls.  It was a chore for her.  Y/N seemed to be enjoying herself, sucking and licking him languidly then randomly switching it up and loving on the tip of his cock while her hand would twist at the wrist and stroke him perfectly.  Her fingers at his balls slightly moved down and rubbed along his perineal area, massaging it while she cupped his balls in her palm.  That had never happened before, and he tensed slightly, feeling a weird mix of uncertainty but pleasure from it.  Then her fingers reached his asshole, massaging along the rim.

“Y/N, baby, I’ve never, mmmh,” he tried to steady his breathing.  “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“That’s okay, sweet pea,” Y/N giggled, licking at the slit in the tip of his cock.  “Maybe someday.”  She moved her fingers away and squeezed his balls as she sucked harshly at the head while her tongue laved at the underside of it.

“Holy shit!  Babydoll, I-I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he warned, his hands cupping both sides of her face.

“Do you wanna cum in my mouth?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Oh my god,” he groaned.  “Yes, but…” his gaze met hers and he let out a shuddered breath.  She looked so pretty like this, her spit combining with his precum and leaving a thread connected between his cock and her lips, her eyes slightly glossy with how much she had been holding back from gagging on him, and yet she looked so pleased with herself.  He smirked.  “Maybe someday,” he said.

Y/N smiled knowingly.  “Whatever you want, sweet pea,” she said, giving him a few more good strokes before sitting up.  “You gonna fuck me?”

He nodded and pulled her back onto the bed, climbing over her once again.  He kissed her deeply as he pumped himself a couple of times before lining up with her entrance.  He slowly started to push inside, but then she hooked her ankles behind his ass and pulled him all the way into her pussy in one hard thrust.  He buckled at the sudden movement, her pussy swallowing him whole.  It was overwhelming how good she felt around him, and he tensed every muscle in his body to stop himself from cumming too fast.  Bucky grunted and nuzzled her face as Y/N let out a high pitched whine.  “Babydoll…” he said, his own voice sounding like a deep whine.  “What are you tryna do, kill me?  Fucking hell.”

“Got me throbbing from how good you ate me out, Bucky, I couldn’t wait anymore,” she said desperately.  “You feel so fucking good, sweet pea.  Please fuck me.  Fuck me hard.”

Bucky lifted his head and looked at her in astonishment.  She was looking at him like he hung the stars, making it all the more intimate.  No one he had ever been with before looked at him like that, worshipped his body like she did, accepted his personally perceived flaws as easily as she did.  His metal hand cupped the side of her face gently, and she leaned her face further into it with a soft smile, turning her head and kissing his palm.  “My babydoll,” he whispered, his thumb sweeping across her cheekbone.  He kissed her again and rolled his hips into her, pulling a low hum from her mouth.  “My Y/N.”

Y/N inhaled shakily, nodding against his mouth.  “Yours,” she whispered, then nibbled at his lower lip.  “My sweet pea.”

Bucky smiled and kissed her again before rolling his hips into her.  He set a steady pace at first, adjusting to the feeling of being inside her.  He wouldn’t admit it to himself before, but he had woken up from dreams of doing this very thing with her multiple times.  He had dreamt of what her kisses tasted like, what her pussy tasted like, how her mouth would feel on his cock, how she would feel with him fucking deep into her, and yet none of those dreams did justice to the real thing.  With the sweetest noises falling from her lips egging him on, his cock felt so sensitive after she had nearly made him cum earlier that after a few minutes of thrusting when her pussy contracted around him he whimpered.

“You gonna cum, babydoll?” he whispered in her ear.  

“Y-yeah,” she nodded, her voice getting interrupted with the speed and force of his thrusts.  Her hand moved from his lower back to in between them, her fingers rubbing at her clit quickly.  “Can you fuck me harder, sweet pea?  Hard and fast?”

“Jesus,” Bucky huffed.  “Yes, ma’am.”  She giggled at the nickname and he shifted on his knees to give himself more leverage before he started pounding into her.  She gasped, her fingers rubbing and flicking faster on her clit, her other hand scratching down his back, pulling another grunt from his chest.  “That’s it, babydoll,” he said, his hands looping over her shoulders from behind to keep her still as he fucked her.  “Let me have it.  Where do you want me to cum?”

“Wherever you want,” she said breathlessly, her face pinched into a lustful frown.  “I’m gonna cum!”

“Wherever I want?” Bucky chuckled.  “Fuck yes.  Cum, Y/N…cum!”

She twitched under him, her middle finger flicking her clit fast, then stiffened as she screamed, cumming and gushing on his cock.  Her pussy gripped him impossibly tight, and Bucky shuddered above her, holding off his release until the waves of her orgasm lessened.  He fucked her through it then sat up and pulled out of her.  “Fuck, baby…doll…mmh!” he stroked himself, his breathing getting heavy and faster, then he slapped her clit with his cock and came with a loud groan, the long ropey spurts of cum coating her pussy and up her stomach.  “Oh baby,” he moaned when he finally finished.  He rubbed the head of his cock on her clit, making her twitch and gasp.  “You look so pretty like this. Covered in my cum.”  He took her hand and set it on her stomach, then held her wrist to make her fingers run through it.  

Y/N hummed as she watched her fingers move through the warm stickiness.  “Well now I’ve gotta get cleaned up,” she said as she sighed.  “You wanna take a shower?”

Bucky was almost instantly hard again.  He smirked at her before getting off the bed then lifting her bridal style.  She yelped as he picked her up and walked her over to the bathroom.  “Yes ma’am.”

***

 They fucked over and over again that night until Y/N passed out from exhaustion.  Bucky fell asleep and woke up in the same position, wrapped around her body with his face nuzzling her breasts.  He looked up at her, smiling at her face being squished against her pillow, her deep breaths fanning along the top of his hair.  He couldn’t believe what had happened the night before.  It all seemed like a dream.  She stirred in her sleep and held him close against her chest, her hand running through his hair.  Just as he thought he could go back to sleep for a while longer his heart jumped, and a flare of anxiety felt like ice in his veins.  What did this mean?  What were they now?  Last night had surely ruined their friendship, a friendship that he cherished.  Why was he so stupid?  Why couldn’t he have said somebody’s else’s name for their little game?  

He started to panic and felt the need to get away.  He pulled himself away and out of her embrace slowly, trying not to wake her up.  He slipped out of the bed and gathered his clothes up, quickly putting them on and silently leaving her bedroom.  As he was getting his shoes on and slipping his jacket on her door opened and she walked out in her robe.

“Hey, did you want–” Y/N stopped when she saw what he was doing.  Bucky froze.  He was sure his guilt and shame shone bright on his face.  “Oh, you’re leaving?” she asked.  As much as he could tell that she tried not to show it hurt, he could see it did and it made him grimace.

“Uh, yeah, um…” he stuttered.  “I…I had a lot of fun last night–”

Y/N’s face hardened, and she crossed her arms in front of herself and leaned her hip against the kitchen counter.  She sighed heavily, her jaw ticking in anger as her frown deepened, but it was the fire in her eyes that scared him the most.  “So you fuck me, praise me, talk about claiming me, and then try to slip out the next morning and say the classic ‘I had fun last night’ speech to me?”  Bucky’s mouth opened and closed repeatedly.  He knew he fucked up, but had no way to explain himself.  Y/N shook her head disappointedly then closed her eyes.  “Get out,” she grumbled.

“Y/N,” Bucky said, walking toward her.  “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to hurt you–”

“I said get out,” she said, more firmly and loudly.

“Babydoll–”

“No!” she yelled, opening her eyes and standing tall, walking up to him.  “You don’t get to call me that.  You lied.  I’m not your babydoll.  Fuck off and get out of my house.”  He stared at her in shock as she walked around him to the front door and opened it, gesturing for him to leave.  “Congratulations on getting what you wanted from me.  Now leave!”

Bucky’s heart broke, and the only person he had to blame was himself.  He slowly walked to the front door, fighting back his tears as he walked over the threshold.  He turned to look at her.  “Y/N–”

She gave him a scathing glare and then slammed the door in his face.  He stared at the door for a moment, then trudged back into his apartment.  He made it to his bedroom before breaking down into sobs.  He felt so stupid and unworthy of her.  And now because of his own personal issues he had hurt her, losing one of the few bright lights in his life that he had since he’d been freed from the Winter Soldier programming.  He cried heavily for what felt like hours.  Why couldn’t he have just chilled out?  Been honest?  Now he’d made it all so dramatic, and Y/N didn’t do drama.  

@wintrsoldrluvr @greatenthusiasttidalwave @itsteambarnes @440mxs-wife

[mandy-asimp]

When She Calls

Lilia Calderu x Life!reader (she/her)

Warnings: language, deaths, sprinkles of angst, fluff, smut (but that's for waaay down the build up), whole lotta friendship, I'm like 87% sure that's it

Summary: when Life is asked to make a promise, she doesn't seem to be able to say no. But that promise was going to be served out so much longer than what she could see.

Chapter 6

Story masterlist

chapter 7

(sorry for the late posting!!)

There was this radiating warmth. It confused Lilia…she thought Death would be cold and bone rattling. Her eyes fluttered open and she was greeted by the ceiling of her shop. She took in her surroundings and found it weird to not be on the ground (ceiling?) of the last trial. Her trial. 

The bell above the door jangled and suddenly Jen and Alice were rushing by her side to help her up. “What..something isn’t adding up.” Her thoughts vocalized themselves. “I was falling.” She was doing everything to piece it together herself, but there were gaps. God, how she hated having these gaps.

“We’re just as lost as you are,” Alice sighed. Her eyes traveled the walls, taking in the personality of Lilia via house form. “One minute Jen and I were in the last trial with Agatha and Billy, and then we were pulled out. Waking up in Agatha’s basement feeling so incredibly warm.

Lilia frowned, “Where’s Billy and Agatha?” Both women shrugged. “Rio?” Head shakes. “...Life?”

“Last we saw her was in your trial. What happened after you closed the door?” Jen led them over to the small living room.

There the three debriefed everything they could. Covering all the information that they knew and piecing together the missing details. In the end they had solidified this much:

Agatha knew Rio was Death all along. 

Billy was the son of the Scarlet Witch looking for his twin brother who Life had told him was in fact out there. 

Rio was M.I.A since Alice’s death back in the cabin.

Lilia was meant to be dead but was somehow sitting in her shop’s living room.

They had cleared the trial, and Lilia was ready to sacrifice herself to rid the Salem Seven. 

The last trial was in an empty cold room where they had to free themselves before the lights went out. 

That was the last known location of the other two.

Jen and Alice woke up and found a note with Lilia’s address and a heart signed with an L taped to the basement door.

And finally, Life was nowhere to be seen ever since vanishing.

“I can't remember what happened in between closing the iron maiden and falling…it’s like someone took the memory from me.” She sounded so defeated over the fact. She was missing something crucial. Lilia could feel it in her bones that she was missing something. 

Then the bell jangled once more and Billy came stumbling back. He was covered in dirt, the red cape that draped just over his shoulders almost a burgundy. “Agatha…she’s dead.” He broke the news. His weary eyes searched the open area though. “Life…she’s not here either?”

“We haven’t seen her since Lilia’s trail either.” Alice sighed, leaning back into the cushions as they all went silent. 

“What…what if she moved on? She said she knew everyone’s entire life including their death part. What if she knew Lilia was meant to die in the trial…and she couldn't bare it and left?” Jen offered what seemed like the most reasonable answer. “After all, she spent centuries as your familiar. There’s no doubt she didn’t have some deep connection to you.”

Alice shook her head though, “no…she sees the death to Rio’s void. She stayed lingering even after I had gone before turning back.”

Billy joined and took a seat on the floor between the chair Alice sat in and the couch that Jen resided on. “Plus, she was trying to learn human emotions on a deeper level. I don’t know which one she felt when it was just her, Alice, and I. But the tears…they weren’t sad. They literally sparkled like diamonds rolling down her face.”

Another beat of silence had passed. Nobody could really give a good explanation on where Life was hiding. If only they could just get a single clue on the missing time frame they could put this all together. Find the starter to every order and bring her some ease that they were all fine. 

Yet, while the four sat in Lilia’s living room, Life, Death, and Agatha stood in a tense circle. “I gave you four lives. I left them all alone. You owe me now.” Rio flashed that cunning smirk. “Life has favorites it seems.”

“I know what you want already. Do you really think it’ll erase everything that’s already happened though? I can give him back, but it wont get rid of the hatred she felt for you for so long.” Life’s head nodded towards Agatha who was seemingly stuck from becoming a ghost (she knew Rio wouldn’t bug her as one, after all, she hates ghosts). 

“What is happening right now?” She stared at her hands, questioning why she wasn’t becoming transparent. “Whyyyy can’t I leave?”

“Agatha Harkness. The Witch Killer. It seems Death has led me into a deal that benefits you more than her. You’re stuck here because as Life, I can’t let you continue on to the afterlife..no matter the form you try to take. There is someone who still needs you.” Life’s voice was nothing like Death’s. Her was a melody that swarmed like a warm summer breeze, while Death’s was echoing always into the world around her. 

The ground beneath their feets began to rumble. Rocks tore up the grass as they pushed their way through. It was a grave all too chilling for all three of them. “What type of joke is this?! Life this is cruel!” Agatha cried on sight. It brought up every feeling of a mother’s grief that she had tried to bury so deep within herself that it would never exist again. “Stop this!”

“Mama,” a familiar little boy's voice danced around them. It made his mother wail in pain. “Don’t cry…Life said it’d be ok.” His small spirit stood right in front of her. Nicky looked entirely different from what Agatha remembered. He looked better. “She even visited me while I was gone! She would bring me some gifts that you had always set aside for me!”

Agatha fell to her knees, hands holding his full face. He was oh so healthy looking. “Yeah? And what were those things?” Her eyes fell to Life who had that warm grin inviting her to finally breathe again. 

Nicky conjured up the few toys that she did in fact keep for him. Anytime Agatha saw one she knew he would’ve loved, she added it into the chest dedicated only to him. But what really caught her attention was his own purple magic conjuring each one up. 

Her larger hands grabbed his and broke his rambling about each toy. “Honey…who taught you how to do that? To use your own purple?”

“Agatha, you did.” Life spoke, stepping closer and letting the natural warmth grow warmer. “But he’s going to be taught more if he’s gonna carry his mama’s legacy. So, my little chaos machines enjoy your lives together. Because they are long and beautiful and I would hate to see them turned for the worst.”

Agatha’s eyes were wide. “Wait…you’re giving him back to me?”

“Life keeps her warriors and I get to see you happy again. She’s giving you the lives you’ve always wanted.” Rio stared at the two as they were her favorite sight to ever see. 

“Thank you my love…Thank you Life. Both of you, thank you so much.” It was the most heartfelt thank you Agatha Harkness had ever given out.

And as she blinked, she was waking up in her house and quickly rushed into the once empty room. Finding her son sleeping soundly in his bed. Her heart swelled with love as she tucked him in tighter and kissed his forehead. Knowing if she stayed too long he’d wake from her tears falling onto his face. Instead she crept back out and downstairs. Finding Life and Death in her living room but as humanly as possible. 

“Yeah, just because you got him back though doesn’t mean we’re skipping over between you two.” Life was in the chair facing the couch. “So grab a cup of coffee and join us for the first therapy session!”

Agatha wasn’t even upset by this…if being honest she wanted to talk about it, and with Life right there, she knew nothing could break out. So she did. She grabbed herself a cup of coffee and joined them in the living room. Where for the entire time Nicky slept upstairs, the two threw everything onto the table. Listening to the other speak over every feeling that had been caused by the boy's first six sickly years. Hearing how they were going through the same feelings in different ways and instead of being there for each other, they had turned on each other. Eventually though, the session ended as the boy came jumping into his mother’s arms. 

His sleepy eyes questioning what was for breakfast as his tummy had grumbled. “I should get going, you all should make pancakes for breakfast. Maybe it’ll help ease back into the flow.” Life stood from her seat, brushing off her skirt once.

“And what about you? Where are you going to go?” Rio raised the next issue. “You think Lilia’s gonna let you walk right back in?”

“Well… seeing as she’s patting the bed for the missing cat, I think my chances are pretty high.” Life shrugged, seeing the divination witch alone in her bed.

Agatha furrowed her brows and chuckled, “so you’re gonna be a cat forever again? She’ll know those eyes belong to a bigger being than a feline.”

“No, unfortunately I think my cat days ended back on The Road. Maybe I’ll resign as Life and actually get myself a name. I mean seriously. I’ve gone this long without one and it’s never bugged me before, but now…” She let herself get lost in her train of thoughts.

Rio smirked, remembering the reason why she picked a name was because she wanted to grow closer to Agatha before telling her the truth. She had managed to fall in love with the witch from the first sight. “I bet you’ll figure a lot out when you see Lilia again.” 

Life shrugged it off for now, maybe Rio was right and she would figure it all out in the shop. Bidding her goodbyes to the reunited family and leaving them to make their first meal together. Although she did leave the house buzzing with lively warmth, a final gift for the three to live in.

Now it was a matter of Life finding out her path from here.

~

Chapter 8.

[slaymitchabernathy]

The Witch

| "And I'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out. I'm miles away, he's on my mind, I'm getting tired of crawling all the way. And I've had enough, it's obvious, and I'm getting tired of crawling all the way." |

He finds his way to the cabin under the cover of the moonlight, a heavy feeling weighs on his chest. On one note, Coriolanus is almost honored to be trusted with a mission as important as this one. But on another, it all feels so wrong, Soarynn hasn't done anything, hurt anyone. From what she's told him, she's lonely yes, but she'd never hurt a fly.

Perhaps Hoff is blowing things out of proportion.

He finds Petunia sitting on the top step, her tail swishes back and forth when she sees him. They have somewhat of a mutual understanding now, she doesn't bite him, he doesn't kick her.

It's a symbiotic relationship.

Petunia meows when he pets her head, staying perched on the step. Soarynn says she keeps watch at night, since cats have better vision than humans do in the dark.

He quietly knocks on the door, hoping, praying that Soarynn isn't home tonight. To his chagrin, she opens the door, dressed in a nightgown, with her hair braided down her back. "Oh," she says, looking surprised to see him so late at night, "thought you were comin' around on Sunday."

Coriolanus shoves his hands in his pockets, "Just wanted to see you."

For someone who values honesty, it scares him how easily he can lie to her.

Soarynn smiles, soft and sweet. She's gotten to be much nicer to him, more trusting and open. "Well, come in, it's gettin' colder every night." She's right, the hot months of summer are well behind them, bringing a brisk air with October. He shuffles into the small house, closing the door behind him. If Petunia wants to come inside, she'll make it known by scratching at the door and yowling at the top of her lungs until someone opens it for her.

"I just put some tea on if you want any."

Coriolanus eyes the teapot, he's not really here for tea. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd read my palm again, I, I'm interested to see if there's anything else it might tell you."

Soarynn seems surprised at his statement. A few months ago he nearly ran out of here when she read his palm, but so much has changed since then.

They’ve changed since then.

“Sure, have a seat.”

Coriolanus sits in the wooden chair, resting the back of his larger hand against the table. If Soarynn can really read people’s palms, he wonders what else she can do. Can she read his thoughts? Can she tell the future?

Whatever she can do, it seems to make people like Commander Hoff very nervous, so nervous that he wants to see her hanging from the gallows.

Soarynn sits across from him, brushing her long blonde hair behind her ears as she leans forward, “You want me to read the same one?”

“Is there a difference?” He asks, thinking that surely it won’t matter which palm she reads. Soarynn nods, tracing a finger down the well-worn lines in his palm, “Each one tells me a different story.”

Well, what does he have to lose?

He places his other hand on the table, doing his best to keep it from shaking from his nerves. From his guilt. Soarynn says nothing about the shaking though, if she even notices it.

She studies his palm, the grooves it has from grabbing and holding things after almost nineteen years. She presses her finger against the longest one, "This means you'll have a long marriage, it'll last long is what I mean, won't have to worry about splittin' up."

Well that's a relief he supposes. Divorce is highly frowned upon in the Capitol and if Coriolanus wants to become President-which he does-he can't afford to stain his reputation with a nasty divorce. This is certainly good news. He already prefers this hand over the other one.

Soarynn continues reading his palm, "This one shows that you'll meet someone soon, a girl," she mumbles and he notices a slight blush on her cheeks. Does she think it's about her? He does his best to ease the tension growing between them, "How lucky she'll be then," he jokes, cracking a smile. Soarynn hums without returning the smile.

"This one says that you'll also break a heart."

Oh.

Breaking a heart can mean a lot of things though, like a friendship, not necessarily a romantic relationship. That's what he wants to think. Soarynn lets go of his hand, "That's all I can see."

Is it? Or is it all she wants to see?

Either way, he came here on a mission, on an assignment and he intends to see it through, even if it's horrible. "Have you ever been in love?" He asks, leaning back in the chair. Soarynn raises her eyebrows, they talk about many things when they're together, but never love.

Too sensitive for either of them.

"Can't say I have," she replies with a shrug, "most boys don't want much to do with me."

If he's going to do this, then he ought to do it the proper way, charm her, make her feel good at least. Give her one last final moment before her bitter end. So he grins, "Really? Then they're missing out."

Soarynn looks mildly uncomfortable with where this conversation is going. "I'm not really lookin' either," she adds, "for someone." That actually interests him, Coriolanus has always known that he'd need to find a suitable partner, but perhaps they don't have these goals in Twelve, or any of the Districts for that matter.

"If you had to create the perfect man, what would he be like?"

They're going into uncharted territory and just like when he was lost in the forest, Coriolanus has no map.

Soarynn shifts in her chair, pulling her knees to her chest and he involuntarily looks at her bare legs, smooth despite living in the woods. She must bathe and shave in the lake. That's good, there's nothing worse than an unkempt woman.

"Um, haven't really thought about it before if I'm bein' honest. Probably just someone who loves me for who I am, and someone who likes bein' outside."

So not him.

That's fine, perfectly fine in fact.

This way, he won't get more attached to her. "I'm sure you'll meet him one day," he tells her, ignoring the way she looks longingly at him from across the table. If she wants him to love her, she's shit out of luck. Coriolanus already knows he can't love, isn't capable of it, doesn't really want to do it either.

Love makes him weak.

He feels weak already when he's around her. She's so disarming, so pretty and kind. He's going to hell for what he's about to do to her.

"I forgot to tell you, I'm leaving in a couple of days."

Soarynn looks genuinely hurt by his lie, she needn't know that he's lying, it'll make this so much easier. "Where're you goin' then? Two?" Coriolanus grins, shaking his head, "Back home. That's really why I came to see you, to say goodbye."

Soarynn's entire body deflates, poor thing is going to be all alone again, or well, she thinks she's going to be all alone again.

And what will they do to spend their last night together?

"Oh, well, well I'm gonna miss seein' you out here then. It's been real nice havin' a friendly face come and visit me. I just wish I could give you somethin' as a gift."

His eyes travel along her collar bones, her bare shoulders with a thin night gown strap across them. "I can think of one thing," he says, leaning forward, "one thing you could give me Soarynn."

Soarynn sits up straighter, his intentions are clear.

It's her move now.

꧁ ꧂

Three hours later and Coriolanus is getting dressed again.

He can feel her watching him, those stormy blue eyes have always enchanted him, and he hopes that this will be his last memory of her. Sweet and innocent, and now, wholly his.

He didn't expect for her to be a virgin, figured a girl like her had probably slept with half the town for a few grimy coins but no, Soarynn was a sweet little secret. She gave in rather easily, desperate for some last bits of human companionship before he took off for home.

To his credit, he was gentle, patient, some might even say he was loving.

Her eyes were so wide when he slid into her cunt, so mesmerized by him, by his body, his confidence, his experience. Him. He guided her through the steps of losing one's virginity. He tasted her, wined and dined her like she was his last meal.

She basically was.

Despite the urge to fuck her like no tomorrow, he held back, taking things nice and slow, romantic even.

They kissed.

"When does your train leave?"

"Sunday," he lies, slipping his shirt back on, "that's why I came to see you tonight."

"Wish I could come and see you at the station," she says, and he turns, looking at the vision she is when she's naked in bed. While she is underfed, her body is just to his liking, soft and smooth, her breasts fit perfectly into his hands. It's a shame he only got to taste her once.

"It's probably for the best," he tells her, tucking his gun back into his waistband, "but thank you, for everything. I hope it all works out for you in the end."

Soarynn smiles up at him, so sweet and trusting, "I hope it all works out for you too. Maybe you could come and visit me and Petunia someday when you're rich."

Oh, Petunia. He hadn't even thought about the cat. What will she do when Soarynn is gone?

Coriolanus clears his throat, desperate to get out of here before his guilty thoughts consume him. "Yeah, well, I'll have to see. I better get going though."

Soarynn sits up in her bed, pulling the covers up to her chest, "Guess this is goodbye then," she says softly. Coriolanus nods, scratching the back of his neck, feeling the cold chain of his dogtags against his skin, "Here, for you to remember me by." He pulls the chain over his neck, holding it out to her.

Soarynn's fingers wrap around the silver chain, silver is a hard thing to find out here. "Thank you. Here, take this." She slides off one of her rings, she always wears rings, some shiny, some dull. This one though is special because she told him about it.

One of her mother's rings.

"I can't," he shakes his head, "it's your mother's."

"Take it," she insists, "you gave me the lighter that used to be your father's. It's the least I could give you."

She already gave him her virginity.

He takes the ring, sliding it onto his pinky, "Thanks."

Coriolanus leans down, pressing one more chaste kiss to her lips which she eagerly returns. He's been with a few girls, but never a girl like her.

Not every man can say that he slept with a witch.

꧁ ꧂

Three days later, a proper witch hunt takes place at night.

Coriolanus watched men load into trucks, with dogs on leashes and guns holstered to their hips.

He hoped Petunia would be able to get away at least.

He sits outside of his barrack, doing about anything to keep himself distracted while he thinks about Soarynn, if she got away, if they found her, if she knows what he's done to her.

Hoff had him make a map of where her cabin was, what it looked like on the inside. He told them everything.

All for a one-way ticket home.

"You've earned it son," Hoff had told him, patting his back, "get back home and forget this ever happened." He leaves at the end of the week.

Right now, he's picking at his nails, cut down for hygienic purposes, and he remembers how tightly she squeezed his hand while they had sex. How soft her hands were, how she giggled when they were done, and he wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the company of another human being for just a moment.

All he had reported back to Hoff was that she wasn't a virgin, and wasn't pregnant, the man didn't need to know anything else.

Suddenly, it's like he can hear every dog barking. Birds fly overhead and he swears they're barking too, or repeating, mimicking. Then, he hears it, a gunshot.

They found her.

꧁ ꧂

Desperate for a distraction, Coriolanus busies himself stacking empty crates by the mess hall, anything to keep his mind off of her. Dinner will be ready soon, the sun is setting and instead of coming back from another trip to the lake, he's here, wallowing in his shame.

The sound of trucks pulling up to the base is more than enough to make Coriolanus feel sick to his stomach. They're back.

He watches the trucks drive through the base one by one, loaded with dogs and Peacekeepers. He approaches the last one when he sees who's sitting in the front of the truck, Commander Hoff.

The Commander notices him instantly, grinning like a bobcat as he steps out of the truck, "Well son, we found her, put up one hell of a fight but we got her." There's a struggle from the back of the truck, a shout, a groan, and then, Soarynn falls out onto the ground. Coriolanus winces at the sound. Two Peacekeepers are on top of her in seconds, grabbing her by her bound arms and lifting her up as if she weighs nothing.

Hoff chuckles, shaking his head at the sight, "She's a wild one, don't know how you put up with her private."

Coriolanus swallows, everything Soarynn has ever known will soon be gone.

The Peacekeepers start to drag her away and she looks over her shoulder, her face is covered in dirt and blood, her hair tangled, her dress torn.

Their eyes meet across the courtyard and he feels shame flooding through his veins.

Her eyes reflect betrayal the same way the lake reflected lightning the night they met in that storm.

When she led the way for him, kept him dry, kept him safe.

Why couldn’t he do the same for her?

"She, uh, she had a cat," he says, his voice distant while watching them lead her away to the cells they keep the detained townspersons in. Mostly for being drunk in public. Now, it's for witches.

"Did you find the cat?"

"The white one? Yeah, we shot her."

Oh, Petunia.

Coriolanus can picture it now, Petunia trying to defend Soarynn in the chaos. The dogs barking, the men surrounding her cabin while Soarynn hunkers down in a corner, terrified out of her mind. Petunia would be on the top step, hissing and swiping at anyone in reach and then, the gun would go off.

It's like he was there to witness it, her small, white body limp on the steps. He can only imagine what Soarynn thought when she saw her feline companion, her loyal friend, dead on the steps to her house.

All because of him.

Now Petunia will rot away, eaten by animals who need a meal. Not buried, no, mourned yes, but not buried the way she should be.

"We'll hang her tomorrow, so rest up," Hoff encourages, "you did a great job helping us Snow, you should be very proud."

Instead of feeling proud, Coriolanus feels like the worst person in the world.

꧁ ꧂

Against his better judgment, Coriolanus goes to visit Soarynn in the cells. Barely any light seeps into the underground room, all concrete, no lake or sunshine, or birds and soft grass.

"Hasn't said a word since she got here," the guard tells him, waving his hand dismissively, "she knows her run is over."

Coriolanus wants to ask this man what "run" he is referring to. Was reading palms and sitting by the lake so bad? Did she really hurt anyone or was she just misunderstood?

He approaches her cell slowly, wrapping his hand around one of the iron bars once he sees her, curled up in the corner. He notices how her hands are still bound, and how there's a thick, metal shackle around her ankle.

She will not escape this.

When she looks up, her gaze is murderous.

"You lied to me," she whispers, her voice hoarse, probably from screaming and crying, "you betrayed me, and you lied to me, and you touched me and now, and now I'll never go home again, and Petunia," her voice breaks off when she mentions her beloved cat.

Coriolanus watches her sob, wishing so badly he could make this right, that he could go back in time and at least warn her. He could've done that, told her about Hoff's plan, left a note, helped her pack. She could've been far north by now, safe and sound.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, truly, he is.

"Go away," she croaks, "I'll be dead by the morning so just go away, no use to you now."

He sighs, it needn't be this way, not when she's about to die. "Soarynn," he starts, crouching down, "don't let it end like this, we still have time. We can talk things ou-"

"GO AWAY!" She screams, scaring him so bad that he falls back onto the ground, "GO AWAY AND NEVER COME BACK! YOU'RE CURSED! I CURSE YOU AND EVERYONE YOU KNOW. I CURSE YOUR WIFE, YOUR SONS, YOUR DAUGHTERS, EVERYONE! GO AWAY!"

For once, he is at a loss for words.

Her anger doesn't last long, it seems that screaming took the last bit of energy out of her, because Soarynn slouches back into her corner, soft sniffles can be heard, but his words will only hurt her further.

So Coriolanus leaves, cursed and cruel.

꧁ ꧂

"Citizens of Twelve, we are gathered here today to witness the hanging of the witch! A shunned woman who has caused havoc and dismay on Twelve for far too long!"

Coriolanus scans the crowd that has gathered to see Soarynn die. None of them cheer, all faces are solemn. Maybe she wasn't the witch they made her out to be.

"Let this be a message that the Capitol will not be challenged, living outside of our borders is unnatural and will result in execution. We have no tolerance for rebels," Hoff finishes in a snobbish tone.

Coriolanus turns when the rest of his fellow Peacekeepers do, all must bear witness to the witch dying. Soarynn keeps her composure calm, her face natural as she looks out into the crowd of people who knew her or knew of her all her life. She doesn't resist when another Commander guides her towards the noose or slips it over her neck.

In her last moments, she lets out a four note whistle, the same one she'd use to call Petunia back home. The birds in the forest must like this tune because they begin to repeat it in a melodic fashion, chirping it over and over again.

"Kill the witch!" Hoff commands.

Soarynn closes her eyes and it's done in a second, the floor gives out from underneath her, and he watches her neck snap like the stem of a daisy. He gasps, just like that, Soarynn is gone.

Mumurs can be heard through the crowd when her body is collected, they'll burn it next under Hoff's orders so she can't come back.

Coriolanus doesn't stick around for that part.

Instead, he ventures into the woods, desperate for a safe space to gather his thoughts. His feet carry him to the cabin without him even realizing it. It's a shocking sight. Every window broken, the steps in disrepair, the front door hanging off the hinges.

Coriolanus slowly climbs the steps and chokes back a sob when he sees her.

Petunia.

Her small little body lying in the doorway. He can see where she was shot, that fur stained red. Coriolanus sinks to his knees, gently picking up her lifeless frame, "I'm sorry," he whispers, choking back a sob, "I'm sorry I didn't protect you."

He failed to protect both of them, he could have but he didn't.

He looks into the cabin and finds the inside worse than the outside. Bedsheets thrown on the floor, glass frames shattered, the table knocked over. It's a mess.

Coriolanus manages to find one of the scarves Soarynn liked to wrap around her shoulders, a pretty orange thing, it will do nicely. He takes one last look at the cabin he might have considered home for a brief period of time before leaving.

He goes a little ways into the woods before stopping in a small clearing. He gently sets Petunia's body down and begins digging, it takes quite a while with his bare hands, but the ground is soft and his hands are already dirty, covered in blood literally and metaphorically.

Once the grave is deep enough, he carefully wraps Petunia in the scarf, so they can be together even in death.

"I hope you found each other again," he whispers, lowering her body into the ground. Burying her is much easier than digging was. He finds a few wild flowers and leaves them on top of her grave as well, it's what Soarynn would have wanted.

He doesn't stay much longer, he'll be leaving soon and he's not welcomed here anymore. He wonders if he ever was.

꧁ ꧂

"Good luck in the big city, Private."

Coriolanus gives Hoff a curt nod, today is the day, he's going back home. "Thank you sir, for everything."

"No, thank you, we couldn't have caught that witch if it weren't for you."

Coriolanus just nods again.

"Oh, we found this in her pockets before the hanging, figured the little brat stole it from you." In Commander Hoff's hand are his father's silver lighter and his dogtags.

Coriolanus pockets them, "Thank you, sir."

"Get home safe, Private."

Once on the train, Coriolanus feels a weight lifted off his chest, he can leave all of this behind, start a new life in the Capitol. The train pulls out of the station and he pulls out the lighter again, inspecting it for damage but finds none.

She took such good care of her things.

Now that cabin is empty. No more light or laughter, no more tea at night. No more Soarynn sleeping in her bed with Petunia curled up next to her. No more.

He stares at his palm again, "This one says that you'll also break a heart." Her voice is a painful echo in his mind, but she was right, he did break a heart.

His own.

Coriolanus scowls at his palm, at that silly little girl with her candles and her cat, living in those godforsaken woods. None if that was normal, none of it was natural. Now he's going back home to the Capitol, where there's order and the people are civil creatures.

He can't blame Soarynn for not knowing everything about him or the Capitol, all she's ever known is this sad life. But he knows one thing for certain.

Snow lands on top.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| Part 2. | Final Part |

| taglist: @lovelylove268 @kickmybark @iswearicanfixhim @wonderlandbound111 @melodyoflovee @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @erensrealgf @evilmenarehot @cervvsq @snowgirl12 @matcha-muses @anisangeldust @snowsgames |

[yunogf]

there's nothing like having ur boss chew u who is overworked and underpaid out for not doing enough :)

[svgarseason]

 𖹭 cw: suggestive, edgy, mdni

part one | two | three | four ‹soon›

You can't say you weren't warned about your big brother's friend sukuna, but nothing could have truly prepared you for him.

"Funny looking how?" You ask, arching an eyebrow.

"Just go to your room while he's here," your brother Toji urges. "Don't need you feeding his ego, goddamnit."

"He's funny looking and somehow my presence will feed his ego?" You deadpan, with zero inclination to forfeit your comfy spot on the couch. "Make it make sense, Toji. Or better yet, fuck off so I can finish this cover letter," you gesture at the open laptop sitting on your thighs. "Faster I can get out of this shithole, the better," you grumble.

Although, your brother's place is far from a shithole, in truth. You know better than to ask how he affords it doing nothing but fucking around with the sinister assortment of thugs he calls friends. In turn, he doesn't ask you about the unfortunate circumstances that landed you in one of his spare rooms... again.

Toji groans. "Yeah he gets off on scaring people. Especially girls. Especially hot girls. And, I suspect, especially girls who are related to me."

"Gross," you say, directing you attention back to the screen. "I'm not scared of your asshole friend and I'm not moving."

Toji opens his mouth to protest further, but too late. There is a loud knock on the door followed by it crashing open and thunderous footsteps coming down the hall.

Despite more than a little curiosity regarding your brother's funny looking friend, you manage to keep your eyes on your work.

Toji is grumbling some weak attempt to direct the visitor toward the "stuff" in the garage when a shadow falls over you. Still, you continue typing.

"Who's this?" A deep voice growls. "Not gonna introduce me?"

"Just my little sister. Leave her alone, Sukuna. She's a bitch anyway."

"Fuck you, Toji. And a preemptive fuck you to you, too, whoever you a- hey, ow!" You exclaim as the newcomer slams the laptop closed on your fingers. "What the h-" the exclamation dies on your lips when you finally raise your eyes to see the largest man you have ever seen looming over you.

He is a lot to take in. You silently curse Toji for not warning you properly. "Kind of funny looking" does not even begin to describe the thing standing before you. Four crimson eyes stare back at you, two of which are set in a twisted mass of keloid scar tissue that takes up most of one side of his tattoed face. Eyes aren't the only anatomical feature he has extra of, you notice. Two sets of muscular arms protrude from the cut off sleeves of his t-shirt.

It takes a lot to render you speechless, but the sight of him does the trick. Although, you can't help but think that the smirking bastard somehow makes the odd look work for him. Yeah. 'Circus sideshow level freak but kinda hot' would've been a better descriptor. Although you manage to hold the man's gaze, you're sure your eyes are as wide as saucers. To your horror, you feel heat creeping up your neck as your lip twitches in search of something - anything - to say that might lessen the humiliation you feel. And Toji was right, this jerk is eating it up.

"Toj said you were ugly, but jesus..." you say, when you finally regain your composure.

Sukuna laughs, flashing a set of pointed canines before he abruptly turns to follow your brother towards the garage.

"I like her," he says, hooking a thumb over his shoulder in your general direction, which, for some reason, makes your heart beat a little too hard.

"No, man." Toji groans. "Just no."

part one | two | three | four ‹soon›

[reiderwriter]

☎️ Don't Call Me ☎️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you find accidental comfort in your coworker. With your phone ringing nonstop, you're willing to do whatever it takes to start fresh.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, bug mentions (cockroaches), cheating, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight spanking, mentions of masturbation. Dom! Spencer.

A/N: Haha... hi guys... been a while 😚 Please enjoy the fic I dreamed up over a month ago now, and was finally able to conjure up!

Masterlist

If you were to be asked how you assumed a five-year-long relationship would end, you'd likely say something like irreparable differences. Maybe a difference in lifestyle, growing out of love, or even different plans for the future. Unfortunately, the irreparable difference your boyfriend had chosen at 10 pm on a Thursday evening was being balls deep in an irreparably different woman. 

You supposed you should've seen the signs the relationship was drawing to a close and likely you did, but with your job itself being a life or death situation almost daily, you really didn't have much time to worry about the fact that your boyfriend was sowing his oats in other fields. Based on the look of the woman spread across your bed, the oats weren't that great for her either. 

Your reaction had been somewhat delayed, but curiously not as much as hers. She'd been wonderfully blasé about the man writhing on top of her before you started screaming and throwing things, and even now you were armed with a vase of flowers (dead - you'd bought them yourself before the case you'd been on for the last two weeks) she still looked slightly bored. But at least her legs were together now, and not gynaecologist level apart. 

Your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - managed to regain an ounce of dignity with a scrap of clothing, and did his best to shepard you out of the crime scene as you regained the ability to hold coherent thoughts that weren't about strangling him with his own tie. 

“Listen to me, please just for five minutes-” 

“Listen? I was just listening! To you moaning into that woman's shoulders with your eyes rolled back in your head!” 

It was as if in the last few minutes all the love you'd had for this man, all five years of relationship and comfort, and nights spent together had melted away in an instant. The rage dissipated, and you were surprisingly calm again, though that worried you, too. Surely you should be crying, or at the very least upset. You should be feeling some kind of emotion that wasn't a vague disgust at the man in front of you in full pooh bear mode, trying to tug down the hem of his shirt to cover the crown jewels. 

“It didn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything. She's just - You're gone so long on cases, and I just-” 

“So you're saying it's my fault you're cheating on me?” 

“Yes! No, wait, no, no, no, no-” 

“No, heard loud and clear, I'll try not to save lives in the future, I'm sure the BAU will understand I should be on my back 24 hours a day instead, taking all four inches you have to donate to my worthy cause.” 

“Y/N, don't be like that,” he said, exasperated. Whatever he had to be exasperated about, you had no idea. Maybe blue balls. 

“Like what?”

“Like a bitch!” 

The room went still with silence as you let him sit with the words he'd just spoken, willing him to snap back quickly so you could keep even just a shred of respect for him. 

No such apology came. 

“I'm leaving now. I expect your things packed and out of here by 12 pm tomorrow, including your thing in the bedroom. Don't bother cleaning the sheets. Just burn them. Lock the door and post the keys through the letterbox when you're done.” 

“Y/N, I told you it's not like that, I still love you, come on-” 

“Well I don't love you. And please go put some fucking pants on.” 

You stepped back over the threshold of your apartment - the lovely, nice apartment you'd been living in for the last eight years, your nice safe space - and you shuddered. 

The question wasn't exactly what next, but more like where next. What next was sending a group text in your ex-boyfriends family chat telling them what you'd walked in on, and then leaving the chat before you could get any response. The where would be a harder sell. 

From this part of the city, it'd take 2 hours to get to Penelope’s apartment, especially at this time of night without a car. Emily's apartment was similarly far. Going through a list of your coworkers again, you mentally crossed off Tara, who'd been injured on your last case and was resting at her girlfriend's apartment, Luke, who despite the promised comfort of a cute dog, you were absolutely sure didn't have a spare bed, and all members of the team with spouses and/or children. Which left just Spencer and Rossi. 

Needless to say, you found your way to Spencer's apartment in only 20 minutes, though you were sure you had disassociated the entire thing. 

Knocking on the door, you felt a little bit awkward, but not awkward enough to leave and find a hotel at nearly 11 pm. Your last case hadn't been a pleasant one, hotel-wise, and you weren't exactly eager for another check-in.

Spencer opened the door quickly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he found you there  but only for a brief flash before his face brightened up. 

“Y/N? Do we have a case again? I thought Hotch said-” 

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted, needing to get the words out as quickly as possible before you convinced yourself to walk away. 

Spencer took a moment to take in your words, and you took the opportunity to look at him then. He was fully clothed at least, and you were glad to find that his pajamas looked comfortable and clean. A simple plaid cotton pant with a soft-looking white long sleeved shirt pushed up his arms slightly. He'd taken out his contacts and put on his glasses, and you wondered if you'd caught him mid-book. 

“Please?” you added in a hopeful voice as he still looked at you slightly confused. 

“Oh, of course,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing inside. “Is there something wrong with your apartment?” he asked, taking your go-bag from you without question and guiding you into the main living space of his apartment. 

“Thank you, yeah. Something like that. Shoes off or on?” 

“I have some slippers. You can take them off. What happened?” he said, placing the slippers in front of you and turning back to bolt the door. 

“Invasive species?” You said, trying to sound as nonplussed as possible  despite now feeling incredibly plussed.

“Oh, bugs? Yeah, I've had a cockroach or two in the apartment before. Did you know that the average female cockroach can produce up to 10,000 offspring in a single year?” 

You sat on his couch quietly, trying not to imagine 10,000 cockroaches and failing nearly spectacularly. Unfortunately, the only image that could surpass tiny cockroach babies was of your boyfriend pounding away at another woman. Which was just a brilliant move for your psyche. 

“Spencer, I know I've really intruded here tonight, but do…. Do you wanna drink with me?” You asked, hoping to drown at least a memory or two of the last 24 hours. Hopefully, the cheating one, but you'd take cockroach extermination as well.

A slightly worried look settled on Spencer's face, but he said nothing and nodded, walking to his kitchen, grabbing two beers and meeting you back on his loveseat. 

“Oh you really have beer here!” You exclaimed, thanking him for the beverage before cracking it open and taking a sip. 

“Morgan came over with some to celebrate 6 months out of prison. These are leftovers.” 

“Right… right…” 

The first few sips were so painfully awkward that you thought about returning back to your apartment and just sleeping on your own couch. 

Vaguely, you felt Spencer watching you, taking a sip of his drink for every sip you took of yours. 

“So…” you said, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow again, already questioning whatever was about to come out of your mouth. 

“So?”  he asked. You weren't sure if it was the beer, the look on his face, or the crazy implosion of the last 5 years that had you giggling all of a sudden. You were just glad that when you cracked up, he cracked a smile as well, and a little bit of the tension went away. 

“Why are you really here, YN?” 

You took a deep breath and looked straight forward at the bookshelves Spencer had lovingly filled. Maybe this had taken him half a decade as well, so he'd understand how your life felt a little bit like a wobbly bookshelf at that second. 

“The invasive species I mentioned? It was the woman screwing my boyfriend in my bed. Ex. Ex-boyfriend.” 

You heard the intake of breath from Spencer before he put his can down and started thinking of something to say in reply to that. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh… Y/N, I-” 

A shrill ringing cut him off, and you were almost glad to not be on the receiving end of whatever pitiful words he was about to push on you, until you checked the caller ID and saw your ex's name. 

“Don't pick that up,” Spencer said as you hesitated towards the phone. With a hand over yours, he flipped the phone over, locking eyes with you as he let it ring out. 

“He's just going to try it again.”

“Let him.” 

You nodded, breaking eye contact and sinking back into Spencer's slightly wilted couch cushions. 

“In your bed? Really?” he asked, talking another sup as you took a gulp, letting the beer fizz down your throat before you could answer.

“I told him to expect me tomorrow because of how the case was looking. I guess he wasn't expecting me.” 

“I think that was a given. Unless he was into that. Exhibitionism is one of the most common kinks among adult males, and-” 

“Oh he was not into exposing himself,” you laughed into your drink, propping your head up on your hand and turning to face Spencer more. He shot another questioning glance but didn't push the issue, so you silently explained as well. By pinching your fingers together to the approximate size of your ex-boyfriend's dick. 

“Oh. Well, it's not the size that counts?” He whispered almost ironically as he took another sip, now much closer than before. You'd done your best to distance yourself from your boyfriend even as he'd followed you through your apartment half naked, but you didn't seem to find Spencer's proximity threatening at all. 

Maybe because he wasn't having sex with a random woman in your bed 5 seconds before. 

“You wanna know the worst part?” You said, leaning closer as if to tell him an even bigger secret. “He didn't even know how to use it. I haven't-” 

Another phone call blasted through, and you grabbed your phone and put it behind you. 

“He's really great at interrupting conversation when it’s just getting good,” Spencer laughed, but you were slightly disappointed that he'd leaned back away now. 

“What was it you were saying?” He asked, taking a swig of beer again, can nearing its close. 

“I haven't had an orgasm in almost three years,” you said bluntly, watching the most genuine spit take you’d seen in your life. You pat Spencer's back as he coughed up inhaled beer, bringing your feet up under you into a cosier position. 

“Okay now?” you asked as his breathing returned to normal. 

“No? Three years, Y/N? Really?” 

You shrugged and looked away  almost embarrassed to be meeting his eyes now that your sexual history was the topic of the night. 

“We had sex. He's just… he's just a really lazy lover. It'd be the same stuff every time. Handjob to some clumsy fingers missing my clit, a few pumps and cum on my face. I wasn't exactly initiating seven days a week in the hopes that this time he'd be able to locate it.” 

Spencer was somewhere between horror and trying not to laugh, eyes wide with either alarm or the strain of having to keep it in. 

“It's okay, you can laugh,” you said, but he shook his head politely.

“Y/N, I was in prison and still had more orgasms than you this year.” 

“Hey, I hear prison is a great place to meet new people. Have new experiences.”

Spencer shot you a quickly horrified look as his cheeks flushed with heat. “Y/N, I was not someone's bitch in prison.” 

“Why not? You're pretty enough for it?” 

You'd meant the line to come across as teasing, just as you'd expected the finger now twisted in a lock of his hair, playing with him, to come off as teasing as well. 

But you felt a definite throb between your legs when he looked at you again, doubly so when his eyes darted down to your lips. 

You cleared your throat and tried for a teasing tone once again. 

“So you made someone else your bitch?” you smiled, trying to drag his eyes away from your lips before you did something you'd regret. 

“No. I… I spent a long time in solitary, and there's… there's really not that much to do.” 

“So you did yourself?” 

The tips of his ears were scarlet when you finally decided to back off, tucking the curl of hair behind his ear and letting him cool off. 

“Why didn't you masturbate then?” he asked, pouting slightly still from your interrogation. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your boyfriend couldn't make you cum, but a vibrator probably could. But you still haven't had an orgasm in three years. Why is that?” 

It was your turn to feel the heat, the warmth from the beer finally reaching your head. 

“He didn't want me to.” 

You didn't mean for the words to sound as sad as they did. The fact itself was just incredibly sad. Your boyfriend saw anything vaguely phallic shaped as competition and had encouraged “organic” coupling instead. 

You waited for Spencer to say something else, anything else as you held his gaze, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and him to start talking down to you as if you were simply a victim of the worst sex in the world. 

Instead, he said “so did that other woman look as miserable as you've been for the last three years?” and the spell was broken. 

You laughed so hard, you nearly choked on the beer you'd already finished. This time, it was Spencer's turn to land a hand on your back as you winded yourself with laughter. 

“She looked bored! She looked genuinely bored. I almost thought it was just a lifelike doll, she was that unphased,” you kept giggling between gasps, forcing the words out as you threw your head onto Spencer's shoulder, hand landing on his thigh as you finally calmed down. 

“I'd be horrified if anyone looked bored while in bed with me,” came Spencer's voice, and a little shiver ran down your spine as the rasp of his whisper rang in your ear. 

You looked up from his shoulder and caught his eye immediately. If you wanted to, you could lean up by a centimetre and catch his lips with yours. And you suddenly, very much wanted to do that. 

A final shriek of your phone behind you deterred you for a few seconds, and you were about to work yourself up to scooting a little bit away from Spencer when he leaned over you, grabbed the phone, and hung up on your boyfriend. 

“Do you want to cum, Y/N?” he asked, as quietly as before as his hands traced over you on their return journey to him. He looked down your body, eyes greedily drinking in your breasts, hips, thighs and legs tucked into his side on his couch. 

You didn't know what you were going to respond when your head practically nodded by itself. Enthusiastically. 

He doesn't immediately pull you in for a kiss, and you're worried for a beat that he meant that only as a hypothetical and not an invite. A final cry from your phone has you standing in seconds, completely detached from Spencer, and the nearly embarrassing moment you pouncing him would've been.

“I should probably take it this time,” you explained, turning slightly. 

But Spencer was faster than you, if not more prepared for what was to come. Wrapping an arm around your waist, Spencer tugged you back, pulling you onto his lap. When you were firmly situated - ass over his now evidently firm cock - he grabbed the phone out of your other hand, hung up and put it in his pocket. 

“Spencer, I-I don't think that's a good idea,” you gasped as his hands slowly progressed up to your chest, and his lips dropped to your neck, biting and sucking along whatever flesh was easy for him to access. 

“You need to cum. You deserve to cum, Y/N. I'm just here to help. Use me.” 

You stifle a sharp, quick moan, biting your lips and thanking God that he couldn't see the face you made when his hips ground his cock up into your ass. 

“I'm probably not ready for this,” you stuttered slightly, breath departing your body quicker than it could arrive. 

“Probably not.”

“We work together, too. It would be awkward.”

“It might,” he nodded. “But you still want to.” 

You couldn't help the moan, finally letting it free as you tossed your head back and clawed at his forearm, wrapped around you. 

Your ass had a mind of its own, grinding back into him in circles as his hands found their way under your shirt, inquisitive fingers stroking your nipples through your bra. 

“S-Spencer,” you whimpered again, legs spreading apart as you felt that familiar warmth settle between them. He didn't miss the longing in your tone, the shift in your core, pushing one hand down your stomach and trailing it onto your thigh. 

It was as close as he could get with your pants still on, tight against your skin. He squeezed your thigh,  still licking and sucking at your neck before his hand rose to the clasp of your pants. 

It took him a long lime to fumble with them, and you thought of helping multiple times but you let yourself get distracted by the tense definition of his muscles, the rigid line of his body as he strained to please you. 

Your mind fogged with lust, and you felt the vibrations from his pocket right under you when your phone rang again. You practically jerked up in shock as pleasure hit you in a wave, Spencer's fingers finally dipping into your panties just as the vibrations hit you. They weren't centred, of course, not anywhere close to where you needed them to be for you to enjoy them the way you would a toy, but that's what Spencer was for. 

He let the call ring out, tracing small, slow circles over your clit as you jumped up into his hand, moaning and whimpering the entire time. 

“What an idiot. I bet he never touched you like this. Nice and slow.”

“N-no, S-s-” 

“I'm so glad I'm right. He didn't deserve this beautiful cunt. You're so wet for me, right, baby?” You nodded and he hummed in response, voice low and making you pulse in his lap. 

“That's it, good girl,” he whispered as you worked your cunt up and down his fingers, stilling himself so you could find your own pleasure. 

“Spencer… Spencer, fuck-” 

With his free hand, he turned your face to the side and finally kissed you properly as you moaned into his mouth. He was quick to deepen the kiss, to press his tongue against the seam of your mouth and enter your mouth, quickly dominating you as you let yourself get more and more excited. Your hips stuttered, out of rhythm and out of practice, and you almost whimpered in frustration that you couldn't get off quicker, that your body wasn't finding the orgasm quick enough despite how good, how perfect this felt.

Sensing your growing frustration, Spencer broke the kiss. 

“Come with me,” he said, pulling his hands away from your wet cunt and out of your stupid pants and encouraging your hips up until you were stood and he was stood behind you. 

Cock still firmly stood against your ass, he walked you all the way to his bedroom, hands on your hips the entire time, memorising the sway of your walk. 

“Strip and get on the bed, please, Y/N,” he said, finally peeling himself away from you as you nodded quickly and listened to him immediately. You weren't sure what to expect, so you hesitated, laying down, crawling up until your head hit the pillows. You were almost disappointed when you finally looked back at Spencer and he was still fully clothed, so sure that he was going to fuck you to your climax. 

Instead, he approached the bed, gently slid his arms around your thighs, opened your legs wider, knelt on the floor and brought your cunt to his face. 

The first touch of his to guess to your clit had you almost beside yourself with lust. You'd been sexually active for a handful of years, and this - THIS - was the first time you'd experienced such acute pleasure. 

Your hips were unable to stop, thrusting up into his face as you willed his tongue to engulf you, to be a tool in your pleasure. 

Again your phone rang, but he grabbed it quickly, pausing only a second to silence it and discard it on the bed beside you, sitting it further up the bed where it would no longer be a distraction to him. 

He dove right back in, and you rewarded him with wave after wave of fierce moan, your writhing body only restricted by a hand snaked up onto his stomach. You still pushed against his face, practically fucking it as he flattened out his to guess and let you chase your high. 

“Spencer!” You gasped and moaned, voice dripping with lust and desperation, mouth not even properly forming words now you were so close. 

You propped yourself up slightly, looking down as Spencer's eye caught your own, his chin slick with your juices, his eyes dripping with lust. You grabbed a handful of his hair and jumped that little bit faster as you felt that long forgotten whisper of pleasure, that all-encompassing explosion of satisfaction, and you came apart on Spencer's tongue. 

“Thank you, thank you, Spencer, shit, thank you,” you whimpered, falling back again into the bed as you rode out the high. When you managed to open your bleary eyes again, Spencer was propped up above you, but instead of paying you attention, he'd grabbed your phone and bought it to his ear. 

“You heard that? Good. I'm sure you're aware now that she won't be returning your calls tonight. Goodbye.” 

His voice, his words, were like a cold bucket of water to your brain as you sat up, reaching for him and finding him as his hips circled your waist. 

“Was that-?” He cut you off with a kiss  a sweet, soft one. 

“Yes.” He kissed you again  and you melted into his touch as he pulled you into his lap again. 

“H-He-” 

“He knows now what a real orgasm sounds like. He knows you're not interested anymore. He knows you're mine now.” 

You shivered at the words, your lust addled brain flooding your senses, and your cunt as you reacted to the possessiveness of his words, his tone. Part of you was turned on by the exhibitionism as well. You'd had to walk in on your ex boyfriend completely exposed, and there was satisfaction in kicking him to the curb with a similar fuck you. A fuck you that you'd enjoyed a lot. 

You pressed your lips against Spencer's and rocked your hips against him again, tasting yourself on his tongue as he laid you down once more. His cock twitched against your leg as he propped you up on the pillows, and your hands trailed down to show it some attention as your sighed into his kiss.

He eagerly shed his clothes, first his top, sitting up and pulling it over his head, giving you a deliriously enticing shot of his chest and soft stomach before dropping down to cover your body again. You let your hand find the sprinkling of hair on his lower stomach, though, following it down as you encouraged his pants off. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand, and you gladly stroked it as he kissed the plains of your body again. He found the side of your neck that he'd neglected earlier, licking and sucking until it was almost as loved as the first side, before pulling your hand away from his cock. 

You pouted and began to protest when he quickly lined his cock up with your cunt, and slid in deep and soft before you could. 

“Needed to be in you,” he whispered in your ear, gripping your hips and sliding your legs up and around him as he pushed that little bit deeper. “Keep them nice and wide for me,” he said, dropping one last kiss to your lips, before his chest rose, and his hips pulled away again. 

When they snapped back into you, you let out a generous scream of pleasure that almost had you wishing you'd never hung up. He set a quick pace, a furious pace as he too moaned into the contact of your cunt and his cock, two desperate people searching for release. 

“So tight, Y/N, you're so tight,” he moaned, flesh hitting flesh as you dug your nails into his arms, already so wet again, you could feel the sheets under you growing damp. His hand left its perch on your hip and found its way to your clit once again, and you knew that you weren't going to be able to keep to this pace without cumming a second time. 

“Keep moaning for me baby, show me how much you want it,” his voice begged, almost a rumble with how lustful he sounded. You let your voice carry, each moan a little bit more unrestricted than the last. 

“Louder, Y/N, please. I want to hear how much you're enjoying this, you don't know how much I enjoy hearing your pleasure.”

His prayers were answered when he lowered his head back down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth between licks and sucks. You practically screamed his name, pressing your chest up to grant him better access. 

You liquefied beneath him, pressure building and building until you felt him rock, lifting his chest as you came. He pulled his cock out, teasing it through your folds as you stuttered around him, your arousal squirting across his cock and sheets as you fell back to the bed, gasping in pleasure. Your hips stuttered against him, and he soothed you gently, still working his cock through your folds gently as your clit went from overwhelmed to calm to quickly overstimulated. 

“Spencer,” you whimpered, almost unable to take all the pleasure he was offering you. “Spencer, it-it hurts.” 

“Don't you want me to stop?” He asked, stopping his movements for a second as you deliberated your answer. The lack of movement was answer alone, and you shook your head no wanting to feel his cock against you, inside you, one more time. 

“Louder, Y/N, tell me what you want.” 

“I want to keep going,” you said, as he began slowly rocking his cock against you again, sticky from your cum. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, teasing a nipple with his hand as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Please fill me up again, please I want to cum again.” 

“One more time?” He asked.

“Mhmmm… one more… one more, please.” 

You were cum drunk, so horny that you couldn't fathom stopping there. He pressed another kiss to your lips and encouraged you to flip over, propping a pillow under your stomach as he pulled your legs into the right position. 

You snuggled into the pillows at your head, pushing your ass up for him slightly as he nudged his cock against your entrance once more. 

“Where should I cum  Y/N?” He asked, reaching under you to slowly circle your clit again. 

“H-hmmm…” you said, eyes shut, focused more on the pleasure than the question. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care where he came, just as long as he let you do it, too. 

“Y/N, I expect an answer. Where should I put my cum?” 

“Anywhere,” you pouted, pressing your hips back into his cock in the hopes that he'd just fuck you again already. 

“That's not an answer,” he said, gently slapping your ass as he pulled his cock away. 

“On your back?” He asked, fingers still working your clit underneath, but trailing lower until they found your cunt, two entering you to keep you wet and stretched for him. 

“You'd need to shower before you could pass out, but I'm happy to help clean you off. They have communal showers in prison, so I'm not shy.” You moaned at the suggestion but couldn't answer further. 

“On your stomach? Again we'd have to shower off, but I would love to see your boobs decorated all nicely.” Your moans were whimpers now as he edged you with his fingers, his words gentle in your ear but dripping with so much lust and promise you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to make decisions anymore. 

“On your face?”

“Not on my face,” you snapped quickly, and he nodded and stroked your hair, hooking a strand behind your ear as he agreed. 

“Okay. Where, Y/N? Be a good girl and tell me.”

“I-Inside. Cum inside me. Please.” 

“Of course. Good job.”

He pulled his hand free gently, and quickly replaced it with his thick cock, and you moaned again at the weight of it against your walls, the familiar stretch of it. In this position, he reached deeper somehow, his thrusts slower, more precise as he drew out his own orgasm as long as possible, maximising his ability to pleasure you. 

“Good girl,” he muttered against your skin, dropping a kiss to your back. “Good girl.” 

“Wanted to do this for so long, Y/N,” he confessed with each thrust. “Look at how pretty this pussy is, how wet it is for me. I wish your boyfriend could see it. I wish he could see how well-behaved you are for me. How nicely you take my cock.” 

His deep, slow strokes, his words, the kisses he pressed against any inch of your skin he could reach combined to push you over the edge a third and final time. This one wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was a steady shudder of pleasure from your hips and a quiet, satisfied sigh. 

You didn't say anything  but Spencer knew, he felt it, and he came moments after, cock deep inside as he filled you with his cum. 

“You're on birth control, right?” 

“IUD. Pill. Yeah.” You say between breathy sighs of contentment.

Muttering something behind you, he pulled out finally, leaving for a minute to grab a washcloth and clean himself off before returning to help you as well. 

“What did you mumble?” You asked, as he crawled back into your arms, looking up at him. 

“What?” He asked, ears turning slightly pink as you stared at him intently. 

“Just now. I told you I was on birth control, and you mumbled something.” 

He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze before dropping to kiss you sweetly once again. 

“Tell me,” you said, and he kissed you again. 

“Spencer, tell me,” you pouted, and he kissed the pout away. 

You almost asked again, but he kissed you too quickly, too deeply  and you lost your breath again. 

“I said,” he started, leaving you panting under him again. “It was good you're on birth control, because I like the sight of my cum dripping out of you.” 

The remaining breath left your body as you gasped, your face growing hot. You burrowed your face in his chest and let him hold you as you drifted into sleep, wrapped up in each other. 

[homunculus-argument]

Sometimes in therapy I feel like I don't have trauma in some correct sort of way. Like I'll be explaining that my childhood wasn't even really traumatic, just kind of bleak and boring. The worst my parents ever made me feel was disappointed, but not surprised. it was all so very mundane. And whenever some therapist asks me what I mean, I'll tell some random story that I happen to remember off the top of my head of what my childhood was like, or one that I think illustrated what kind of people my parents were and what their relationship was like.

Like this one time I remember when I was like 10 or so, I can't remember where we were going but the whole family was getting into the car, and dad started bitching at mom about how come when their first car was in his name, it was their car, and then when they had their own cars they had his car and her car, but now that they only have one car again, it's still just her car.

And then mom bitterly pointed out that the reason why he doesn't have a company benefit car anymore is because he lost his lisence for driving drunk with the kids on board while she was on a business trip. (And while mom didn't bring it up at the time, he had also tried to cover this up and act like nothing had happened. And she wouldn't have found out if my (11/12-year-old at the time?) sister hadn't thought of calling one of mom's friends like "hey cops showed up and took dad so we're home alone now idk what we're supposed to do now" and she came to watch us and told mom.)

...And I was like 10 and sitting quietly on the back seat listening to them bickering about this because they still both bothered to be mad about it. Not mad enough to get divorced or anything, but still bitter enough to bitch at each other about each other. And a therapist will be like wow how did that make you feel, and ???

Bored of it? Disappointed, but not surprised? That was just what life was like. Quietly waiting for bitter adults to be done bickering with each other because you can't do anything to fix this and while they could, they won't do anything to improve their lives. Life was just like that.

[mostly-imagines]

The Alchemy vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood

part one

warnings: depictions of blood and injury, standard gotham violence, jason doesn't know how to have feelings, reader is angry, threats against readers life, implied concern of sexual assault

It might be a matter of deficiency in self-preservation skills, how the sound of your window sliding open does nothing to phase you. You don’t know if that’s your fault or his.

“How’s it goin’ down there?” You mumble, not sitting up from your position on the couch.

He pushes the window shut in his wake, huffing. “I am up here for a reason,” he says factually.

You crane your head back just in time to see him tug the red helmet off his head, setting it down on your side table. He has on his under-mask that covers the lower half of his face. You don’t like that one.

He glances around your apartment as he approaches with slow steps. “Why are all the lights off?”

“Forgot to turn ‘em on,” you tell him simply.

He frowns at you, confusion evident.

You pay him no mind though, taking an exaggerated breath and pushing yourself up off the couch before trotting over to the kitchen. You open the fridge and scrummage for a water bottle. Jason thinks it’s odd how long it takes you to find one in your own fridge. 

Once it's (eventually) in your hands, you chug down several gulps and toss the half empty bottle towards the counter where it lands with a sloppy thump and rolls.

When you return, he’s leant against the armrest of your chair, watching you. You stop in the middle of the room, a contemplating stare on the floor. He tilts his head at you, wondering what you could possibly be thinking so hard about.

You take a deep breath before plopping down to lay on the carpet all in one go. 

He peers down at you, barely trying to hide his amusement. “You’re drunk.”

You shake your head, “I’m not sober.”

“That’s—yeah.” He stands all the way, coming to lay down on the floor next to you, using significantly more coordination than you had.

He lays in between you and the couch, though it doesn’t seem you’d left him much room. If he minds, it doesn’t show. “What’d you do?”

“I jus’ went out with my friend,” you tell him, closing your eyes. “She moves pretty fast..”

It occurs to him that you might be laying on the ground because you got nauseous. He turns to look at you, scanning you over. “You good?”

“I feel great,” you keen. “I feel…swooshy.”

He gives you a bemused look. “Dizzy?”

You shake your head with a great deal of consideration on your face, “No, not even dizzy, just…swoosh.” You throw out a hand with a theatrical flick.

“Mhm.”

You pucker your lips to the side. “You come here a lot,” you comment, clearly working up to some greater observation.

“You’re in my neighborhood,” he shrugs. 

Your head tilts, “You live here?”

He pauses before correcting himself, “My territory.”

You hum, “Still. There has to be other people around here you know. ‘Specially if you’re passing out on balconies on the reg.”

He frowns, “I try not to make a habit out of it.”

You continue on, “Why do you always go to my apartment? There’s—”

“I don’t always come to your apartment—”

You deadpan, “You’re here like three nights a week. And I don’t even help you that much anymore, you’ve used up my whole first aid kit.”

You can literally feel the eyeroll like you have a sixth sense for it. “That thing wasn’t exactly impressive to start with..”

“Did enough for you, didn’t it? Anyways, my point is: I think you like me,” you say with a nod.

That has him going absolutely rigid, “What?”

“I’ve heard you’re an asshole.”

“What?”

You nod, “Like, people that run into you. They say you’re kind of a dick. You help ‘em ‘n everything, but also while being a dick. Sometimes.”

“Okay...”

“But you’re nice to me. Sort of,” you squint. “I think you like me.”

He hasn’t felt this straggled in a conversation in a while. “I—well I’m not here because you’re a world-class medic.”

You scoff, “There’s no world-class medics..” But then your tone switches up, into something lighter. “We’re friends aren’t we? I think we’re friends.” 

He shakes his head, staring up blankly. “Sure, we’re friends.”

“We’re friends and you like me,” you reiterate.

He really wishes you’d stop saying that. “Okay.”

“I like you too. Even though you’re kinda sketchy.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

You hum into the silence, looking up at the ceiling. “J…James, Jack, John…”

He smiles, gaze dancing across the egg-whitened popcorn texture of the ceiling. “I’m not going to tell you.”

You ignore him, “Jake, Jaden, Jason, Josh, Joe, Jesse…”

You’re about three shots too drunk to notice the way he briefly stiffens. 

“Juuhhh…” you lull your head to the side, the letter fading out slowly as you look into his eyes. If you focus, you think you can make out a few of those little specks of green again.

He seems to already be running his own study on your irises, his eyes now softer than you can remember seeing them before. 

His next words are whispered, the sounds barely escaping. “You’re pretty.”

What?

“What?”

“What?” He seems taken aback by his own words, like he also wasn’t expecting them to climb out of his mouth.

You can literally feel sobriety seeping back into your blood. “I’m…pretty?”

He blinks a few times, apparently trying hard to decide on what position he’s going to take here. “I—well…yeah.”

You blink once, relaxing. “I think…I think you’re pretty too.”

“What?”

“We can’t do this again.”

He breaks eye contact, looking almost dejected.

You turn your head down to where his hand thrums against the carpet. “I mean, I know I haven’t seen your whole face in one go, but I see the top half now and the bottom before, so I…maybe I shouldn’t be saying this.” You reset with a shallow breath, “I don’t know what your whole face looks like.”

“That was,” he blinks, eyebrows raised. “Fascinating.”

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You close your eyes again, though this time you remain facing him.

He feels a slight pang of guilt for the way he continues to ogle at you, eyes tracing over every detail of your face. But that ounce of guilt does nothing to outweigh the reward of gazing upon you. He didn’t mean to say it but he definitely meant it: you’re really fucking pretty.

Your eyelashes flutter for a moment before stilling, a display of peace washing over your features. It’s when your breathing steadies over and your face relaxes completely is when he starts to feel like a creep. It takes a lot of strength for him to force his eyes shut, depriving himself of the view.

And he doesn’t do it on purpose, but after a few moments his inhales and exhales take to the same rhythm of yours. The thin layer of the rug isn’t doing much to protect his back from the hardwood below and he’s pretty confident later he’ll curse himself for lying like this for so long. 

But as he lays, he doesn’t find himself focused on the dark red-gray of his eyelids like usual, so much as the warmth from the proximity of your bodies. He’s usually so concentrated on whatever the hell is going on in his head and it prevents him from really truly resting, but now, the only thing taking up his attention is physical sensations.

He feels this warmth in his heart that if he didn’t know any better, he’d call burning. His hands feel numb and he can distinctly feel the beat of his own heart in his chest, thrumming away.

He presses his lips to your forehead with a feather light touch, slow to pull away. He doesn’t make it all the way back to his original position before his movement lulls and his body relaxes again, joining you gladly in unconsciousness.

Gotham City has a particular gift for inconveniencing you at the worst possible moment and doing it multiple times a week.

Tonight's round of problems resulted in an entire city district getting shut down, the district which is regrettably right between your job and your apartment.

So on top of having to hole up into your work for two hours longer than you were supposed to, it took you an extra 45 minutes getting home while trying to maneuver around every other person in the same situation. And just to cement the quality of this night, the door to your apartment building slams nice and hard against your side and the light in the hallway is out.

You groan when you fail to get your key the lock the right way for the third time, lodging it in a final time and shoving the door open. You flick on the kitchen light and dump your bag onto the counter, kicking the door shut behind you.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed, as you lean your head back against the wall. The second you crack your eyes open again, a pile of red mass on the floor behind your couch catches your attention and startles some energy right back into your chest.

“Oh, shit,” you scurry over towards the window, crumbling down onto your knees in front of him. Your eyes dart across the red helmet, trying to makeout any signs of consciousness. “Hood?” 

There’s no response from him, no movement. You tug his helmet off, finding him eyes-closed with blood running down the side of his head. You push a hand down on his chest armor, shaking him. “J? J!”

His eyes flutter open slowly under his domino mask, adjusting to the light. With the disorientation on his face he looks younger, more his age. His hair is tousled up and you can make out some distinct curls in it when it's undone like this. 

He grimaces, gloved hand coming up to his head. He looks wearily at the blood on his fingers, before plopping his hand back down and blinking up at you. “Hey..”

You sit back on your heels with a sigh, “What the fuck?”

He makes a strained effort to sit up on his own so you try to heave him up by his forearm. As he comes up all the way you glance behind his back at a bag crumpled discarded on the floor. You can barely see some sort of fabric poking out the top. “What is that?”

“Huh?” He throws back a tired glance, “Oh. They're..curtains.”

“Explain.”

He looks at you blankly, “You don’t have any curtains.”

You blink. “Explain.”

“It’s dangerous for people to just be able to look in and see you. So. Curtains.” For a guy who reads Dostoevsky, he’s not much of a wordsmith. Though that could be the concussion. 

You reach around him and pull some of the fabric out of the bag, inspecting the linen. They match the theme of your living room.

You set it back down, blinking. “Thanks.”

He only gives a half-hearted shrug.

You look back at him, “How bad is the…?” You gesture to the side of your head.

He feels at the blood again, “It’s mostly just a cut. Shoulda stopped bleeding by now.”

You nod, “I’ll, uh—I’ll clean it up.”

He looks at you, shaking his head. “You don’t need to. Your kit’s almost empty anyways.”

“I restocked it,” you tell him, rising to stand. He lets you go retrieve your aid box without protest, listening blankly to the faucet run in the bathroom while you’re gone.

You return momentarily, damp rag in one hand, kit in the other. “Here, sit on the couch,” you tell him, nodding him up. 

He lugs himself up off the hardwood and onto the cushion with a groan. You position yourself on the cushion next to him, leaning over to inspect the cut. You brush through his hair as gently as you can, though you have to suspect he wouldn’t have minded either way—if only based on the pain threshold you know him to have.

As much as you are completely in his space, you’re having trouble getting all the access you need to fix him up right. You turn and adjust your angle this way and that but none of it works. 

You huff, sitting back. “I can’t..”

He nods his permission at you without delay, and you shift yourself over to sit fully on his lap, straddling him on the sofa. You put your focus into cleaning his wound, but you have to notice how deep he’s breathing and how he’s seemingly trying very hard to avoid eye contact. You’re sure your own breath is uneven and telling, and frankly you’re kind of hoping he has a concussion just so he might not notice it.

An unexpected sting has him flinching and grabbing your hips on instinct, a certain heaviness lingering in the air after contact. His hand tenses and he’s about to remove them from you completely when you manage to catch his gaze, and the few moments of silent eye contact are enough to convince him to stay. He forces his hands to relax against your waist, his fix on your face wavering before fizzling away completely.

You go back to dabbing at the blood and it’s clear that his thoughts get the better of him quickly. “You should move.”

“But then where would you go?”

He makes a rumbling noise from the back of his throat at that, saying nothing more.

You continue to wipe away at the blood until you can’t see it anymore, beyond the slice of the cut. You misjudge your own spatial awareness as you pull back from him, and the tips of your noses graze. Though the contact surprises you, you don’t move away from it. You become very acutely aware of his touch on your waist, how warm it feels atop your shirt. 

His head leans forward just barely before stopping. He retreats slightly and his body ultimately decides to come closer. He doesn’t stop until his lips, slightly parted, skim across yours.

Your breath catches as he looms nearer, lips touching against yours softly. He tests that pressure out for a moment, before moving to kissing you with more intent. You kiss him back, and though there’s an increasing resolve on both of your parts, the connection itself remains gentle, reposeful.

The last slight movement of his lips gradually slips away as he rests his forehead against yours.

A long beat passes before he’s tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you up to stand. You aren’t given the time to process the shift as he’s moving straight past you, head down. He pauses only when he gets to the window, back turned to you.

“Sorry—I’m…” his shoulders drop, “Sorry.” 

He climbs out and scales the fire escape in total silence until he’s gone completely.

You stand frozen in position, staring at the window with incredulity burning across your face.

What the fuck?

Two weeks pass of voided midnight visits. 

You’re not sure what to make of that. He kissed you, not the other way around. You couldn’t possibly have done something to upset him or throw him off since he’s the only one who did anything. All in all, it’s a little disappointing.

There had been tension there and it wasn’t shocking for you to learn that he wanted to kiss you. It was a bit of a surprise for him to actually do it, though not a bad one. But you were thrown for a grand fucking loop when he immediately bailed out.

Maybe you can’t read him as well as you think because you’d expected him to at least say something about it. It was a borderline given that he would come back and there would be a bonus surplus of tension but then there would be a resolution. Because he wouldn’t kiss you and then never come back. Nobody would do that, it doesn’t make sense.

It’s a little more than embarrassing to admit that you’ve been purposefully staying home in the hope that he’ll drop in. After fifteen nights of disappointment, you decided to put your focus elsewhere.

You’d asked a friend of yours to go out with you tonight, and never one to decline a night out, she agreed happily. 

The bell above the door jingles as you crack it open, peaking your head in. You find Chloe quickly, stood behind the bar with bottles in hand.

“Hey gorgeous,” she smiles at you, waving you in.

You step in, air conditioning hitting you hard. The sparkles on her cocktail dress catch your eye as she turns this way and that, trying to find the right spot for the whiskey. 

Chloe hums to herself as she searches, honestly taking a bit longer than she should. “You been cool?”

You nod, “Yeah, just—you know…” She doesn’t. Your affiliation with the Red Hood is something you’ve kept to yourself, though you don’t know why. It would be safer, more responsible to let someone else know about these drop-ins, but something about it feels personal. A strange feeling to tack onto it, you think. A regrettable one, at least. 

You take a deep breath, “You’ve been busy. Jessie call out again?”

She laughs dryly, “Oh yeah, of course. But it's fine, I love staying over an hour after close.” She sighs, “I’m almost done anyway.”

You circle around the bar, looking over the several yet-to-be-sorted bottles. “You need help?”

“No, there’s—” she cuts herself off as she looks over at the front door, face dropping. “Oh, shit. Duck.”

“Wha—” she yanks you down to the floor to crouch awkwardly behind the counter.

You hear the bell ring as the door swings open, followed by several pairs of footsteps and low voices.

“—Christ, if she forgets to lock the door one more fucking time I’m gonna kill her.”

You look at Chloe through furrowed eyebrows, her grip on you still tight. She shakes her head and puts a finger to her lips.

A second man mutters something you can’t make out.

The first voice continues, “Go around back and lug the crates in, we gotta start packing that shit.” 

Another voice, “The crates? They’re not here..”

There’s a heavy beat before the first voice speaks, “What the fuck do you mean they’re not here? She needs them now.”

“Well…the first shipments will be in later this week. The next batch’ll take until the end of the month, probably.”

A sigh, “Dumbass…”

The first voice huffs, “The end of the month? Are you fucking kidding me? I told you to get that shit ready weeks ago and you’ve got it coming in at the end of the month?” 

“I’ll…I’ll see what I can do to get it sooner.”

“Yeah, you do that,” he grumbles. “Motherfucker. I need a drink. Get a bottle of something.”

One of the men rounds the counter, tracks falling short at the sight of you and Chloe huddled against the counter.

“What the fuck?”

You and Chloe are wide-eyed and frozen as he sneers down at you. Still, he looks like he’s trying to be tougher than he is, compensating for size that he does not have, with an attitude that doesn’t match up with the way he sped around the counter to get the other man a drink.

Another guy comes around and you quickly recognize him as the man in charge. He frowns at Chloe, sighing, “You’re not supposed to be here still, Chloe.”

She shifts her weight, “I was just…finishing inventory…”

The bossman’s eyes move to you, laced with nothing but inconvenience. “Oh and you brought a friend. Great.” 

“Mr. Murray, we were just ab—”

He’s quick to cut her off with a hand, “Chloe. Stop talking.”

Her face falls flat and her words die off without hesitation.

“Get up.”

She’s pushing herself off the ground instantly while you’re still on the floor catching up with what the hell’s going on. As she moves out from behind the bar, you scurry to follow her. Your arm bumps against hers as you fiddle with the seams at the bottom of your outfit.

You dressed to go out with your friend on a Friday night, not to meet three mobsters in a closed bar with no witnesses. That’s to say, you’re feeling a little exposed.

You stand in the center of the bar, the three men looking various degrees of annoyed looks across their faces. Though the oldest looking of the bunch has something else in his eyes as he looks you up and down, in no rush to hide his engrossment in your bare legs.

“How old are you, honey?” Even without the blatant ogling, that’s never a good question to hear from a fifty year old man.

Your eyes avert to the floor, lips pursing. 

“Hey, don’t be rude. I asked you a question.” He nudges your chin up a bit rougher than necessary, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

Somehow, you feel like there’s no answer here that would help you. 

The man at the bar serves as an unexpected saving grace of sorts, muttering, “We don’t have time for this.”

Your pursuer shakes his head, looking you over in a way that makes you feel very small. “I think we got plenty of time.”

“I disagree.”

All heads whip to the doorway where the Red Hood leans against the frame, checking his phone. A never invited but always welcome addition to the party. At least for you.

The man in front of you instantly steps back, putting some distance between the two of you. Hands across the room instinctively fly to holsters only to begrudgingly relax at their sides, probably figuring drawing on Red Hood isn’t in their best interest. Though your focus lies on the bell above his head that didn’t make a peep whenever he came in.

Hood shuts his phone off and puts it away with a quiet sigh before glancing up at the tension-filled room. He literally double takes when his helmet scans past you. You somehow feel more in trouble now than you did two minutes ago. 

“Hood..” the bossman says measuredly. “What are you doing here?”

He stares at you for a second longer before tearing his gaze away. “Just thought I’d check up on you, Murray. Make sure you’re not causing trouble in light of our agreement.” He makes a point of looking back at you and Chloe at that last part before looking to Murray expectantly.

He waves that off easily, “This is nothing. Just two late-shift employees.”

Hood takes a piqued breath. “You picked a bad time to lie to me,” he says flatly.

Murray shakes his head, “Look, we’re just cleaning up a mess. No harm.”

“Really?”

“This clean up benefits you too, they heard too much. The one girl—Chloe, get out. She’s fine, she’s not talking.”

Chloe wastes no time exiting hastily. Bye Chloe.

He continues, “We only need to kill one of them.” He says it like this is an ideal compromise. You’re feeling differently.

Hood huffs, pulling out a gun from his holster. “I’m thinking it’s implied that killing innocent people is a form of causing trouble. Which is in direct violation of our agreement.” He cocks the gun, pointing it at Murray’s head.

Murray steps back dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Hey, an alliance is an alliance!”

Hood wavers his head to the side, “Alliance is a strong word. Temporary tolerance maybe…”

The short man pipes up, “Okay, calm down, calm down. Nobody needs to get killed. We can cooperate.”

“That’s the spirit,” Hood quips, lowering his gun.

The older one shakes his head, “We don’t have anything on her, she’ll talk.”

The short man demurs, “We don’t know that—”

“She saw too much, we can’t have her walking around with that information,” Murray says, moving towards you. 

Hood puts his hands up like some kind of mediator, “Nobody’s killing anybody.”

Murray scoffs, “You were gonna kill me!”

Hood's hands drop as he stands in full, “And I still might!”

Boldly, Murray steps up to him.

But Hood looks down at him, easily a full head taller than him and at least twice his muscle mass. “Let's weigh out your odds here, Murray. Is that a fight you’re winning?”

The look on Murray’s face tells you it’s not and he struggles to maintain this chest to chest confrontation.

It only takes him a moment of wavering to decide to back off, though he sure as hell doesn’t look happy about it. 

Hood pushes past him, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards him. 

Murray splutters, watching you go. “You can’t—I-I know people.”

“I am people,” Hood grumbles, steering you towards the door.

Though you can be sure they have them, no one voices any objections aa he pulls you outside.

His stride doesn’t even falter as he marches you down the sidewalk in the direction of your apartment. Aside from the sound of the breeze wisping past your ears, it’s silent between you.

After two blocks you get the strong impression that this muted exchange of energy is just going to keep on, so you force yourself to find something to rattle off about. “That uh, that seems like something he’s gonna be mad about.”

He huffs, “Yeah, well he can get over it or die so I guess it’s a personal choice.”

You frown at his tone, “What’s your problem?”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say as his head snaps in your direction. “Why the hell are you out here?”

His sharp attitude has you stumbling a bit. “Why are you out here? You have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion,” he grumbles. “And I just saved your life so maybe complaining about it isn’t your best move right now.”

You try to stop and face him but he doesn’t let you, keeping you moving along with him. “That’s what we’re doing? Really?” 

Are these about the social skills that you had expected from him based on your first meeting? Yeah. But that first meeting was months ago. He’s proven again and again that he has half a brain and the ability to read a room so you’re really not fucking sure what the hell his problem is. He won’t acknowledge that he kissed you and all but jumped out your living room window, but he will snap at you for asking about his concussion that there’s no way he doesn’t have. Especially if he’s acting like this. 

He ignores your comment, blatantly at that. “Did they say anything about a drug shipment?”

This is what we’re talking about? Sure. Fine. At least you’re talking. 

You open your mouth briefly before closing it again, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.”

He tries again, “What about Nocturna? Did you hear that name?”

“I…I don’t know.” You weren’t exactly taking notes behind the bar counter. 

His head drops down heavily, “Okay, I think I’m seeing a trend for how this conversation’s gonna go...”

You gawk at him, astonished that he thinks it’s you who’s handling this discussion poorly. “You cannot be serious right now.”

He sighs, slowing as you approach the steps to your building, “Just—why’d they let Chloe go?”

You blink a few times, “I mean, she has a drug problem…” You guess that might be where she’s getting them from…

He nods solemnly, “Okay.”

You huff, turning to walk up the steps, shoulders heavy. You hope he’ll come up with you and maybe, just maybe, address the elephant in the room. 

“Are you—” you turn around to face him again, met with nothing but vacant air. 

A deep, tense, breath from you before calling out, “Really?”

One month. One month. And he decides to show up tonight like it’s no time lost. But there was some fucking time lost.

Count ‘em up, that’s one period, two paychecks, three grocery trips, four laundry days, and thirteen showers. And that stupid fucking vigilante ransacked your head during every single one.

You went through the five stages of grief for this bizarre, undefinable relationship and then discovered about six more while you were at it. 

So when you walk out from the bathroom, you’re a little pissed to see him sitting there on your living room floor, helping himself to a glass of water. 

Maybe it’s his domino mask that gives his expression the illusion of neutrality. Or maybe he really has no idea how insane it is that he would occupy your apartment like this after skipping out on you for an entire lunar cycle.

He leans against your armchair, inspecting a scratch on his lower arm. You enter silently, watching him the whole time as you make your way over to the far end of the couch.

He doesn’t look up at you though, not until after a minute or two of silence. 

“You got any bandages left?” he asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder. 

You stare at him incredulously. 

After ten seconds with no response from you, he turns around fully, frowning. “What?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I—” he squints, eyes flickering across your face. “No?”

You continue to gawk at him, not trying for any words.

He stares back, eyes wide. “I don’t know what you want me to say...”

You tear your gaze from him, preferring to stare at the wall. “You know what, I think I know what your problem is.”

He gives a laugh with little life to it. “I only have one?”

You bite down on your lip, “You only have one I’m ready to kill you over.”

He sits with that for a minute. A long minute, before asking softly, “What is it?”

You shake your head, glaring at an unoccupied nail in the wall. “That you’re an idiot,” you mutter. You start to walk away before turning around again after a few steps. “Where the hell have you been?”

He blinks, “Uh, there’s just been a lot of—”

“Bullshit.”

He’s about to argue his point, but quickly decides to concede, “Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, sitting back. “I…wasn’t prepared for this conversation,” he says carefully.

You scoff with a nod, “Yeah, neither was I, but it’s happening. I m—what did you think was going to happen here? I—you kissed me, you kissed me!”

“No I—” he huffs, “I shouldn’t have done that, okay?”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

He sighs, throwing his hands up at his sides. “What do you want me to say?”

You shrug without genuinity, “Anything that could possibly rationalize that sequence of decisions. You kiss me, run away, ghost me for a fucking month, and then show up again like nothing happened.”

He shuts his eyes, shaking his head. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“I’m not asking you to be sorry, I’m asking you to pick a fucking lane and stick to it!”

He falls silent at that, eyes on the floor. It’s quiet for long enough that you start to think he’ll accept the silence as his cue to leave. You’re not sure if you want him to or not.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed. “I need you to start being straight with me. Now.”

He doesn’t look up, taking his time to find his words. “I am sorry,” he tells you. “I…I’m not good at this. I’m not good with words so I shouldn’t have fucking done it.”

Honestly you weren’t expecting him to actually come up with a reason, so you’re not prepared to weigh out whether or not it’s a good one.

“I like you...a lot. And I didn’t know—I don’t know—what to do about it so I kissed you and I didn’t think it through, and…I guess I panicked.”

That’s more than enough for you to warrant looking back over at him. It doesn’t take long for your gaze to start shifting around awkwardly while you scratch at your neck. “I would’ve taken you for more of a fight over flight kinda guy.”

He nods to himself. “Jus’ depends..” he says quietly.

And then it seems neither of you have anything else to say. You’ve run out of angry words to spit and he’s run out of apologies and excuses. But neither of you feel like you’re done.

The quiet lingers on for a painful amount of time. Your annoyance dissipates into something else, something more uncomfortable, but you couldn’t find a name for it. It’s got your thoughts going faster though and your chest feeling more hollow. Maybe not hollow…maybe just softer. 

He cuts through your thoughts before you can, “Are you mad that I kissed you?”

You shake your head, “No. I’m mad about what happened after.” You’re just mad about what happened after. Should’ve said just.

He thinks about that for a moment. 

“I can be honest with you,” he tells you. The way he says it, it’s somewhere between a peace offering and an assurance to himself.

You look at him again. He reads oddly vulnerable for a man his size with his reputation. You believe him. 

He goes on, “I trust you, you know? I want you to trust me too, if you can.”

You blink a few times, processing. “I…I don’t know anything about you.”

He nods, an anxious aura radiating around him. He leaves you hanging for longer than a few moments, getting you convinced that the conversation is just going to end there.

It doesn’t though, and after a few minutes, he sits up and reaches up to his mask.

It has you sitting up too, like he just pulled out a gun. Your hands fly up instinctually, as though this is completely uncalled for, as if he’s crazy for doing it.

He pauses his movements for a moment, making eye contact with you. His eyes reaffirm his words. He trusts you and he wants you to trust him.

You allow your hands to relax onto your lap and he continues on, taking his mask off.

You’re not revealed to much more of his face than you’d already seen before, but entirely in view like this, he’s a sight. You try not to stare but there’s little reward to removing him from your sight whereas the alternative…

All together like this you can see how his features balance his face out so nicely and make for a warm countenance, if not rough.

He takes a deep breath, setting his mask to the side. “My name is J…” he says with assurance. “Todd,” he tacks on.

You don’t mean to, really, but you’re sure the frown on your face is evident as puzzle pieces start forming and connecting in your mind. 

J…Todd…J…Jay…Todd…Jason…Todd…

Your mouth hangs open, “You’re Jason Todd. You’re de—” Well a couple things are starting to add up. “How are you…how are you not—”

He waves that away, tiredly. “It's a long story. Not particularly happy, either.”

Autopsy scar. Fuck. 

“I mean, I’ll…” he hesitates, “I’ll tell you if you want me to.”

He says it, but discomfort is painted across his face. You’re quick to shake your head, “It’s okay.”

He nods, likely relieved.

You stand up from your seat, crossing the room to sit down next to him. You’d half-expected him to tense up, but his body relaxes when you lean back against the chair.

You close your eyes before asking, “Who’s Nocturna?”

“She’s just this woman that’s been causing trouble for us.”

You don’t say anything and he continues on, shaking his head. “She’s more annoying than anything.”

You open your eyes, looking over. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, “Just trying to take over the underworld, the usual stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

You give a laugh that’s barely more than an exhale, relaxing your body completely..

There’s the slightest lull in activity before he sets his hand down on the floor, right on top of yours. The sounds of your breathing are the only thing that fill the room for a few minutes, save for the occasional car horn.

He glances at the clock on the wall, nearing midnight. “I have to go...” He says reluctantly.

You try not to let the disappointment show through your body language. “Go where?”

He pauses before telling you,  “A cemetery.”

You nod vacantly, “Oh. Just for fun, or…?”

He gives a dry laugh, “Just meeting an associate. They’re a bit dramatic, so.”

“Yeah, I’d say.”

“I’ll come back—I’m going to come back,” he mutters against your hairline.

You don’t respond, but you both know he’s good for his promise.

He looks around your apartment for a second before seemingly getting an idea. He pushes himself up off the ground and heads for your kitchen. You watch as he rips a sticky note off the deck on your fridge and scribbles something down on it. 

He returns to you, kneeling down and pushing the square of paper into your hand. “Here,” he says, looking you in the eye. “If you need anything. Anything.”

You engulf the note in your palm, nodding sincerely. His eyes flicker across your face, like he’s thinking about something. He hesitates for a moment, turning towards you, away from you, then towards you again. He holds the back of your head tenderly before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You look at each other up close for a second with nothing short of starry eyes before he turns away and ducks out the window.

You open up your palm and look down at the paper, at the ten digits scrawled across it.

Huh.

Must be official. 

🧨 reblog or die (this is a threat) 🧨

[floweringtheflowersssssss]

munch vi!

18+, mdni, cunnilingus, face sitting.

munch vi! who always has to have her mouth on your pussy; it doesn't matter the time or place; she's already craving your taste.

munch vi! who eats it for her own pleasure, she can cum untouched just by your smell and your taste. don't even get her started on when you squirt on her face. that gets her going like crazy.

munch vi! who slobbers all over your pussy like a wild animal, slurring her words like she's drunk and pushing her entire face into your pussy, she gets all dirty and wet, her cheeks covered in your juices, her tongue deep inside you, her nose nudging your clit—it's her favorite thing to do.

munch vi! who can't get enough of you. she would eat you out all day if she could and would spend hours between your legs if she could. she didn't have to think when she's between your thighs; all she had to do was make you cum, and she was pretty damn good at it.

munch vi! who whines when you try and pull her away from your pussy by her hair, your thighs are already trembling, and you've come three times, and you aren't sure if you can anymore.

"baby!" you whine, pushing her head away, but she was stronger and sucks your clit back between her lips. "nngh!─ a-ah─ v-vi baby─"

vi releases your clit with a wet pop, a devilish grin on her lips as she peers up at you. "are you okay, princess?" ahe asks sweetly, like she didn't just suck the life out of you.

you glare down at her through wet lashes, a scowl on your lips. her hands were still up your shirt, groping at your tits. you were bare from the waist down. "god, you're like a bitch in heat. you don't know how to stop."

your horny girlfriend just smiled proudly at the comparison. it wasn't too far off. she was always ready for another round and didn't even need any time to recuperate. she could come over and over again and still want more. it was a blessing and a curse to have a girlfriend with such a high sex drive, and if you were certain she'd want you again very, very soon──

"sit on my face," she says, giving you that pathetic puppy dog look, and how could you deny her?

munch vi! who moans loudly as you cage her in with her thighs. you're hesitant to put weight on her, but she's yanking you down and forcing your entire weight onto her face. she's buried in your pussy; arousal is already dripping down her chin as she thrusts her tongue into you, and her breathing is getting blocked by your smell and taste. she wouldn't mind dying like this with a girl on her face; in fact, it's the exact way she's aiming to go out.

munch vi! who slides her tongue through your soaked folds, moaning at your taste as you drip onto her awaiting tongue. she's grabbing your ass in her hands and yanking you down further just so she could get more, more, more. you're moaning above her, legs shaking and stomach heaving as you reach another orgasm. vi is relentless, slurping up your slickness, nibbling at your clit, slipping her tongue inside of you so you can ride it. she fucks you through your orgasm, lapping your cum up.

munch vi! who hates when you have to pull yourself off of her every few minutes just to make sure she's getting air. she hates it, whining that she's fine, but the way she gulps in air tells a different story.

"i'm fine!" she argues.

"you're going to suffocate!" you hiss. "and what if you die? what the hell am i going to tell everyone! i sat on your face and killed you!

vi smirked, "hell yeah."

[torchwood-99]

Eomer and Eowyn only talk to each other once in the films

but they communicate so much.

When Eomer first returns with a wounded Theodred, an entire dialogue is shared between Eomer and Eowyn without a single word passing between them.

This mutual look of concern, they're both on the same page.

Eowyn then goes on to look at Theodred's wound. It's interesting that Eomer now looks curious above all things, he's waiting on Eowyn's judgement.

Eowyn looks at the wound and grimaces. It's bad. Theodred isn't going to survive this.

She looks to Eomer, who looks back at her in grim resignation.

They go to Theoden to inform him of the situation. As Eomer walks by Eowyn, he doesn't speak to her or interrupt her, but he puts his hand on her back as he passes. Even when the focus is on other things, he is giving her that gesture of support and fondness. That it is done without fanfare shows that this sort of affection is commonplace.

They both stand before the throne, both of them united in their attempt to reach through to their uncle. They're a team, a unit.

Eomer throws down proof that Saruman, who Grima is trying to portray as a friend to Rohan, is sending his soldiers to terrorise their people.

Eowyn gives Grima a death glare, challenging him to refute her brother's accusations. She's on Eomer's side, Eomer's team.

Eomer sees Grima looking at Eowyn, and knows what he wants. It fills him with fury.

Eowyn sees her brother choking Grima against the wall. She looks on in cold silence, then walks away.

When Aragorn reveals that the beacons have been lit, Eowyn rushes into the throne room, drawing to a stop at Eomer's shoulder. They wait together for Theoden's judgement.

When it comes, and Theoden sends Eomer to muster the troops, Eomer bows, but even before he has fully straightened up, his eyes go to his sister.

Again, no words exchanged, simply a look of common understanding. They both know what the risks are, they both know what is at stake, for the world, for their country, for their family.

Before Eomer leaves, he touches Eowyn's arm, before walking away.

With Eomer gone, we see a steely determination come into Eowyn's eyes. Now there's something Eomer's missing, now Eomer's back is turn and there's something about his sister that she's keeping from him. She's riding to battle.

The one time they speak to each other, they're in opposition. About Merry, about Eowyn, about war.

The words are harsh. Eomer is stern, Eowyn is defensive.

But Eomer puts his hand on Eowyn's shoulder. He doesn't say "I don't want you to get hurt, I don't want you in battle", but that hand on her shoulder, tells the audience that's exactly what he's saying.

Those small moments of physical affection culminate in one great moment, when stern, stoic Eomer discovers Eowyn on the battle field, and breaks down in tears, cradling her and rocking her like she's a child.

And his devotion to her is ultimately shown in him sitting small and hunched, tucked in on himself, crouching down in armour for what seems to have been a lengthy space of time, as he sits by her side, waiting for her to be healed.

This is such an effective way of showing to an audience that two characters love each other, when there is a limited time window. The movie needed to crack on to cover the ground it needed to cover, and with so many important dynamics to reveal to the audience, the creators needed to be time effective. Eomer and Eowyn don't share much screen time, but the looks exchanged, the passing moments of intimacy, tells us clearly that these are two people greatly fond of each other, and have been fond of each other a long time.

The lack of spoken dialogue almost enhances it. Little is said between them because little needs to be said. They already know. The one time they do speak, it's when they're quarrelling, because that's the only moment when they need to use words. The rest of the time, a gesture, a look, is enough.

[greatw0r]

ROOMMATE VI ✶ vi × female reader

she's a night owl, you always hear sounds coming from her room when you get up to get a cup of water in the middle of the night

sitting with her on the cold balcony floor while talking about life and smoking

she's messy, her room is literally- you don't even wanna go in there until she gets her shit together and finnaly cleans it

everytime she goes to the gym she invites you to go with her " cmon princess- don't you wanna at least see me covered in sweat ? " she smirked and you trow her a pillow

cooking together sometimes- she's sitting on the counter while telling you the recipe and what to do next and eventually helps you - cuts something or mixes things

she's an caffeine addict omg

going grocery shopping with her and she acts like a nine years old, jumping into the wheels of the cart and running around almost hitting someone

helping her paint her hair and cutting her hair- she says she doesn't want to waste money on hair saloons who aren't going to do what she wants so you do it instead with a bit of begging on her part

sometimes you get home and get hit with her music busting trough her speaker and her doing workouts in the middle of the living room " sorry sweetheart- hey can you pass me that towel ? "

talking about towels- she almost doesn't wear one when she gets out of the shower- making extremely hard for you not to stare at her when she walks out

having her friends over and they immediately make you feel included, laughing and drinking around the house

watching movies with her ! if she picks she will tell you all about the movie before it even starts or she will be super exited

making her go shopping with you- she swears she hates it but she actually doesn't- she loves it specially when you go try on clothes and wait for her opinion

becoming ... a little more than just friends and roommates when one night- you two are talking about your last relationships and the past when vi hands you her jacket- and then her lips where on yours

" shit- ... I shouldn't have " she cursed and sighed but you pull her back into you kissing her more . she's shocked but kisses you back with an smile " didn't thought you had it in you princess "

[lucidfairies]

take a hit [e.w]

pairing: inexperienced!reader x dealer!ellie

synopsis: for the first time, you're interested in sharing a joint with Ellie, and she doesn't let the moment get passed up

warnings: intox, cnc, weed/smoking, head [r!receiving], fingering [r!receiving], strap [r!receiving], pet names (mama, baby, good girl, slut, pretty), unrealistic squirting, ellie uses reader to get off, lots of use of the word force and lots of ellie's thoughts that include force

wc: 2.5k

a/n: short n sweet! long time no see 💘 (ps this is kind of shitty until the last thousand words where it actually gets good lmao 😭)

“ellie?” you yelled from the bedroom, plopping down on the bed with a huff. she entered the room, leaning against the door frame and smiling. “do you have any weed on you? I think I might want to try some.” ellie was taken aback by the question. you were never one for smoking or drinking, let alone somewhere outside of a party environment, or for leisure.

you guys had been together for a while, but smoking together was something that ellie never thought she’d see. you made it very clear from the beginning that you would not be partaking in ellie’s ‘business’, as you called it. she hardly considered it that; ten or so customers did not make a business, just a side hustle.

“yeah I have weed baby,” you watched as she walked over towards the closet and pulled out a shoe box, cleanly organized with wrap paper, weed, grinders, and other things that you didn’t know or couldn’t name. she sat down across from you on the bed, pulling out her supplies and setting it up. “do you want me to roll it or do you know how?” she asked, but the paper was already in her hands.

“you do it,” you changed positions so that you were straddling the bed, shirt falling between your legs to cover your underwear. she was looking.

“I’m gonna put in a little more than I normally do to make it feel good, okay mama?” you nodded eagerly, her plan unbeknownst to you. she made it seem like that; like she just did it to make you feel good, but in reality, she overfilled it so that halfway through the joint you wouldn’t be able to see straight.

she got up, turning the bedroom lights down low to create a pretty ambiance. you slipped the joint between your lips, waiting for her to come over and light it for you, which she did. she had you sit in her lap, pulling the joint from between your lips between every hit, just so that you would know you were a princess.

after a few hits, the room was already beginning to spin. “els why aren’t you hitting it?” you asked, pouting as you tried to push her hand towards her face with little luck. she took a short hit to make you happy and keep you relaxed before forcing it between your lips again. she made you hit it over and over again until you were sure you were in outer space.

that’s when her plan unfolded. suddenly, her hands were running up the sides of your thighs and her hot mouth found your neck. you whined lazily, her touch feeling so much better than it usually did. “ellie what are you doing?” you slurred, not coherent enough to fight back as she grabbed your hips and forced you down onto her lap. an immediate gush of wetness filled your panties when your clit brushed over her bulge. “ellie,” you slurred again, whining into her neck as your hips rolled down again.

“shhh, it’s okay baby. you wanna be a good girl and hit this again for me?” she held the joint up to your lips once again, and like the good girl you were, you took it between your lips and sucked. “that’s it, that’s my good princess, isn’t it?” she cooed. she took the joint from you and sat it in the ashtray, flipping you so that you were under her. “god, you’re just so pretty, aren’t you? can’t keep my hands off you. you did this to yourself, baby, such a slut without pants on, huh?” you whimpered as her hand came up under your shirt and harshly pulled your nipple.

something about this felt wrong, but it also felt so right. you loved the way she took over and decided what was going to happen, you loved the way your body felt and reacted to her in your cloudy headspace.

you whined as her fingers ran gently over your cunt through your shorts. you were so wet and your clit was pumping so hard, you had to have her in you. Your hips jolted and ground down on her thigh and fingers, making her chuckle. “now we want it, don’t we? that’s all it took, baby, you just needed a few hits to let me take control.” you nodded your head frantically as she pulled your shirt over your head.

her mouth danced down your neck with sweet bites until she made her way to your tits. she took one in her mouth and the other in her hand, hitting just the spot to make you writh under her. she gave both just the attention they needed, leaving marks along the way, before continuing down your stomach, stopping at your pubic bone.

“before I fuck you, you’re gonna take another hit of the joint. how’s that sound, pretty?” the joint was still burning a little, almost out, but it was enough to take a hit, a long hit, because ellie held it to your lips and kept it there until she saw fit. once she decided you were ready, she tossed it back in the ashtray and immediately attached her lips to your clit.

you were so spacey and sleepy but it felt so good. nothing like what you were used to. every perfect flick of her tongue was like touching heaven. she rotated between flicking her tongue up and down, side to side, going in circles, and sucking, and she practically had you coming in seconds.

she didn’t care that you lousily came once within the first minute, she continued and traced your entrance with the tip of her finger, sending electric shocks through your system. the pads of her fingers were rough from her guitar, and you could feel the callouses as she teased you.

finally, she pushed her first finger in, wasting no time in crooking it up to the perfect spot. when she had you stretched out enough, she added another, and even another. the weed was relaxing you so much that you hadn’t even noticed the slight burn from the third finger, because you had never taken it before now.

“oh ellie,” you moaned, hands gripping the sheets as your head spun. “ellie I’m gonna cum.” you slurred as the pressure in your pelvis grew and bolts of pleasure started shooting throughout your body. her free hand moved from your hip to your tit, pinching your nipple once again.

you came for the second time, back arching and desperate for her to never stop.

“ellie I’m tired,” you pouted as she came up from between your legs and kissed you. you tasted yourself from her lips as her tongue grazed yours, she sucked gently and you moaned.

she pulled away, cooing at you. "if only we were done," she said as she stood to walk away, venturing into the closet to get, what she called, her 'strap box'. she thought it was funny to call it that.

she clipped her harness onto her hips and attached her favorite strap; it was forest green in color, nearing eight inches in length. she knew you couldn't always take it all, that's what made it fun for her. especially having you this way, where your head was in the clouds and your body was much more lenient to the things she wanted to do to it.

"flip over, ass up," ellie said, and you complied as she climbed onto the bed behind you. she pressed down on your lower back, deepening your arch. it was slightly uncomfortable, but the way she was looking at your pussy like a hungry dog made you forget the uncomfortability.

ellie never cared much for cleaning you up in between rounds, so when she ran the tip of her strap through your folds and down to your clit, your cum smeared all over your pussy. she almost came in her boxers at the sight of it.

rather roughly, ellie jerked her hips forward, pushing the first three inches in you. it didn't hurt like you anticipated, your body and mind were too lax for anything to hurt much. "today," ellie groaned softly as you took another couple inches. "you're going to take the whole thing. how's that sound?"

you didn't get a chance to answer before she was forcing another inch in you, only one to go before her hips pressed against your ass. your hands gripped the sheets, pressure gathering from the length in your abdomen.

ellie knew it would hurt if she put the last inch in, but she craved it. she couldn't resist the idea of you stretched out wide for her thick, cum soaked strap. she needed it.

she reached over you, wrapping her slender fingers over your mouth and pulling you up as she forced the last inch in you. you whined in pain, protests coming from your covered mouth, but she was too lost to listen. your head rested on her shoulder now, and she used this to reach around and trace your clit while she fucked into you.

she was going fast, slamming her hips into you as hard as she could. the harder the slam, the better it felt against her clit. since you had came twice already, she was focused on herself; meaning that she went as hard and as fast as she needed to to get herself off.

with a final harsh jerk, she coated her boxers and soaked through the inside of the harness. she released your mouth and clit and roughly pushed you forward, unrelenting as you neared your third orgasm of the night.

she grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled it with every thrust, and just like that, the pressure from your stomach and bladder were releasing, and you were coming and squirting all over her.

she pulled out and flipped you onto your back, harshly slapping your clit. "such a fucking mess," she said slowly, with a slap between every word. tears streaked your cheeks from her brutal overstimulation and pain, and ellie lived for her. she wondered how many more times she could slap your sensitive spot between your legs before you begged her to stop, but she figured she would save that for next time.

once you were cleaned up and cared for, she left to acquire more weed. there was no way in hell she wasn't doing this with you again.

tags: @bvnfetti @kl1q @kaykeryyy @katemartinis @r3wbeef

[steddiealltheway]

As soon as Steve hears the phone ring, he sighs.

Robin is away visiting her family in Kentucky for the holidays, and the only other person to ever call would be...

"Dustin," Steve says, his free hand coming up to rest on his hip, "why are you calling?"

There's a pause on the other line before Dustin whines, "How do you always know when it's me."

"Because your irritating energy bleeds through the phone."

Another pause. "You got that from Robin, didn't you?"

Yes. He did. Sue him for wanting to be witty and taking a few notes from Robin. "What do you want?"

"Okay, so..." Oh boy. "I've been meaning to talk to Suzie for a while now, and we made plans not to talk on Christmas because she would be with her family all day, and I knew my mom wouldn't want me to be away for too long so-"

"The point, Dustin."

Dustin mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like multiple curse words before continuing, "The point is that I'm taking Cerebro to that hill, but I'm going to need a ride."

Steve frowns, walking toward the nearest window until the phone cord is fully stretched so he can pull a curtain open. He winces a bit at the bright light. "Dustin, it's freezing out, and the hill will be covered in snow."

"You would've done the same for Nancy!"

Steve's eyebrows raise. "Not the best approach if you want a ride, dude."

"I'm not trying to approach the whole you and Nancy thing. I'm trying to make a point," Dustin emphasizes a little too loudly into the phone. "You would do anything if you were in love! Even sit out in the snow for a few hours just so you can talk to the person you love."

"Have you ever heard of the phone?"

"Have you heard the number of siblings she has that would jump at the opportunity to listen in on our call? Plus, Cerebro is our thing."

Steve really wishes Dustin were in front of him, so he could see the way his cheeks are flushing during this exact moment. "You just like using your Cebro thing because it makes it feel like your love is forbidden."

"I do not!"

"Alright, Romeo," Steve says with a laugh, "I'll give you a ride. If you promise to only be there for an hour."

"Not including the time it takes to get there, set it up, and leave."

Steve sighs and knocks the phone against his head for a second before reluctantly agreeing, "Yes, but you better be bundled up so much that you're sweating out there. I don't want to hear you complain." He also secretly worries about the kid getting frostbite or something, but he'd never admit to it.

"Fine I'll see you in an hour?"

"Yeah, I'll see you then," Steve says as Dustin hangs up. "A thank you would've been nice..."

He really hopes he doesn't regret this.

-:-:-:-:-:-

When Dustin climbs in the car, he's bundled from head to toe but still manages to laugh at Steve who is wearing the same amount of layers as him. "Look in the mirror," Steve comments dryly before driving off.

The drive there isn't too long, and although Steve saw Dustin a few days ago - after Claudia insisted he spend Christmas with them instead of home alone - he's kind of glad to hang out with Dustin again. It's not often he gets a lot of one-on-one time with the kid anymore.

Which is why Steve is particularly bitchy when he pulls up to the familar area below the hill and find a familar van there.

"Dustin..."

"I didn't think you would agree to take me here and stay! So, I asked Eddie to give me a ride back this morning-"

"This morning?"

"And he said he was already going to be in the area and wanted to briefly meet Suzie and my Cerebro, so he's here now! And if you want, you can just drop me off. Think of it as a late Christmas gift."

Steve shakes his head. "And leave you in Munson's capable hands only to find out you two froze to death? No thanks." He gets out of the car with thoughts of a mourning Claudia Henderson on his mind.

"We wouldn't freeze to death!" Dustin practically shouts as he climbs out.

At that same moment, Eddie exits from his van, wearing his usual attire, only with maybe an extra added layer - a leather jacket.

Steve turns to Dustin, raising his eyebrows and gesturing toward Munson. Dustin sighs before going to the trunk to dig out all the different Cerebro parts.

Before Steve can join him, Eddie approaches him with a big smile. "Steve Harrington. Looking awfully toasty."

Steve rolls his eyes in response before openning his car door and reaching toward the back, grabbing the spare pair of gloves and a hat that he keeps whenever Robin forgets the extra layers - which is often. He hands them to Eddie without a word then helps Dustin grab his things before heading to their snow covered destination.

Eddie only lasts a few minutes up the hill before he manages to push into Steve's space while Dustin hurries ahead of them. "So, you look happy to see me."

"Just peachy, Munson."

Eddie snorts. "I'm guessing Dustin didn't tell you I would be tagging along when you got here?"

"And I'm guessing Dustin didn't tell you I was planning on staying."

"Actually," Eddie says, nudging Steve's shoulder, "I told him you would jump at the opportunity to hang out with him, and there was no way you would drop him off to freeze to death."

Steve narrows his eyes as he looks at Eddie.

Eddie shifts things around in his arms to grab his shirt and jacket and lift them up enough to show off some of his scarred skin. "Our matching battle scars will forever bound us, Steve. I wonder if the bats gave us telepathic abilities," he says, way too cheery for Steve's liking.

"If it did, then I would teleport up to the top of the hill right now."

"Telepathic means the ability to read each other's minds. The word you're thinking of is 'teleportation.'" Eddie corrects him without judgement - something Steve's always found surprising.

"Oh. Then guess what I'm thinking about right now."

Eddie hums before leaning in to mumble in his ear. "You're thinking about getting a piece of this."

Steve laughs and shoves him away. He's glad it's cold out so he blame his blush on the cold. For some reason, he's still not entirely immune to Eddie's flirting. "Definitely not what I was thinking about."

"You are now," Eddie teases.

Steve swallows heavily, pressing down those thoughts and many... many.... images. "I think you're confusing my thoughts for your own thoughts."

"Tell me about it," Eddie sighs dramatically.

Steve is relieved when he sees they've reached the top of the hill. He's even more relieved when Dustin doesn't ask for his help to put Cerebro together, but Eddie is all too happy to help while calling Dustin a genius - in various annoying, dramatic ways.

It's not long before Dustin is awaiting Suzie's response while Eddie bounces on his feet. Steve's not sure if it's from excitement or being cold - probably both.

"Dusty bun?"

Dustin's face lights up in a way that is entirely too endearing for Steve's heart to handle. The jedi has learned the art of love from the master - or something like that. "Suzie poo! I'm here with Steve and Eddie for the next few moments. Eddie wants to say hello."

Steve frowns and raises his voice, "I want to say hello, too! Eddie just wants to be dramatic about it."

"Because I haven't had the pleasure of meeting the lady," Eddie argues before turning up the charm. "Suzie, it's a pleasure. I'm sure you've heard nothing but wonderful things about me just like I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you. Unlike Steve over here who you've probably never heard a good thing about."

"Hi, Eddie, it's nice to meet you," Suzie replies, giggling. "And hi Steve!"

"Hey, Suze. Don't let Eddie win you over with his charm just yet. It's bad for his ego."

"You think I'm charming?" Eddie asks, batting his eyelashes.

Steve makes a see? gesture before realizing Suzie can't see him.

"Alright," Dustin says, "Now they're going to leave us alone for the next hour."

"Hour? It's already been at least five minutes," Steve complains.

Eddie grabs him by the shoulders and steers him away. "Don't worry, Suzie! I'll make sure you get the fulll hour!"

Steve lets Eddie guide him a little down the hill, ignoring when Suzie asks, "Do they always bicker like an old married couple?"

When they get a comfortable distance away, where they're out of earshot but Steve can still see Dustin to make sure he doesn't freeze to death, Steve sits on the ground. He glances up after he gets as comfortable as he can get on the side of a hill, only to find Eddie frowning down at him.

"What?" Steve asks.

Eddie shrugs. "Doesn't seem fair that you get to sit on the ground, and I can't."

Steve's eyes scan over Eddie's body. "Not my fault that you didn't wear a long enough jacket to cover your ass when you sit."

"Not my fault that I wasn't born into a wealthy family that can afford those jackets."

Steve's stomach flips, but he knows Eddie isn't looking for an apology. "Why don't you sit in your van then?"

"Wouldn't want to miss my chance to hang out alone with Steve Harrington," Eddie says with a wink.

Steve nearly scoffs and gives him a snarky reply, but his thoughts go out the window when he notices Eddie's teeth chattering. "Shit," he mutters.

"What was that?"

Steve groans and stands up before unzipping his large jacket.

"Am I in a dream?" Eddie jokes, but his voice shakes a bit.

"You're about to be living one," Steve says dryly as he stands in front of Eddie and opens his coat. Eddie just stares at him. Steve huffs out a breath that becomes visible in the cold air between them. "Come here."

"What?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at Eddie before tugging at his coat. But Eddie continues to stare at him with wide wandering eyes. "I'm not letting you freeze to death up here, so come here before I tell Dustin to pack it up because you're cold."

Eddie crosses his arms a little tighter. "I'm f-fine." A shiver visibly runs through Eddie's body.

Steve rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundreth time this day and wraps Eddie in his jacket before he can protest.

He's stiff for a moment, then Eddie relaxes enough to wrap his arms around Steve who is able to close the jacket around them. They linger in each other's arms long enough that Eddie stops shivering and Steve wonders how much time Dustin has left with Suzie.

"Better?" Steve asks to break the silence.

He feels Eddie nod over his shoulder before he pulls back enough to look him in the eye, nose brushing against Steve's as he whispers, "I know something we could do to keep ourselves warm."

Steve's heart beats a little faster in his chest.

Eddie laughs and tucks his head into Steve neck, his lips far away enough from Steve's that it's no longer the only thing on Steve's mind. With the new brain space, he can feel Eddie drum a nervous rhythm onto his back and bounce a little on his face. He wonders if maybe Eddie was onto the whole scars making them read each other's minds thing because he swears he knows the first part of what Eddie's about to say before he says it.

"Sorry if that was too much. No guy has ever let me flirt at them the way you do."

Steve gets stuck on flirt at and, "No guy?"

Eddie lets out a short humorless laugh. "No guy."

And for some reason, Steve has to ask, "Has any guy let you kiss them before?"

Eddie pulls back to look at him with a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "What are you getting at, Steve?"

Steve glances at Eddie's lips, slightly chapped but they've never looked more inviting. Maybe it's time to listen to Robin's knowing looks whenever Eddie is around and Steve finds himself simultaneously drawn to him while also wanting to run to the bathroom with Robin to have another floor talk. "What if one guy let you kiss them?"

"Steve..." Eddie whispers, his eyes flicking over his shoulder.

Steve turns to find Dustin, facing away from them. Still he loosens his hold on Eddie and says, "Wrap your arms around my neck instead of my back."

Eddie does as he's told, and Steve gives him no warning before saying, "Hopefully this goes alright." Then, he slightly picks up Eddie before falling back, letting the snow break their fall as he lays back with Eddie on top of him.

"That went better than I thought it would," Steve says with a big smile then asks, "Can Dustin see us?"

Eddie glances up and shakes his head.

"Perfect," Steve says, heart practically beating out of his chest when Eddie looks down at him. When he doesn't make a move, Steve can't help but tease, "So you really are all bark, no bite."

"Shut up, Harrington," Eddie says before finally kissing him.

For only a moment, Steve nearly laughs at the fact that Eddie Munson told him to shut up. But then his brain goes nearly haywire yet completely silent when Eddie's lips meet his in what he thinks might be the single most transformative kiss of his life.

His arms tighten around Eddie's back, and Eddie's hands move to cup the back of his head as they deepen the kiss. Somehow, laying in snow, Steve has never felt warmer.

They eventually break the first kiss reluctantly, both of them going back to steal more as they catch their breath, which turns into laughter and giggles between more kisses. Then, Eddie breaks away long enough to say, "You know, the van is seeming like a really great option at the moment."

"And Dustin's a smart kid. He knows how to not freeze to death," Steve says, kissing Eddie every chance he gets.

"You're right. No need to stay here in the snow," Eddie replies.

"Right."

Neither of them make a move to get up, but they both move to kiss again.

It's only a little while later before they hear Dustin yell out, "Guys?" And that's when they finally break away.

Eddie pops up first and calls out, "Yeah?"

"Let's pack up! It's been over an hour! Come on!"

Steve pulls Eddie back down into the snow one more time for a kiss before stomping up the hill. "Alright, alright. We thought you'd be happier that we gave you more time and that we both waited for you."

"it's cold," Dustin complains.

Steve nods, but he still feels warm.

Eddie joins a few moments later, stealing glances at Steve before asking Dustin what they're doing next.

"I'm thinking we change out of our snow clothes and get food somewhere maybe..." Dustin trails off and frowns at Eddie. "Why are you covered in snow?"

"We were making a snow angel?" Eddie hurriedly says.

Steve tries not to laugh.

"One?" Dustin asks.

Eddie nods. "You'll see it on the way down."

Sure enough, on the way down, they all see one horribly disfigured snow angel.

While Steve laughs and Eddie smiles proudly, Dustin shakes his head and mutters something like more curses to himself. In a volume that's able to be picked up by the other boys, he asks, "Eddie, you'll drop me off at my house, and we'll meet back up in an hour at my house?"

"Hour and a half," Steve says. When Dustin opens his mouth to complain, Steve explains, "I need to take a shower so I don't get pnemonia. Plus, I'm not letting my hair freeze on my way to your house."

"Fine," Dustin sighs. "See you then."

"See you then," Eddie echoes to Steve, winking at him once.

Soon after Steve gets home, he hears a knock on the front door, and when it's Eddie on the other side, Steve pulls him in and says, "Maybe you were right about the telek- tele-"

"Telekentic abilities?"

Steve nods as he closes the door behind Eddie and traps him against it. "I definitely know what you're thinking about now."

Eddie cocks his head to the side and wraps his arms around Steve's neck. "Yeah? What am I thinking about?"

"Kissing me again," Steve says, leaning in.

"Actually," Eddie says turning his head away, "I was thinking about a lemon."

"Crazy. I happen to have lemon scented body wash," Steve comments as he grabs Eddie's hands and tugs him up the stairs.

They're both a little late to Dustin's house. And maybe their hair freezes a bit.

But Dustin was right. There's a lot of things Steve would do for love.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ FINDERS KEEPERS, LOSERS WEEPERS! ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: the user "gojoslittleslut" tries to make a move on your boyfriend, but she doesn't stand a chance

contents: fem!reader. it's not too serious, nobody gets angry/jealous (except the comments lol). if u haven't already read the other streamer!gojo works u probably should so u understand the dynamic between satoru and his commenters !

author's note: reader is actually a mature person who doesn't pick fights with random ppl on the internet and i think we should all be more like her ꨄ︎

satoru leans back in his chair, idly chatting with people who pop up in his comments after he finishes his last round of the co-op game. his viewers are eager to chat, and some even shoot money satoru's way to draw his attention. whenever someone donates money, he gives them a quick shoutout and has a small back-and-forth with them, and he does that for everyone.

that is, until a user with a questionable username donates to his stream.

gojoslittleslut has donated $100.00!

gojoslittleslut: notice me pls

"shit, a hundred dollars?" satoru says, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise. "thanks, gojoslittl— oh, fuck, what is that?"

you look up from your laptop and see the way your boyfriend's cheeks have gone bright red. satoru laughs a bit nervously, so you get up and walk over, making sure to stay out of sight of the camera. you sit on satoru's desk beside his computer and peer at his screen curiously.

gojoslittleslut: im ur number one fan~

satoru's eyes flicker to yours for a second before he looks back at his monitor. "ah, well, thanks for the donation!" he replies, completely ignoring the user's advances.

suguru-geto: he has a gf ...

gojoslittleslut: yeah

gojoslittleslut: me

you cover your mouth to suppress a giggle, scrunching up your nose at satoru to let him know that you really weren't taking it too seriously. after all, it's just some random person on the internet—they don't stand a chance with your boyfriend. 

satoru reaches over and takes your hand, twining his fingers with yours off-camera. he ignores the sudden burst of comments that litter the corner of his screen, instead watching you intently. in response, you roll your eyes playfully and blow him a kiss, snickering when satoru pretends to faint.

eventually, he turns back to his screen, cerulean eyes doing a quick once-over of his new comments.

toji-fushiguro: ill take his gf any day

inumaki: we know gtfo

gojoslittleslut: toji i get gojo and u take his girl. deal?

toji-fushiguro: bet

"alright guys, settle down," satoru huffs, rolling his eyes. "for the record, i still have a girlfriend and i don't plan on changing that anytime soon," he clarifies, addressing the current feud going on in his comments. 

satoru's a good streamer—he does his best to keep things cordial and lighthearted with his audience, but he also knows his limits. one of his limits involves people trying to separate you and him, his one true pairing (of course satoru's otp is his own relationship).

your boyfriend leans closer to the screen and scowls good-naturedly, holding up the hand still wrapped around yours. "this isn't gonna change, so don't even think about it!"

satoru says his goodbyes and then ends the stream, turning to you with a sigh. "how down bad do you have to be to name yourself 'gojo's little slut?'" he grumbles, clicking through his stream analytics and finding the user. he opens gojoslittleslut's profile and studies it for a moment before hovering his mouse over the block button.

he leans back in his chair and tilting his chin up at you. "she just gave me a hundred dollars, so i kinda feel bad about blocking her," satoru muses, tapping his foot on the floor. he looks up at where you still sit on his desk, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. "c'mere," he mumbles, slipping his hands around your waist and hoisting you into his lap with a soft grunt.

satoru rests his chin on your shoulder and nudges his face into your neck, breath tickling your skin. "you know that i'm all yours, right?"

"of course i do," you murmur, settling into his arms. he's warm and comfortable, like always. satoru smiles warmly and kisses the side of your face, letting his lips linger.

"good. 'cause no fan account's ever gonna change that."

[dumbbitchgalore]

Aphrodisiac chocolate ft. old man!Price 💕🍫

A few days ago, you receive a box of chocolates from your best friend. It was a black velvety box which almost seemed too sophisticated for a chocolate box. You couldn't help but remember the look on her face when she gave you the box. All winky and smily. At one point you thought that she either had a stroke or that her face got stuck in that position

Now a few days later, you stare at the same box in your fridge sighing softly. Most be one hell of a good chocolate if the box looks like that. You shrug your shoulders and open the box to see what the stroke-like face was all about.

You open the box and only see three divots where the chocolate is supposed to sit, except one is missing. Thinking John may have eaten one, you go to your shared bedroom to ask what it tasted like before you eat one yourself. You've always been skeptical of new desserts so you want to ask him before you tried it just incase it wasn't your cup of tea.

But when you enter the bedroom, you do not expect to find what you did

John Price, former SAS captain, in bed with his eyes screwed shut fisting his cock which looked painfully hard. You drink up the sight in front of you as you listen to his breathy pants and desperate grunts. You walk up to the edge of the bed and move the hair that's clinging to his forehead.

"Honey." You call out to him.

His doesn't stop his movements and just simply opens his eyes slightly, jerking his cock at a brutally fast pace,

"Sweetheart." He croaks out as if he's in pain.

You frown at his discomfort.

"What do you need, handsome?" You whispers softly.

And that was enough to have John manhandle you onto the bed, laying on your chest with your arse in the air. You gasp at his roughness but have never seen John like this before.

John simply moves your panties to the side and rams his cock inside of you. You yelp in shock but that soon turns into a moan when he starts fucking you.

Nice and deep. Hard and merciless. Fuck, this felt good. It felt too good. Your moans are salacious as they reverberate off the walls of your bedroom.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You squeal.

John lets out a breathy laugh as he continues his brutal pace not stopping for a second. And poor you had your face smashed against the pillows but it's not like you mind it one bit. Your moans only get obsscenely louder

A few more thrusts and his cums so hard inside of you that you yelp at the new sensation. Hot, thick and sticky cum coating your insides. And at the same time you chant his name like a prayer as your orgasm hits you hard. John teasingly pulls out and with it, his cum starts to leak out of your hole. You pant and you go limp in bed. Damn, that felt good.

John chuckles, kissing your forehead. "Sometimes I wish that I could do all the time. You deserve being covered in my cum, birdie."

You chuckle hoarsely too. "I don't think I could keep up with you if you're like this all the time." You mumble softly.

He hums in agreement, laying down next to you as he rubs your back gently. "Those chocolates are something else, huh?"

Your eyes widen slightly.

Oh so that's what the chocolates are for.