#whats he gonna do? tap dance and cry? piss his pants?

[bluecookies02]

I've been having a hyperfixation on face fucking lately, so If you could do any character with that I'd literally cry my eyes out. I love your work so much and I've been binging it for days!!!❤️‍🔥

!oh absolutely, I'm glad you're enjoying the blog!

>disclaimer:all acts are consensual unless stated othervise<

﹊﹊﹊﹊🄵🄰🄲🄴 🄵🅄🄲🄺🄸🄽🄶﹊﹊﹊﹊

Dᴀʙɪ, Bᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ, Sʜɪɢᴀʀᴀᴋɪ, Aɪᴢᴀᴡᴀ

﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊

Dᴀʙɪ: (cw: squirting, overstim)

He'll fuck you until you're trembling, just begging for him to cum already, throat soar from whining on his cock for hours on end.

Dabi can last long, sometimes too long. He'll have you twitching and crying, squirming when his thumb meets your clit again. It's not like he didn't cum either, he probably filled you up once or twice, dick still terribly hard but equally sore and flaming red from how long he's been slamming it in and out of your pussy. This happens when he's frustrated, generally pent up and it just happens that fucking you makes him feel better.

With one final tap to your clit, you're squirting, back arching and nails digging into your own palm, his chest getting soaked and abs glistening while they flex. He's so close, the pleasure too much that he's not even sure he can cum.

"No more! Fuck, no more" you're panting and clenching your legs shut, his cock slowly sliding out of you. Your limbs feel sore, incapable of moving another inch while you take deep breaths, hands relaxing to reveal small moon-like creases you gave to yourself.

You can feel the bed dipping and then there's a hand on your jaw, gently turning your face to the side.

"Open up" his voice is soft, but not any less demanding, his tip nudging past your lips. You open your jaw slack, closing your eyes. His length fills your mouth, your drool smearing down your lips and across your cheek before staining the sheets. His cock sinks further, filling up your throat. You try to breathe around it, gagging and spluttering but he keeps still, giving u time to fix your breathing, pulling out only a bit to let the air pass to your lungs.

"You good?" and you have to think for a moment before humming, relaxing further when his hands move to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

"I'll try to be quick...take a deep breath come one..." he coos, and you know better than to not listen to his advice. As soon as he sees your chest rising, he's slamming as far as he can go, his balls flush against your face. He's cursing and groaning, humping the depths of your throat, holding your head in place. You're coughing, thinking about reaching to grab his hand, but you decide to hold on.

"That's it, fuck that's it, so close I promise..." he rushes out, the slapping of his skin against yours speeding up. You're almost passing out but there's a deep growl, and then there are hot splashes coating the back of your throat, your mouth suddenly empty while you swallow what you can, coughing out what wouldn't go down. He helps you up, a hand petting your back. You clean the mix rushing down your chin with the back of your wrist, palm opening up to catch the spit falling from your lips.

It takes you a few minutes and Dabi waits, an apologetic look on his face while he watches you struggle. You can speak up but you terribly want to, words coming out scrambled and broken up. Dabi's hand holds your cheek, letting you nuzzle against it.

"Too far?" he asks, worried. His warm hand finds your throat, trying to ease some of the pain with his quirk, suiting your muscles.

You try to shake your head "no". It was almost too much, dangerously close to it too, but your heart is full, body relaxing while Dabi takes care of you, cleaning you up and tucking you against his chest. After a few minutes, you're not sure if you fell asleep or not but you open your eyes, watching the way Dabi's fingers dance across your arm. You move it just a bit until your fingers interlace with his, falling back into the daze and eventually falling asleep

Bᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ: (cw: none)

He's very rough but also very scared to hurt you.

Making him do anything unsafe is close to impossible and you respect that, you do. However you never saw him losing his mind, you never saw him fully letting go and fuck is it tempting. Even when he's angry he's still cautious. You fucked him silly but never fucked him stupid.

Finally, he's laying on his back, moving the hair from your face while you suck him off, saying dirty shit that makes you squeeze your legs together. Your hands are plastered over his meaty thighs, squeezing and gripping as you work him down your throat. He's timing your breathing, pulling you off every once in a while to let you rest.

"Relax" you whisper, circling your tongue over his flushed tip, flattening it against the slit while you look at him through your eyelashes. You're confident, and he caves quickly, letting you do your thing when he rests his head back against the pillows, closing his eyes.

You worship his cock, kissing and mouthing every inch, massaging the drool into his balls and squeezing every so often. He's not particularly loud during those, apart from the occasional praise he gives, humming to let you know you're making him feel good. You're going too slow and he's oh so gently raising his hips to meet your mouth, feet digging into the mattress. You keep him desperate, slipping your lips on and off his cock, watching him fuck the air each time his cock gets exposed to it, chasing the warmth of your throat.

It's not until you mumble a demanding "Go on" that you take him all the way in, waiting for him to move. He's not doing anything for a while, until he gets the memo, carefully rolling his hips, bucking off the bed. You're humming, throat vibrating each time he goes a little harder, urging him on. It takes a few minutes for him to let go and get into the rhythm, sloppily fucking your throat, eyes half-lidded to watch you. He didn't know he would get so terribly horny by watching you struggle, eyes glossy, the choking sound making him want to go harder, slam it down your throat until your eyes roll back into your head. He can't keep his mind from wandering, swallowing up by the image, feeling the coil in his stomach start to unroll.

You briefly put your hands on his hips, stroking his sides and following the motion of his thrusts, bobbing your head to meet him halfway. You can feel him twitch in your mouth, and when he breathes out "cumm-ghh" you pull off a bit, the first wave of cum falling on your tongue, a few smaller ones following soon after.

Aɪᴢᴀᴡᴀ:(cw:facesitting)

Your pussy is spread open, gushing and leaking onto his tongue while you jerk his cock, pumping the length in your hand with great care, movement slowed down so that you can selfishly roll your hips just right, thighs squeezing his head.

He keeps you open with his thumbs, nose buried in your cunt as he laps at your clit, suckling and twirling the nub in his mouth. He's grabbing fistfuls of your ass, trying to get all of your weight on him, pawing and kneading at it, a disapproving huff rushing through his muffled lips. You decide to indulge him dropping all your weight, chest bubbly to hear his satisfied groan, veins of his cock twitching in your palm.

You open your mouth vide, swallowing around his length with practiced ease, your hand moving from his base once it's fully inside. Like on cue, his strong muscular legs hook around your neck, pressing until your nose is mushed against his balls. A small part of you is thankful that he always takes thorough showers after training, but an embarrassingly large one wants to be consumed by the disgusting sweaty musk you can only imagine while you bury your face further between his legs.

Neither of you have much space to move, settling for just trying to reach and be closer to each other. Aizawa closes his lips over your cunt, mouth full as he swallows and gulps like he can't get enough, adrenaline pumping through him when he starts to feel a bit dizzy. You wrap your arms around his thighs, the position straining on both of your muscles, the burning sensation letting you know that you only have so much time until you're both at your limit.

Lazy rolls turn into hurried humps, your pussy chasing his tongue until it's just in the right place, tummy clenching from the surges of pleasure , His head rising off the bed so that he can press his tongue harder. You can feel your throat burning already and you get excited just by thinking about not being able to swallow food or drinks without being reminded of tonight.

He knows your body inside and out, knows that you're about to cum by the smallest movement of your hips and spine, ready to feel it so closely. He's only waiting for it, holding in his release just because he's so stuck on never cumming first, not wanting to miss you reaching your high, your moans and whines while your whole body moves and shakes, wave after wave surging to your fingertips and toes, forcing them to clench and curl.

He releases down your throat when you squeeze your legs around his ears, the first jolt of your body followed by his, cum pooling at the base of his cock. He cums like a bull, and unless your holes are plugged up, it's gonna seep out, you can't even swallow in time, gulps too big to handle, especially in a position like this one.

His legs slowly uncurl, freeing you and letting you slay down next to him. You can hear colors and you can see the sounds, mind on a beautiful vacation, not useful for a single thing. At least for half an hour.

Sʜɪɢᴀʀᴀᴋɪ:(cw:noncon, piss, mindbreak, humiliation, kidnapping)

He'll throw you on the ground, make you kiss his cock , make you beg to ruin your voice for weeks. He'll slap it against your cheek, smearing his tip all over your face and covering it in pre.

Pulling on your hair, forcing your lips open and already starting a quick pace. You can only try to push him away, arms too weak to do anything to help yourself. He doesn't want you to lose consciousness tho, snapping you off of his length for only a brief moment.

"Breathe whore, you're useless to me if you can't even suck a cock" you can barely breathe out of fear tho, four fingers tightening around your already bruised neck. Then he's pumping in and out of your mouth, slapping your cheek whenever you try to bare your teeth to make him flinch away, truth to be told he barely feels it he just wants an excuse to hit those plump cheeks. You hate yourself for not trying harder, but one can only have so much strength before giving up.

Your hair feels like it's gonna rip away from your skull, so you have no choice than to close your eyes and relax, slouching on the floor and letting him use your throat, hoping he'll get there faster.

He's not a fan of that, your chocked-up sounds noticeably disappearing when you find a way to get some air through your nose. It wouldn't be that easy, you should've known, two fingers stopping your airflow, causing spit to gush out of your mouth as your throat flexes and battles against his dick. He feels generous today.

It feels like you're dreaming when he finally lets you go, immediately fisting his cock in front of your face, aiming for your pretty eyes. Your eyelashes look beautiful, wet from tears, making them stand out better, more gorgeous...

He hates pretty things. He wants to defile them, make them as disgusting and monstrous as he is, the urge to ruin everything that dares be better than him.

You manage to close them in time, white painting your eyelids and forehead, some of it getting in your hair. He's finished with a sigh, tapping his tip to your lips before taking a step back. You're about to thank God that it's all over until you can feel the warmth hitting your tits, and then the smell hits you, causing you to curl up in yourself. It's not happening, there's no way in hell this is happening. You feel sick to your stomach, nails scraping against the floor until they break off, the sting not making you react at all, only focused on the sizzling sound and a satisfied moan in the background.

You lost the last ounce of dignity you had, brain shutting down while you just sit there, staring at the piss dripping down your thighs and your pussy, later hitting the floor and pooling on the cheap wood. Your eyes are wide, emotionless, robbed of the last spark they held. They're open now but you can't see a thing, everything seems to come to a stop.

You might hear the laugh before a door is slammed and locked, but you're not so sure anymore, falling unconscious in the cold room.

I pinkie promise to edit this in the morning bc my eyes r literally closing as I write. Who tf knows what I just blabbered on here but it's an adventure right. Is it gonna be a "you're/your" mess up, maybe? A plot hole...very likely. ooc...who cares, I do not believe in canon anyways😌

I feel like I made them all nut so fast but, more cummies the better I guess. ALSO ANON THANK YOU, I WOULDNT HAVE KNOW THAT THE ❤️‍🔥 EMOJI EXISTED IF IT WERENT FOR THIS ASK

Ko-Fi 💙| Patreon✨

[animextears]

DRIP DRIP :|: Akaashi Keiji

akaashi keiji x reader : * :

warnings: 18+ only, smut, moody reader, oral, teasing

wc: 1.6k premise: does he have what it takes to make you feel better?

author notes: ty for your patience & waiting out the weekend for this, akaashi luvers!

You were definitely having a bad day and Akaashi Keiji knew it. He could tell by the way you walked into the room and how your lips do that thing whenever you're deep in thought. That thing which he secretly finds too cute, especially because it gives him an opportunity to try and kiss it right off of you.

He approaches you with care midway through your huff across the kitchen, "Hey. —Baby." stopping you by the waist, stern hands finding their way to a bit of bare skin under your shirt and lightly gripping around them, that somehow, even through your current headspace of disturbances has a way of slipping through the crack of your mood just enough to shoot a tiny amount of electricity straight to the clit. Even so, you brush it off with determination, you’re feeling too pissed off for that.

He tilts his head curiously and dips his knees a bit in order to get closer to your face. His sparkling oceanic eyes are greeting you with concern, passion, questioning and calm all at the same. God, you think, you don't know how he does that, but it's one of the things you adore so much about him. He can say a multitude of things through those profound peepers without saying much.

Akaashi points a finger to run it up the middle of your furrowed brow, pushing upward on the forehead, so as to lift up the expression and unfurrow it for you, "Aww, you ok?" he consoles.

Your exhale is an appreciative one, and you are very grateful that he cares, but you just can't seem to shake this feeling.

An equally sparkling smirk to match his eyes comes forth, "I think I could...make you feel...better?..."

You attempt a small smile, but from being so in your head with the irritating day you've had, you just don't believe anything would help right now.

"No, Keiji baby, thanks, it's fine. I think I just need to think for a bit maybe..." you turn around to the kitchen counter, reaching for a glass from the cabinet and fill it to the brim with water.

“I see.”

He doesn’t really.

And it becomes evident by the way he is moving in on your back with playful lust and a sigh, “Hmm, you sure?"

His arms wrap around you to the front, one hand delicately leafing at the hem of your shirt, when suddenly it traces up your bare rib cage underneath the fabric. He follows through by groping one of your soft tits, lacing your nipple between two of his long fingers, then pressing the space between them to squeeze in on the sensitive bud. Akaashi knows how to expertly massage at the buoyant heft within his handful, like he’s gone pro in the athletic field of tiddie-tossing.

When he sees a trickle of your pleasure break through, he entices you, "Oh...? How about if I add another...?"

As you take a sip of water, his other hand moves in on your other breast and when your mouth separates from the lip of the glass, you release a louder pant. "Mmm, I dunno, baby, you maybe don't seem so sure..."

Enclosing itself behind your body now is the feeling of very stiff, very large excitement pressing in between the line of your clothed bottom. Your eyes shut trying to keep composure because you aren't fully convinced yet that you'll be able to let go of your glowering attitude. But, once his hands are both artfully rubbing on you within your blouse while making an indentation of himself on your lower half, he's right about your uncertainty. Ten sweet fingertips sink deeper into the flesh on your chest as you puff out harder.

"Hm, babe? What was that? Can't hear you." A clink of a full glass taps the counter. Your grip on it tightens.

When your head drops forward, he knows you're done for now.

Fast as he can, Akaashi plunges a hand down into the wet depth of your pants, his chin now resting on your inner shoulder so that his lips are effervescent on your ear. He slides his middle finger up inside you and it's already so soaked he can barely contain his low and prompt reply, "Ohh fuck, precious..." expelling his gratification as he drives it deeper, getting you to finally whimper pitifully because you're still so goddamn upset, but smooth-talking, blue-eyes here has gotten your moody fortresses to fall. "Let me ask you again, angel, how would you like it if I add another-?" Your spine bends forward to respond before your brain can even catch up to formulate words of agreement and— He adds two, twisting in the index and ring fingers up to join the middle like it's a grinding dance party in your pussy. The inexplicable feeling of his fullness leaves you capsized. Suddenly, all your frustration about the day has completely escaped you now. -Wait- what was I even moping about?- His fingers curl in on that hypersensitive spot within and you are fully sopping.

When you start hitting your hips against the counter to get his fingers to dip in further, he slows for a second.

"Turn your head some and let me look at that cute little flustered face..." You look hazily into his alluring eyes, "...mmn, now that's better isn't it, my pretty pouty girl?"

"Mhmn, Keiji...-'t feels better..."

Even ASMR doesn't do justice to the way he whisperingly croons out, "So, does someone want a peck on the lips to feel better?"

When your head leans in to him give one, he quickly diverts his away and declares calmly,

"Not those ones."

You watch his eyes narrow, and with these words, he feels your body reflexively tense in anticipation and it's all the confirmation he needs.

Without waiting for a response he readily unhands himself from within you, so that in a blink of an eye, he's already undone the top button of your pants and the other has swiftly followed to unzip them. With a hard tug, he exposes your ass, releasing your drenched garments, so that the clothes and his knees both hit the floor simultaneously.

He is fierce, yet tender as he bites into the ripeness of your plump cheek. A groan erupts out of you.

Akaashi turns you around, hands sliding along the swivel of your hips. He leans in to hover his mouth just over your little, bare hump, breathing warmth over it as he looks up at you, you down at him.

"I asked you a question," hot, moist words deliberately hit only your clit. He seeks to edge you longer and its something you can hardly handle well. Concentrated heat beats at it again,

“Want me to kiss it? Make it all better?”

You are devastated, “P-please, Keiji,” casting him a sensual nod.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he reveals his tongue and solely places it flat and still on your bundle of nerves, building your arousal. Only after you reactively hitched your third rapid mini breath in a row that has your belly contracting from desire, does he finally close his eyes leaning into his own pleasure of your inviting flavor.

With his tongue, he creates a space in between your soft crease soaking it further with your juices. He motions keenly from the back to the front, then again, slowly to the hole, then quickly back to the tip. When you quiver, he snatches a thigh and hitches it over his shoulder burrowing his face more intensely onto you, shoving your pelvis into a half-way sit position on the chilly counter.

You cry out with soft squeals and your head falls back while clenching through his raven strands.

The sound of lush, compact, oral smacks hitting your eardrums are like a rush of music you didn't know you needed today. All of your skin is resounding in relaxation and applause. His face is so pretty as you watch him enjoy taking all of your troubles away with just the cushion of his drenched muscle. Akaashi is a true giver. A truly giving lover and a super giving man.

He forcefully sinks his tongue up your creamy slit, masterfully jerking it inward while also working his lips upward in a way that now makes your eyesight obscured to the room. You didn't even realize you still had a glass in your hand until your increased thrusts onto his mouth begins to spill water all over, slightly showering you and the crown of Akaashi's head. He barely notices, and you see him humorously smile from behind your cunt because he knows you're about to peak. You don't even want to take a second to stop and put it down because if you do, you might lose your rise to climax right now.

Your voice is a small stirring mewl, "Oh Keiji, oh god, baby- I’m- I’m gonna...gonna come—" He sucks deeply onto that frontal sweet spot, focusing in on it and rocking his lips forward and knows not to stop not stop not stop until after...

—Your body becomes lighting, bursting outward, high-pitched tones vocalize themselves out from your chest. The water from your lazy grasp is splashing everywhere and you can tell he is just loving all of it.

As you descend, he hugs around both of your thighs and gives the swollen lump between them one final faint kiss.

Now that you are both partially bathed, he takes a stand, and flicks an attractive hand through his damp hair to fix it.

He liberates the glass from your hand and takes a sip of the water that's barely there anymore and finishes it, then lightly slaps at your bare ass. He warmly winks, granting you a quick kiss with an armed grin behind it. Before coyly turning on his heel out the room to just leave you standing there gaping with your half-naked frame hanging off the counter, Akaashi proclaims,

"Well, love, that's certainly one way to wash away the pain."

‣ masterlist

[taechaos]

How would Textbook Love JK will react if Y/N did a break up prank?

incoming drabble (a lil angsty ngl) 🤧 i liked this idea too much owo

You pace in your dorm with phone in hand, lightly tapping it against your palm from a mix of emotions: excitement, impatience and anticipation. Jungkook should be here any minute.

Watching YouTube in your free time has proven to be bad for you because it gave you the idea to prank your boyfriend. After seeing a series of lyric pranks, you decided to give it a twist because Jungkook isn't big on texting. One text from you, however, made all hell break loose.

You: We need to talk

the love of my life ♡: what

the love of my life ♡: smth wrong?

the love of my life ♡: pick up your phone

the love of my life ♡: ????

the love of my life ♡: are you okay?

the love of my life ♡: call me if ur in danger

the love of my life ♡: im coming to ur dorm

Though you felt bad for panicking him, you couldn't exactly pick up the phone before he began spamming you. You stopped typing when you saw his last text and waited for him.

There's a pound on the door. Your eyes widen and you quickly adjust your attire before interrupting his raps.

Jungkook looks like he ran all the way here with the way he's panting and his hair is disheveled from the rush of the air when he came to your rescue. "You're okay," he relieves and puts a hand over his chest, where his heart pounds from the exercise.

"Come in."

His brows dance a little when he notices how nervous you are before entering the room. You shut the door and saunter over to your bed to sit, and he follows lead; cautiously.

"Did something happen?"

You collect your nerves and go over your dialogue in your head one last time – the one you practised in front of the mirror. You're giddy to see his reaction because everyone else seemed so in love by the end of it.

"You gonna start talking or am I going to have to read your mind?" He's growing nervous, but as usual, he covers his feelings by a mask of irritation: knitted brows and a small frown.

"I... I need to tell you something important, Jungkook," you divert your gaze to him timidly. You don't want to start laughing from stage fright. He nods at you to continue; he matches the serious look on your face, though a bit more realistically. "I want to break up."

You don't take your eyes off of him as he leans back and his frown deepens. The mask is wearing off by the parting of his lips and the movement of his eyes. He's like a fish out of the water: he's confused and doesn't know what to say.

He settles on a "huh?"

"I want to break up," you repeat and nibble on your lip. He does the same with his upper one and avoids your stare while contemplating his response, though it's no help when his mind is blank and his heart seems to have been stabbed.

"Why?" His tone is controlled, and the question sounds more like a demand; he shut down on you.

You've practised this lie a bunch of times, but the words seem to refuse to come out of your mouth. All you can muster is a mumble mess, "I-I don't... uh, love... you, err, anymore."

There's no reaction, and you think he didn't catch it until you see the gloss in his eyes. The mimics in his face give nothing away, but he can't hide the windows to the soul. He's hurt, but you can't tell what he's feeling exactly when he does that annoyed habit – poking his inner cheek with his tongue.

"You don't love me anymore," he nods to himself. "Right. Okay." He clears his throat before standing up. You slowly stand with him as he walks to the exit. Just as you're about to stop him when he opens the door, he slams it shut and stomps back to you.

"You don't love me anymore, huh?" He's not hiding his reaction now; you can read his anger just from his flushed cheeks. "Is that right?"

"Hey–"

"Is that fucking right?! You don't feel anything for me?" He's seething at you and your intertwined fingers tremble under his glare. "Why? What happened? What the fuck did I do this time?"

He's too close to you; you can't lie in this position. "It was just..." Would he kill you if you told him the truth?

"What?" he shakes your shoulders. "Just what?"

"A prank." You screw your eyes shut in fear of his next reaction. He's intimidating you with only his eyes, but you know—hope—he wouldn't hurt you. His hands slide off your shoulders as he takes a step back.

You peek an eye open just as he says, "You think this is funny?"

"I-I thought people enjoyed this kind of thing– I saw other couples do it! I thought it'd be fun, I'm so sorry." Your eyes tear up too, but you can't hold them back like he does. It doesn't take long for them to stream down your face. They were waiting on your lashline the moment you saw his.

He scoffs and shakes his head at you. "I'm having the time of my fucking life," he sarcastically says with a bitter smile, "maybe I should do the same to you. I'm sure you'd laugh your fucking heart out."

"No, no," you weakly hold onto his shirt, "I'm sorry, I'll never do it again. Please forgive me, I was stupid and I never meant to hurt you."

"What the fuck were you expecting?" he asks in disbelief. "Relieved that I got rid of you? Happy that I wasn't stuck with you anymore? What?!"

"I don't know," you sob, "I just– I don't know!"

He tries to get your hands off of him, but your grip tightens in protest and you cry into his shirt. You hear him sigh, a rather pissed one, before his hand reaches up to pet your hair.

"Stop crying."

"I can't," you snivel, "you're upset and it's all my fault."

His other hand rubs your back soothingly and he finds humour in the ironic situation; how come you're the one crying when you just told him the one thing he'd never want to hear in his lifetime?

"Pull a stunt like that again, and then we'll have a problem. We're okay baby," he assures before pecking the top of your head tucked under his chin.

"I'll always hold you to that one promise you made, the one about never leaving me. Break that promise, and I won't be this nice."

You only sniffle in response.

[stripper-patrick]

I like the barbies💓, but I want the Bratz😈Steve Rogers

Warnings: language, fluff, smut, dom!Steve, choking, degradation, oral (m), angst, angry!Steve, fingering, fluff, crying, slight sub!Steve

Tags: @rebellious-desires @mrsbanreswillseeyou @eclecticblkgirl

Relationship: Steve Rogers x black plus sized reader

Steve called a mandatory meeting but I’m not sure for what and I’m interested to see what he’s gonna say.

“Y/N” Scott calls and I turn around meeting him.

“Hey Scott”

“You look beautiful today” I can tell he likes me but usually I don’t pay attention because I’m so busy with work. See I work as a nurse but strictly for the avengers team. I interned for Stark and he hired me after a month seeing how good I work under pressure. Then that’s when I met Steve. They brought him to me when he was fresh out of the ice to which I took care of him as well as catching him up on the 66 years of history he had missed. He took a liking towards me and soon we started our best friendship which turned into a sexual relationship. I’d enjoy more but I don’t wanna ruin what we have so l handle this for now.

Me and Scott walk and talk together to the conference room where he opens the door for me “oh my god I’m so tired of wearing scrubs really I’d prefer to be in a big t-shirt and nothing else” I laugh. I notice I’ve caught Steve’s attention by that sentence. His blue eyes study my features of a short t-shirt dress and my silk-pressed ashy brown hair flowing gloriously on my shoulders with each step I take.

“Well I’m sure a lot of male patients would be very aroused by how good you’d look in either attire I know I would” I blush laughing and I catch a Steve’s eyes. The once ice blue orbs now turned into electric with what looks like lust and anger. Steve always was possessive but seeing as we aren’t together you’d think he’d let little things like this slide. But we’re both wrong.

Everyone piles in at once and we all sit down waiting for what Steve has to say. “For starters I’d like to thank everyone for coming to the meeting and as we know there’s a special event tonight the ultimate Christmas party Tony famously hosts every year but we don’t want it to be like the last time where we we’re attacked by robots which is something I never thought I’d said in my 99 years of life” he chuckles “let’s remember to have fun but keep the compound secure and safe as well”

“That was all you called us for?” Scott asks. He had a tendency to get under Steve’s skin often bringing up his past and on one occasion he even mentioned our extraordinary 74 year ago gap and Steve nearly put him in a full Nelson.

“It is is there a problem?” I can see Steve is boiling but I don’t know why

“No problem at all captain” he chuckles

“Good everyone’s dismissed” he calls “except for Y/N” my heart starts beating faster and I watch everyone leave. I avoid eye contact with Steve but the second I catch him (gif), I feel my wetness start to collect between my thighs. The door is shut and I stand up walking towards him. I do a half sit on the table as he strides towards me placing his hands on either sides of my hips coming about eye level to me. The smell of his mint toothpaste and Armani cologne is breathtaking.

“I don’t like how he talks to you or even looks at you”

“Who Scott? We’re just friends”

“He wants you Y/N and I’m sure he has a sense that something is going on between us so if he could he’d taste you right in front of me” Steve parts my legs stepping between them

“Nonsense Steve it’s not even like that. You’re just being over-protective and jealous. For what? I don’t know”

“Because you’re mine” his hand slides between my thighs as his calloused finger rubs my wet clit before sliding between my folds. My upper body slouches down as I push my hands behind me on the table to keep my balance. My eyes shut and I bite my lip holding back a moan.

“How can that be the case yet we’re not together?” I ask

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t mine” he says sliding a finger in. My body opens up to him. I’m feeling so many different emotions. Mad, sexually frustrated, horny, appalled. I don’t know what to do. He continues pumping slowly to torture me. My body shakes and he holds up my chin forcing me to look into his eyes. Steve curls his fingers making my body jolt. He moves his hand in a quick all-of-a-sudden pace slamming on my g-spot. My body rocks and my moans get louder. Steve covers my mouth “be a good girl for me and cum on my hand princess” my legs shake and next thing I know I’m convulsing against him trying to press my thighs together. My back arches as he pumps me dry. Once I come to my sense I watch Steve lick his fingers with a smirk.

“If you want me to officially” I stand up slowly watching him take a step back “you know what to do” I walk out going straight to my room. I take a deep breath as my wobbly legs force me to sit on the nearby chair. I’ve gotta start getting ready for this party. I bring myself together walking to the shower turning it on hot.

.....

I’m all dressed and ready for the party and I hear a bunch of people downstairs and the slow jazz music awaiting. I take one last look on the mirror at my outfit which is white mid rise bell bottoms, a double breasted blazer and a lace white bra that exposes the breast tattoo Steve likes so much. I grab my bedazzled clear heels sliding them on before heading downstairs. I stand at the top of the steps just grabbing some alone time before I merge with the crowd. A body slides next to me and I think it’s Steve until I meet eyes with someone else. Scott.

“Oh my god Y/N you look incredible” I smile thanking him keeping my eyes on the crowd “Jesus if I were Steve I wouldn’t let you walk out like that” I chuckle

“Scott I do what I want relationship or not”

“Speaking of what’s going between you and the crypt keeper” he takes a sip of his drink and I feel eyes burning into me. I look down seeing Steve staring right back at me. Sharon is staring at him like she hasn’t eaten in days and I feel my blood boil. He excuses himself and I watch him walk towards the steps.

“Nothing we’re just friends and coworkers”

“Hmm” he hums in disapproval. Steve meets us at the top with a fake smile on his face.

“Excuse me Scott I’d like to borrow Y/N for a minute” he grabs my arm whisking me away without even allowing Scott to comply.

Steve takes me to a dimly lit hallway and I yank my arm away “have you lost your damn mind” by this point I’m pissed. I get that Steve has attachment issues but that doesn’t mean he can control who I talk to let alone get mad that another guy is giving me attention when all he does is work and fuck me.

“Maybe. What the hell are you doing after I told you Scott is trying to get what’s mine”

“Steven how the fuck can I be yours and we’re not dating. And you know why we aren’t dating because you’re still strung up on Sharon who just so happened to be undressing you mentally”

“She was not” he scoffs. I squint my eyes in anger “It’s obvious Scott only wants to fuck you”

“And what the fuck do you actually get to do. Fuck me that’s it. You don’t know how bad I actually wanna be with you but the only thing we can do is fuck so don’t say shit about anyone else’s place when you’re actually participating in the act just using the same mindset” I storm away from him and walk downstairs mixing myself in the crowd.

“Y/N you look great” Pepper says “woah what’s wrong”

“Nothing I’m fine” I say. She knows me better than anyone else and she grabs my hand. She excuses herself from Tony and we head to the bathroom.

“Talk to me” a tear slips and I wipe it careful not to mess up my makeup. I explain to her what happened and she shakes her head

“Men are so stupid” she hugs me making me laugh. She helps me fix my makeup and it doesn’t look too bad. Pepper walks out with me our locked together and we go straight to the bar “4 vodka shots please”

The bartender grabs the Smirnoff bottle pouring the liquor into the small glasses setting them in front of us. She hands me 2 and I grab one glass tipping my head back letting the liquid glide down my throat leaving a fiery trail. My face scrunches up and the DJ spins the record stopping the smooth jazz.

I watch as Tony gets on the mic “I feel like we need to amp this party up some more” the crowd agrees as the DJ turns the music up putting on Meg Thee Stallion’s song Freak Nasty.

I take my second shot grabbing a lime to chase the liquor and replace the fiery taste in my mouth. My chest burns as the liquid courage smoothes down singeing my sternum.

I feel myself migrate to the dance floor rocking to the beat of the music. I bend over shaking my ass and I feel a body slide behind me. I’m not sure who it is but the guys hands slide around my waist keeping me close. “Damn baby can I take you home” before I’m able to pull whoever this is off of me Steve grabs him.

“Get your fucking hands off my girl” I watch Steve pull the guy away and he grabs my arm pulling me upstairs to his bedroom. I can tell he’s livid.

“Y/N what the fuck”

“I didn’t even know it wasn’t you” I say nonchalantly standing up “and again I don’t see why you’re mad we aren’t even-“ he cuts me off with a kiss and a hand pressed to my throat. Steve is quick to lay me on the bed still holding me in his powerful kiss. Steve pulls off my jacket moving his lips to my neck and breasts. I bite my lip holding back a moan. His hands slip into my pants undoing them and my legs fall open for him. I feel his erection against my thigh as he rubs my wet swollen clit begging for attention.

“Don’t stop” instead Steve does the opposite and stands up. I pull off my pants and soaked black thong. Steve undresses his bottom half and grabs my legs pulling me to the end of the bed. He taps his dick on my clit making me writhed before he finally pushes himself in me.

I grab his arm as he continues his assault breathing heavily near my ear. His moans are guttural and low as he nips at my ear. “Just like that please Steve” he pushed my thighs back on the bed stroking me down harder. My jaw drops and I lift my arms above my head gripping the sheets behind me.

“You look so fucking good doll” I whimper holding him close to me. The thought of Sharon taking him away from me overwhelms me and a tear slips. Or it could be from just how good he’s pounding out my pussy.

“Look at you. A beautiful fucking mess. My beautiful fucking slut” he bites my collarbone quick to put my legs on his shoulders.

“Steve please”

“What do you want? Use your words” I can’t even think. I’m not sure what I want so I let my heart do the talking

“Don’t leave me”

“I won’t baby girl. Fuck you look so pretty taking my dick like that”

“Steve” I moan. His strokes increase as he wraps his hand tighter around my throat

“Nobody is allowed between my pretty little sluts thighs but me” my release is on the brink as he keeps talking to me like this “and if they try... I’ll kill them”

“I’m cumming” my legs shake uncontrollably as my hips buck upward.

“Cum for me please” he whimpers. I muster up the strength and flip us over riding him. I grind hard on Steve as he coats my walls in his juices whimpering my name.

I keep bucking my hips watching him squirm. I slow down and collapse on his chest feeling his dick pulse inside of me.

“You’re mine” he rasps

“I’m yours” I smile

“We’re going on a date tomorrow to solidify it but for right now will you be my girlfriend?” He smiles

“Of course” I laugh as he kisses my head.

[millie-ionaire05]

Soul Sucking

Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Incubus Jimin ☯ Fantasy AU ☯ Human Reader

Summary: A dull night at the club has Jimin frustrated and about to leave to find a more lively one. That is, until you walk in. Every part of him is quivering with excitement at the prospect of sucking you dry, but you’re going to be a tad bit harder than other girls he’s tried to consume. Harder, but so much more fulfilling.

Word Count: 5,806

Rating/Warning: M for Mature (+18), Explicit; pwp (honestly it’s less plot than I want to credit) female reader, exhibitionism? (he fingers you in the uber….I’m not sorry lol), fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral (reader receiving), big dick Jimin, unprotected sex (wrap the schlong before you sit on the dong), squirting, creampie, one night stand

Author’s Note: Well...this came out of nowhere. I...I am honestly frazzled after writing this. Do other writers get flustered by their own writing? Or is it just me? Also, thanks to the beautiful Viola (@ladyartemesia) for showing me the tools to make my own banner. It’s nowhere near as amazing as the ones she creates, but I’m still a little proud of it. After the emotional week I’ve had, finally posting this makes me super happy. I hope you guys like it. Stay safe, and healthy, and happy!

P.s. also a huge shoutout to my soul sister (@jin-the-middle) for letting me ugly cry to you about everything that went on. I don’t know where I’d be in life without you. I love you. 

   Jimin can’t help the scowl that claims his lips, his tongue pressing into the top of his mouth in an attempt to prevent the stench of the woman next to him from hitting his senses. Such easy targets they are, eager and willing to sleep with anything on two legs and a dick in between. He was getting tired of all the easy games, his body desperate for a challenge. He can’t even enjoy the thump of the music as the bass reverberates throughout the dance floor, which usually has his skin tingling and his legs twitching to join the throng of people grinding on each other. Not this time though. He has no interest in the people here tonight, and his feet begin to carry him back across the club towards the exit, at least until he feels the shift in the air. 

   Eyes rising, he senses the most intense energy walking through the entrance, body barely covered in a black two piece, and the most sinful high heels. His body is practically thrumming with excitement, that is, until he sees your face. You look pissed, your energy only increasing in levels that he could start physically seeing, the charged red tendrils appearing like flames as they surround you. His eyes widen as you stay close to another female, your eyes cutting sharp glares at the men who gawk at the both of you, a warning to keep distance. 

   Obviously from your hostility, you’d had no intention of coming to the club on a Friday night. Your energy was encapsulated with solidarity, and with a flick of his tongue against his lips, he can tell you rarely left the comforts of your home. He tries to inconspicuously make his way to a standing table that is behind yours, but he feels the shift in your energy at his presence, and he tactfully heads towards the bar instead.

   He waves his hand at the bartender, not missing the way her eyes widen and her body rushes to fulfill his wishes. He knows he shouldn’t, but he sends her a smirk, and he watches the way her cheeks brighten an embarrassing shade of pink. Internally chuckling to himself, he walks away to his intended spot behind your table, close enough to continue observing you without disturbing your heightened energy. 

   His body is quaking in anticipation as he observes you with who is clearly your friend, their body jumping up and down in place while yours remains still, your head resting on your hand on the table. You try to subtly tap your fingers against your cheek to the beat of the music, the only indication that you were enjoying the tunes as your friend yapped. Parting his lips, he allows your energy to drift towards him, your body tensing immediately. 

   Damn you’re perceptive. 

   He shuts his mouth, allowing what little energy he could get from you to roll against his tongue. You are fucking delectable. His mouth waters further as he tries to savor your taste, his cock twitching in his leather pants, begging for more. His mind runs with all possible scenarios that he could use to get closer to you, and he’s ready to make his move….until another man walks up to your table just as your friend walks away towards the dance floor. 

   Tsking at the filthy skeeze that attempts to talk to you, Jimin decides to wait, leaning forward against his table so he can catch what is being said.

   “So, do you come here often?” the man asks, leaning closer to you. 

   Jimin’s lips tighten to a thin line, at first to prevent his annoyance from coming forth, but then to stop the laugh that’s trying to bubble its way out.

   “No,” you answer flatly, not even glancing at the guy as you blatantly shift out of his presence. 

   The guy doesn’t take the hint and just tries to lean closer. “No wonder I don’t recognize you.” 

   Jimin’s eyes curl in amusement as you scoff at the guy, your gaze finally moving. 

   “You look sexy in that. Wanna dance?” the man enthusiastically proposes, his eyes clearly not on your face. 

   “Does that line work on other girls?” You retort back, snapping your fingers in his face. “My face is up here asshole. Go use that lame ass pickup on some other sap in this club, ‘cause I’m not interested.”

   The man’s face morphs into one of anger, and Jimin enjoys the way you tilt your head, as if to taunt the man by silently saying ‘what are you gonna do about it?’

   The guy doesn’t bother wasting more time making advances, just sulks away to a corner of the club, his eyes scoping out someone else to talk to. Jimin has the biggest urge to clap at your performance, but he has a feeling you won’t appreciate knowing he had been listening. Instead, he decides on a new plan, one that has a ninety-seven percent chance of working on you. It was still that three percent chance that has him worried. Well, only slightly.

   Walking around his table with his drink in hand, he casually walks towards you, eyeing the couple to his left. If he times it right, they will bump him in three…two...one. Sure enough the couple in mid-dance bump him, which forces him to collide with your body. He doesn’t miss the way your face curls in anger, and he schools his features to look shocked, his eyes wide. He turns to the couple that is looking at him, apologizing to him for bumping him, and he quickly turns to you and apologizes as well. 

   He watches the way your eyebrows come together in uncertainty, confused on whether you should stay angry, or acquiesce to the accident. He realizes you’ve decided on the latter when your lips set into a thin line. 

   “I truly am sorry,” he repeats, allowing his gaze to lower to the drink in his hands. 

   “It’s fine,” you sigh out, allowing your head to once again rest against your hand. Raising his gaze, he purposefully meets your eyes, and his stomach tingles at the way your lips part. He lets a friendly smile curl his lips, suppressing his deepest urges to throw you on the table and eat you out. 

   “You look like you’re having fun,” Jimin states in a teasing tone, smiling when your eyes go wide with mock surprise. 

   “Oh really?” you exaggerate your emphasis, lifting your head to free your hand and grab for your drink which is still full. “So much fun.”

   He giggles, allowing his eyes to squint at you. Your energy is all over the place, his tongue begging to come out to taste some more, but he forcefully keeps it pressed against the top of his mouth. He shifts his feet to simulate hesitation, his mouth curling down into a frown. 

   “Well...I guess I’ll leave you to it,” he says low enough for you to hear, his eyes picking up your surprise at his demeanor, which is clearly more considerate than any of the other patrons in the club. You just didn’t know it’s for a different reason.

   “It’s just…,” you start, stopping him in his movement of walking away, and he practically has to bite on his tongue to keep the smile from twisting up his lips. “My friend...she wanted to come.”

   Jimin turns to you again, his eyebrows coming together to show his confusion on how that was a logical explanation. His eyes narrow to the pink tinging your cheeks as you take another sip of your drink, your eyes more focused on your friend on the dance floor. He waits patiently for you to continue, not wanting to push too quickly, because he knew you would run. It was all in the way your energy twisted, warning him not to make any sudden movements. 

   “She wanted to make her ex jealous,” you continue, your finger pointing to a man on the edge of the dance floor eyeing your friend. Jimin’s gaze moves to the man before he nods his head slowly. “So, here I am. A good best friend, here to make sure everything goes to plan.”

   “But you don’t want to be here,” Jimin says, more a statement than a question, but you still shake your head. 

   “Nope,” you confirm, sighing heavily. 

   Jimin takes a moment to swipe his tongue against his lips, trying to get another taste of you before deciding how to proceed. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes watch him, and then he’s using his teeth to worry on his bottom lip, morphing his expression to one of care. 

   “So you have to watch her all night?” he asks, his eyebrows coming together in concern. “That doesn’t seem very fair.”

   You chuckle at his statement, a humorless chuckle and something flashes across your eyes that he doesn’t quite understand. “No, as soon as they disappear together I’ll be able to go home.”

   From the way your eyes shift nervously, he can tell you are worried if you’d shared too much information. Changing tactics, he schools his expression to one of innocence, briefly meeting your eyes before looking away.

   “If you want, I can keep you company?”

   Silence follows as your energy wavers, clearly trying to warn you of his actions, but you seem unsure. 

   “Ah, sorry,” he purposely begins to ramble, taking small steps away from you. “It was a dumb idea. I just figured it would help pass the time, and maybe stop anyone else from trying to come up to yo-”

   “Sure,” you say, giving him a small smile as his face morphs to one of shock. He almost shivers at the laugh that escapes your lips. “Don’t look so shocked.”

   He chuckles, watching as you scoot over to give him space to set his still untouched drink down onto the table. He had his ticket in. Now to keep you in his grasp. 

   “So, what brings you here?” you question, looking at him pointedly from above the rim of your glass as you drink.

   He laughs, giddy at the way you blanch before your cheeks are filling with color. He fiddles with his own drink on the table, turning the glass slowly and avoiding your gaze. 

   “I was actually about to leave before bumping into you,” he states, shrugging when you give him a confused look. “I wasn’t having much fun.”

   You nod your head slowly, clearly able to understand him. Your eyes move to your friend on the dance floor, your eyebrows rising at the sight. He turns to look, seeing that your friend had finally convinced her ex to join her, their bodies practically one as they grind against each other. 

   “Looks like your night may be over soon,” he states, giving you a smile as his mind races. Clearly he’d have to up his efforts if he hoped to get you in his grasp tonight. 

   “Thank god,” you laugh, your eyes twinkling at him. 

   He forces his eyes to widen, as if taken aback by your beauty, though he didn’t have to try very hard. Your energy just emphasizes your beauty, and his cock starts to stiffen. To simulate nerves, he accidentally spills his drink on the table, his hands fluttering in worry. 

   “Oh shit. I’m so sorry,” he starts, but is silenced when your hand rises. 

   “No harm, no foul,” you voice, grabbing some napkins from a nearby table. 

   He reaches for the napkins in your hands, mumbling that it was his fault and he would clean it, but he stops moving when your hands meet and he sees you shiver. He knows it's because of the effect he has on you, just like with any other girl, but you’re something different. You’re a harder feat. 

   “Are you okay?” he probes, grabbing hold of the napkins and slipping them from your fingers, giving your body a chance to relax at the loss of contact. 

   “Y-yeah,” you stutter, clearing your throat. 

   The shift in your bearings is discernible, letting him know he could move a bit faster in his advancements. His tongue tingles as he swipes it against his lips, his eyes moving to see your own tongue running along your lips, mimicking his actions. Your cheeks were pink once again, and your energy was swaying towards him, silently gesturing for him to make his move. 

   “I didn’t mean to spill the drink,” he starts, causing you to jump in your spot, but he pretends he didn’t see it. “I was just in awe at how beautiful you are.”

   You snort at his words, a giggle bubbling from your lips as you move the cups out of the way so he can wipe down the table. He smiles, finishing the task quickly before looking at you again. 

   “I’m serious,” he says, licking his lips again. 

   You copy him once again, your eyes trained on his lips before fluttering up to his eyes. You both remain there, staring at each other, gradually closing the space between your bodies. His fingers twitch, and he takes a gamble by brushing a loose strand of hair to behind your ear, his cock twitching at the hitch in your breath. He isn’t sure he can wait much longer. 

   “Hmmm,” you hum, obviously trying to find something to say to diffuse the growing atmosphere between you two. “What’s your name?”

   He’s surprised at the question, intending to give you one of the many false names he throws around, but for some reason that’s not what slips out. 

   “Jimin.” 

   “Jimin,” you repeat, and he almost groans. 

   It sounds so beautifully wicked on your lips, his cock immediately at half mast and begging to be touched. He shifts in his spot, hoping to relieve some of the pressure.

   “And what’s your name, beautiful?” he questions, leaning closer so that his parted lips allow your energy to flow towards him. 

   You murmur your name, your body naturally swaying towards him. Suddenly your lips are connecting to his, your energy quivering as he caresses up your arms, his hands stopping at the back of your neck. Your lips are so soft against him, his tongue coming out in silent query, and you comply willingly. A moan so sweet escapes you, your fingers gripping the lapels of his blue jacket, clearly desperate to bring him closer. 

   He would have had no issue taking you there in the club, amongst the crowd of people, but he has so much in mind to do to you. Reluctantly he pulls his lips away from yours, meeting your lust filled eyes. He smirks at your whine, your fingers tightening against his jacket. He moves to kiss along your cheek until he makes it to your ear, allowing his breath to make you shiver in his grasp. 

   “Shall I take you home?” he whispers, his teeth coming out to nibble at the edge of your ear. 

   “Please,” you beg.

   He leans away from you, moving his hands to cup your cheeks, his eyes piercing into yours. You still in his grasp, clearly under his influence and waiting for anything he might ask.

   “Did you drive here?” he asks, smiling when you shake your head. “Call an Uber.”

   You do as he says, reaching for your phone and pulling up the app, typing your address before paying. He keeps his hand on you, maintaining the physical contact to ensure you stay within his influence. When you’re done, you look up at him, eyes wide in search of being praised. He smiles, his hand moving to caress your cheek, and he watches you lean into it. Moving swiftly, he grabs your purse that rests on the table, his free hand grabbing your own and leading you towards the exit. 

   “How much longer beautiful?” 

   You look down at your phone, allowing him to guide you out of the club. “They’re here.”

   He smirks, pushing you both past the crowd of people outside waiting to come in. You point to the car that’s parked across the street, and your bodies hurriedly shuffle towards it. He opens the door, allowing you to get in first, and for a moment he loses contact with your body. When he finally sits inside the car, he notices your dazed look as you watch him, the fog in your mind trying to unravel. He swiftly places his hand on your exposed thigh, the hem of your two piece having risen up and exposing more skin. His eye twitches at the sight. 

   “Buckled up?” the driver questions, breaking him out of his yearning. 

   He turns towards the woman in the driver's seat, silently thanking anyone above that the driver is female. His tongue snakes out to lick his lips, and instantly senses the weak energy of the driver, clearly exhausted from a long day. Smirking at how easy it would be, he moves his free hand until it makes contact with the woman, the woman’s eyes meeting his in the rearview mirror. 

   “Don’t worry about our seatbelts, love. Just make sure you drive us safely, and be sure not to look back here.”

   He waits for her to nod her head, her fingers moving to the gear shift and putting it in drive. Content with the situation, he shifts his attention back to you, his fingers squeezing your thigh. He allows a bit of the haze to leave you, just so that he can get you to comprehend what will be happening. 

   “Alright, beautiful, come here,” he motions to his lap, adjusting himself so that he’s sitting in the middle seat. 

   You obey him, moving to sit in his lap and face him, but he quickly adjusts you so that you’re facing the windshield. His hands cup behind your knees, spreading you until your legs rest just outside of his. He purposefully leans further into the seat, spreading his legs which, inevitably, spreads yours. His fingers slide across your exposed thigh before coming to the edge of your hem, his hands gripping the fabric and shoving up. A gasp escapes your mouth, your eyes moving to the driver to see if they’re watching. 

   “Don’t worry about her, beautiful,” he soothes, his fingers moving to the apex between your legs. “She won’t be watching...unless you want her to?”

   As he finishes his question, his fingers skim against your panty covered clit, causing you to shiver. Your thighs tense and your hands turn to fists, clearly unsure of what to do with them. He moves to your hands, guiding them until each is resting against the headrest of the driver’s seat and passenger seat, and he watches as your knuckles turn white. Chuckling to himself, he continues on his journey to between your thighs, his nostrils flaring as your scent begins to overwhelm him. 

   “Do you like that idea?” he coos, playing with you from the outside of your panties, the tips of his fingers barely making contact. “Do you want her to watch as I make you come?”

   Your body trembles above him as he pulls your panties to the side, his fingers going straight to your soaked core. 

   “Answer me beautiful,” he commands, kissing on the exposed flesh of your arm as he shifts himself, allowing his face to peer from the side of your body. 

   “N-no.”

   “No?” he muses, the tips of his fingers swirling in your wetness. “Your body is telling me otherwise, baby. Are you sure you don’t want her to watch?”

   He hears your answer catch in the back of your throat, his middle finger having entered your tight hole and expertly curving to hit that spot. It’s moments like this that remind him how much he loves being an incubus, loves the feel of a woman under his touch, and the way your energy begs to be sucked out by him. You’ve clearly been abstinent for quite a while, because you are probably the tightest pussy he’s had in so long. The thought makes him pause. 

   “Baby, how long has it been since someone has pleased you like this?” 

   He pauses in his motions to allow your mind to focus. 

   “A-about 3 years,” you whimper out, trying your hardest to move so that his finger can continue its dance on your g-spot. 

   “Aw, you poor baby,” he purrs, giving you what you want by curling his finger, stroking you. 

   Your moans swiftly fill the car, the smell of you wafting in his nose as your energy slithers between his lips, his taste buds tingling as saliva fills his mouth. You’re beautiful. Every noise that leaves your lips, the way your wetness drips past his fingers and coats his hand, it’s perfection. You have so much sexual energy that for a moment he almost feels overwhelmed, wanting to do everything under the sun to you, but not wanting to rush in the chase. 

   Sticking in a second finger, his cock hardens further at the way your body goes taut, clearly at the edge of an orgasm. He adjusts you in his lap, purposely rubbing your ass against his hardened member, and giving himself better leverage to shove his fingers further inside of you. He feels the uncomfortable shift of his rings as he forces his fingers knuckle deep in you, but he ignores it as he speeds up in his efforts to bring you to a climax. 

   Your back arches away from him, your head thrown back as your muscles tighten, and his mouth instinctively drops open. His head is filled with the heady energy of your potent orgasm, and his patience begins its drop. You taste...heavenly. Your energy quivers in his mouth as he continues fingering you, his senses becoming overwhelmed when his palm rubs against your clit, your cry ringing in his ears. He can feel your walls pulsate on his fingers before remaining tightened as he pushes you towards overstimulation, your hands moving to his arm and squeezing. Even he couldn’t tell if you were silently begging him to stop or continue, and unfiltered curses spring from your mouth when he begins to vigorously roughen his strokes. 

   “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groans out, enjoying the squelch of your juices when he adds a third finger. 

   His name falls from your lips as your nails dig into his skin, causing him to groan again. His cock begs to be freed from the confines of his pants, begs to have your lips wrapped around it as he fucks your mouth before fucking your tight hole. At the rate this is going though, he isn’t sure he’ll last long if he lets his cock anywhere near your mouth.

   He relishes in the way your body shakes above his, your thighs trembling as you unsuccessfully try to bring them closer together. He purposely spreads his legs even further, your body trying to fight him, but ultimately you give up, your body curling forward as your forehead rests against the driver’s seat. Jimin shifts his eyes to look out the window, noticing the car is slowing as they approach an apartment complex. 

   “Just come for me one more time, baby,” he coaxes. “Just one more time on my fingers.”

   Adjusting his hand, he removes his palm from your clit and replaces the pressure with the fingers of his free hand, his fingers practically pinching you in a mix of pain and pleasure that he knows will bring you to another intense orgasm. Sure enough, your back bows away from him once again, your walls clenching tighter against his fingers as you orgasm. He ignores the way your walls attempt to still his fingers, helping you ride the second orgasm before he slowly removes his hand. Your body unsteadily heaves air into your lungs, and he brings his soaked hand to his mouth as his free hand strokes the inside of your thigh. 

   A moan rips from his throat the moment your juices touch his tongue, his body thrumming as he tastes you on his fingers and his cock jumps in his pants. 

   “Fuck,” he growls, his free hand stilling to squeeze your thigh as he sucks all of your juices off his fingers. “You taste so fucking good.”

   The car stops in front of your apartment complex, the woman in the driver’s seat remaining compliant in keeping her eyes forward, and Jimin helps you fix your clothes. He allows you to slip out of the car first, unworried about you losing the fogginess he’d instilled in your energy. His eyes fall to the pool of wetness on the floor of the backseat, and he can’t help but feel partial pride and guilt. Pulling a hundred dollar bill from the inside of his coat, he leans forward and strokes the arm of the driver. 

   “Thank you, love,” he murmurs, a smirk curling his lips when she jumps. “Here’s for the trouble.”

   Uninterested in waiting for the driver’s response, he slips out of the car and closes the door, eagerly grabbing your hand. 

   “Lead the way, beautiful.”

   Your feet earnestly speed walk to the elevator, your body practically thrumming with impatience as you guide him to your apartment, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when you finally open your door. He can’t help but chuckle at your actions, your energy ablaze around you, begging him for more. Oh, but he is so ready to give you more. That’s all he wants to do for the rest of the night, and his lips tingle at the prospect of draining you dry. 

   You lead him through the small hallway that opens to the kitchen and living room, and he has to stop you there. He can’t wait anymore, not after getting that teasing taste of you in the uber. His body becomes flush against yours before his hands grab the back of your thighs, skin like velvet as he lifts you onto the kitchen counter, his eyes noticing the shiver that racks your body. 

   Unwilling to waste anymore time, he spreads your thighs, his mouth dropping straight to your panty covered core with a groan. Like fire against his lips, he feels the energy slide past his tongue and down his throat, his body becoming alight with your pleasure. Desperate for more, he immediately pushes your thong aside and connects with your clit.

   Such sweet ecstasy. Like a delicious four course meal, filling him in ways he hadn’t realized he was desperate for. His desperation grows as he feels your fingers slide between his blonde strands, grasping hold of his locks in an attempt to try and bring him closer. At this point, he’s willing to give you whatever you want. If you want the world, he’s willing to serve it to you in any way he can. But his cock weeps for sweet release, and he struggles to remain on track with pleasuring you all night before he gets his fill of you. The more he builds you up, the more he can take from you by the end of the night, but your energy seems almost too full already. It’s quite distracting for him. 

   Leaning away from your core, he alternates between nipping and kissing the soft flesh of your thighs as he pants, frantically trying to keep his thoughts together. His soul sucking instinct rears up in him, annoyed that he was even wanting to think instead of just taking what you are clearly so willing to give. Unable to stop, his hand moves to grip himself through his pants, squeezing in hopes of relieving some pressure. It doesn’t help. 

   “Mmm, baby,” he murmurs, nipping at your flesh a bit harshly as his hunger grows. “I need to feel you come on my tongue. Can you do that for me? Can you come in my mouth?”

   His eyes cast up to see your eager nod, and an aching groan rips from his throat. Practically delirious with the longing to build you up to a breaking point, his mouth connects with your clit once again. You keen above him, spurring him on as his tongue flicks unnaturally quick against your overly sensitive nub, your thighs quivering on each side of his face. He hastily shifts in his spot before shoving two fingers inside of you again, knowingly curling his fingers as if he’s known your body his whole life. 

   His name falls from your lips in rapid tandem with the strokes to your g-spot, and he reflexively thrusts into the air. He isn’t going to make it the whole night, and as soon as this orgasm hits you, he needs your tight hole on his cock. The mere thought has his lips latching onto your clit, suckling you as his strokes inside your wet heat turn harsh, your slick juices echoing in his ears. The thrum of his pulse adds to the perfect orchestra as you begin to fall apart on him. Your hands grip his hair as you greedily ride your high against his mouth, his tongue slurping as much as he can before you begin to whimper.

   Pulling away from you, he lifts your body off the counter and throws you over his shoulder, his hand connecting with the exposed flesh of your ass. He doesn’t even bother wiping his face as he makes his way to the only closed door connecting to the living room, his nostrils flaring when he walks into your room and immediately catches sight of the vibrator on your nightstand. No wonder your energy was so potent, you had been sexually frustrated for so long, clearly unable to feel properly satisfied with just the vibrator. 

   Throwing you onto your bed, the squeak that falls from your lips and the wide eyed look you give him does nothing to calm his futile attempts at remaining composed. He leans forward and removes your two-piece, a growl of an instruction leaving his mouth for you to continue getting naked as he peels off his own clothes. His fingers tremble when his cock springs from the confines of his pants, the weeping head tapping against his abdomen before standing straight at attention, greedy for pleasure. He doesn’t miss the way your mouth turns to an ‘o’ before you lick your lips, your eyes hypnotizingly ogling him, and his cock twitches in response. 

   Your hands unconsciously rise towards him, but he grasps them both in one of his own, climbing onto the bed to forcibly lay you on your back. Your legs instinctively comply in spreading for him to sit himself comfortably between them, your wetness dripping onto your sheets and he can’t look away. He allows his head to tap your clit, wondering if he can make you come from just the action. The idea turns even more appealing when your thighs squeeze his waist, clearly surprised at the sensation. 

   Gritting his teeth, Jimin uses his free hand to grab hold of his dick, swirling his head in your wetness before tapping it on your clit. 

   “Fuck!” you cry out, back bowing off the bed. “Oh god, please.”

   He forces himself to chuckle, but ignores your indirect request in favor of tapping the head of his cock against your puckered nub. The grip of your thighs tightens against him as he continues slapping himself on you, his eyes unwilling to stray from the sight as your juices begin to pour from your hole, your moans becoming more rowdy as tears begin to stream from your eyes. 

   Your energy is so high it practically wraps around his cock, making him wince, but he doesn’t stop. Unsurprised when you suddenly become quiet, he chokes out curses when you squirt, your juices soaking his bottom half as he persistently slaps himself against you. You try with all your might to remove your hands from his grip, but he keeps them locked in place as you cry out your release, chest heaving as you try and catch your breath. 

   “So fucking beautiful, baby,” he gruffly praises, moving so that his dick is in direct line with your pussy. “So fucking perfect. You come so well.”

   He’s sure your walls are clenched tighter than when he’d had his fingers inside of you, because it takes him a solid five minutes to fully sheath himself, your insides trying to push him out as you continue to squirt. He remains still as you continuously leak onto the sheets, unwilling to part from you until he’s sure he has all of you. He watches as your energies swirl, the red tendrils finally able to connect with his blue ones and a whirl of purple flashes behind his eyes. 

   All of your pleasure rushes through him, his cock swelling even further in you, and a whimpered gasp leaves your lips. Uncaring and far from his right mind, he begins a relentless pace inside of you, his eyes fluttering as he watches himself incessantly disappear into your tightness. His thighs tense and he releases your hands, his own moving to the back of your knees before he purposely brings your knees to your chest, the new angle allowing him to hit your spot. The moment he makes contact with it his head rolls back, the shared pleasure he’s experiencing as your energies connect just helps him expertly adjust himself, always knowing the best way to fill you. 

   “Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.”

   Somewhere in his mind he hears you chanting his name, like a prayer in a bible, and it stokes him further. The kindling fire deep within him is now raging, swallowing him whole as he meets your eyes, the galaxy somehow within them. Your pussy is devouring him and he feels it both on his cock and in your energy that you’re about to orgasm again, and he forcefully throws himself forward, connecting his open mouth with yours in an attempt to suck as much of you as he can. 

   The edge is right at the tip of his cock as he gives one last thrust, your energy expending from your body and into his as he spills into your walls. He remains hard within you as he continues sucking all of you into him, the purple galaxy now behind his eyes becoming almost painful as his empty soul fills. He unconsciously thrusts within you, realizing that he’s still painting your walls white. 

   “So perfect. Fucking perfect for me,” he growls out into your jaw, nipping occasionally. 

   He doesn’t know how much time passes before he finally has his fill, his cock softening as he pulls himself out of you, his eyes meeting yours. His eyes widen painfully when he sees your body still surrounded by red energy, albeit it wasn’t as much as before. 

   “Fuck,” he groans, his cock stiffening once again at the sight. 

   So. Fucking. Perfect.

[wiypt-writes]

Riding High

Ch8: Adler vs Adler

Chapter Summary: The gloves are off in court as Frank faces off against his mother.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words. Talk of suicide.

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Contains SPOILERS for the film!!!!! If you haven’t seen it please be aware of that before you read on. Also, those of you who do know this film well will see that I’ve changed the dates referenced in the court case, that’s because I brought the timeline of Gifted forward from 2015 (when it was filmed) to 2017 (when it was released). This was mainly to suit Fliss’ backstory of the Olympics. 2015 is too close to 2012 for me to make it work. Also Frank’s middle name is an absolute H/C too as I couldn’t find it anywhere so, sorry if this annoys any of you but, to quote @icanfeelastormbrewing- “my coffee, my fic, my rules…”

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 7

“And love, if your wings are broken, borrow mine so yours can open too…’cause I’m gonna stand by you”

 The first bit of evidence the next morning was the findings of the Welfare Department’s investigation. It had thrown nothing out of the ordinary up. The house was clean enough, Mary was fed, but they did point out that their current living arrangements wouldn’t be suitable for much longer as Mary would need her own room as she grew older, something which Frank’s attorney accepted on behalf of Frank, stating to the court that Frank had already considered this. Which in fairness he had. The Welfare Department continued then, stating that Mary’s interview the previous day hadn’t thrown up anything of concern, even if there were some questionable TV viewing habits, namely Ultimate Fighting on a Saturday night, but they were satisfied that overall Mary was suffering no ill effects, mentally or physically from being with Frank.

This took them just under an hour, as they were factual reports. Both Attorney’s requested clarification on certain points but there were no questions or cross examinations to be done. As such they had concluded just after eleven am and there was then a small ten minute break to allow a quick consultation between clients and attorney’s before Evelyn was to take to the stand. As people moved around, passing papers and files to one another, Frank turned in his seat and just as he glanced round, someone left the courtroom and through the open door Fliss walked in, dressed in a smart pair of black jeans and a light blue strappy top. He flashed her a smile and she gave a small wave, settling onto a seat next to Roberta who gave her a hug. She’d missed the early session due to having to sort the horses out but she’d cleared her diary and brought in cover for the rest of the day so she could be there to lend him support.

And even though the morning had, all in all, been favourable to him, Frank felt his spirits raise even more at the sight of her there in his corner so to speak. Tearing his eyes away from her, Frankturned back to Greg who was watching him, eyebrow raised.

“Well that’s a mighty big smile Frank.”

“I just spotted some additional back up, that’s all.” Greg turned to see the woman who was now talking to Roberta and he grinned, spinning back to Frank “Let me guess, Fliss?”

Frank nodded “Yeah, I’ll introduce you later.”

Greg raised his eyebrow, smiling a little. “I look forward to it. Anyway, back to business. That opening report from the Welfare Department was good, well as good as it’s gonna get. But dude, Ultimate Fighting? Really?”

“It’s harmless fun.” Frank shrugged

Greg shook his head “Whatever. This next bit ain’t gonna be as easy.” “No shit.” Frank mumbled, looking at his mother as she said something to Highsmith, her attorney. “She’s going to rip me to pieces, and no doubt enjoy doing it too.” “Yep.” Greg nodded “But just keep doing what you’re doing. No outbursts, stay quiet, focussed and listen. If she says something that isn’t accurate, or you think of anything we can use, note it down and I’ll use it in my cross examination, okay?” Frank nodded as Judge Nicholls banged his gavel down and issued instructions for everyone to reconvene. He called Evelyn to the stand where she was sworn in and Highsmith stood up and began firing questions at her, a well-practiced dance, Frank could tell.

From the gallery Fliss watched intently. She’d been missed the first session but Roberta had hastily filled her in, telling her it had gone well. She shot Frank another encouraging smile, just as the judge called them back to order, and couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in his suit. A far cry from his dirty jeans and ratty work t-shirts. Which, if she was honest, she preferred…

Evelyn took to the stand and Fliss felt herself bristling as she proceeded to utterly character assassinate Frank, depicting him as nothing more than an irresponsible bum, floating around with no purpose to life, a man who didn’t care about Mary’s welfare, preferring to simply fly by the seat of his pants instead of giving her any decent roots or thoughts to her needs. At one point, they started to question his motivations towards taking Mary being more about punishing Evelyn that actually caring about the girl. To this Frank’s attorney objected and as the two lawyers began to argue, Fliss found her nails cutting into her palms as she clenched her fists. Roberta gently reached out and squeezed her arm and she turned to the woman next to her and gave her a tight smile.

“Frank’s attorney, Greg Cullen, he’s good…” Roberta whispered, “He’ll go at her when he gets his chance, you’ll see.”

The objection was overruled, the judge telling Cullen he would get his chance to challenge that statement in his cross examination, and Cullen sat down, leaning over to whisper something to Frank who nodded, his eyes not once leaving his mother. Cullen jotted something down as Evelyn continued.

By the time she finished it was almost one pm so they broke for lunch, Judge Nicholls instructing everyone to be back in an hour. Fliss and Roberta headed outside to wait for Frank who met them shortly after.

“Hey.” Fliss gave him a gentle hug. “How you holding up?”

“About as well as I can for someone whose own mother just tore them to shreds under oath.” Fliss’ eyes narrowed “I hope your guy is gonna give her as much of a shredding as she gave you.” “I’ll do my best.” A voice spoke from behind them. Fliss spun round to be greeted by Frank’s attorney.

“Fliss, this is Greg Cullen, Greg, Fliss Gallagher.” Frank introduced them to one another. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Greg smiled at her, shaking her hand. Fliss looked up at Frank and was surprised to find a faint flush of red on his cheeks.

“All good I hope?” she grimaced and Cullen nodded.

“Oh, very good indeed. I’ve been dying to meet the woman who’s made such an impression on him.” “Greg, piss off.” Frank groaned in a tired voice before he nodded over the road to the café “Shall we grab some lunch?”

They ate together, making small talk, before Greg requested Frank join him alone for fifteen minutes to go over their plan for the rest of the afternoon. Frank stood, and without even thinking about it gave Fliss a quick peck on the cheek. He winced as soon as he had, noticing that Cullen and Roberta were watching him and, knowing Fliss was going to get an absolute drilling from Roberta, he shot her an apologetic look as he walked away. She simply smiled through her blush and shook her head, turning to Roberta who nudged her arm.

“Okay, what was that?” Greg asked as they walked back over the road. “Are you two erm…”

“It’s complicated.” Frank shrugged after a little pause. “We both, well we both like each other but with everything that’s going on we’re just kind of waiting, I suppose. I’m focussing on getting through whatever it is that happens with Mary and then hopefully...what?” he trailed off as Greg was smirking at him.

“Frank Adler. Finally found a girl he likes that much he ain’t simply trying to get her into bed. Wait till I tell the guys.”

Frank rolled his eyes and pointed to the courtroom “How about you concentrate on what’s gonna go on in there instead of what is or isn’t going on in my bedroom?”

Greg gave out a chuckle and patted his friend on the shoulder as they made their way in and headed into the side room they had reserved.

****

“Mrs. Adler, in your earlier testimony here today, you painted a pretty dim picture of your own son don't you think?” Cullen asked, tapping his pen on his note pad. Frank remained stony faced, watching his mother.

“I'm under oath, I take no pleasure in it.” She said with a glance at Frank before she looked down, almost convincingly.

Frank just about managed to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“So, your son is a failure in life, your daughter took her life, you know, you're oh for two.”

Fliss winced and glanced at Roberta as Highsmith said “Objection” in an almost bored voice

“Withdrawn.” Cullen’s voice took on an amused edge but as Fliss watched as Evelyn simply eyed him, completely un-phased.

“If I go one for three, I'm in the Hall of Fame.” she shot back.

“You know baseball.” Cullen pushed his chair back. “Fenway Park.”

At that something flickered in Evelyn’s eye as she glanced at Frank. Fliss followed her gaze and watched, just able to see the side of Frank’s face. His eyes were locked onto her, his expression never faltering.

“You know, I'd like to go there sometime.” Cullen stood up, pushing his glasses up onto his head as Evelyn turned back to him “How often in a year did you take Diane to the baseball game?”

“Diane wasn't interested in sports.” Evelyn replied

“She never wanted to go to a game? Ever?”

“I don't recall her ever asking.”

Cullen moved forwards a step and Fliss saw Frank’s eyes flick to him as he continued to question his mother.

“Just out of curiosity, Fenway, that's a tough ticket. Where do you get yours?”

“My husband has season tickets.”

“And how long has he had them?” Cullen enquired

“Thirty years. But I've only been married to him for twenty.” Evelyn informed him.

“And Diane never went to one game?”

Evelyn didn’t reply, simply raised her eyebrows slightly as if she was failing to see the point. Fliss’ eyes once again flicked to Frank who still hadn’t moved an inch.

“What colour was the dress Diane wore to prom?” Cullen changed his line of questions.

“Diane didn't attend the prom, because she didn't attend the high school.” Evelyn replied calmly

“No prom.” Cullen mused before he asked suddenly.“What sports did she play?”

“As I told you earlier, she wasn't interested in sports.”

“She’s calm.” Roberta whispered to Fliss as Cullen continued to question Evelyn about Diane’s lack of interaction with other children her age.

“Too calm.” Fliss nodded. “But I can see what he’s doing, trying to paint a picture of how she isolated Diane to imply that she’d do the same to Mary. You’re right, he’s good.”

As they tuned back into the examination again, Cullen took a deep breath and glanced to his left

“Mrs. Adler,” he looked back at her, ��who's Paul Riva?”

At that Evelyn glanced at Frank, her calm mask slipping ever so slightly but still Frank didn’t move. Fliss could see his expression now carried a faint, and every so sad, smile.

Evelyn gave a silent huff before she looked back at Cullen “He was a boy from the neighbourhood.”

Her tone was clipped and Fliss noticed the judge sit forward slightly at her shift in attitude, narrowing his eyes a little as he watched her curiously.

“Oh, come on. He was much more than just a boy from the neighbourhood.  Paul was Diane's first love. Wasn't he?” Cullen asked.

Fliss and Roberta exchanged a glance.

“I wouldn't characterize it that way, no.” Evelyn shook her head.

“And how would Diane characterize it?”

“Diane was seventeen years old at the time. She didn't know anything about love.”

At that Fliss caught the first movement Frank had made since his mother had started talking. He took a deep breath and looked to his left before turning back, his shoulders moving slightly in frustration as he shook his head slightly, his eyes locking back onto his mother who was carefully avoiding his gaze.

“Mrs. Adler, in January 2000 didn't Diane and young Mr. Riva run away together?” Cullen looked at her.

“He coerced her.” Evelyn corrected with the air of someone picking her words carefully.

“And where did they go?”

“Vermont.”

“And you called the police, didn't you?” Cullen stated rather than asked.

“Yes.”

“Because he kidnapped her?”

“Yes”

“And where did the police find young Mr. Riva and Diane?” Cullen looked at Evelyn

“I told you, Vermont.” Evelyn looked at Cullen, her voice suddenly taking on an icy edge which made Fliss lean forward slightly.

“Stowe, Vermont. Wasn't it? A resort town.” Cullen looked round the court room as Evelyn shifted uncomfortably. “Stowe Mountain. He took her skiing. You see, kidnappers don't usually take their victims skiing.” Cullen paused from his explanation. When he spoke again his voice was calm, and slow, stressing the point perfectly “But this is what Paul did because he and Diane were in love.”

“No.” Evelyn refuted firmly

“And when they returned, you pressed kidnapping charges.” Cullen’s voice rose in volume and speed as he spoke. “You filed a lawsuit against his parents, until Paul stopped calling Diane. Didn't you?”

“Yes.”

“And Diane never heard of or saw Paul Riva again. Did she?” Cullen’s tone was harsh, accusatory as he stared at Evelyn.

“Poor girl.” Roberta mumbled besides her and Fliss shook her head, in utter shock at how a mother could be so damned cruel and out of touch with her own daughter. It made her feel a pang of sympathy for Mary’s mother despite never having known her. Fliss couldn’t imagine what she would do without either of her parents being as supportive as they were.

Evelyn must have answered as by the time Fliss turned her attention fully to what she was saying, as Cullen had asked another question.

“And how did she take it?”

“She was upset for a while. She lost focus.”

“She lost focus.” Cullen turned back to the desk and picked up a small file. “Mrs. Adler,” he turned back, file in hand, “in March of 2001 didn't Diane Adler attempt to take her own life?”

“This episode was minor. It was nothing.” Evelyn replied, her tone harsh.

“Nothing?” Fliss drew in a breath, shaking her head. For a moment she almost lost herself in another memory, of one rainy afternoon in Boston in October 2015, but she took a deep breath and focussed on where she was, as Cullen flashed the file at Evelyn.

“I have the hospital report in my hand.” he informed her

“It was nothing.” Evelyn said again, and now Fliss could see she was rattled. “Diane was not like regular people. She was extraordinary. And extraordinary people come with singular issues and needs.”

Fliss watched as Evelyn leant forward, her face creased in anger as she hissed “You have no idea of the capability she possessed. One in a billion. And you would say fine, let's throw that away, so the boy who cuts our yard can make a sexual conquest? Well maybe before you make that decision, you stand in my shoes. I had responsibilities, which went beyond the mother-daughter relationship.”

She took a deep breath and spoke again, her voice louder this time “The greatest discoveries, which have proved life on this planet have come from minds rarer than radium. Without them, we'd still be crawling in mud. And for your information, counsellor, a year after this incident with this boy Diane thanked me for my intervention. She realized she'd made a mistake and she thanked me. You see, Diane understood. She was accountable for the gift she'd been given. And she didn't shy from it.”

Every inch of Evelyn’s face was contorted with a mixture of pain and anger, and she radiated absolute fury across the courtroom as her rant built to its climax

“And I think, if she were here today, Mr. Attorney, she would refute your baseless insinuations, that she would give up her brilliant future and take her own life just because mummy didn't get her a little red wagon

There was a pause as she took a breath and sat back.

“No more questions.” Cullen said simply, turning back to his seat.

Fliss watched Frank who shifted, rubbing his chin with his left hand, his fingers curling round his jaw in an L shape as he stared at this mother, his face completely unreadable to anyone who didn’t know him, but to her she could see the pain in his eyes.

And from the look Evelyn gave him, it was obvious she’d seen it too.

***** When Mary returned home on the school bus that afternoon, Frank did his best to remain positive and keep his broodings to himself, and was thankful when Fliss suggested they head out for dinner with Roberta. The four of them went to the same restaurant he had met his mother at not long before where he ate, not really tasting his food, or listening as Fliss and Roberta chatted away. Instead his attention was completely on Mary who was stood with one of the waitresses at another table, pouring sand out of one of the bottles that was used to keep the tablecloths from blowing away. The thought that she could be without such simple pleasure of looking through sand for shells, and lost to a world of pressure and solitude like Diane had been, was breaking his heart.

He felt someone squeeze his hand at the same time Mary held up a shell and showed it to him. He took a deep breath and tried to rearrange his face into a smile as he turned to face Fliss.

“It’s going to be okay, Frank.” She looked at him and he swallowed, unable to form his words. Instead his fingers tightened around hers and she simply held his hand whilst they finished up their drinks.

Later that evening, once Mary was asleep inside the apartment, Frank and Fliss sat outside the kitchen door, shoulder to shoulder along the top step.

“You know, until I met you I thought sitting on a porch drinking beer was something only red necked hillbillies did.” Fliss teased him.

“Well, according to my mother that’s what I am.” he scoffed.

“And according to me your mother is a callous, cold hearted bitch.” Fliss spat, with such venom it made Frank look at her, his eyebrow raising a little. She took a deep breath, her voice softening “How can anyone dismiss a suicide attempt as nothing.”

Frank looked away, taking a pull from his beer. They sat in silence for a moment before Fliss broke it.

“You know back in 2015, about five months after I’d gotten married, I almost did it you know? Killed myself.”

Frank’s head turned to face her. She wasn’t looking at him, instead she remained focussed on a spot in the distance as she stared straight ahead. “My life was out of my control, and it was the only way I could think of getting some of that control back. So I took a shit load of buproprion and washed it down with half a litre of vodka.”

“Shit, Lissy I’m sorry, I had-” She waved his sympathy off and continued “After that I was offered all this help and support and-” she snorted bitterly, “I still went back to him. He convinced everyone, including me that the issue was the fact that I was still brooding over my career being cut so short, and then told me that having a kid would fix the issue. In reality there was no issue to fix. I wasn’t depressed as such, I was abused. And that was simply another way of him taking control.”

After a moment she turned to look at him, “I’m not saying your mother abused Diane, not as such but she isolated her for her own, selfish reasons, no matter how she tries to dress them up or convince herself that it was for Diane’s own good. That first suicide attempt your sister would have made a normal, loving parent sit up and pay attention to what was going on. I know it did mine, as Bill never trusted John’s explanation, not one word.” “I should have done more too.” Frank’s voice was choked as he looked down at his feet. “But I was so busy, wrapped up in my finals and…”

“Frank, Diane wasn’t your responsibility, you’re not her parent.”

“No but when Dad died, I promised I’d take care of her, always be there for her. I should have done more, and I should have known, when she turned up that day at mine with Mary…”

“Frankie.” Fliss cut him off, her hand taking his. “Take it from me, my mum and dad and brother went through all of this in their head. Did Diane give you any warnings at all because I know I didn’t?  Look at the lies and the world of fantasy I let John build up round me and detract from what was going on. I told nobody I was gonna do it Frank. And I told no body why I did it either.”

Frank sniffed and wiped at his nose slightly with his free hand.

“So you can either carry on beating yourself up over something that isn’t your fault or you can concentrate on getting the best outcome here for Mary.”

He reached for his beer which was on the step below him between his legs and nodded. She was right, he knew she was, but there would always be that part of him that wondered if he could have done more, it he should have done more.

“Are you planning on coming tomorrow?” he asked, looking at Fliss.

“Yeah, Joanne is covering again.”

“I don’t want to put you out.” he said gently, but she shook her head.

“It’s sorted.” Fliss smiled. “She wants the week of Thanksgiving off so she’s racking up the favours.”

“Well, from a purely selfish standpoint I’m glad.” He flexed his fingers against hers, looking down at where they were entwined.

“I’m not missing your testimony, if only for the sole reason of discovering what your full name is.” she teased as he looked at her. Frank gave a huff of a laugh “Francis Preston Adler, nice to meet you.” He tipped his bottle in her direction. “Preston?” She snorted “Get out of town! There’s a place in England called Preston, it’s like thirty miles away from my home!”

Frank smiled, before he sighed.

“Last day tomorrow isn’t it?” Fliss looked at him as he stared straight ahead.

He let out a breath “Yeah, well last day of evidence. Then we have to wait for however long it takes the judge to read all the reports and make a ruling.”

“Well then, I suggest you get some sleep, or as much as you can.” Fliss kissed his cheek, and with that she released his hand and stood up. Frank followed her lead, rising to her feet. “Oh, and FYI I got an absolute interrogation off Roberta before when you did that to me. Felt like it was me in the dock, not Evelyn.” For the first time all evening Frank laughed.

******

The gloomy, rainy morning matched Frank’s mood perfectly.

He sat in the dock dressed in his suit, feeling as out of place as anyone could. Greg went through the questions he had coached Frank on, questions designed not to paint him as a saint but to simply be real and portray him as a normal person, doing the best he could for his niece in line with his sister’s wishes. Frank answered them honestly. Was he perfect? No. Had he done things correctly? No. Did he wish he had spotted Diane was struggling? Yes. Did he love Mary and want the best for her? With every breath he had.

The questions continued along those lines until they broke for lunch. And then came the cross examination, and Frank knew he was in for a beating.

“Mr. Adler where are you currently employed?” Highsmith asked sitting on the desk to the left of Evelyn.

“I repair boats.” Frank answered clearly

“Oh, really? At which marina?”

“I don't work at a marina. I freelance.”

“So, safe to say, no health insurance.”

“No.” Frank shook his head

“About a week before your sister took her life what were you doing for a living then?”

“I was a teacher.” Frank replied.

“You're being modest, aren't you?” Highsmith said, standing up and walking towards the dock “You were a professor at Boston University Isn't that right?

“Yes, well, assistant professor.”

“And what'd you teach?”

“Philosophy.”

“Truth and logic. That sort of thing.” Highsmith gestured with his hands and Frank simply smiled as the man continued. “Your attorney said that the primary reason that you took Mary is because it was what your sister would've wanted you to do. Is that a truth?”

“Yes.” Frank implored

“So Diane had visited Pinellas County before?”

“No.” Frank said with almost an air of amusement on his face as he looked at his mother for a second before he glanced down and joined his hands in front of him in his lap.

“She indicated she wanted her daughter uprooted and moved here?”

Frank shook his head, closing his eyes. “No”

“No.” Highsmith repeated “So you decided to bring Mary here, didn't you?”

Frank licked his lips and drew in a deep breath as he simply stared as his mother. He was pleased so see her shift in her seat

“Did Diane had a problem with your health plan at Boston University?” Highsmith pressed.

Frank wanted to laugh. The guy was doing exactly what Greg had warned him he would do, attack his lack of healthcare, insinuate he wasn’t able or fit to provide for Mary. When he spoke his voice was calm, and he fought to keep his face as amicable as possible.

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Do you think she would want her daughter to have access to healthcare?”

Dumbass question

“Of course.” Frank nodded.

“So what do you do, when little Mary gets sick? You repair a doctor's boat?”

Frank scoffed a laugh as Cullen objected.

“Sustained.” Judge Nicholls shot Highsmith a look and Frank stole a glance at Fliss. If the situation wasn’t so serious he would have laughed at the identical look she wore to Roberta, both glaring at Highsmith like they were plotting his very painful death.

The rain outside continued to drive down as did Highsmith’s questions, the air punctuated every so often by a low rumble of thunder from the outside storm echoing what Frank was feeling inside.

“Prior to Mrs. Adler giving her one. Did Mary have a computer?”

“She used mine.”

“Mr. Adler, does Diane's daughter have her own bedroom?”

“No.”

“Does she sleep in a bed that you bought in a second hand shop?”

“Yes.” Frank looked ahead, focussing on keeping calm as Highsmith walked towards the dock, gesturing now with his hands, his tone winding up

“So, the truth is, Mr. Adler, that you didn't come down here because your sister wanted it to and you certainly didn't come here because it was good for Mary.”

Frank swallowed slightly and shifted a little, avoiding looking at the man as he tapped his hand on the side of the dock.

“No, it was personal. Diane was a star. You weren't. Diane got the attention. You didn't.”

Frank scoffed silently, oh please, and turned to look in the opposite direction.

“..and over the years You got angry. And here comes Mary. What a great way to get even.”

At that he audibly sighed. He had known this was coming, that his mother’s attorney would try and paint him as petty and vindictive but it still hurt to hear it. Hurt that his own mother would have someone attack him in such a way. He’d defend Mary to the hilt if someone was doing this to her…

“You've uprooted that little girl and brought her here for one reason only. To do harm to your mother. You blamed her for your sister.”

“No, I don't.” Frank broke his silence.

“And Mary to you is just a pawn in all this.”

And that did it, Mary wasn’t a pawn. She was a little girl, a little girl who he was doing is best by.

“Diane wanted Mary, to be a kid” Frank’s voice betrayed his desperation and emotion, and he knew that, but now he was past caring, this was the truth, it was how he felt, and he was nothing if not honest. He locked eyes with his mother as he spoke, driving his words home “.She wanted her to have a life. She wanted her to have friends and to play…”

At that his mother looked away, her eyes glistening but Frank kept his on hers as she turned back to him, his final words were almost whispered

“…and to be happy.”

“You realize the consequences of boredom for a gifted child, Mr. Adler? They become resentful and sullen.”

“Mary's not an angry kid.” Frank’s voice was calm once more.

“Really? Did she not attack a child on the school bus?”

Shit.

“A twelve year old tripped a seven year old and she came to his defense.” Frank shrugged slightly

“Did she break the boy's nose?”

“Yes.”

“On October 16th last year, were you arrested for assault?”

“Oh, my God.” Frank groaned, and he looked down before he glanced back up, momentarily locking eyes with Fliss who he noticed had taken a deep breath. He looked back down, shaking his head

“You have to answer the question Mr. Adler.” Judge Nicholls reminded him

Frank swallowed and focussed on a spot on the varnished surface of the wood in front of him, just by the microphone. “A drunk idiot attacked me and I defended myself. What does that have to do…”

“Did you spend the night in jail?” Highsmith cut him off.

“Yeah.” Frank nodded.

“You are in way over your head here. You're depriving that girl…”

Frank stayed still, shaking his head and glaring at his mother, all the while Highsmith continued ranting on at him

“…you're gambling with her future and now you’re being presented with an opportunity to do right by her.”

“Does council have a question for my client?” Cullen asked loudly

“Take the high road, Mr. Adler before she's rapidly damaged.”

“Does council have a question for my client or not?” Cullen repeated, this time standing up.

“Yes, sir. I do have a question.” Highsmith said. “Tell us. Is your continued guardianship really in the best interest of this little girl?”

“You do your best, Frank. And that’s all any of us can do…” Fliss’s voice rattled in his head, and he took a deep breath. No he wasn’t perfect. Yes, Evelyn could provide for her better than he could but could she love Mary like he did. No, no she couldn’t

He stared at his mother, as he lifted his chin and spoke loudly and clearly.

“Yes.Yes, it is.”

“I have no further questions.” Highsmith spoke.

Frank scratched at his head and left the dock.

***** Following the summing up, they were all dismissed. Frank shook Greg’s hand who told him he would be in touch and Frank left the courtroom with Roberta, Fliss nowhere to be seen. He took a deep breath, realising she was probably going to run a mile after hearing about the assault. That wasn’t how he wanted her to find out. However, to his amazement and joy she was waiting for him by his truck. Roberta nodded to him and made an excuse to nip over the road to the store for a water leaving them to talk alone.

“Thought you’d gone?” he said gently.

“No, I had to take a call from Joanne about a lesson. Why would I leave without saying goodbye?” she frowned

“The assault”

Fliss sighed “Okay, I admit it was a shock to hear but…”

“At least let me explain.”

“There’s really no need. You said you were defending yourself and I believe you.”

“He was a drunk idiot.” Frank continued anyway. “I was actually out with a friend, Jacob and his fiancée, Lisa. Jake had gone to the bathroom and this guy bumped into us and sent Lisa flying into the table, knocking a load of glasses over. When I told him to be careful he took a swing at me only he missed and, well I didn’t.”

“You’re a regular knight in shining armour, Sailor.” Fliss smiled before she looked at him softly. “I know that was hard today. I was so angry and the things he was saying to you but it’s done now. Try not to think on it because you can’t change the outcome. Whatever it is, you did your best.”

“You know I remembered you saying that to me.” he smiled, “Right as he was telling me what a lousy life I give Mary.” “It’s not lousy.”  Fliss shook her head. “She’s loved Frank. And she’s happy.”

He smiled again as she took a deep breath.

“Look, I have to go, I have a lesson in an hour now this rain has let up, but what are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Working.” he said, chuckling as she raised her eyebrow. “Yeah I know, second Friday night in a row but, well I’m behind thanks to this case and whilst Roberta has Mary I can get a good few hours in during the night and then get my head down for a few hours before she comes back.”

“How about I keep you company?” Fliss offered. “Only if that’s ok?”

Frank smiled “As long as you don’t distract me too much.” “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

**** The next evening, Frank and Fliss were in the workshop at the Marina, Frank explaining to Fliss the different components of the oil filter he was stripping down. She gave a loud, exaggerated yawn and he nudged her playfully. She grinned at him, and he didn’t miss the flash in her eyes as she looked him quickly up and down, taking in his dirty jeans, hands covered in oil and his long sleeved thin blue sweater which he knew fit him pretty well. Part of the reason he had worn it.

“Hey.” a familiar voice said, and they both looked up to see Cullen as he stood in the entrance.

“Hey.” Frank frowned “What’s…” “I got some news, and I wanted to give it to you in person.”

“I’ll er, give you a moment.” Fliss offered, and she went to leave but Frank caught her elbow gently.

“No, stay, please.”

She looked at him for a second and nodded as Frank turned his attention to Cullen.

“What is it Greg.”

“Highsmith called. They want to cut a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

Cullen took a breath. “A foster family.”

“No way.” Frank dismissed the notion straight up and Greg continued to try and win him round, informing him that they could cherry pick and that it would be mutually approved and he’d already found a family in Tampa, which was what he had been working on all day.

“She’ll attend the Oaks, you and Evelyn will get visitation right, and then, when she’s twelve, you can go back into court and Mary can decide where, and with who, she wants to live.”

“You’re supposed to be on my team.” Frank cut his friend off, glaring at him “Why are you bringing me this deal?

“Other than I'm required to by law?” Greg looked back at him, and then suddenly Frank understood.

“You like this deal.” he stated and Greg nodded.

“I love this deal.”

“They think they're gonna lose.” Frank leaned on the work-desk in front of him, looking at Cullen.

“Yeah. They do.”

“You think we're gonna lose.”

“Yes.” Greg replied honestly. “I do, Frank.”

Frank looked down, swallowing before he turned to his friend who sighed.

“I gotta go put my kids to bed. I'll do whatever you want me to do. But, if we leave this up to the judge, Nicholls, he's old school, Frank. Does he like your mother? No. Does he like her income? Does he like her health plan? Does he like her home? You better believe it.”

Frank looked down again, shaking his head, unable to do anything else.

“I've been in his courtroom. A hundred times. And if it's a coin toss...Look at me.”

Frank turned to Greg, his arms still leaning on the top, muscles straining as he grasped at a wrench in front of him in frustration.

“If it's a coin toss, that old boy is going to side with the money.” Greg said gently “So, do me a favour, Frank. Just meet the family. See how it feels. It's all I ask.” With that he took a deep breath. “I gotta go, I’ll see you later. Goodnight Fliss.”

“Night.” she replied, watching him leave.

There was a pause before Frank picked up the wrench in his hand and threw it hard against the wall at the opposite side of the garage, before he stood up tall and turned to Fliss who was watching him, her face contorted in sympathy and sadness.

“I don’t know what to do.” He looked at her, and every single emotion he had been holding back cascaded over him in a wave as he felt utterly and hopelessly overwhelmed. He couldn’t stop the tears brimming in his eyes and he bowed his head, once more leaning on the desk. He felt a warm pair of hands gently on his arm, nudging him to turn slightly and he did so to look at Fliss as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a hug. He pressed his face into the crook of her shoulder, his tears falling onto her soft skin as she smoothed a hand through his hair, gently soothing him.

“Sorry.” he mumbled after a moment pulling back.

She placed her hands on his face, wiping his tears with her thumbs, her own filling her eyes. “Don’t ever apologise to me for being upset, Frankie.”

He let out a soft, watery laugh as he dropped his forehead to hers, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath, composing himself.

“You now no one’s called me Frankie since I was a little kid” he smiled.

“Well it suits you.” she pulled away slightly. “You good?” He nodded, moving back out of her arms. “Do you think I should go?” he asked “Meet this family?”

“Frank, I can’t answer that.” “What would you do?”

“I honestly don’t know.” she shook her head. “I suppose there’s no harm in meeting them. But you have to be sure this is what is right for Mary. I do know one thing though, whatever you decide to do, I’ll be there all the way. I told you, I was here for the road trip, no matter how bumpy it gets.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath. He gently took her hand and raised it to his mouth, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “Thankyou.”

**** Chapter 9

[kipscorner]

Headernotes:

- THIS IS A LONG POST! - Anything in Parenthesis, feel free to change or remove - Feel free to change pronouns to match - Thank you for reblogging and using! <3

“(Name), can you explain again what we're doing?”

We're kicking off our fun, old-fashioned family Christmas by heading out into the country in the old front-wheel drive sleigh...to embrace the majesty of the winter landscape...and select that most important of Christmas symbols.”

“We're not driving all the way here so you can get one of those stupid ties with the Santa Clauses on it, are we?”

“Some jackass is riding my tail.”

“(Name)! Don't provoke them!”

“Burn some dust here. Eat my rubber.”

“Eat my road grit, liver lips!”

“(Name), stop it! I don't want to spend the holidays dead!”

“Will you just take it easy, (Name)? I'm in complete control.”

“(Name), we're stuck under a truck!”

“Do you think I don't know that?”

“For Christ sake, I didn't do this on purpose!” 

“My toes are numb.”

“I can't feel my leg.”

“(Name), that thing wouldn't fit in our yard.”

“It's not going in our yard, (Name). It's going in our living room.”

“She'll see it later, (Name). Her eyes are frozen.”

“Hey, (Name)! Where do you think you're gonna put a tree that big?”

“You've got a lot of nerve talking to me like that.”

“I wasn't talking to you.”

“It looks great. A little full. A lot of sap.”

“Did I tell you I talked to my mother?”

“They've decided they're coming for Christmas too.”

“You're forgetting how difficult it's gonna be having everybody in the house.”

“(Name), they're family. They're not strangers off the street.”

“Yeah. And about my mother accusing your mother of buying cheap hot dogs. And your mother accusing my mother of waxing her upper lip.”

“I want to have Christmas here in our house. It means a lot to me. All my life I've wanted to have a big family Christmas.”

“The question is, what will you do with that bonus? Gonna blow it on yourself, I hope.”

“Oh, my God, you're putting in a pool.”

“Layman's terms. None of that inside bullshit jargon nobody understands.”

“Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Kiss my ass. Kiss his ass. Kiss your ass.Happy Hanukkah.”

“Wouldn't be the Christmas shopping season if stores were less hooter--Hotter than they are.”

“You have your coat on.”

“There is a nip in the air though.”

“Can I take something out for you?”

“'Tis the season to be merry.”

“Folks! Folks! Folks! Merry Christmas!”

“Look at how big you've gotten!”

“They're not sleeping in my room. I'm gonna go crazy.”

“We're gonna have the best-looking house in town.”

“Come on, unravel these. You have to check every bulb. Got a little knot here. You work on that. I'll get the other box.”

“Would it be indecent to ask the grandparents to stay at a hotel?”

“We're all making sacrifices, (Name).”

“Well, I don't know what to say except it's Christmas and we're all in misery.”

“And why is the carpet all wet, (Name)?”

I don't know, (Name)!”

“I hope nobody I know drives by and sees me standing in the yard, staring at the house in my pajamas.”

“Talk about pissing your money away.”

“Let's get in where it's warm.”

“Now, look, if you need any help...give me a holler. I'll be asleep.”

“Where the hell is that cold coming from?”

“I want to take off these clothes, sit with a glass of wine and kiss your body.”

“Are you out here for a reason, or are you just avoiding the family?”

“Do you honestly think I would check thousands of lights if the extension cord wasn't plugged in?”

“You deserve a home like this to spend Christmas in.”

“You taught me everything I know about exterior illumination.”

“I hope this adds to your enjoyment of the holidays.”

“You got a kiss for me?”

“Better take a rain check on that. (pronouns) got a lip fungus they ain't identified yet.”

“We named him that because he's got this sinus condition.”

“You pet him and he'll love you till the day you die.”

“If I woke up with my head sewn to the carpet, I wouldn't be more surprised then I am right now.”

“After that long drive, we could use a little private time together.”

“(Name), help me get some hot chocolate. It's cold.”

“A little tree water ain't gonna hurt him. Before we left, he drank a half a quart of Pennzoil. Boy, when he lifted his leg the next morning…”

“It's a crying shame the older kids couldn't make it.”

“She's got these big horns growing right out above her ears. Yeah, she's ugly as sin, but a sweet gal. And a hell of a good cook.”

“Can I refill your eggnog? Get you something to eat? Drive you out to nowhere and leave you for dead?”

“Oh, that there? That's an RV.”

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm in the middle of an important call. Get me somebody. Anybody. And get me somebody while I wait.”

“We're gonna fly down the hill with this stuff.”

“You know that metal plate in my head? I had to have it replaced because every time (Name) revved up the microwave...I'd piss my pants and forget who I was for a half-hour or so.”

“Nothing like waiting till the last minute, huh?”

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?”

“You shouldn't use that word.”

“I don't think he should be nervous and you shouldn't be either. Because if you're good, Santa knows it. If you believe in him and you believe in your mom and you believe in your...Your dad. If you've been good all year round, Santa is gonna bring you something.”

“Well, I happen to know for a fact that Santa Claus is real. And in the next couple of days… somehow I'm gonna prove it to you.”

“It's good you came to stay with us.”

“I think you'd better go back to bed now.”

“Aren't you having any breakfast?”

“Oh, the silent majesty of a winter's morn. The clean, cool chill of the holiday air.

And an asshole in his bathrobe emptying a chemical toilet into my sewer.”

“It's a sewer. If it fills with gas, I pity the person who lights a match near it.”

“Merry Christmas. Shitter was full!”

“In seven years he couldn't find a job?”

“(Name) and I want to help you give the kids a nice Christmas.”

“This isn't charity. It's family.”

“If you don't tell me what they want, I'll go out and get it on my own.”

“Is your house on fire, (Name)?”

“No, those are Christmas lights.”

“Don't throw me down, (Name).”

“Oh, that was fun. I love riding in cars.”

“Oh, dear. Did I break wind?”

“You shouldn't have brought presents.”

“This box is meowing.”

“(Name)? (pronoun) passed away 30 years ago.”

“They want you to say grace. The blessing!”

“I told you we put it in too early.”

“I heard on the news that a pilot spotted Santa's sled on its way from New York.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, (Name)?”

“If he keeps it up, it will be his last Christmas.”

“Look what you've done to my tree!”

“It was an ugly tree, anyway.”

“I'm sorry if I've been a little short with everyone lately.”

“...I didn't have enough in my account to cover the check.”

“I can't swim, (Name).”

“(Name), that's the gift that keeps on giving the whole year.”

“If this isn't the biggest punch in the face I ever got. Goddamn it!”

“I wanna look him straight in the eye and tell him what a cheap, lying, no good, rotten, four-flushing low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed ignorant, bloodsucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless ignorant, bloodsucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless heartless, fat-assed, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where's the Tylenol?”

“He's got that crazed look in his eye.”

“Turn that thing off and get in the house!”

“Aren't you a bit sorry we didn't get a Christmas tree?”

“Well, where you gonna find a tree at this hour on Christmas Eve?”

“Could you just keep it in mind the next time you go berserk?”

“I didn't go berserk. I simply solved a problem.”

“You couldn't hear a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant.”

“I'm gonna catch it in the coat and smack it with the hammer.”

“I'm going in with him.”

“You just march right over there and slug that creep in the face.”

“I can't just attack someone.”

“Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving. Nobody's walking out on this family Christmas. No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm

holiday emergency here.”

“We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fuckin’ Kaye.”

“And when Santa squeezes his ass down that chimney tonight he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nut house.”

“Worse? How could they get any worse? Take a look around you, (Name). We're at the threshold of hell!”

“You losing your temper with the whole family only makes things worse.”

“Are you gonna recite The Night Before Christmas?”

“No. It's your house. It's your Christmas.”

“You about ready to do some kissing?”

“I'm sorry. This is our family's first kidnapping.”

“I'll be more than happy to take the rap on this.”

“If you wanna come in, you are gonna have to break down the goddamn door!”

“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

“I did something I shouldn't have, and these people called me on it.”

“It's Santa Claus!”

“She thinks she sees Santa.”

“No, it's the Christmas star. And that's all that matters tonight. Not bonuses or gifts or turkeys or trees. See, kids...it means something different to everybody. Now I know what it means to me.”

“That ain't the frigging Christmas star. It's a light on the sewage treatment plant.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.”

[star-spangledstud]

Diamonds

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (female!)reader

Summary: You knew exactly how to push Steve’s buttons.

Word Count: 4000-ish. 

Warnings: +18 SMUT (don’t read if you’re a minor), dom!Steve, slight daddy!kink if you squint, rough intercourse, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), reckless driving (don’t do it, kids.), cursing

A/N: I’ve been posting a lot of content. We’ll see how long I’m able to keep the creative juices flowing. Quarantine’s got me all fucked up, but at least it’s given me time to waste on Tumblr. Enjoy :)

Steve was angry. He was fucking pissed off, to be exact and it was all because of you. You knew it, felt the way his eyes drilled holes in your back all night. You could practically sense him fuming from across the club, even though the darkness as a result of the smoke machine near the spinning table engulfed you and the 150 other people in the room. 

Of course, it was Tony’s idea to rent one of the fanciest clubs in NYC for the night. You’d completed a very big mission just a few weeks ago, and after everyone had time to heal in the medical bay and file the appropriate paperwork, the case was closed at last, and he insisted on a celebration unlike any other. 

Bottles of champagne flowed across the dancefloor. Sweaty bodies of special agents, paper pushers from the lowest possible level and Avengers alike, all pressed up against each other in the room hotter than what you imagined hell to be like. You didn’t even fucking feel like going when Tony first proposed the idea, but everybody knew you couldn’t say no to him. Nobody could say no to him and his lavish parties. Not to mention the fact that you never wanted to go and yet you always managed to be the last to leave. You blamed the alcohol. 

He’d hired the best DJ in town. His tunes kept you on your feet despite the fact that they were starting to get sore, hips swaying sensually to the music in between Natasha and some random level 3 agent whose name you couldn’t remember for the life of you. He was just as tall as you in your patent leather Louboutins, his hair swept carelessly to one side. He clearly hadn’t changed after work, because he still had his SHIELD pin mended to his breast pocket. You’d just pulled his tie to drag him closer to you, which earned another hard glare from Steve. Everybody in the fucking room knew you were his, they didn’t even dare to come close to you, but this guy was clearly wasted and you’d initiated it. 

You could feel level 3′s dick through his pants while he continued to grind against your ass, just as you did to Natasha. You smiled, bopping your head along to the song, your curly hair bouncing lusciously up and down. A quick glance towards the bar made you snicker soundlessly, afraid he’d be able to hear you despite the loud music and people singing along. The thought of him being able to smell the perfume on your skin, his favorite, from all the way over there made your heart flutter and your stomach tighten.

He looked fucking good. Hair slicked back, deep red button-down loosened at the top tucked tightly into dark denim. He hadn’t shaved, he knew damn well how much you liked that, and his eyes weren’t so blue anymore in the strobe lights that illuminated him every twenty seconds. They looked black as if his pupils had bled into his irises.

You’d put effort into your appearance too, he could tell in an instant. Your lipgloss sparkled the same as the diamond necklace he had given you that hung around your neck. He remembered buying it for you, eyes nearly rolling out of his fucking skull when the guy that helped him pick it out told him the price. Your dress, black and short, had a split so high he was certain he could see your pussy if you made a wrong move, meaning level 3 could see it too. 

He downed another glass of scotch, slamming it down on the bar with a growl so low only Bucky could hear it. He shook his head at his friend, who also refused to get on the dancefloor. The way 21st-century people danced was unlike anything they were used to seeing back in their day. He couldn’t get drunk, but Steve could taste the alcohol on his tongue and the warmth of it in the back of his throat when he gulped another glass down. He hadn’t even noticed Bucky left him for Bruce, who also wasn’t dancing. Didn’t give a fuck, either way. All he had eyes for was you, showing off his money like it was yours, to begin with. 

You didn’t do that often. You were humble, wore jeans and a t-shirt on most days, didn’t indulge much. You tried to live sustainably where possible through recycling and cruelty-free beauty products. Hell, Steve had only actually seen you wear the necklace a handful of times, including your aunt’s wedding just to piss her off and make her jealous. He knew you had money too, it was a perk of being an Avenger, but spending money on yourself wasn’t the same as lavish gifts from your handsome as fuck boyfriend. Besides, you donated a lot of it to animal shelters and safe houses for women. 

“The party’s out there, you know?”

You gulped, skin-crawling in fear when Steve appeared out of the bathroom stall without warning. How long he’d been hiding the bathroom you didn’t know, but he knew it was you the second you pushed open the door and stepped inside. 

He could smell that guy on you as you stood in front of him, cheeks red from dancing and stray hairs sticking out from the sea of curls. It made his fists curl, his brow crease. He was mad as hell. 

“You scared me,” you said exasperatedly, blood rushing to your cheeks when he stepped out of the shadows and into view.

He didn’t smile back to you, which told you exactly how the night was going to go down. 

“You havin’ fun?” He asked, walking around you in a circle after you stepped away from the dirty mirror. 

He wanted to drink you in, take in your appearance while you still looked put together. Soon enough, the charade would be over and he’d have your make up smeared, clothes on the floor and your hair a mess. 

“Yeah,” you smirked, “you?”

“Not yet,” he growled in your ear, “but I will.”

He’d disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared, leaving you leaning against the dusty sink, breathing deeply in and out through your nose. When you trusted in your ability to stand up without tripping over your own feet, you grabbed your lipgloss from your purse, along with your perfume, of which you added two more spritzes. You didn’t want him to know how easily he was able to get to you, how easily he was able to make you shake. 

He had a plan, concocted it while drinking expensive scotch at the bar. Steve came up with it while he was watching you grind on another man. He knew why you did it, you wanted to get a rise out of him, and getting a rise out of him was exactly what you did. Of course, he could do the same to you, which is why he left you stumbling in the bathroom with nothing but a promise he intended to keep.

You returned to the floor after getting another vodka sprite from the other end of the bar. He noticed how empty your wrist was and told himself he’d buy you a diamond bracelet to match the necklace. You’d like that. He’d fuck you raw and stupid after giving it to you, just like he did when he gave you the necklace. 

Even when you were starting to get a buzz, you could still feel his fucking eyes on you, never leaving your swaying hips, bouncing tits and shaking ass. For a moment, the two of you made eye contact. Instantly, you knew you were screwed. You could read him like a book. 

“Steve,” you gasped when his hands tightly gripped your waist suddenly, “you’re dancing.”

He was on the dancefloor, yeah, but the man was hardly dancing. The only thing he was moving was his hips against your ass. He didn’t need to tell Level 3′s sorry ass to fuck off, the look on his face had the young man scrambling away in fear immediately. Natasha had left minutes before, busying herself with the hottest bartender in the club while he poured her a dirty martini with five olives.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He whispered in your ear, lips pushing against soft flesh. His beard scratched your throat, sending delicious tingles down your entire spine.

“What do you mean?” You asked, pretending to be oblivious, “I’m not doing anything.”  

Steve’s hand caressed your hip, snaking around the front to touch your barely clothed pussy. Your cheeks reddened, eyes frantically searching for anyone who might be watching but finding none. Everyone around you was either drunk or making out. 

“What are you doing Steve?!” You hissed, biting your tongue, “Someone might see us.” 

“I don’t care. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked, kissing the side of your face and neck, “it is, I know it.”

He dragged you out of the club and into his BMW, harshly securing your seatbelt before getting behind the wheel. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel the entire drive, and you could see him straining against his pants. You didn’t say anything, the only sound audible being the angrily revving engine of his car. He was flooring it the whole way there, ignoring red lights and swerving around every car on the road that was in his way. 

“See how it feels when you tease me,” he mumbled, “you’re gonna be fucking sorry real soon.”

“No,” you stammered, “please.”

He sat down on the bed, grabbing your wrists and yanking you down over his lap. You kicked your heels in the air in an attempt to get free from his iron grasp, but he only needed one hand to restrain you while the other traveled up the back of your legs so slowly it made you want to cry. His hand disappeared under your dress and found no panties, just as he expected. He knew you too well. 

“You’re real bad, aren’t you?” He asked, retrieving his hand back so he could pull the dress up to expose your naked pussy, “did you think I was gonna let you get away with what you just did to me?” 

“I didn’t do anything!” you mewled, “I swear.” 

“Grinding up on that guy all night? Letting him touch you in front of me? How dare you?”

He caressed your ass, tracing his fingers over your lips before smacking both cheeks without warning. You squirmed, wiggling on top of him. You’d seen him angry before but only on rare occasions; either when he was chasing after bad guys, or when you’d pissed him off and this time, you’d pissed him off real good. Just like you wanted to do. 

“Don’t you dare move against my dick,” he said with a tug on your hair, “or you don’t get to cum.”

He plunged three fingers into your mouth, silently ordering you to suck on them while he continued to keep your wrists bound. You already knew what was going to happen and it took every ounce of strength for you not to move. He chuckled when you nibbled on his fingers, coating each and every one of the three with your saliva. 

He plunged them into you without warning. You cried out, unable to stop yourself from trying to break from his grip on you. You were already wet, probably didn’t even need the saliva, but it helped his fingers glide in so easily it made him want to laugh. You were putty in his hands and he knew it. How the hell had he gone from being little, insecure, baby Steve to this man, this unrelenting, unforgiving force of a man? 

“Shut up,” he growled, picking up the pace, “did I tell you you could make noise?”

“N-no,” you stammered, “no Steve.” 

His fingers left your cunt before you could properly enjoy it. You knew why he did it; he was getting you ready for his cock. You’d had it countless times in places you couldn’t even recall, had it gently and so hard you couldn’t talk after, but you always needed time to adjust.

He grabbed ahold of your legs with his slick-coated fingers and picked you up, effortlessly tossing you onto the bed like a ragdoll. You heaved, hair already beginning to stick to your forehead while you watched him slowly unbutton his shirt.

“What do I keep telling you about pissing me off, huh?” He taunted, slipping the shirt over his broad shoulders.

“I told you not to do that,” his pants were next, falling limply at his feet after he unzipped and unbuttoned them, “but you don’t listen. You don’t listen because you like what happens when I’m mad, don’t you?” 

“No, I’m sorry,” you breathed, gazing up at him through fake eyelashes, “I didn’t mean to-”

You weren’t sorry. You enjoyed this, this side of Steve. Loved it even, how sometimes, he was able to let go of his own righteousness and give in to his darkness. It had taken almost a year of being in a vanilla relationship for him to show you this side of him, and you’d ached for it ever since. You did it on purpose, grinding with other people, dressing up in clothing inappropriate for the occasion. Short skirts, tight blouses, and fuck, those sheer black stockings with the black stripe running along the back of your heel to your panties. Short shorts and cropped tops in the summer, so short they nearly showed off your fucking tits. He hated it because men worldwide couldn’t help but look at you even though you were his and his alone. You were his prized possession. 

“Don’t lie to me.”

“You know,” you answered smugly, “I could feel his erection on my ass the whole time.” 

Steve growled, pushing your back into the mattress before starting towards you.   

“I told you what happens when you make me angry,” he said, lowering himself onto the bed until he was straddling you, one leg on each side of your trembling hips, “you know what happens, don’t you?” 

“Yes, Steve,” you moaned, rocking your hips up against him. 

You gripped his bicep, but once again, he used his hand to bind your wrists, this time holding them above your head, “You gonna be good for me and apologize?” 

“Yes,” you cried out, “I’m sorry!” 

You still weren’t. In fact, you had to fight the urge to grin. You had him right where you wanted him, despite his hold on you. You wanted him to fuck you until you couldn’t see straight and he was going to give it to you either way. 

He let go of you, hands traveling across the diamonds around your neck. He ripped the necklace from your throat in one single motion, earning a gasp and a loud ‘what the fuck?!’ from you when it snapped in half. He tossed it to the ground as if it was trash, discarding it like it hadn’t cost him the price of a house. 

“Daddy’s gonna buy you a whole lot more diamonds if you’re good,” he whispered, “Is that what gets your little pussy dripping? Me spending my hard-earned money on you? Answer me!”

“Fuck yes,” you replied, “shoes, too. And a car.” 

He laughed, taking your clothed tits and rubbing them before ripping the silk dress in half with his bare hands.

“What do you need a car for? You don’t even drive. I do. I’m like your fucking private chauffeur, always driving you around.” He was right about that.  

You smirked, “want you to fuck me in it.”

Steve began to grow tired of your mind games. His dick was hard as granite, as were his bulging muscles, and he needed a release fast. He’d go back to being sweet old Steve after he got what he wanted, but for now, he was a man in heat, needing to take what was rightfully his. One of the busted diamonds pierced the skin on your ass when you found yourself laying on it, but you didn’t care. You welcomed the sting.

Steve rolled you over until you were on your stomach. With one arm around your throat in a chokehold, he lifted up your body, taking you in a position that could almost be classified as Doggystyle. He lined himself up with your entrance, enjoying the lovely sight and the sweet smell of your pussy dripping just for him. Your love for him was like a fucking disease and unfortunately, it turned out to be terminal. You ached with anticipation while he dragged the head of his cock along your entrance, back and forth between your pussy lips. 

The air was taken from your lungs when he shoved himself inside you, not wasting any time with pleasantries and soft-spoken words. He bit down on your shoulder, earning a loud moan to escape your lips. He wasn’t gentle, this wasn’t making love, but it was what you both desired and he was more than happy to give it to you. 

You whined breathlessly, pussy clenching around the length of his cock as he drove into you.

“Could’ve just told me you wanted me to fuck you,” he groaned, “’stead of makin’ me all mad at Tony’s party.”

You wanted to tell him off and if you would, he’d probably have to tell you you were right because he never did this unless he had a reason, but your mouth remained shut instead. Steve was a softy at all times, sweet and gentle and a true gentleman, except for when you brought out the beast in him. 

He grabbed your hair, yanking it so your body stood flush against his. You could feel him, every inch of his marvelous abs expanding and contracting and his hips, slapping against your ass with each thrust. You arched your back into him, exposing your neck to his lips. He began to suck on your skin immediately, leaving marks that would last for days on your beautifully soft skin. This pulled another sinful moan from your glossy lips. 

You turned your head, forcing his head towards your face with your free hand while the other grasped the one on your hip. You kissed him hard, lips and teeth and tongues crashing together. You could taste the scotch on his breath and he caught a whiff of your strawberry lip gloss. You smiled into his mouth, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting down on his skin. They’d see the bruise in the morning, although come afternoon, the serum would’ve taken care of it. You hoped somebody would see. 

“Goddamnit,” he cursed after tasting blood, hand around your hair loosening before sliding down the length of your body in search of your clit, “gonna make you cum so hard you can only say my name.”

He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and slapped your ass with it before resting it on your hip so he could get a better grip. 

You whimpered when his fingers made contact, another moan drawn from you when he began to rub the sensitive bud forcefully. You couldn’t hold on much longer. 

“Want you to say it,” he ordered, “say my name. Say it right now.”

“Steve,” you cried out so loud you were sure whoever had the room next to his could hear, “oh, fuck Steve!”

“Don’t stop,” he rubbed faster, “keep saying it. Gonna fuck my name from your brain, fuck it right out.” 

“Steve,” you squeaked, “Steve, Steve, Steve.” 

You grabbed the wrist of the hand on your clit and dug your nails into his skin, whining his name over and over until you couldn’t stand the tightening of your stomach any longer.

“Don’t stop saying it,” he commanded, “I didn’t give you permission to stop.” 

 You did as told while he continued to ram his cock deep into you, grunts escaping from his lips while he pounded into you at an unforgiving pace. Your throat would be sore in the morning, but you didn’t stop, chanting his name over and over like a prayer.  

“You gonna cum all over my dick, huh?” He throbbed inside of you, panting harshly against your lips.

“Want you to cum inside me, Steve,” you dug your nails into him, “give me your fucking cum right now.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, “I’m gonna give you my fucking cum.”

You loved drawing profanities from a man who didn’t curse. It was like a game to you, seeing how many curses you could squeeze out of America’s golden boy before he’d collapse on top of you. You loved how dirty he could be behind closed doors, loved the contrast between the sweet and gentle Steve that held your hand in public and this monster of a man who bought you expensive things and fucked you senseless with his thick cock afterward. He loved it too, didn’t even know it until you pissed him off for real one time and it just happened out of the blue, but after that, he hadn’t looked back. It came so naturally, he was afraid of himself sometimes, but then he’d see that blissful sheen, that fucked out look on your face and the smile you wore just for him and he was instantly reminded of why he did it. 

Because it felt good. 

You already knew you’d be bruised when you’d wake up next to him in the morning from the way his fingers grasped you tightly, but you loved it, knowing you carried his markings under your clothing and you were sure he loved it too. 

He didn’t stop, not even when you’re moaning his name so loud it’s almost deafening. He didn’t stop when your pussy clenched painfully around his dick, didn’t stop when you began to tremble and shake so hard he thought you were having a fucking fit. You started moving away from him in an attempt to ease the overbearing sensation of his fingers still forcefully rubbing on your clit, but he simply yanked you back against him, sweat-covered biceps flexing while his thrusts became so sloppy he could hardly stay upright. You gripped the headboard so tight you thought it would splinter. 

His cum shot up into you in hot spurts, coating your walls in it while he rode out his orgasm. His hand finally left your pussy, allowing you to breathe in what felt like ages.

“Jesus,” the drawl of his voice sounded like music to your ears, “you’re gonna be the death of me.” 

Smiling sweetly at the man beside you, you pressed your lips softly to his burning cheek. Then, you rested your head on his shoulder, allowing his arm to engulf you and pull you flush to his heaving body. You sure managed to cause Captain America to work up a sweat. 

He inspected the purple spots on your neck and looked down, eyes scanning the dark red marks on your hips that were there to stay for at least a few days. He’d learned to accept them, to love them, but he hated the idea of hurting you at first. You had to remind him each time that you were completely okay with it, that it didn’t actually hurt in a bad way. 

“I’m sorry about the diamonds,” he offered, looking at the discarded Cartier on the floor, “and the dress.” 

“Should be,” you mumbled, eyes closing at the sound of his heartbeat in your ear, “those weren’t cheap.” 

It wasn’t even your money that just went to waste. Hell, they could probably fix it up at the store, but that wasn’t a part of the game. It wasn’t good enough.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he kissed your forehead, “I told you I would.”

The next day, he did indeed buy you a new diamond necklace. And a diamond bracelet. And earrings. 

Now, all you needed was a ring to match. 

[thelastspeecher]

D R A M

The title of this post is actually what I named the Word doc that I wrote this up in.  This write takes place in an AU inspired by a post that said something along the lines of “supervillain winds up marrying the ex-spouse of their superhero archnemesis”.  I saw that post and was like “time to make another version of the Superhero/villain AU”.  So here you go.

——————————————————————————————

              Stan slid into his regular stool at the bar. At the sound of soft muttering, he looked over.  He raised an eyebrow.  Normally, no one sat next to his stool.  But today, a young woman sat there, staring morosely at her drink and mumbling something.

              “Hey, hot stuff,” he said cheerfully, leaning in. She held up a hand.  Light glinted off the golden band around her ring finger.

              “I’m married,” she said dully.

              “You don’t sound too happy about it,” Stan remarked. She glared at him.  “I call it like I see it, toots.”

              “Don’t call me ‘toots’,” she snapped.

              “Fine.  What should I call you, then?”

              “By my name.”

              “Which would be…?”

              “…Angie.”

              “Angie.”  Stan held out a hand.  “I’m Stan.” Angie shook the offered hand. “So, what brings a troubled wife to my favorite dive?”

              “My dick of a husband,” Angie groused.  She slumped over the bar.  “I swear…some days he acts like a completely dif’rent man than the one I married.”  Tears shone in her voice, along with a distinct southern accent.  She picked up her drink and pulled on the straw.  It rattled in the ice at the bottom of the otherwise empty glass.  “And I’m all out.”

              “I’ll cover it.  What’s your drink?”

              “Long Island iced tea.”

              “Oof.  Maybe I shouldn’t get you a second one of those.  Those are a bad decision in a glass.”  Angie straightened, her eyes boring into Stan’s.

              “I can handle my liquor, sir.  I bet I can handle it better ‘n you can,” she snarled. Stan held his hands up.

              “Okay, okay, I believe you.  Man, you’ve got claws, don’t you?”

              “Maybe.”

              “Heh.  I like a woman with a bit of fight in her.”  Stan winked.

              “Still married.”

              “To that dick?  Why?”

              “He treats me right,” Angie mumbled into her drink. “…Sometimes.”

              “Sometimes?  What about the rest of the time?”

              “He tries to get me to quit my job and be a housewife.”

              “Why?”

              “If I knew, I’d tell ya,” Angie said with a shrug. She tapped the rim of her glass. “So, about that drink…?”

              “Hey, barkeep?” Stan called, flagging down the bartender.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one corner of Angie’s mouth turn up, into a ghost of a smile.

-----

              Stan had just about finished putting his boots on when his favorite coworker, Undertow, stormed into the locker room.  He watched with a raised eyebrow as Undertow tore open his locker, muttering under his breath.

              “You’re in a mood today,” Stan commented.  Undertow sighed.  He looked back at Stan.  The crew’s general policy was to keep masks on at all times in HQ, since there were some new heroes with telepathy who might be able to take a peek at a villain’s memories.  Undertow’s outfit had a full cowl, rather than a domino mask like Stan’s, but even partially obscured, he had one of the most expressive faces Stan had ever seen. And at the moment, Undertow’s expression was frustrated and saddened.

              “I thought she was fin’ly goin’ to leave him,” Undertow said.  Stan’s second eyebrow raised to join his first.

              He’s pretty damn upset.  Normally, he keeps that accent in check.

              “Who?” Stan asked.

              “My sister.”

              “You have a sister?”

              “Two.”  Undertow sat on the bench next to Stan.  “But the one I’m speakin’ of is my twin sister.”  Stan racked his brain for any hints about Undertow’s background.  As someone without villainous family connections, he wasn’t privy to information that some of his coworkers had.  But he remembered hearing once that Undertow came from a long line of villains.

              “Is she…in the trade?” Stan asked.  Undertow shook his head.

              “No.  When we were younger, she wanted to be.  But she decided not to, when she started datin’ the feller what became her husband.” Undertow scowled.  “Her husband’s a real piece of shit.”

              “Did he prevent her from being a villain?”

              “Nah.  He don’t know ‘bout our fam’ly bein’ full of villains.  But he’s on the straight ‘n narrow, and wouldn’t have liked his wife to be breakin’ the law.”  Undertow sighed heavily.  “As it is, he don’t really like his wife doin’ much of anything.  Which is why my sister needs to dump his sorry ass.”  Undertow rubbed his face.  “And I thought she was goin’ to do it this time.  But she didn’t.”

              “What happened?”

              “They had another argument about how he wants her to start poppin’ out kids.  She don’t want to yet, ‘cause she feels like takin’ maternity leave right now would cripple her career trajectory.  And his response was that she won’t need maternity leave, ‘cause she can just quit her job.  He keeps pushin’ that issue over ‘n over.  He don’t like her workin’.”

              “Sounds like a douche.”

              “He is!  And after that fight, she came to my house fer a shoulder to cry on.  I did my best to sway her, but she still went back to him once she’d calmed down.”  Undertow groaned loudly.  “Honestly, at this point, I can’t think of a single thing that’d get her to leave him.”

              “Maybe I should make a pass at her,” Stan joked. Undertow snorted.

              “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.  You’d be better fer her than what she’s got right now.”

-----

              Stan went to the bar every night, hoping to see Angie again, but it took a month before she showed up.  This time, she arrived after he did, visibly in tears. She made her way to the stool next to Stan’s and sat down.  Faint breezes danced around her, kicking up her caramel-colored hair.

              Is…is she a super?  I knew she was something special.  Stan wordlessly slid her his whisky, which she downed in one swallow. He winced.

              “Your husband again?” he asked.  Angie nodded morosely.  “Well, at least he lasted a month before he pissed you off enough to make you drown your sorrows.”

              “Nah, I just went to my brother’s last time,” Angie said hoarsely.  “He’s got real moonshine, and I wanted somethin’ strong.”

              “If your brother’s got hooch, why are you coming here?” Stan asked.  Angie slid Stan’s empty tumbler back to him, determinedly avoiding eye contact.

              “I…wanted to talk to you.”

              “…Really?”

              “Yes.”

              “Look, lady, I’m not a marriage counselor.”

              “I know.  But you don’t have an agenda.  My brother does.  My whole fam’ly does, all my friends do.  All they say is ‘leave him’.”  Angie met Stan’s gaze.  Her eyes were a bright, brilliant blue, swimming in tears.  “I just need someone to listen.”

              “I can do that, but you’re gonna have to pay for another whiskey for me first,” Stan said.  Angie managed a watery chuckle.

              “Fine.”  Angie waved over the bartender and ordered herself a Long Island iced tea and another whiskey for Stan.

              “All right,” Stan said once his drink was in hand. “What’s going on?”

              “My ma became a stay-at-home mother when I was a tot.  She kept house and raised six kids-”  Stan coughed roughly.

              “Six kids?” he croaked.  Angie nodded.  “What the-”

              “We’re Catholic.”

              “Ah, okay.  Carry on.”

              “Props to her.  It’s a rough job to have, and I don’t look down on it.”  Angie slammed her hands against the counter.  A wind picked up, rattling the old beer advertisements on the wall.  “But it ain’t fer me!”

              “Lemme guess.  Your husband wants you to be a stay-at-home mom.”

              “Yes.  Which I knew. But this time- this time, he brought my ma into it!  Told me that I’d be good at it ‘cause my ma clearly was.  I just-”  Angie gestured wordlessly.  “How- how could he think that’s a compliment?”

              “Probably ‘cause he’s so dead set on you doing that,” Stan said with a shrug.  “He’s already decided you’ll do it, so he’s already started complimenting you on it.”

              “…That makes sense,” Angie said softly.  She groaned loudly.  “Why is he like this?”  Stan shrugged.  “I want to stay with him, to get him to change his mind-”

              “That’s not your job.  Your job is-”  Stan frowned. “Wait, what do you do?”

              “I’m a zookeeper.”

              “Your job is to keep zoos,” Stan said.  Angie furrowed her brow, like she couldn’t decide whether she was amused by Stan’s phrasing or not.  “Not to drag your husband out of the fifties.”

              “But I’m his wife.”

              “And?”

              “I’m s’pposed to help him change.”

              “What if he doesn’t want to change?” Stan asked. “What do you do then?”  The winds that had entered the bar with Angie abruptly died down.

              “…Yer right.”

              “I am?”

              “He don’t want to change.  He don’t want to listen to me.  I can’t force it, I shouldn’t have even tried.”  Angie dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and stood to leave.

              “Hey, uh wait-” Stan started.  Angie looked at him.

              “Yes?”

              “I, uh, I never got your last name.”

              “It’s Hillcrest.”  Angie slid her wedding ring off and tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. “But not fer long.”  She paused for a moment, watching Stan, then leaned in and placed a gentle peck on his cheek.  With that, she left the bar.

              Stan stared at the door long after she had gone, his mind running a mile a minute.

              Did I just get her to break up with her husband?

-----

              Stan walked out of the shower and headed for his locker to get dressed in his civvies.  After he had his pants on, Undertow entered the locker room and went for his locker as well.

              “Hey,” Stan said.  Undertow grunted.  “Is it your sister’s husband again?”

              “Hmm?”  Undertow turned around.  “Oh, no, she finally dumped him.”

              “Really?  Good for her.”

              “Yeah.  But she’s got a new beau, and she insisted on dinner with him tonight.”  Undertow sighed.  “I’m not looking forward to it.”

              “Is he a dick, too?”

              “Don’t know.  Haven’t met him.”

              “Ah.  I get it. You don’t wanna meet your sister’s new man just yet.”

              “No, I do not.”

              “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not looking forward to dinner tonight, either,” Stan said, slipping on his T-shirt. “I’m meeting my girlfriend’s brother for the first time.”

              “Oof.”  Undertow looked at him sympathetically.  “Don’t worry too much, Flamethrower.  You’re a great guy.”

              “Thanks, but I dunno if her brother’s gonna think that. My girlfriend says he can be a bit tough.”  Undertow walked over to Stan and clapped a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

              “I’m sure it’ll go great.”

              “Hopefully,” Stan muttered.  Undertow smiled at him.

              “If her brother doesn’t like you, he’s a damn fool.”

-----

              Stan walked up to the address Angie had given him. When she divorced her ex-husband, she had moved in with her twin brother, Lute.  Apparently, Lute was thrilled to have her with him again.

              I get it, though.  That twin bond is strong.  Stan stopped in front of the door.  He took a deep breath and knocked.

              “Comin’!” Angie called.  Stan felt some of his nerves disperse at the sound of her voice. The door opened, revealing the beaming face of his girlfriend.  “Stanley!” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Thank you so much fer agreein’ to this.”

              “You said it’s important, so…”

              “It is,” Angie said softly.  “It really is.”  Her eyes lit up.  “Oh! And, um, remember how ya told me that yer not exactly…on the side of the law?” she said, her voice low.  Stan nodded.  Telling Angie he was a villain had been nerve wracking, but she had proven herself once again to be the best possible girlfriend and taken it in stride. “Well, the reason I took it so well is ‘cause I have a lot of fam’ly members who ‘re in the same career.”

              “Wait, really?”

              “Yep!  Lute’s one of ‘em.  If things go well tonight, I can prob’ly convince him to put a good word in fer ya, get ya moved up in the ranks a bit.”

              “You really think so?” Stan asked eagerly. Angie nodded.  “That would be awesome, Ang.”

              “Just be charmin’, okay?”  Angie messed with his shirt.  “But that shouldn’t be a problem.”

              “Hey, Angie, the oven just beeped!” a voice shouted. Stan’s head whipped up.

              That almost sounded like Undertow.

              “All right, I’ll come take care of it,” Angie called back.  She kissed Stan on the cheek.  “Come on in and take a seat in the livin’ room.”

              “You got it.”  Stan kissed the top of her head and entered the house, following the hallway until he arrived at a cozy living room.  He took a seat on the brown couch.  Shortly after, a young man that looked eerily similar to Angie entered, holding a glass of water, and took a seat next to him.

              “So, um…” the man said.  He cleared his throat.  “Yer Stan?”

              “Yeah.  I’m guessing you’re Lute?”

              “Yessir.”

              “Nice to meet you,” Stan said, holding out a hand. Lute shook it, visibly reluctant. “Angie speaks pretty highly of you.”

              “She does the same fer you.”  Lute cleared his throat again.  “What do you do?”

              “I sell used cars.”

              “Used cars?”

              “Yeah.”  Stan shrugged.  “It’s just to make some dough while I work on my passion projects.”  Lute eyed Stan with interest.  Much like when he had heard Lute’s voice earlier, Stan was reminded of Undertow.  Something about the look in Lute’s gray eyes was eerily familiar.

              “Passion projects?  Like what?”

              “Oh, uh, I’m keeping them to myself until they work out,” Stan said.

              Don’t wanna spill just yet that I want to become a villain full-time.

              “Ah.”  Lute seemed disappointed.  He looked down at his glass of water.  After a moment, he spoke again.  “You a super?”

              “Yeah.  You?” Stan asked without thinking.  He fought back a wince.

              Angie just told you he was a villain, of course he’s a super, you dumbass.  Lute smirked. The water in his glass shot up, hovered as a sphere for a split second, then zipped around the room before returning to his glass.  Stan’s jaw dropped.

              “Whattaya think?” Lute asked snidely.

              “…I think you’re a super,” Stan said.

              Shit, it is Undertow!  How did I wind up dating my coworker’s twin sister without realizing it?

              “Yup.”  Lute winked. “Better yet, I’m a mask.  Give ya twenty bucks if ya can guess who.”

              “Lute!” Angie scolded from the kitchen.  Lute groaned.

              “Fine, I’ll drop it.”  Before Stan could think of what to do with the information that Lute was Undertow, the villain in question spoke again.  “So, ya sell used cars.  What’s yer education like?”

              “Uh, high school.”

              “That’s it?” Lute asked.  Stan nodded.  Lute frowned. “My sister has a-”

              “Doctorate in herpetology, I know,” Stan said.

              “And you don’t think it’s odd at all that someone so educated is with someone who only graduated high school?” Lute pressed. Stan shrugged.

              “It just means that she’s smart enough for the both of us,” he said airily.  Lute froze. His eyes began to frantically search Stan’s face.

              “…What did ya just say?” he whispered.

              “That Angie’s smart enough for both of us,” Stan said.  A memory abruptly surfaced of a conversation he’d had with Undertow a few days ago. He had mentioned his relationship, as well as the discrepancy between his education and his girlfriend’s.  And Undertow had simply replied that Stan’s girlfriend would have to be smart enough for the both of them, then.

              “Hmm.”  Lute leaned back, still staring at Stan.  “Say, yer a super, right?  What kind?” In lieu of a verbal response, Stan snapped his fingers.  A flame burst to life on his fingertips.

              “Whattaya think?”

              “Flamethrower,” Lute whispered.  Stan extinguished the flame.

              “Undertow.”

              “Yer- I-”  Lute dragged his hands down his face.  “Consarnit!”

              “Yeah, I gotta admit, finding out that my girlfriend’s twin is my favorite coworker is pretty weird,” Stan confessed.  Lute groaned.  “But you seem to be taking this way harder than you should be.”

              “It’s just- yer my fav’rite coworker, too.”

              “You make that sound like it’s a problem.”

              “It is.  I like ya, Stan, which is goin’ to make it difficult to be hard on ya.”

              “Wait, what?” Stan asked.  Lute sighed.

              “I have to be hard on ya to make sure yer all right fer my sister.”

              “What?  Come on, man!”

              “My sister just got out of a bad relationship. I don’t want her to wind up in another one right off the bat.”

              “You know me.  I’m a good guy.  I treat Angie right.”

              “That’s what I thought ‘bout Max,” Lute said softly. “Hell, we’d been friends since we were in diapers.  I thought he was a decent sort.  So when he ‘n Angie started datin’ in high school, I didn’t bat an eye.  I should’ve.  If I had, maybe I could’ve stopped Angie from needin’ a divorce.”

              “Lute.”  Stan and Lute looked up.  Angie had entered the living room.  She crossed over to Lute, knelt in front of him, and placed a hand on one of his knees. “Don’t blame yourself.  The only person to blame is me.  I should’ve left the minute he became a hero, and I was goin’ to have to abandon the dream of followin’ the fam’ly tradition.  But I stayed.  Even when he started raggin’ on me ‘bout how I needed to be a more traditional wife.”

              “You were in a toxic relationship,” Lute said softly.  “Yer not to blame.”

              “The only person to blame here is your dick of an ex-husband,” Stan said.  Angie and Lute looked over.  “Lute’s right, Angie.  It’s difficult to leave a toxic relationship.  My mom’s proof of that.  But Angie’s right, too, Lute.  It’s not your fault, either.  Sometimes…sometimes people start out good, but then they get worse.  Even if you had been hard on Max when he started dating Angie, things still could have played out the way they did.”

              “Yeah,” Lute said.  He sighed.  “Yer right, Stan.  We should be blamin’ Max, not ourselves.  Especially since he’s apparently a hero.”  Lute directed the statement at Angie, who paled.  “Banjolina, what’s that about?”

              “Banjolina?” Stan mumbled.

              “I didn’t share information either way,” Angie said tartly, getting to her feet.  “I ain’t a snitch.”

              “Ya won’t be tellin’ us what his hero name is, then?” Lute asked.  Angie shook her head.  “Hmph. Guess we’ll just have to figure it out on our own.”

              “Speaking of secret identities,” Stan said, “why didn’t you warn us that we already knew each other?”  Angie grinned.

              “I might not have ever gotten into the villainy game, but that don’t mean I ignore the chance to stir up some mischief.” Something in the kitchen beeped.  “Oh, I’ve got to get that.”  She rushed back into the kitchen.

              “Given what ya just said and what I already knew about you,” Lute said slowly, “I’ll drop the protective big brother speech.” Stan leaned back.

              “Cool.  I mean, no offense, but you’re not as intimidating as you think you are,” Stan replied.  Lute rolled his eyes.

              “Whatever.”  He leaned closer to Stan.  “Between the two of us, I think we could figure out which hero it is what broke Angie’s heart and trapped her in a bad relationship fer years on end.”  Stan nodded.

              “I agree.  That motherfucker needs to get a firm ass-kicking.”

[mohini-musing]

Dancing In the Dark

I posted this one on AO3 close to a year ago. It’s still one of my favorites and I’m still quite proud of the way it turned out. So here I have for you, some AU Stucky, set in a modern world where Bucky came home from war with a few lasting reminders that nothing is as enduring as the lies we tell ourselves.  Except for maybe the people willing to tell us the truth instead.

“Should someone cut him off at some point?” Steve asks Sam, inclining his head toward James at the bar. He’s slamming back yet another shot of something and Steve’s almost certain that he’s well into double digit territory now.

“Not a good idea,” Sam replies smoothly as James comes towards them. His eyes are glassy but he smiles at them as he distributes the beers he picked up for them while he was knocking down more liquor. The man is sex on legs in tight jeans, a fitted Henley, and the tiniest hint of liner around his eyes. “Wanna dance?” he asks Steve before taking him by the hand and leading him towards the floor.

~~~

Two hours later, Steve’s in the apartment he shares with Bucky, Sam, and Nat. James is barely capable of hauling himself up the stairs under his own power and Steve is shocked he’s still conscious. Nat’s still out somewhere, and probably won’t return until dawn. Sam went home with some twink, which leaves Steve with a very, very wasted James who is currently doing everything in his power to convince Steve that he’s capable of sex, despite all evidence to the contrary.

“Y’know, I betcha’d do me if I wasn’t scarred to hell,” James slurs as Steve removes his hand from his waistband for the thousandth time on their way through the common area. It’s the first time Steve has ever heard James mention the burns on his upper arm and shoulder. He’s only rarely seen them despite them sharing a room, mostly when James is on his way from the shower to the bedroom and even then he tends to dress in the bathroom more often than not.

“I don’t care about the scars,” Steve tells him, his voice deliberately calm. It’s most definitely not the right thing to say.

“Yeah, yeah, no one cares about em. Went to fucking war for no good fucking reason but no one goddamn gives a flying fuck about it,” James growls. “Fuck. Fucking ugly as hell. Fuck,” he mutters and his voice breaks on the edge of a sob. Steve wraps his arms around him, certain that it’s not just the scars he’s talking about now.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Steve whispers, easing them both to the floor with the other man’s knees buckle.

James is shaking now, and Steve tugs him close, holding him tight and repeating what reassurance he can in hopes that some of it making it through the alcohol haze. “I’ve got you, shhh, shhh, you’re okay, you’re okay,” Steve keeps telling him, even as James is sobbing in alcohol fueled hysteria. He’s known him since they were too young to shave, and he knows exactly how James was treated for any hint of emotion that wasn’t anger by his father. He’s never seen James cry sober, but this kind of breakdown is exceptional even for him.

It seems to take forever before the man in his arms begins to calm. The sobs edge slowly into quieter tears, and eventually stop altogether. “Stevie?” James asks, his voice raw.

“Right here, it’s all good,” Steve replies automatically.

“I don’t feel so good,” James tells him.

“Think you can walk?” Steve asks.

“Help me?”

“Always,” Steve tells him, pulling them both to their feet and tossing one of James’ arms across his shoulders to haul him to the bathroom.  James has a hand clamped over his mouth and is fighting back heaves by the time they cross the threshold.

Steve crouches next to him as he holds the edges of the toilet and unloads what sounds like a truly unfortunate amount of liquor. When he’s down to heaves, Steve rubs his back in slow circles, quietly talking to him reminding him to breathe, that it’s okay, that he’s not alone. It takes a while to wind down, but once it does he lets himself collapse against Steve.

Steve reaches forward to flush away the mess as James slides down his chest and into his lap, head coming to rest on Steve’s thigh, one hand clutching the fabric of his shirt and the other splayed across James’ stomach.

Steve runs his fingers through the close cropped dark hair as James cries quietly in his lap. “Shhh, Bucky, shhh, I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Steve tells him, reverting to the name James discarded before he shipped out to war.

“Gonna puke,” James whimpers, and Steve pulls him upright a second too late. James clutches the toilet as he keeps bringing up more, even as the liquid cools and soaks into his and Steve’s clothes. Steve shucks out of his foul jeans before shedding his shirt and reaching forward to ease the Henley off of James. It’s the first time he’s seen the scarring up close, and he has to admit it’s awful. The skin is pitted and shiny, the grafted areas raw looking even a year after the mission James was on got blown to bits on the side of some road in a place Steve can barely pronounce.

“M’sorry,” James keeps muttering, and Steve reaches around him to undo the fly of his pants as well.

“You have nothing to apologize for here, you’ve held my head plenty of times. Let’s get you out of these, alright? You’ll feel better.”

“Not likely,” James replies, though he manages to shimmy out of the jeans by some miracle. Steve helps him out of his boxers as well, soaked through with vomit and, if the smell is anything to go by, not a small amount of piss.

“Think you can stay conscious long enough for a shower?”

“Bath?” he asks, and the haunted sadness in his eyes is enough to make Steve want to kill anything and everything that took his snarky, carefree friend and made this wreck out of him.

“Sure,” Steve tells him, turning the taps and helping him step into the tub and sit down. Steve coaxes him to sit close to the faucet, cupping his hands under the water and rinsing the grime from James’ body. He dampens a cloth and rubs a bar of soap across it, gently washing his friend and speaking softly the entire time, trying to keep James awake and alert.

“I’m going to turn on the shower for a minute, get your hair clean for you,” he tells him once he is finished washing his body. James nods, and sits in silence as he rinses him, washes his hair, and rinses the shampoo from it. He helps him from the tub, wrapping him in a towel and settling him against the wall before stepping into the bath himself for a shower that takes all of three minutes time.

When he steps out, James has passed out cold on the floor of the bathroom. It’s not the first time he’s carried him to bed. He doubts it will be the last. James could hold his liquor better than most before he left. Now that he’s back, he seems to have forgotten where the line between drunk and wasted lies. No one has the guts to say the words, but they all know this goes well beyond hard partying and firmly in to straight up alcoholism.

He wakes to James stumbling from the bed and into the bathroom, strangled retching filling the early morning silence. He goes to him, rubbing his back and offering him water to rinse his mouth. When he’s finished, he grabs a bottle of mouthwash and passes it over, instructing him to rinse his mouth. James takes it and does as he asks. “I’m sorry, Stevie. M’such a fuckup.”

“Nah, you’re just hurting. It’ll be alright. I’ve got you.”

“M’always hurting, Stevie,” James whispers. Steve’s not at all certain he was meant to hear the words, but he wraps his hand around Bucky’s shoulder and tugs him toward him.

“You’ve got to let me help you,” Steve says quietly. “Please just let me in. I hate watching you hurt yourself like this. Please, baby, just let me try.”

“Not worth it,” James murmurs.

“Worth it to me,” Steve tells him.

“M’sorry,” James repeats.

Steve can feel him trembling in his arms. As much as he longs to take this vulnerability and dig deeper, force James to talk to him about whatever is driving this self destructive train wreck, he knows it would backfire in horrible ways. “Shhh, I’ve got you,” he says instead, holding him close and waiting out the shaking, politely ignoring the dampness of tears soaking into the thin jersey fabric of his shirt.

When James pulls away to sit up on his own, his eyes are red and puffy, his face pale and exhausted. “Stevie?” he asks so quietly Steve has to strain to hear him.

“Not going anywhere,” Steve replies.

“I don’t know how to do this anymore, Stevie. M’so tired. Of all of it.”

“Lemme get you off this floor, we’ll talk, figure out what we need to do,” Steve tells him, and James nods his agreement. It’s easier than it should be, to lift him from the floor. He’s lost weight again, not that he’s skinny by any means, but he’s definitely not as solid as he was even a few weeks ago. He follows meek as a kitten to their room and curls up in a ball on the bed. Steve wraps himself around him, and holds him close while James sniffles and shakes, letting what feels like a lifetime of hurt out in shuddering gasps. He can’t talk, can’t even try, but he presses himself as close to Steve as he can get and cries himself to sleep.

Steve stays with him all morning and well into midday. Tasha comes in to check on them near noon, shakes her head at James’ still form in his arms and brings a protein drink with a straw popped through the seal for him to drink while she holds it for him, allowing him to keep a grip on James without being an unholy kind of hungry.  She brings a bottle of electrolyte drink as well, placing it on the nightstand before slipping back out of the room.

It’s well into late afternoon when James wakes again, blinking up at Steve and watching his face in that hypervigilant way of his, scanning for any potential threat. “Hey there,” Steve tells him, hand automatically moving to rub small, soothing circles between James’ shoulders. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired,” James replies flatly. “I’m sorry, Stevie. You shouldn’t have to babysit me like this.”

“My choice,” Steve counters. “You shouldn’t have to deal with whatever the hell this is on your own. Wanna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I swear I’d explain it if I could,” James tells him.

“Try anyway,” Steve shoots back.

“I’m broken. My brain’s fucked to hell, Stevie. It’s like it’s going too fast for me to make sense out of anything and everything changed while I was gone and nothing works the way it was supposed to and I can’t make me fit anymore.” The words come out in a rush and Steve wonders just how long James has been trying to find a way to say it without being able to.

“That why you’re drinking your way to an early grave?” Steve asks him.

“Mostly. Yeah. I don’t know. It helps, for a little while. Slows shit down enough, then it just makes it worse and I just, I want it to stop, Stevie, I’m so tired. I’m just so fucking tired.”

“At the risk of sounding like a Lifetime Movie, you trying to tell me you’re suicidal here, Buck?”

“Jesus, no. Fuck, if I wanted to die I’d eat my gun.” Something in the matter of fact way he says it makes it hard for Steve to breathe. He knows James has a Glock in the closet, knows that it’s in a locked case because Nat insisted.  He’s suddenly immeasurably grateful that Nat also insisted on the key being in her possession.

“Alright. Not actively going for offing yourself, then. What the hell are you doing? Cause from where I’m standing, you’re scaring the fuck out of me. You barely eat, you cry in your sleep, you’re drinking more than the rest of us put together, hell, I don’t even think Nat can keep up with you anymore. I don’t remember the last time we went out and you didn’t drink yourself sick.”

“I’m sorry,” James mumbles.

“Stop apologizing. That’s not what I need from you, Buck. Tell me what to do. Please. I can’t keep watching you self destruct.”

“Please don’t leave me,” James whispers and his eyes are too bright, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as his chin begins to quiver. Twenty years they’ve known each other. For the last ten, they’ve danced around what they mean to each other. With James out of the service, away from the toxic Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell environment, the natural thing to do would have been to give in to what they’ve both known good and well for a long time. Instead, it’s been relegated to James’ drunken antics, to Steve caring for him when he’s too far gone to know who he is. Those barely voiced words, with James clinging to him as he holds tightly to the last threads of control, bring the dance to a screeching halt.

“Bucky,” Steve whispers, pulling him close. “I’m never leaving you, Buck. I love you, all of you,” he assures him.

James drags in a shaky breath and Steve holds him as tightly as he dares, whispering to him that he’s got him. James lets out of a noise that is barely human, shaking his head even as he buries his face deeper against Steve’s body.

“Breathe, Buck, you’ve gotta breathe,” Steve tells him gently, and James wheezes another breath in and out before he’s gritting his teeth and holding his breath again. “Come on, Buck, in and out, nice and slow for me. I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart, I’ve got you. You’re safe, Buck. You’re safe,” Steve keeps up a litany of murmured attempts at comfort. James gasps in occasional breaths, his body shaking so hard he’s practically vibrating as he whines an endless, mournful sound. Steve’s not sure if he’s glad James is finally letting his guard down or deeply disturbed that it’s gotten this bad.

When the tension finally goes out of his body, James’ breathing slows to a cadence that Steve is fairly certain is sleep. Cradling him against his chest, he gently eases them both onto the mattress, stretching out on his back with James held close and safe. Night comes, deepening the shadows in the room and dragging Steve into an uneasy sleep of his own. He’s hyperaware of the man in his arms, of the tiny whimpers that escape even in rest. When morning brings sunlight through the windows once more, they stare at each other in silence, neither sure where they stand now.

Steve decides that he’s been edging around this too long, and leans in to bring his lips to James’ in a soft kiss. “Morning,” he tells him. James nods, watching him, but the lines of tension in his face ease and Steve is finally, finally certain that his Bucky is still in there somewhere.  

[laketaj24]

Thoughtless Pt. 13

A/N: I had plans to upload this yesterday but sleep won! I hope you enjoy. 

Warnings: Smut. 

He irritates you because this parenthood thing came to him easy. Ubbe enjoyed the midnight cries for milk, even though it wasn’t his breast that ache and leaked every time Preston cried. He even bought a camera baby monitor exclusively for him. Every time you asked to see it, he responds with “Get your own.” And you’re sure he means it because it stays on only his night stand. He’d adjusted like he was born to do it and you barely knew how to change a diaper, and he taught you that. 

Home didn’t feel like home. Every creak in the floor, every scrape at a window made you nervous. Preston slept with you and Ubbe. But you still j jumped up in the middle of the night teaching for him and there was one thing you an Ubbe had in common: Maggie had to die.

“Look Lil man,” Ubbe said changing his diaper. “You shell like a grown man. This is not what we meant by grow up fast.” He fanned Preston. One full month of parenthood had changed everything between you two.

“He has no clue what you’re saying.”

“Oh, I think he knows.” Ubbe shoots the diaper in the canister and buttons the all black onesie. You thought you would be the person to dress him like his dad but Ubbe had that covered. “You feel like doing something today?”

“I can’t have sex until next week.” You say rolling your eyes.

“Ass,” he laughs. “I meant go to Ivar’s graduation party.”

“I don’t want to party.”

“It’s a dinner party my mom is hosting at the Grandiose Suite. Come on.”

“I don’t want to human, Ubbe.”

“For fu-,” he corrects himself. “You’re going. Put some clothes on. Doll up. Me and Preston are good.”

You dress up in your little green dress and beige heels. HE was right, it did feel good to be a human again. You’d allowed thoughts of Maggie to consume you and drag you down, but the bitch wouldn’t have it tonight. You apply eyeliner and a dab of concealer under your sleep deprived eyes and lip gloss. You wished you would have dressed the boys, because Ubbe took it upon himself to dress them both in black. And all you could envision was the impending spit up to be on them both.

You still have a strain putting on your shoes so Ubbe helps, sliding them on your feet and kissing each of your thighs when he is done. He doesn’t care about the stretch marks, or the fact that you still waddle sometimes it of habit. Every ounce of you is sexy and appealing to him and you know he loves you.

“Have they found her yet?” You ask.

“Don’t worry about her baby, let’s just go out and have a good time. I’m completely prepared to see her again.” He gives you a knowing smile.

“I’m sure you are, but you can’t be Mr. Mom in jail.”

He kisses you once standing up in front of you, raising your chin to him. “You’re worried about her and you shouldn’t be. We have so much going for us… Preston is healthy. You’re almost all healed and those dumb ass charges have been dropped. Don’t let her ruin our new life together.”

“She tried to kill me. She took him.”

“You’re alive and he’s right here.”

“I want to stop thinking about it.” You say. “But that bitch crossed a line.”

“Oh, I know, it’s gonna be handled.”

Everyone at the dinner party was dressed formal but Ubbe and Preston and internally you were screaming at him. Ubbe didn’t seem to care showing him off to every single person that cared to listen. He was strapped to his chest and he was being over protective telling his mom to back off politely and Bjorn, that his hands were too large to hold him. You stand in the corner next to Ragnar who is taking in the room with you.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still sore but almost fully recovered, I think.” You sip the wine and watch Hvitserk as he makes an array of goofy faces to Preston.

“That’s good to hear, Y/N. And my grandson is like the life of the party.”

“He has no choice.” You chuckle.

“Ubbe is a natural at this fatherhood thing huh?”

You suppress rolling your eyes and agree. “Yes. It’s utterly annoying.”

“Well, he’s always been the domesticated type. It just means you don’t have to stop your life and become a full-time mom. He’s got you.”

That was unexpected. You watch Ragnar drinking on his beer. Maybe he knew some things about life that you didn’t. “I guess.”

Sigurd moves through the room hugging Ivar and giving him a small nudge on the head. He lived out of town, rarely came home but he came back for the event. “Finally, being more than a menace.”

Ivar rolls his eyes, “I’m trying damn it.” He leans back against the wall.

Sigurd taps his glass interrupting the flow of the room. All eyes are locked on him. “I know I just got here, I’m always late. I don’t care.” He smiles. “But this day is awesome for me because my younger brother, who has anger problems and no filter is a man now. He has his own place and a degree. And it’s finaly time to quit the part time jobs and ge a real one. I would be honored if you worked with me in my Rehabilition Facility upstate?”

Ivar beamed shaking his head. “With the old people?”

“Elderly,” He corrected happy that Ivar was pumped.

“Hell yes,” He hugs him and breaks off immediately dancing. “Brace yourself bro, the best Rehab nurse in the state is headed your way.”

“I know.” Sigurd adds.

You notice ow different from the others he is, always reserved and quiet. He even dressed differently.

 Ubbe finally allowed Preston to go to Ivar for a moment. “Uncle is gonna have a bachelorette pad upstate.” He whispers jokingly. He stands next to you. “Why are you just standing here being awkward Y/N?”

“I’m just watching.” And you were, the unfamiliar woman in the corner had caught you attention. She kept staring at you as if she wanted to speak but you had no clue who she was and why she was een there.

Ivar as usual notices, “The blonde in the corner is Freydis. She was my lab partner for some semesters.”

You exhale. “Okay.”

“She’s cute right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You don’t care about his love life at the moment.

“Well, I’m gonna hook up with her. I’ve always wanted to, this time it won’t be awkward if I don’t call her the next day.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“What, I’m trying to be honest. Ever since your friend decided that I was dump worthy I’ve been in a slump. I’m gonna fuck her and get back on the market.”

“Thanks for that Ivar. Would you keep in mind you’re holding my son? Between, you and Ubbe’s mouth, I’m raising a baby sailor.”

“It’s genetic. His first word is guaranteed to be fuck. It was Ubbe’s and Hvitserk.”

“I’m gonna murder your entire family if he says it.”

“Violent.” Ivar gripes leaving your side with Preston.

The music starts and Ubbe is overly excited at Stir Fry. He dances locking eyes with you and you shake your head no. He shakes his head yes grabbing you to the dance floor with the rest of them. It slipped your mind that Ubbe liked to dance until you’re out there with him. He’s talented actually swaying an bouncing to the beat and you try to hide our excitement that you’re enjoying yourself. He sneaks you off the dance floor to the jacket closet. He closes the door behind him.

“I missed that damn smile. So, fucking cute.” He mumbles. His lips trace over yours and his hands are in your hair pressing you against the wall. “What’s a week?”

“This is a jacket closet.” You protest.

“We’ve fucked everywhere, the jacket closet is probably the most private. We won’t have another free minute for another week?” He’s right. He moves closer to you hiking your dress up. You can hear Preston cry and your breast leak milk all onto your dress. “That is the sexiest shit I have ever seen in my life.” He bites his lip. “They’ll come looking in a few minutes, how fast can you get there?” You unzip his pants stroking him twice. He didn’t even need that his dick could break bricks at this point. He picks you up wrapping your legs around his waist and rocks into you. It aches for a moment for he has no self-control the first few strokes. “You’re so fucking tight.” He notices your slight discomfort and slows his pace hissing when you are grinding your hips down on him. The sound of his reservation adds to the excitement. You kiss him licking the line of his chin then savoring the taste of beer on his tongue. He pins you against the wall forgetting the party is behind you. He suppresses your moans with his mouth. You’ve never controlled yourself, but he was always good at it. You love the way he sounds when he comes, the melodic plea in your ear as he spills into you makes you come behind him. He grips your face finishing his last few strokes with his eyes locked on you. “I love you so much.”

“You better, I gave you a whole child.” You push his soaked hair back reaching for the hat he’d knocked off during.

“I want like ten more.” He grins.

“I love you too.” You slide the hat on backwards. “But you’ve lost your damn mind.”

Ivar and Freydis are so consumed with the baby you two just slide next to them. “We’d like our child back now?”

“Working on brother?” Ivar looks at Ubbe. “Walls are fucking thin.”

Your face burns and you push Ubbe, scowling him. “I told you.”

He takes Preston. “I told you I didn’t care, still don’t.” He kisses you once more. “Baby is cranky, we should be headed home?”

“Yes, I’ll go get our things. Ivar, congrats.” You half hug him. “Be nice to the elderly.”

“I love old people.”

You ignore his comment walking back to the jacket closet and you see her. Maggie at the end of the hall, how’d she even get in this hotel. You say nothing following her into one of suite rooms. You open the door and she’s not in there. Just an open window. Ubbe walks after you with everything you were supposed to grab from the room. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought I seen…” You shake it off. “Your mom but I was wrong. Can we go?”

“Yes babe, Preston is pissing all over my shirt. And granted everything he does is cute, this is teetering right between adorable and annoying.”

 Taglist: @captstefanbrandt @wilddrabble @sparklemichele @imgoldielikehawn @earthsmightiestasses @siren-queen03@whenimaunicorn @titty-teetee@hvitserksgirl @oddsnendsfanfics @amour-quinn@readsalot73 @getinmelanin011@sunnyfortomorrow @proudcoiler88 @perfectus-in-morte@g4u15 @lol-haha-joke @allinestarr-blog@doloreschanal @mads---world—world—world@xilyadax@leaderradiante@letsshamelessqueen-m@marvelsviking@equalstrashflavoredtrash @sassymcgonagal1651@kenzieam @igetcarriedawaywithyou @akamaiden @cocobanbooom@tomarisela @cbouvier23 @courtrae89 @pebblesz892

[avenging-fandoms]

Too Close / Dacre Montgomery

*requested by anonymous *I love all of your fics I've read them all 😍 I was wondering if you could do some jealous Dacre like he introduces you to Joe and gets jealous how close you two get. He sees you on Joe's snapchat hanging out. When you go to his place the next day smut happens. He gets rough spanks you makes you scream his name. *in which dacre introduces you to joe and you and joe get close, and one day you hang out and dacre sees the snapchats, and gets HELLA jealous *WARNING: MAJOR sexual content *word count: 1725 *PLEASE send me requests!!!!! i can do whoever :)

MASTERLIST

“hey,” dacre walked into the trailer and you laugh “don’t laugh at me”

“sorry. you just look like billy ray cyrus” you joke and wrap your arms around his neck, his hands on your waist

“does that make me a DILF?”

“what?”

“we did have sex today, so i think that makes me a DILF”

“oh my god please stop talking” you laugh and he smiles, leaning down and kissing you sweetly

“come on, i want you to meet joe. fucking love the guy”

“not me. steve, i mean. steve’s a real fucking dick in the first season”

“in the first season. he’s changed a lot in the second” dacre replies and takes your hand, leading you out towards the snack tables “joe, this is y/n. y/n, this is joe”

“hi! oh wow it’s so nice to finally meet you, dacre doesn’t stops talking about you” joe teased and dacre blushes a dark crimson color

“alright dacre, let’s roll!” he kisses your cheek and runs to set

“so.. how’s it feel being in one of the hottest shows on planet earth?” you ask joe and his eyes widen a bit

“amazing. but when you put it like that it’s nerve racking”

“oh god, i’m sorry!” you hug him and he laughs

“it’s okay, y/n. really”

“so i hear you go from douchebag to sweetheart this season”

“yeah, i’m excited. i read the script and was happy with what i read”

“well, i can help you if you want. with your lines, i mean”

“that’d be great, thanks” joe smiled and you two sat down, your legs over his lap as you two rehearse 

“action!” 

in the scene, dacre was supposed to look a little angry, and he was. he was angry at the sight of you and joe close.

after coming to set with dacre for the past months, you and joe have grown close. you two had so much in common and it was great.

and dacre was jealous. like a mother fucker. 

he didn’t like how close you and joe were. sure, you were allowed to have guy friends, dacre wasn’t going to tell who you can or can’t be friends with. but he didn’t like how joe would flirt with you, knowing the fact that you and dace were a thing. 

“i’ll see you tomorrow, okay baby?” dacre said, hands on your hips pulling you close

“okay, see you then” you placed your hands on his cheeks and kiss him, and you thought it was a peck, but he didn’t pull away. “mm!” you laugh and pull away “what the hell?”

“i just love you”

“i love you too. get a good nights rest tonight” dacre hopped into his car and turned it on, rolling down the window

“anything for you” he puckered his lips and you rolled your eyes, pecking his lips once more “bye baby”

“bye mullet” you tease and he glares, pulling out and leaving set

“ready to go, y/n?” joe asked

“yeah, let’s go”

dacre laid all alone in his bedroom, phone in hand, charging, as “Spider-Man” played softly in the background

he decided to go on snapchat to see if you posted anything. you didn’t post anything, but joe did.

“joe, knock it off!” joe’s nose brushed your cheek and both of you laughed “you’re so annoying” you push his head away and joe laughs, turning the camera to himself

“trust me, she loves me”

dacre tapped to see the next one. it was of you dancing in the mirror, singing

“oo okay y/n, get it!” joe cheered and you laughed and started to sway your hips in a silly way.

but dacre didn’t find it funny. his blood was boiling. joe was slowly taking you away from him, and it pissed him off, but it also scared him. he couldn’t lose the love of his life.

as the night went on, joe kept posting more and more snapchats of you and him being absolute nut jobs, and dacre couldn’t watch them. as possessive as he sounds, he didn’t want to share you with any other guy. 

y/n: hey baby i’m on my way over now

dacre: k

“did this fool just ‘k’ me?” you scrunch your eyebrows and shrug it off, putting your key in the ignition and driving to dacre’s house. you knocked on the door

“it’s open” you walk in with a smile on your face

“hiiii baby” you close the door and kick off your shoes “what’s the matter?”

“oh, nothing. just that joe is slowly stealing my girlfriend from me”

“what? dacre you’re absolutely insane if you think i would ever cheat on you” 

“well, joe’s snapchats sure looked like you-”

“we were fooling around! we’re friends! what, do you not want me to be friends with him anymore?” your voice raises a bit 

“no, that’s not what i’m saying! what i’m saying is you’re getting a little too friendly!”

“you’re a fucking idiot!” you yell

“i can’t lose you, y/n! you’re the best thing to happen to me in a long time and you can’t blame me for not being paranoid!”

“you think joe would actually want to steal me from you? you think he’s that kind of person?”

“he might be!”

“hmm, why don’t we go and see if he is!” you start to walk to the front door, but before you could reach it, dacre grabs your arm and pushes you against the door

“you really think i’d let you do that, princess?” he chuckled lowly

“if you think it’ll happen, just let it” you say back and dacre smiles

“you’re a bold one, kitten. but let me show you who’s only aloud to touch you” he pushed you onto the couch and you squeal “take off your pants, baby” you looked into his eyes the whole time as you peel off your leggings

“wh-what are you going to do?” you asked, slightly nervous

“that’s for me to know, and for you to find out” he smirked and grabbed your hips, flipping you on your stomach. he sits on the couch and lays you over his lap, kneading your ass. “hmm, you know what happens when you disobey me” he brings his hand down to smack your ass roughly, and you jump when you feel his rings along with the slap

“i-i’m sorry dacre! i won’t act like that again!”

“oh, i don’t believe you” he chuckled and smacked your ass again, it stinging a little more because of his rings. your nails dug into his leg as you whimper “count”

“SEVENTEEN! dacre please” you cry and shake. dacre sits you up and wipes the tear that fell from your eye

“did you learn your lesson?”

“y-yes”

“yes what?” he put his finger under your chin and tilted your head up, giving a small smirk

“yes sir”

“good girl. you get a reward now. what do you want, baby girl?” his lips started to kiss your neck and you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“i want to show you that i’m only yours” you push him to the couch and he smiles. you peel off your underwear, his eyes never leaving yours. you take off his pants and pull down his underwear, throwing it behind you.

your hands trail up his thighs and he sighs. your hands push his shirt up and over his head. your shirt and bra came off next and dacre smiled

“all yours” you whisper and straddle his waist. you whimper as you grinded against him, his fingers gripping your waist.

“all mine” he whispered back. you smile and attach your lips to his, fingers in his hair. his hands travel down your body and down to your ass, squeezing and you yelp

“still a little sensitive”

“sorry about that” dacre laughed “no i’m not”

you hand gripped his dick and you slowly sank onto his cock, and loud moan slipping from your lips

“fuck, y/n. how are you still so tight after all the fucking we’ve done” he threw his head back and groaned. your fingers gripped his shoulders as you bounced your hips, moans escaping from your mouth. you pushed your hair out of your face and pushed it to the side, placing your forehead on dacre's staring at him straight in his eyes

"god" you gasp and stop bouncing, throwing your head back. dacre grips your left breast and kisses down the valley of your breasts. he laid you on the couch and started to thrust into you, your back arching “fuck, dacre, right there”

“i’m the only one who can fuck you this good” his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed softly “isn’t that right princess?”

“yes-fuck-yes” your fingers scratch his skin and he smiles

“i’m not gonna last long, pretty girl. you feel like heaven” his fingers gripped your hips tighter, and you knew the bruises were already forming in finger shapes, and his rings were making marks

“me too dacre” his thumb rubbed your bundle of nerves and you bit your lip so hard, the faint taste of iron on your tongue

“cum for me, beautiful”

both of you moan loudly as you both climaxed, dacre panting as he rode out your highs

he pulled out and sat next to you, hand over his head. he chuckled and you laughed

“fuck, that was amazing” he laughed

“all cause of jealously. maybe i should make you jealous more often” you tease and dress yourself again, but keeping your leggings off

“no no, you wouldn’t like it. your ass is already red and bruising from my hands and rings”

“yeah, it really hurts. can you rub ointment on it or something?”

“of course. want me to cuddle you too?”

“actually, yeah. that’d be great”

[lohst-in-time]

exit82 be more chill - a written bootleg

ACT ONE

first of all i’d like to say that the cheering was not nearly as excessive as tumblr led me to believe it wasn’t that bad and i could hear all the lines so!!! comfort to y’all

*spooky theramin hell dream commence*

JERE HAD THE VOICE OF A GOD, A VERY NERDY SMALL GINGER GOD

okay but the dad though we have to admire his skill to put on his pants so quickly to go and be a bus driver

the whole time brooke chloe and jenna are having their conversation jere is just awkwardly trying to discreetly slide his hand to his locker and honestly me

also brooke just like skips everywhere it’s adorable

everyone was just glancing around at each other while rich wrote boyf on the backpack like 👀👀👀👀👀

this jake definitely did a totally different thing for his jake than jake boyd but i LOVED it and he was really great!!!

the set for this was so versatile and stuff like they turned around the lockers and BAM there’s the play signup sheet it was cool as hell

jeremy does this cute cut-off gesture on “end scene” and it’s A+

C H R I S T I N E

oh my god where do i start with christine her overalls were great, her cat stockings were great, her voice was AMAZING like honestly y’all she was a blessing

SO LIKE i was sitting right by this exit door and turns out it’s where a L O T of people enter from so michael walked in all casually with his slushy right in front of me and i was n o t p r e p a r e d

michael was acting so high during his part it was great

MICHAEL MAKES KISSY FACES AT JERE FOR THE BOYF RIENDS PART AND I MEAN IT WAS PLAYED FOR LAUGHS BUT STILL

also when jere says his whole “i hate this school” thing michael just kinda smiles and shrugs so that was NICE

i can confirm that christine signing up for the play in this production is just as extra as it was in the original production

chloe’s “i like gay people” was like really loud it was great

can yall believe im still only in the first song

also the ensemble peeps were A++ i loved them

for the scene before play rehearsal there’s a whiteboard with drama club written on it in cute lettering and it’s great

CHRISTINE IS GOD

the whole song jeremy is just watching christine with a goofy grin like heck yeah i love this human and it’s adorable i loved it so much!!

christine’s NOISES!!!!!! A++++++

at the end with the “we’re starting” christine just kept pausing at staring at the whiteboard expectantly until she turns to jere and is like “soooooon” and it was both pure and hilarious

MR REYES HAD LIKE A MULLET/PONYTAIL COMBINATION WIG THING AND IT WAS AMAZING

when mr reyes says the thing about frisbee golf this ensemble guy just goes like “yeah!!” it was great

christine looked so genuinely distraught over midsummer nightmare with zombies

also when mr reyes announces it he flips the whiteboard to reveal midsummer nightmare with zombies written in like this beautiful calligraphy it was blessed

he’s so aggressive with “THE MAN IS DEAD LET IT GO” oh my god

so in this version jake is way more just obviously hitting on christine rather than genuinely saying all the stuff about romeo and juliet and i don’t know how i feel about it but he delivered it really well so !!!!!!

the audience audibly sadly awwed when christine didn’t notice jeremy speaking

RICHARD FUCKIN GORANSKI OH MY GODNESS

the lisp is alive and well by the way

fRESHMAN YEEAR

basically the squip song was very extra i loved it

everyone was so excited at the “its from japan”

RICH JUST WIPES HIS PISS HANDS ON JEREMYS FACE AND SHIRT WHAT THE FUCK RICHARD

DODODODODODODODODODODODODODODODODODO

michael just deadass lights a blunt during two player game it’s hilarious

the pacman tattoo is confirmed to be on michael’s right arm i took note

MICHAEL DABBED TWICE

on the line “i wanna move on” jeremy just sorta whinily shakes michael’s arm it’s great

during the favorite person part michael just lowkey rests his head on jere’s shoulder and is promptly playfully shoved so that he falls facefirst into the two bean bags and he just sorta lays there for a bit it’s amazing

for the final chorus part thing they both just do these ridiculous karate moves and shit in the front while video game characters take off the set it’s so extra and blessed i loved it

tHERES TWO SALESPEOPLE

instead of the sideburns comment jeremy just awkwardly says “so, my chemical romance right” it was the best

when jeremy opens the shoebox michael in the background just lowkey moves his phone up in the air and takes a picture then looks really satisfied and pleased with it

press f to pay respects to jeremy’s bar mitzvah money

the squip looks just like this cool villainy dude at first but over the course of the show he slowly gets more and more squippy and villainy looking it’s so FUCKIN COOL

also when the squip first shows up little drop down things on the ceiling of the squip wire shit shows up and there’s also more big ones that show up in upgrade it’s just a cool lil thing that i liked

the squip squat-sits a lot. just a psa

AT THE “SHE WAS CHEATING ON ME” PART JEREMY STRAIGHT UP FLIPS THESE CLOTHES IN THE AIR AND FLAILS AROUND ON THE GROUND WHAT THE FUCK JEREMIAH

do you wanna ride was both uncomfortable and hilarious at the same time it was p amazing

there were these short pauses in between each “in” in pinkberry at the end it was super funny

at the end of be more chill part two when everyone sets jeremy down on the bed the squip says like “be careful with him he’s delicate”

jere: *aggressively tapping his head* hellooo are you on? mr heere: son are you talking to yourself again jere: i...guess i am mr heere: okay

from now on jeremy wears his eminem shirt AND this black coat vest thing it actually looks pretty good

at play rehearsal everyone does southern accents during their lines it’s amazing

“cough.”

JEREMY AND CHRISTINE SLOW DANCE DURING GUY I’D KINDA BE INTO THIS IS NOT A DRILL

“im sorry i don’t know why im crying” BIG MOOD JEREMIAH

“noooooooo....ot exactly”

jere is forced to make out with brooke and he clearly looks very uncomfortable and i felt so bad jvnghfkd

“that...that’s illegal” “yeah, it’s totally illegal!” SHFGJSCKISFTDYIDV

everyone highkey gasped/sadly awwed when jere said optic nerve blocking on

ACT TWO

brooke’s sexy dog costume jvndhdksj

RICH DEADASS HAS A FUCKIN BAGUETTE MACHETE I DIED

I AM IM READY FOR YOUR HALLOWEEN PARTY

“i do not understand the request” YES YOU FUCKIN DO SHUT UP TIC TAC MAN

*bathtub prop is brought onstage* FUCK IM NOT EMOTIONALLY READY-

NOT ONLY DOES JEREMY CALL HIM A LOSER BUT HE SHOVES HIM INTO THE BATHTUB TOO OH MY GOD NO

the audience reaction was INSANE people were ooing and awwing and gasping all around me and it was surreal as fuck

THIS BOY MIKEY WAS L I T E R A L L Y CHOKING BACK THE TEARS HE SOUNDED SO UPSET I CANT DESCRIBE IT ACCURATELY BUT HE SOUNDED LIKE HE WAS ACTUALLY SOBBING IT HURT ME

by the way this dude has the voice of an angel. of a god. a god angel. an angel god.

christine and jeremy’s weird noise exchange was the cutest damn thing ever

everyone in the audience sounded so sad when christine said no to going out with jeremy but i mean WE WERE SAD EVEN THOUGH MOST OF US KNEW IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN

SMARTPHONE HOUR WAS HYPE AS SHIT OKAY ALSO THE DRAG REPRESENTATION WAS LIVING

they all start out in bathrobes and stuff (LIKE I ALWAYS PICTURED IT TOO I WAS INTERNALLY SCREAMING!!!) then they take them off to reveal these like shiny elastic outfits like in a zumba class or something it was amazing

BROOKE DROPPING HER PHONE THEN SCREECHING AND DIVING AFTER IT IS M Y NEW AESTHETIC

okay but when the squip walks out for the scene before pitiful children he looks like a straight up evil electronic BADASS he got Cloaks For Days (also his makeup was On Point the whole show so just sayin)

everyone in the audience made sad noises when jenna said her line about knowing everyone’s business but honestly i felt a Sad at that part

JENNA NAILED THOSE HIGH NOTES also she just deadass pulled the Mountain Dew out of her coat jvnghfk

LIGHT UP SHOES DURING PITIFUL CHILDREN THIS IS NOT A DRILL EVERYONE

THE PANTS SONG WAS AMAZING also michael was super defensive when mr heere asked if he loved jeremy like he super quickly was like “NO” i just thought it was intriguing

JERES COSTUME ON MR REYES WAS SO SMALL HIS SHIRT WAS LITERALLY A CROP TOP

during the rich flashback the play background curtain thing comes down a bit to show the flashback and then comes back up it was cool

“MICHAEL MAKES AN ENTRANCE” “AAAAAAAAAAAAA”

THE KUNG FU FIGHT THING also michael still keeps jeremy in this body hug thing to keep him restrained long after he needs to be just something i noticed

during the “confession” part christine and jeremy slow dance again BUT i paid attention to michael in the background and he looked DISTRAUGHT i deadass actually saw him wipe a tear and start walking away (before coming back when jere gives her the mountain dew red) and HOLY SHIT YALL I WAS HURT

michael is just left in this pile of bodies and he literally just shouts “OH FUCK” and honestly SAME

R I C H A R D oh my god first of all this whole scene he is like just smiling his ass off in this full body cast and the lisp was super alive and everyone lost their SHIT at the totally bi part it was so great and when michael comes in he’s like so excitedly ranting about what happened that he fuckin shakes jere’s hospital bed it was great ALSO IM ALMOST POSITIVE THAT RICH WAS WEARING AN LGBT SHIRT FOR VOICES IN MY HEAD CAN SOMEONE HELP CONFIRM THIS

i have never heard so many people gasp because of a man walking onstage wearing pants

BROOKE AND CHLOE SWITCHED SHIRTS THIS IS NOT A DRILL

i was really glad that everyone including michael were so happy for jeremy and christine it was pure

im emotionally worn out that was a ride thanks for listening hope yall will be able to visually see this beauty someday