#what the fuck man!! I know that’s bullshit!

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Party Animal

Steve hated parties. And who could blame him? The infamous Halloween party of 1984 left more scars on his heart than he carried from all his other misadventures. Alcohol made people say thinks they buried deep inside, but then instead of owning up to them, they'd say "I was drunk", as if that was any excuse. So yes, Steve and parties didn't go together anymore.

And yet he stupidly decided to throw one anyway.

Look, they deserved it. All of them did - Eddie, Nancy, Robin, even Jonathan and Argyle, they all earned acting like actual teenagers for one evening. Steve wanted to see Eddie, now miraculously his boyfriend, just have fun, laugh, be silly. So a party it was.

It all went great - dancing, drinking, nibbling on mountains of Argyle's homemade pizza - but eventually they all got drunk. Not Steve, he just sipped one beer and kept an eye on everyone. Jonathan and Argyle were smoking outside, Nancy and Robin flirted in the most embarrassing way possible and Eddie...

Steve heard sniffling from the bathroom and his heart sank.

He didn't want to go there. He didn't want to be told that this was all a misunderstanding, that he pressured Eddie with his flirting, didn't want to hear he's bullshit again.

But no matter how terrified he was, he could never abandon Eddie. So he went in.

Eddie was leaning over the sink, wiping at his face and trying to control his breathing. "Shit..." he muttered and turned away from Steve. "Sorry, I...uh. I'll be there in a sec."

"Eddie..." It came out as a whisper. "Are...are you okay? Did I do something?"

Eddie just chuckled and pulled hair in front of his face. "Sure did," he mumbled.

And it made horrible sense to Steve. Of course he was the reason Eddie was crying. He couldn't help fucking up, he'd tried so hard to change but apparently it was 1984 all over again. So he took a deep breath and waited for the final blow.

"You're just perfect, Stevie."

Oh.

That wasn't what being broken up with sounded like. In fact, Eddie didn't seem angry at him at all. "...sorry?"

Eddie laughed, wet and high in his throat. "Like, you...you are too good to be true, you know? You throw a party for us and then you even don't drink so we're all cared for if anything happens? You...you give your best friend a green light to date your ex who shredded your heart to pieces? You invite the guy that your ex cheated on you with and his friend? You're just so good about it. And you're funny and so bitchy that I want to kiss you all the time. And I just...I love you so much, you know? And I've never felt that way about anyone and it's fucking scary, man."

Steve's racing thoughts came to a screching halt. Where he was too busy panicking and praying he'd still have time to fix whatever he did, now his brain settled on maybe I'm not getting broken up with? "So, uh..." he muttered as he watched Eddie try fix his eyeliner, "...there's, like, nothing wrong? Or maybe...do you want me to go slower? I know I can be a lot."

His boyfriend gave an incredulous laugh. There was no salvaging the eyeliner now, it was getting caught in Eddie's early crow feet, and Steve had never seen a more beautiful sight. "No, Steve. You're not a lot. In fact, you're just enough in every single way, but knowing that you're it for me, that good things can happen...it makes me terrified. I've never put all my drugs in a single lunchbox, or whatever metaphor you want to use for it, but with you I'm just throwing all the caution into the wind. And for the first time, I..." he stopped, chewing on his lip, "...I don't want to run away when I mess up. I want to stay, face the music and fix it. You're re-writing the Munson doctrine again and again and I just...I don't want you to settle for me, Steve. You are the whole package and I'm still cleaning all my messes. I guess today showed me that and I...yeah. Sorry about all this," he pointed at his tear-streaked face.

Eddie suddenly seemed so small, so insecure, and that wouldn't do. It woke Steve up from his frozen state and he took a step forward, cradling Eddie's face in his palms. "I'm not. Settling for you, that is." He was probably smudging the black even more, but Eddie would have been beautiful to him even fully covered in grime, and there were more important things to focus on. "Eddie, you keep talking about the Munson doctrine and being work in progress, but you don't see how you've thrown all the stuff I used to do out of the window, and I'm better for it. With you, I don't feel rushed, I don't have to perform or pretend. I can just live in the moment."

As he continued his speech, something strange started happening. Seeing people cry normally had a guaranteed effect on Steve - just one tear, quiet sob and he pushed his emotions down to be dealt with later or possibly never, someone needed him, and that was the priority. But now, staring at Eddie's wet eyes and shaky hands? He felt his own face crumbling and what better place to hide it than in Eddie's Metallica t-shirt. It smelled of cigarettes, pizza and the cheap laundry detergent that had come to mean home to Steve. "Sorry," he choked out. "Shit. I was...sorry, I'm supposed to be...you know. Consoling you. But I heard you crying and I thought...I..."

Eddie shook his head and tightened his grip on Steve's waist. "Oh Stevie. Whatever that pretty head of yours thought of, it's not happening. Unless it's kissing me, which duh, that's happening, if you want to of course, and staying with me to the point that you're sick of me."

Steve just whimpered into Eddie's shoulder, something that suspiciously sounded like "Now who's perfect, huh?"

His boyfriend just chuckled. "I guess that in a way, we both are. Maybe for each other?" If he'd aimed for self-deprecating tone, he failed. Instead, it was hopeful.

Steve didn't answer, but his embrace said it all.

They remained wrapped around each other for a long while, until Eddie whispered in Steve's ear: "how about we let the others celebrate on their own, hm? They won't be driving, their stuff is already in the guest bedrooms, and I hear your bed is wonderful this time of the year."

There was a muffled "yes" coming from Eddie's shoulder, and a few adjustments and "Good night!"s later, they found themselves in Steve's bedroom. Eddie managed to remove most of the rogue eyeliner, which was lucky. The time in the bathroom wasn't the last time he shed a tear that day, because as they were falling asleep, Steve said:

"You might be the first person who is dating the real me, and I'd like you to be the last one as well."

Tomorrow, he'd hold a funeral for the Munson doctrine. But today, he was going to wrap himself around Steve like a cuddly octopus and know that even if he doesn't manage to hold on tight the whole night, Steve would be there in the morning.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie drabble #background ronance #fluff and fluff and FLUFF #the first WIP out of a fuckton has been finished #yay #also I can't sleep who would have thought?

[sturniolosstar]

not everybody likes tarayummy.

we all have our opinions and that's okay. calling somebody a pick me for not liking her is fucking insane.

as somebody who's been watching her since late 2019, i can say she's changed. now i understand that people change, and they grow mentally but if you compare the way she acted then to now, she is a bit of an attention seeker.

now don't get me wrong, i absolutely love her but the ways she acts with certain people and the things she says are attention seeking.

now i understand that everyone loves to talk about themselves whether they want to accept it or not but, if someone is talking about depression and mental health, you do not interupt them and let everyone know that your birthday is in a week's time.

knowing tara, she is a person who speaks her mind. if she thinks something, she says it aloud. now about her video with chris, you do not say "and now i'm going to do you" by accident. you could, but if it's tara, you know it was intentional. before you come at me saying that "i don't know her personally", if you've been on youtube for 5 years, people will quickly pick up on your habits and the way you act on camera. not to mention again that i've been watching her since late 2019.

don't even try to twist my words and make up some bullshit by connecting what i'm saying to saying that "tara made chris uncomfortable". in no way am i saying or trying to imply that, chris even cleared it up saying he wasn't uncomfortable.

i am simply explaining that not everybody has to like tara and not liking her does not make you a pick me. she is a bit of an attention seeker if you want to accept it or not.

i've watched her since late 2019, i love her with all my heart and i will never stop watching her until she quits posting BUT she claims she doesn't want to be shipped and that she can be shipped by simply breathing next to a man, but her actions prove it is her that result in people acting like this.

unfollow me, hate on me, i do not care. this is MY opintion and you don't have to agree with me.

#sturniolosstar #tara yummy #you have your opinion and i have mine #don't come at me because you don't agree

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser — Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k TYPE: Angst, Post-break up WARNING(S): Don't read if you're sensitive to medical stuff, also tw for KAISER-TYPICAL MELODRAMA

“Are you fucking kidding me? That just sounds made up.”

“Sir,” the doctor, who’s been having to deal with Kaiser acting like the hospital is a debate club for the past fifteen minutes, says. Then he lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. In all honesty, he does not want to deal with this. “While there’s an existing argument about the classification of broken heart syndrome, it is a real thing that happens. And you have it as we’ve deduced.”

“I don’t have health problems,” Kaiser says. Of course, those words fly out of his mouth without trouble even when Ness had to call an ambulance on him and everything, since he looked like he was on the brink of death today at practice. “Much less from bullshit reasons like a broken heart.”

“You don’t need to take it literally. That’s just the name. The trigger for the stress varies from case to case.”

Kaiser hopes his defensive statement didn’t reveal anything too personal, and decides to throw off any suspicion by staring down at his lap while frowning like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. At least the doctor doesn’t seem to care because he’s not prying for unnecessary details. Not yet, anyway.

“For how long have you been ignoring the symptoms?”

“I haven’t been ignoring anything,” Kaiser says.

Sure, he was dizzy a few (many) times and short of breath, and disregarded it. And while he can sense the tightness and pain in his chest each time, a recurring physical and tangible ache, Kaiser interprets the experience as some kind of metaphor for the figurative stabbing he was a victim of. The arrhythmia is a natural indignant response to whenever your irritating face pops up in his imagination, since you’re the perpetrator.

All this over some shitty break up. While it’s stupid for someone whose career is in sports to shrug off such obvious signs, until today Kaiser never truly thought it was serious enough to warrant such an overreaction from his body. You shouldn’t have this much power over him. He’s going to kill you next time he sees you for doing this to him.

He’s deep in denial and the grave he’s been digging with his stupid lies is shallow in contrast, inefficient. Can’t even deceive himself.

“It’s most common in people over fifty.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

“What I’m saying is, I assume you’ve been ignoring this for some time and it escalated to a bad attack. So, do you recall if you’ve gone through severe stress recently? Anything traumatizing even, either physically or mentally? When was it? If you could be exact, that’d be helpful.”

Traumatizing? Traumatizing? Is this man fucking kidding him right now?

Kaiser stares at the doctor as if he’s the stupidest person alive. Forget a person, he is a bug for such a suggestion. Through grit teeth, he relents, “There was something two weeks ago. By the way, it wasn’t traumatizing! That’s ridiculous.”

What’s even more absurd is the notion Kaiser wouldn’t know how much time has passed with perfect accuracy. Fourteen days he hasn’t been sleeping well, hugging his pillow and crying like a loser, cursing you, wanting you back, both a worshipper and a heretic.

What was he feeling at that moment, when you broke things off? Was it overwhelming anger which got him to this point? Though he’s been reliving the moment over and over, Kaiser still can’t identify it. Just something intense zapping him through his veins, a devastating shock, a surge of adrenaline. But surely it was resentment at your audacity to throw him away like disposable trash? He doesn’t like the thought that he’s been so pathetically sad, he got sick because of it, so this is what he’ll go with.

Thinking about it is enough to make him start picking at the skin on his neck like he’s trying to peel the ink off. It’s almost vile. At least he retains the common sense not to squeeze it in front of a medical professional who can send him away to a psych ward with ease.

The doctor, too, looks at Kaiser like he is an insane person. Good thing they pay him enough for this — otherwise, he doesn’t know how he’d deal with having a strange man with a bizarre haircut give him attitude over his diagnosis when it should be reserved for his barber or whoever is responsible.

“Two weeks ago, okay,” he says, writing it down. “Lucky for you, this is temporary and reversible unlike most other things we checked you for. You’ll be fine in about two months with the treatment.”

“So, like I thought, it’s not a big deal. I can still play football, right? Don’t need to lay off or anything?” Kaiser asks.

The doctor sighs. Again. He wants to measure the circumference, thickness and density of Kaiser’s skull. “You’re not listening,” he says, clearly exasperated, but still trying to exert patience. “Your heart is weak and not functioning properly at the moment. You can’t immediately jump back into living the way you usually do. It’s still serious no matter what you say and it can cause complications.”

Kaiser makes an annoyed expression like this is all one big inconvenience rather than a threat to his quality of life. “Are you serious? You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’m honored you seem to think I’m a hilarious comedian, sir, since this is your nth time asking, but it’s not the case,” he says levelly.

“Don’t get clever with me.”

A sharp inhale through the nose and the doctor’s back on track, maintaining a feeble grasp on his inner peace, at least enough not to snap. Then, after this brief recollection, he reaches out to grab something, then holds it up. It’s a picture that looks either like an abortion-to-be or a black and white photo of lasagna… maybe. “This is your heart.”

Kaiser almost forgot about the ultrasound or whatever since he was strung out and sedated- relaxed throughout that whole ordeal. At the sight of it now, always theatrical, he decides the best course of action is to wrinkle his nose and say ‘eww,’ even though he’s not squeamish. But treating the matter seriously means admitting he has a problem, and he can’t have that.

The doctor pretends he can’t hear anything and points at the relevant area with his finger to illustrate the crux of the matter better. “You have apical ballooning. Do you get it? Even if it’s temporary, you can’t treat it lightly. So-”

Kaiser tunes out the rest of the explanation. Blah, blah, he could harm himself, very original. His gaze is stuck on the echocardiogram, though, and this time he’s nauseous for real, the tiniest bit. It strikes him as particularly ugly and deformed. Organs are repulsive to begin with, anyway, but this… thing is his, and he’s seeing it now. In any case, nothing so disgusting is worth loving or treating with care.

Is this how you’ve come to see him? What does Kaiser look like in your eyes? Ugly and maladjusted on the inside? Someone who likes laughing at other people’s misery, but can’t take even the slightest puncture? So out of touch with his emotions — and of his own volition —, he’s started experiencing them in the most visceral way possible. His desire for you: torment, a disease.

Would you find him dramatic? Maybe, but at least you’d make him laugh and smile and anything else his troubled mind has decided he needs at the moment, from you alone. Doesn’t matter, though. He’s not privy to that kind of thing, not anymore.

There’s a sting in his eyes and Kaiser wipes away his tears with a hasty swipe, though a few more stream down his cheeks. He doesn’t even know what he’s crying about again.

The doctor observes the display with the distanced apathy of someone who’s watched people die and shit themselves.

He gets discharged with a prescription and elaborate instructions on how to go about his physical activities until it’s deemed he’s fully healed at the later check-ups.

Great. Pitiful.

___

What's funny is that Y/n's probably having a good day while all this is going on

#michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader

[st4rc0met]

->-> Stop Leaving Me || Toji Fushiguro x Black fem reader

A lil' unedited(yikes!) excerpt of your baby daddy :)

Synopsis: Toji comes to your house just as you're getting ready for your date. Once he sees you, he doesn't want to let you go, he couldn't possibly still be in love with you, could he?

Warnings!: This is short and sweet so enjoy. Toji's a little jealous asshole, marking, fingering, finger sucking, unprotected vaginal sex (don't be like them), oral (fem! receiving), dirty talk, unapologetic Toji, begging FROM BOTH, hair pulling.

Word count: 619

Minors do not interact!!

You didn't know how to feel, this was going to be your first date in about 2 years, the first date since Toji left you. It was finally time to move on from that scum bag, to go live your life with your daughter and potentially new man. He was kind, respectful, and had been running after you for months. Nanami was everything you could ever need from a man, so why was it, that you couldn't stop thinking about Toji? You turned around once you heard loud banging on the door, walking slowly, you slightly cracked open the door to peek.

Shouting, you took a few steps back as the burly man practically shoved himself into the hallway. Closing the door, he looked down at you with no clear expression. It was him, your former everything. "Fushiguro, get the hell out- hey! What the fuck??" You cursed at him as he quietly shoved you against the wall.

"Shut the fuck up. Why the hell do you look like that, huh? Are you seriously going on a date?" He looked you up and down with a huff and you sneered. "I am matter of fact. What are you doing here? It's 7 at night, I have to leave in thirty minutes. This is not the time for your bullshit." you groaned while pushing on his shoulders gently. Which to your luck didn't make even the slightest difference.

"My bullshit? That's funny coming from you.." He scoffed before his hand found it's way to the back of your head , and he pulled at your hair, making you let out a strained whimper. "Stop that!" Toji only rolled his eyes and leaned into your neck.

He smelled so good, the faint smell of Pine and weed filled your nose. You hated how you leaned into him with a sigh. You didn't move when you felt his hand cup your slightly damp panties and slip them to the side.

You spread your legs further and look to the door. The thought of Nanami coming in and seeing you both like this sent another fresh wave of arousal through your body. "Tell me to stop. I'll walk away right now." His raspy voice only added to the growing mess under his fingers and you shook your head. "Continue, please don't stop."

Toji didn't waste any time slipping a finger into your wet cunt, both of you moaning at the feel. You could feel his tongue run patterns along your neck which were followed by his teeth.

"Come on, pretty girl. I wanna hear you. All of you." He slips two more fingers inside and starts to roughly thrust them out of you. He starts to rub your clit in rough, rigorous movements as his mouth works on the side of your shoulder. You moan loudly and buck your hips towards him in a failed attempt at more friction.

The pleasure so intense that you can barely keep yourself upright. He grins and pulls his fingers out, leaving you sweaty and breathless. The lack of contact makes you whine, clutching at his shirt. He brings his fingers to his mouth, pressing their way in and licks them clean while maintaining eye contact.

"Bet you needed this hm? Craved my fingers going to deep inside you, before fucking you nice and hard. Just the way you like it." He smugly laughed before curling his fingers into you at cruel, slow pace.

"Ha, a-as if! oh oh fuuuck!" You drew him closer, screwing your eyes shut as your orgasm flowed through you. You cunt gushing around both your thighs and his hands, having Toji slurp it all up in front of you.

"Such a dirty slut.."

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fic #toji #toji fushiguro #nanami x reader #St4r's C0mets

[ravengards-rogue]

i lose control (when you're not next to me.)

javier escuella x reader

✧ tags : afab + fem!reader (gendered language + wearing dresses etc), established relationship, religious imagery (maybe sacrilege)takes place in ch.4 of rdr2, submissive!reader, soft dom!javier, some spanish petnames (mi amor mi vida, and hermosa i think), pillowing humping, penetration, very lovesick sex lol, veryy established dynamic, praise kink, written like. sooo explicitly for @nanamimizz, 18+

✧ wc : 5.2k (after editing mind you)

✧ a/n : this is fucking nuts LMAOO. i wrote this like. no bullshit in a day. i don't know how that happened. mentioned in the tags that this is for my beloved best friend but i think it's still okay to post. im losing it a little. i have hw due in an hour

✧ synopsis : javier can't help but feel some ways about the way you miss him. so dreadfully obedient. so apparently needy. how could he not adore you?

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

There’s something a little pathetic in the way you pine after Javier that makes him a worse man than he is. 

He’s good to you though. Always. Down to his bones, the core of him. The soul of him. It’s hard to be anything but good to you. 

In all of his life, across lovers, men and women - he doesn’t think he’s met a single soul who simply likes him as much as you do. Who preens so pretty with so little, who doesn’t need much at all. Never met a woman who tucks and folds herself into corners just to be polite. Never thought he’d find it so fascinating, either - but you prove him wrong often. 

It’s testament to Javier’s adoration that he can’t help but notice you anyway. That even when your featherlight footsteps and darling voice fall off and get caught on the wind and blown away - Javier will still manage to find you. Even with all of your attempts to make yourself small and unrecognizable, his sharp brown eyes will still catch on the linen of your skirts and the threaded gold of your cross necklace. Javier’s own body betrays him in his love for you, in his wanting. 

Even though he’s not interested in pretending he doesn’t love you, his eyes and mouth and hands would look and call and search. They’d never give him the opportunity to be anything but in love. 

It’s important that he makes that known. He’s only ever interested in being a good man to you. Holding you and kissing you and worshiping you until you’re melty between his fingers. Javier loves loving the resistance out of you and you always make it so easy for him. 

He’s a good lover by nature and by practice. Passionate and maybe a little conceited, it’s not his first brush with romantics. He can only hope it’ll be his last. 

Even so, he’s never been liked the way you like him. 

You like Javier in a way you seem embarrassed by when you remember. It causes you to act in ways out of character on the surface, emboldened. Maybe just needy. Enough to bask in his praise and affection once a little liquor has touched your mouth. You like Javier in a way that makes you lovesick and puppylike, all honeyed gazes and pouty lips. He’s never met somebody who likes him the way you do, without grandstanding. Just pure, puppy love. Almost innocent if you don’t look too long. 

Almost being what matters most. 

Javier knows the way you were raised, after all. Knows the intimate ways in which you fold yourself and tuck your wants between the pages of your diary and slip your requests under your tongue. It’s hard for you to want for anything too much because you’ve been told your whole life that wanting at all is a sin. Wanting may even get you killed. A good woman should want nothing but salvation. Anything more than that is indulgence and there’s nothing good about that. It translates in the way you carry yourself. You’ll stop and fumble and shy away before even fixing your lips to ask, like you’re planning on being rejected or told no. 

A good girl like you being told no so often, it’s made you all sacrifice and empty prayers. Javier often feels grief about your lives before each other but nothing makes it so evident as that. A good woman, a beautiful and kind and soft one like you should never hear the words no without the best of reasons. That’s what Javier believes for all of his lovers, but you’re special. 

And that makes it worse. 

For you he’d do anything. No price he wouldn’t pay, no place he wouldn’t go, nothing that’s too far out of his reach. He thinks maybe he’s so eager to give it to you because he knows you don’t have it in you to take it yourself. You won’t whine greedily even if Javier tells you too, so Javier’s giving is only a partial virtue. It’s mostly pride, after all. It hurts his ego a little when you refuse to bask in the love he so enthusiastically wants to drown you in. 

Despite his complaints though, it’s a part of you that makes him so weak to you. That you want with such desperation but don’t allow yourself to take - so it makes you pliant and willing and terribly, adorably pathetic. You’re so weak for Javier. Just for him, you always say. Always with a hand in his, or wrapped around his bicep. All yours, Javi. Always his. 

That’s the thing. Javier wants to give everything in the world to you. He wants to be good to you, and he so often is. But you do things sometimes, all collapsed under the weight of your own desire that drive him insane. Make him act in ways he normally wouldn’t dream of doing. Depraved and filthy and unromantic in all senses of the word. 

It’s really not very polite for Javier to stand and watch you at his door - humping his pillow with weeps and huffs. It’s not kind to embarrass you. He’s a good man, and a good man would cover you with his coat and maybe smile about how much you care for him. 

But there’s just something about the look on your face when you do it, something about the tear stains in your lashes and the way your cheek is pressed in his jacket. Something about that needy, incessant little ache in your voice as you call and call and call for him. As if you’re hoping you’ll answer despite him not being there.

Javier is a good man to you. Maybe he could be better. Maybe he’s not good enough.  

He stands in the doorway of your shared bedroom with a soft, gentle grin. There’s no question he’s behaving a worse man than he is. Than he ought to be. 

He’s quiet as he shuts the door, balancing his weight to remain noiseless. 

Javier doesn’t particularly like being all the way out in Saint Denis nor is he fond of intel missions. The city is loud, the people unfriendly - though he likes the music and art. He prefers staying in camp if he can help it, but this big bank heist has everyone busy. He’s at least thankful that it’s given him an excuse to be with you. Your knowledge of herbs and poisons and the like have been helpful to gathering information. Been a lot of slipping things in drinks and making people forget. The sort of dirty work he’s accustomed too, while also getting a chance to be with you in a place with four walls and a bath. A dream for the future, maybe. 

It’s been nice, but he’s been out now for two days - out in the streets gathering information about Bronte’s people. A bunch of lowlifes just like them, but with their hands in the pocket of the city. He’s only been gone for two days, so there’s no reason you should miss him this much. And yet he hears it anyway. And it pleases him, truthfully. 

He takes off his coat as he listens to you at the doorway. Shrugs the middle-weight material of his sheen suit jacket over his shoulders and lays it on a chair, takes off his wingtip-gaiter shoes, undoes the yellow puff tie from around his neck. Nothing but a white linen dress shirt and the dark black slacks he’s been wearing for days now, some parts covered in bloodstains he only barely managed to wash out in the river not long ago. 

He’s thankful he took a bath before getting in now, listening to you moan. His hands being clean feel like a blessing - just his luck. 

He manages to remain quiet as he steps into the main room - a single bed in the center. Javier finds you there in a heap as he rests his body along the wall of the entrance to his right. He crosses his arms over his chest as he takes a minute to take in the scenery, admiring the soft lowlights and the way they cast shadow on your body. 

The wooden bed frame creaks slightly as you rut your hips. You’re out of it, Javier can tell, since you’ve yet to sense the fact he’s come in. The paintings along the back wall click against soft red walls themselves, over and over in an arrhythmic tic. Javier tries not to laugh. Gives himself a minute to admire the moment for what it is, the vulnerable desperation of your lust. He has to get over the disbelief, too. Over the fact your face is buried in the open part of his bluecoat and that you’ve got a hotel pillow(his hotel pillow) between your legs. One that you’re humping so frantically he can’t help but feel sorry for you. 

You’re making a mess.

You are a mess. The way the white chemise falls over your back and hips, and the lack of finesse in your gestures. If Javier had to bet money on it - he’d bet money on the fact you probably didn’t start this way. He figures you nested with his coat and pillow to go to sleep and then worked yourself into something senseless and desperate. And he’d figure if he didn’t show up, you wouldn’t cum at all. You’d go to bed all frustrated and tired and just wait for him like always. 

Any man would be pleased by it, he thinks. And a good one would never embarrass you about it. Javier tries his best. Weighs his options, but the words slip from his mouth before he can think to stop them. 

Pure elation in his words wrapped up in a smug delight. “Aye, hermosa - you’re gonna ruin my things you know?” 

Your reaction is what he expects. You jump out of your skin first, sitting straight up. Javier bites back a laugh as you do, big wide eyes like a deer caught in the scope of a rifle. You look around the room, worried you’re imagining him. Once you’ve come back to reality enough to realize he’s real and tangible - all the neediness washes right back into your expression. 

“Javier,” You sniffle and god. Javier hopes the heavens are more merciful to him than he is to you. “Javi,” 

“I’m home,” He voices in a partial tease, walking towards you. He can tell you want to run to him. To crawl into his arms and lap and collapse there forever, but the dull throbbing between your legs is stopping you. “I would ask if you missed me but, somehow I get the feeling you did.” 

You let out a soft, sniffly whine as Javier sits in the bed next to you. He turns his body to face you a little better but keeps distance. You turn your face towards him. Javier cups your cheek in his palm, eyes tracing your features. Your lips are bruised like you’ve been biting on them to keep the noise down and your eyes are wet with tears, red stained in the waterline. His thumb brushes along the thin skin of your lower lip, clicking his teeth at you. 

“Look at you,” He reprimands, his voice tender as he leans in to give you a little relief. You kiss Javier too eagerly, impatient and lacking your usual timidness. It’s how he knows how far you’ve fallen. How simple and easy your reactions are. “You’re going to hurt yourself pushing so desperately,” He laughs again, a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Does it feel good, at least?” 

“It’s better when you do it,” You admit, falling forward. Javier doesn’t let you drop, but he doesn’t comfort you right away either. He laughs and lets a hand rest on your lower back, relishing in your reaction. You shiver, sensitive and overstimulated with so little at all. 

“I know,” He coos with as much faux-sympathy as he can manage. “Couldn’t wait for me a little longer? I’m hurt.”

“Nooo,” You draw the words out, pitiful and upset “I’m sorry. I missed you,” 

“It’s okay,” Javier says, knowing he wasn’t mad in the first place. Not even a little. “Ahh, what should I do with you now, do you think?” 

It’s hard not to laugh at the immediate noise of disapproval. He’s sure you’d be able to ask him for what you want if he coaxed you into it. One whispered word of tell me what you want, and you’d be begging for his cock with ease. Filthy words from such a pretty mouth, he likes the idea. 

But he’s feeling… something. Something on the border of sadistic and loving that has him instead thinking. 

Pretending to think. 

“Maybe you should keep going, hm? You’ll think clearer once you’ve let it out, don’t you think?” 

“I can’t,” You bemoan, pleading with him. “I’m trying but it’s—it’s not enough, Javier, please.” 

He shakes his head. “Oh, man. What am I gonna do with you? Should I help you, mi amor?” 

You nod your head rapidly. As if he’d ever leave you out to dry when you look all pretty helpless. He doesn’t mention it to you. “Please,” 

“Yeah? I’ll help you then.” He offers, taking your hand and guiding you to his lap with his legs stretched out. He sits you over his thighs, glancing back at his jacket and pillow, brows raised when he sees how sticky they both are. Your habit of drooling and your cunt soaking his pillow case, he laughs just a little seeing the state of them. You must notice because you hit his shoulders weakly. “So needy,” 

“Javier.” 

“Alright, alright,” He laughs again, kissing your cheek as he brings you to him. You frown but comply with his handling of you, strong hands pulling you over his thigh. He sits you down until your bare cunt is pressed against the clothed muscle. It dawns on you what he’s doing as he’s doing it, a noisy little whimper sounding as Javier pulls you close. Close enough to wrap your arms around his neck. He puts a hand on the back of your head, encouraging you to bury his face into the space of his shoulder. He can feel the relief in you when you do, slumping into him a second time today. “You have to move on your own, you know? I won’t help you.” 

“You’re being awful,” You say with no real malice or bite. 

“I’m a little hurt, that’s all. And I’m helping you aren’t I? Is that not what you want?” 

You groan against the skin of his neck. “I want your…ngh,” 

He hums against you, decides to be merciful since he’s teased you plenty and he’s going to tease you more. 

“Wanna feel me right here, don’t you?” He puts a hand between your bodies, pressing the back of his hand into your stomach. “I know, I know. But I want you to cum like this first.”

“Can’t do it by myself,” You sniffle. Don’t even try to push back, so obedient and willing. Javier hums sympathetically. 

“I’m here right? I’ll help you, mi vida. I’m not that mean, am I?” 

You shake your head no. He most definitely is, but maybe he can keep that a secret from you a little longer. 

“Here,” He says. Javier pulls your chemise up until it’s pooling at your waist. Strong, tan hands hold at your hips, squeezing the soft skin with a warm sigh. You keen immediately. He pushes his thigh up just slightly to give you the right kind of friction. Hiccuping in his lap, he sets a pace for you to grind yourself on him. A slower back and forth. When you get too wet, too needy - you get sloppy. Sometimes he can give it to you hard and fast but you’re sensitive. Sensitive to the point it’s easy to make you hurt, make yourself hurt if you’re too clumsy. 

You’re always chasing pleasure but you don’t know anything about build-up. For a girl who tends to keep to herself and is always so meticulous - there’s something about seeing you get so sloppy that turns Javier on. When you’re wet and can’t think straight “Not too fast, okay? You’re sensitive, need it slow at first to make it feel good if it’s like this. Did you forget?” 

You nod, then moan hotly against his throat. Javier shivers at the way your tune changes. He can feel you breathe in his scent and relax as he guides your hips. He eventually stops touching you. Lets you take control of the pace just like he shows you. You manage to pace yourself despite how much you want to cum. Javier can feel how pent up you are. The fabric of his slacks going sticky, tacky from cum and arousal. 

You smell nice and soft, like baby powder and something floral. 

Javier’s been hard since he got in the door, but it’s starting to fog his mind up. Feeling your tits press against his chest, feeling your skin against his. Soft and pliant and beautiful. He kisses against your shoulders as you slowly start to build your orgasm up again. Not that it’s hard. 

You pull away from him, briefly - and your face makes his dick twitch. You’re always pretty but you’re especially pretty like this. Drool drips from the corners of your mouth, eyes lidded and barely blinking.

“Javi,” Your words are slurred. Javier laughs but doesn’t clean you up. “Kiss me,” 

“Sure,” He replies, though he’s all too happy to do it. Javier kisses you with tongue. He knows it’s what you want. Your hands curl up at his chest as he brings his own to cup your head and pull you to him. His tongue in your mouth is invasive but precise, knowing all the ways you want him to nip and kiss and suck on your mouth. You whine in complete pleasure, drunk from the sensation and he’s hardly touched you at all. 

He thinks of how he’ll fuck you as he kisses you. He’ll touch you more than he is now and you’ll fuck like lovesick rabbits until sunrise. It’s less something Javier decides and more something he knows. Like once he opens the door to pleasing you like this, it’ll be tough on him to close it again. 

“Javi,” You keep calling his name. It might be the only word you remember. Always seems to be when you get like this. “It feels so good. Feels so good when you touch me,” 

Javier kisses against your bare shoulder and neck, teeth scraping soft against your clavicles. “Mm. You’re doing well. A very good girl today,” 

You shudder at the praise, all the hairs on your neck raising from the drop of it. Javier laughs. You whine his name again but he doesn’t reply. He can feel you more than he can see you. Your body is twitching against his thigh and your muscles are tight where you hug against him. Javier calms you. 

“Gonna cum soon, huh?” 

You nod over and over, but can barely keep your head up to do it. And he laughs, full of fondness and affection as he peppers your face with kisses. He doesn’t have it in him suddenly, to tease you about it any more. He encourages you instead, hand on your hips to give you more friction as you start to grow erratic in your breathing. You pant hard against his ear, like you’re chasing something. Little bunny rabbit, he thinks. Your voice is little more than a croak. 

“Oh,” You moan, loud and helpless and needy as you cling to him. Your hands fisted in the back of his shirt as you cry out his name one more time. A prayer, maybe. Or a curse. Something in between. “Javier, oh,” 

“Shhh, that’s it. Just like that. Good girl. You’re so good to me.” 

You weep into his neck as you cum, your whole body tightening before breaking out into aroused shakes. You’ve completely lost it in front of him. On the brink of insanity with nothing but pleasure filling your empty-head. You hump against him thoughtlessly as you ride out your high, then finally lean against him when you’ve managed to reach the end of it. You don’t move. Javier can feel how big the wet patch of his pants has grown and tries not to laugh. 

You’re only barely coherent when you’ve finally pulled away. Your pupils are blown out and your face is flushed, sweat making your hair stick to your skin in the places it’s not tucked away. Javier laughs at the state you’re in, brushing his thumb along your cheek just beneath your eyes. 

“Are you with me still, do you think?” 

You nod, seemingly exhausted. He laughs again and kisses your temple. 

“Want you,” You say, despite your state. His eyes widen again at how soon after you’re asking him. He was planning on taking his time, but that plan might just be out of the race. He’s not above you begging him so sweetly. “Please, Javi. Need you, need you so bad.” 

You sound like you’re about to cry. He speaks in soft murmurs. “I thought you’d be too tired to keep going right away.” 

“No,” You mumble and shake your head. “Please. Please, want you so bad.” 

“You’re exhausted, mi vida.” 

“Please,” 

He chuckles. “Okay. Okay, don’t cry. Whatever you want, remember. Unbutton my shirt for me, mi amor.” 

You sniffle, your hands shaking as you fulfill his request. You’re exceptional at listening. Javier smiles at you, your eyes meeting as you do. You flush and pout, only barely managing to maintain his gaze without looking away. You unbutton his shirt dutifully. He puts a hand on your arm and rubs it soothingly. “You must’ve missed me a lot, huh.” 

You nod. “It’s bad, you know? Two days shouldn’t feel so long. It didn’t use too.” 

“Just means we love each other,” Javier assures, a safe place for you to express your neediness. “That’s nothing bad,” 

You nod, pressing your forehead to his. “That’s true,” 

“See? And it’s nice you know. Having someone miss me. Wait for me. Makes me want to come home instead of, I don’t know.” He feels his throat tighten at the sincerity but pushes through anyway “Dying for the cause. Or even just because.” 

It’s the first time you’ve smiled all day and god. Might be the only thing that’s ever mattered. Above all forms of love prior and past. Above revolution. Above god. Just you. You smile, happy and elated and keep unbuttoning his shirt with a coquettish-ness to you. Comfortable and safe. 

You help Javier out of his shirt, and wait for his approval to go after his pants. Undoing the buttons, you free his cock from the confines with a soft gasp. Javier laughs at the reaction, cat-like grin on his features. 

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”  

“It’s so big,” You say, your hand wrapping around it briefly. Javier swears, head against the headboard. 

“Careful,” He warns, laughing thickly. “I’m pretty pent up too,” 

“Want it inside me,” You say so easily it startles him. You blink up at him through your lashes, too pretty for your own good. “Please?” 

“Should open you up a little.” 

“Want it to hurt,” You reply instantly. Javier feels his breath hitch. 

“Oh, fuck.” He breathes, trying to keep himself from cumming in your hands. “We’ll go slow.”

You nod quickly, not wanting to wait any longer. Javier curses himself for not being more polite. 

He guides your arms around his neck, his own arm around your waist as he lays you down on your back. You look up at him, surprised by his handling of you but not upset by it all. You mumble something he doesn’t catch, but it sounds pleased. 

Javier finds that he’s fond of missionary. He didn’t think he was the type, but there’s something about seeing you laid on your back that he likes. Likes being able to look at you and be close to you, to whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you curl into him. He lays you down gently on his spine, laughing at the way your legs wrap around his waist the second you’re comfortable. His hands go up under your knees but don’t push you too far. You spread your legs for him naturally, eyes fluttering with exhaustion and leftover stupid want. He looks down at you and smiles. 

“One more, okay? Just the one.” 

“I can’t,” You whine “Too sensitive. Just want you to cum on me,” 

“Are you doubting me?” He challenges, only partially. Your eyes widen and he chuckles. “Of course you can. One more,” 

You whimper, suddenly realizing you had no choice in the first place. But you nod, relenting to him like you so often do. Javier kisses you. It means more things that he’s comfortable telling. Means thank you, and that he’s sorry, that he loves you. He kisses you one more time after that, and smiles at how happy you seem because of it.

Finally, when Javier lays you down on the sheets beneath you - it feels like finding religion all over again. The loose material of your chemise has given up on covering you, exposing the soft mound of your chest and hardened nipples. He can see your neck and shoulders and everything else above and below. You’re so beautiful his cock twitches again, hard. 

He sits back up on his knees and takes a deep breath as he lays his cock against your puffy folds. You breathe soft, an aching sound from the back of your throat as you pull your skirt up to give him better access. He laughs gently at that, examining how nearly seven inches measures up to you and feels a little dizzy in the process of it. He’s done this with you so many times now, practically trained your body to take him without too much trouble. A welcome change from when you could barely fit the tip, too inexperienced to do it but even more determined. 

Even still some part of him worries about it. It’s not enough to stop him though, not nearly. His cock twitches against hard, wanting for you. He looks down at you and sees you stare up, admiring his figure. He laughs. 

“Like the view?” 

You nod. “Mm. Uh-huh.” 

“I’m glad,” He replies, then adds “Deep breath,” 

So you take a deep breath, and Javier pushes the tip of his cock into you with a loud grunt. You’re so soft. Wet, and pliant and soft around the swollen head of his cock, he can’t help but shudder with relief and desire. Can’t help but grit his teeth and grip onto your hips to steady himself. 

You breathe like the air has been punched out of your lungs, saying his name dreamily. “Oh, Javi,” 

He swears under his breath, something incoherent as he pushes the tip push into you evenly. It’s not easy. The resistance is there, but you don’t whine in pain right way - so it means it’s not too hard on you. Perhaps loosened by the previous orgasm, or simply so needy that it doesn’t bug you. Still, Javier makes sure to keep himself tight. He rocks, back and forth, ignoring the agony of that sensation to keep him from thrusting up into your soft, welcoming cunt. If he listened to what he wanted, he can’t be confident it wouldn’t make you ache. He already knows you will with this much. 

It takes a few minutes, and some whimpering from you before he finally manages to bottom out. 

You feel good. God, you feel good. 

He can’t imagine heaven, but he thinks being inside of you might be close enough. There’s certainly all the makings of religion when he makes love to you. You, a soft and loving deity, and him - a man laden with sin who longs to be saved. It makes sense to compare you that way. And it feels just as euphoric as the always described, being wrapped in you. Being part of your completion. What's religion without worshippers, anyway? 

Javier groans as he bottoms out inside of. When he manages to peel his eyes open and look at you, you’re debauched. He’s debased you this completely and he doesn’t know if you can even tell. He laughs, leaning down to kiss your neck and run pecks against your jaw. 

“Feel good?” 

“Feels so good,” You moan, then hold him tighter. “I love you. Love you Javier,” 

“Me too, mi amor. Para siempre. ” He hums, kissing your forehead before looking at you. “Can I move?” 

“Please,” 

“Touch yourself for me,” He tells you patiently. “Make yourself feel good.” 

You nod, dazed - a hand between your bodies as Javier sets a pace to fuck you. He knows you in and out. At least well enough to know exactly the ways to make you feel good. Only a few thrusts for him to find the perfect pace, perfect rhythm, perfect spot. You make a noise like a songbird, deep in the back of your throat and Javier can feel you pulse around him in pleasure. 

You stay like that, with him. Javier fucks you to his hearts content in deep, long thrusts - angled against the softest parts of you and wanting to make you feel good. He whispers sweet nothings as your nails dig into the muscle of his back. You feel good for him. You are good for him, wet and perfect. It takes all of his strength to fuck you consistently, the bed rocking underneath you both as he gives it to you hard. 

“I’m close,” You whimper, not seeming to believe yourself despite. “I’m so close, oh god, Javier.” 

“That’s it,” He whispers, chuckling against your skin “One more. Just one more and I’ll give it to you.” 

It’s the promise of his cum that drives you over the edge. You gasp and groan, shuddering as Javier pounds you through your second orgasms. He groans as he feels your pussy spasm and tighten around him, practically begging him to put it inside. He’s nearly lost his sense enough to do it, unhelped by the way your sweet voice begs him for it. He practically has to pry himself away from you, out of you to keep himself from cumming inside as deep as he can possibly go. 

He manages, barely, to stave off his own orgasm. Long enough pull himself out of you with a broken gasp and cum outside of you. Making a mess of your stomach and your soft, swollen cunt with his seed. He paints you in thick ropes of whites as he swears loud in the process, euphoria rumbling through him uninterrupted. 

“Fuck,” He moans, finally getting to the end of it. A little embarrassed by how much of a mess he’s made right along with you. “You do something crazy to me, you know that?” 

You stare at him, bleary eyed and giggly despite your exhaustion. “I know. Me too. I missed you,” 

He laughs, and can’t find the words to say anything but the same back. Of course Javier is a worse man when you’re around. 

Any man loved this much is bound to be a little ruined. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#javier escuella x reader #javier escuella smut #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 smut #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 smut #rogues love letters

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Badge Bunny Part V

Masterlist Here!

Summary: It all comes to a head with Roy. Will Gator let the sins off his past dictate his future or will he be the better man that he knows you deserve?

18+ Only! Minors DNI!

CW: Reader is referred to as "Bunny" or "Bun". Minimal use of Y/N. Canon type violence. Gun use. Gator is wounded - no graphic detail. Mild angst. Smut! Unprotected P in V. Creampie.

WC: 8.7K

“Something's going down at the ranch. I think Roy's finally lost his goddamn mind. Feds are headed over there.” Andy rushed out, breathless as if he'd run all the way here, face a little bloodied and bruised. He was still in uniform, though it was dirty and disheveled, sans his duty belt.

“Gator?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

He nodded, gaze falling to the floor.

“He's been there all morning.”

“What's going on? And don't lie to me Andy.” Pushing your finger roughly into his chest.

“I want the full story. Not some half-truth bullshit.” Tired of sitting in the dark, you needed some answers.

You took him to the back so you could talk in private without the whole bar hearing about the sorted affair. They would all know soon enough. Small town gossip spreads like wildfire, especially if it involves the Tillman family in any way.

Roy had the entire ranch on lockdown. He'd somehow gotten wind of a traitor in his midst that was feeding information to the FBI.

Andy was an immediate suspect. After the entire incident with your kidnapping and sending those blood samples off despite Roy telling him not to, it had earned him a spot at the top of the man's shit list.

“They had me tied up in one of the sheds. If it weren't for Gator, I…” he swallowed thickly, as if he were reliving it all once again. “I don't know what Roy would have done. He showed me some tunnel on the back of the property. Helped me escape. I flagged down a car once I made it to the main road and had them bring me here.”

“Oh my God, Andy! Why didn't he come with you? What the fuck is he doing?” You groaned, swearing then and there if he made it out of this shit alive you were going to kill him.

“He told me to place a call to the feds and made me promise to make sure you stayed put. There's nothing else we can do.”

You stopped pacing back and forth looking at him with a dumbstruck expression.

“What? So, you are working with them?” Trying to wrap your head around everything that he was trying to tell you.

“No, Y/N. Gator is!”

Not even Roy could have seen it coming. Everyone pegged Gator as the Sheriff's idiot son. A fuck up so blinded by getting his father's approval that no one thought for a second he could have been the informant.

If Roy asked him to jump, he'd ask him how high but that all started to change a little over a year prior.

There was only one thing that would make him flip on the old man in a heartbeat.

You.

He'd asked you to trust him. Told you whatever happened it was for the best. Now you truly saw why. He was taking Roy down. It was his way out.

“Andy, how am I supposed to stay put when you know what Roy is capable of? If he even thinks for a second that it's Gator…” You trailed off. Taking a seat at the edge of Henry's desk to let the weight of it all sink in.

“I think he's got this. There's nothing else for Roy to do but surrender.” He tried to reassure you with a half-smile but you saw right through it.

You sighed, standing back up.

“Let me clean that cut up for you. It's the least I can do. You're a good friend to me and Gator.” You grabbed the first aid kit and went to work. It was deeper than you thought, probably needed a stitch or two but he was dead set on keeping the both of you here.

After Gator helped Andy find the underground passage, he made his way back to the main house where he knew Roy would be waiting.

He took a deep breath before entering. Knowing his part, he has to play it cool just until the feds get there. He gave Andy strict instructions to let them know what they were going to be up against.

The kitchen was left in shambles. Roy told Karen and the girls to leave before they finished breakfast. At least he seemed to care enough to spare them from some of what he had planned that day.

From that point on it had been madness. He'd called in what was essentially his calvary. A lot of armed idiots that had no business holding a gun.

Somehow, he'd gotten word the FBI was coming to raid him. Gator was still unsure of where it actually came from, but he knew Roy had friends in high places.

He wandered down the small hall that led to the back of the house where Roy's office was, the door sitting ajar.

He didn't bother knocking, pushing it further open and taking a step forward. Roy's eyes shot up as soon as the door opened.

“Gator, what are you doing here? I told you to watch the goddamn shed with Bowman.” He hissed out.

“Yeah, uh… Andy and Bowman are both gone. Shed's empty.” His gaze fell to the floor briefly before looking back to Roy.

“Gone? Both of them?” His face flashing confusion.

“Yup. Suppose Bowman moved him? Ya’ give him the order to execute or somethin’?” He asked, trying to draw his suspicion.

“Fuck.” He gritted out between clenched teeth getting up and coming around his desk. “I didn't give any kind of order. Get your ass out there. Tell everyone to start looking for them.”

“Yeah, course.” Gator turned, making his way back down the hall and out to the porch telling the rest of the guys to start looking.

He was sure it had given Andy enough time to get to the highway. No one knew about that escape hatch except himself, Roy and the other being Bowman, who was currently unconscious and tied up in said escape tunnel.

He set about pretending to help look for the two missing men hearing the sirens in the distance, breathing a small sigh of relief. It would all be over soon.

As Roy stepped out onto the porch, pulling his hat down tight upon his head the caravan of black SUVs made their way down the highway stopping at the front gate.

He had the entrance blocked by his armed cohorts.

“Well, here we go.” He said, looking over to Gator with a sinister smirk.

“Dad,” he said, sounding more like a frightened boy than the man he was trying to be, as Roy turned back to look at him. “No one has to get hurt. Ya’ could just… just give yourself up.”

“Give myself up? You do realize you're going to prison too, right? It's not just me going down at the end of all this.” He fixed him with a glare before turning and mounting his mare. “Shut the hell up and find those two idiots.”

He nodded, biting his lip as he watched him mosey toward them, taking a leisurely pace as if he was unbothered by the entire scene. Roy seemed to see it as more of a nuisance than any kind of real threat.

He couldn't tell what was being said, so he made himself scarce trying to bide his time.

The feds already had a plan in motion. Gator told them about the hatch and tunnels that would lead them to the back of the property. It would be easy access and they could take everyone from behind while they were still occupied with the front gates. They knew once they had Roy the rest would give up without their so-called fearless leader.

Gator made his way to the back of the property, meeting about 10 men dressed in SWAT gear along with FBI Agent Joaquin.

“He's in his office, but ugh… y’guys mind if I have a word with him before ya’ barge in there?” He asked.

“I think we can spare a few minutes. I can give you head start but if bullets start flying, hit the deck.” He waved Gator off turning back toward his team ready to give their orders.

He made his way back to the house, hitting his vape trying to steel his nerves.

This time the door was shut, so he quickly rapped his knuckles against the smooth wood.

“Yeah?” Roy grunted, as Gator popped into view.

“Son, what the hell is it this time?” He was exasperated dealing with him for the day.

“I need to talk to you. Man to man.” He stated, coming to stand in front of his desk. Roy finally looked from the window to face him.

“Well, spit it out.” He hissed.

“The feds are on their way, already on the ranch. Thought it would be better to hear it from me.” Roy watched him intently but stayed silent letting him continue.

“If you had just left her alone.” He looked him dead in the eye as he spoke. “You tried to take away the one thing that matters most to me.”

Roy had gravely miscalculated just how much you'd meant to his son. He saw you as nothing more than a bump in the road assuming that Gator would eventually get bored of his new, shiny plaything.

He was losing that grip on him little by little thinking his only way to get it back was to get rid of you.

The kidnapping had gone according to plan, just like Roy intended, until it didn't. Those idiots he'd hired had gotten greedy. Threatened to let you go if they didn't get more money but before he could take matters into his own hands Gator had found you.

The FBI had reached out months prior, it was only after that stunt that he finally placed the call that set everything into motion.

“So, that's it then? Turn your own father in over what? Some fuckin' whore. I should have fuckin’ killed you a long time ago. You're nothing but a sniveling worm. I'm ashamed to even call you my son.” He was seeing red, reaching for his gun.

Gator grabbed his own, before Roy had the chance to flinch. His words had no effect on him. He'd all but given up hope of ever winning his father's affections and praise. He didn't care anymore. He had you.

“Don't.” He aimed right at Roy's chest, finger on the trigger. He never wanted it to end this way.

Shouting down the hall pulled Gator's attention for a split second, as his eyes drifted from their target giving Roy enough time to get his hand around his own pistol.

Two shots rang out as the swat team swarmed the house.

“So, what should we do? How much longer do we just sit and wait?” You'd finally asked after thirty more agonizing minutes. You'd both made it back out to the bar, taking a booth in the corner.

Your knee was bouncing, unable to keep from chewing your nails and looking out the window every few seconds.

“He wants you to stay put. So, we'll stay put.” Taking another sip of his soda, watching you over the glass. “Don't even think about it.”

“What? I wasn't thinking about anything.” The way you glanced at your keys sitting next to you told him otherwise.

“Y/N.” He warned, with a glare.

“Fuck, fine.” You crossed your arms, continuing to look out the window with a huff. “I'm going to get a drink. You want a refill?” Asking as you got up.

You had your back toward the door when an SUV peeled into the parking lot. A woman with short, dark hair got out and made her way into the door.

“I'm looking for a Miss Y/L/N.” She announced, looking around the near desolate place as she removed her sunglasses.

You whipped around.

“Um, that's me.” Voice coming out meek. You knew she had to be FBI. You suddenly felt sick, preparing for the worst.

“I'm Agent Meyers. We need you to come with us please.” Her curt tone left no room for arguing as your eyes cut over to Andy. He got up and met you both.

“I'm Deputy Andy Tate. I'm the one that called you guys. You mind if I tag along?” He didn't want to let you out of his sight, even if they were supposed to be the good guys.

She looked him up and down before nodding.

“Sure, follow me.”

-

Agent Meyers wasn't much for small talk. She had explained you were needed but didn't go into detail. Apparently, it was a need-to-know basis, and you didn't need to know.

Your stomach was in knots as you watched the world pass by outside. Andy tried to soothe you, telling you it would all be okay, but every doubt was swirling within you.

As you pulled up to that familiar gate and picture-perfect farmhouse that was anything but, you saw they had people lined up and handcuffed on their knees against the fence.

They'd managed to round up and arrest everyone. As predicted, when they found out Roy was done, they all gave up without a fight.

There were two ambulances, one pulling off as you all pulled in the other parked directly in front of the house.

“Where is he?” You anxiously asked.

“He'll be over there.” You opened the door and shot out running before they had the chance to come to a stop.

“Hey!” Meyers yelled, but you didn't hesitate. You needed to see him. Needed to make sure he was okay, and your worst thoughts had not come to fruition; make it all tangible.

He finally came into view, sitting on a gurney at the back of the vehicle. His shirt was removed. They were bandaging up his shoulder as you shouted his name.

He turned, standing up as you slammed into his chest wrapping your arms around him as the tears began to flow.

He groaned with the impact, pain shooting through his shoulder and back, but he didn't care, wrapping his arm tight around you pulling you into him.

Roy had managed to shoot him in the left shoulder, while Gator's aim had been much more accurate. A shot straight into the gut. He'd been taken by the other ambulance for emergency surgery and then he'll be swept off straight to a federal prison halfway across the country.

“Gator… I …” You sniffed, looking up at him. “I thought…” Your hands roamed his chest, easing over his bandaged shoulder taking it all in. Cupping his cheeks, your thumb running under a slight bruise that was blooming under his eye.

He pressed your head back to his chest, kissing your temple.

“It's okay baby. I'm okay. We're okay.” His words soothing as they washed over you.

You just held each other for a few more minutes before someone cleared their throat from behind you.

“Sorry to break this little moment up but it's time to go.” Agent Meyers spoke.

Gator nodded, as you looked between the two of them.

“Bunny, look at me.” His eyes pierced yours as he spoke calmly.

“We’re going to be okay. But I have to go with them. There's a lot of shit I did, that I'm not proud of I still need to answer for.”

You knew what he meant. For all the good he did, there were still things he would have to pay for which still meant prison time.

“I'm proud of you.” You looked right into those soft, hazel eyes as you spoke. He looked so downtrodden, but you lifted his chin.

“I'm so proud of you baby!” You stood on the tips of your toes, smashing your lips to his. They were a little chapped but warm as you melted into him.

It suddenly crossed your mind this may be the last time you get to feel him for a while as his tongue grazes your bottom lip. Allowing him entry, you glide against one another so effortlessly it was easy to get lost in the moment.

You broke apart only to catch your breath. Whispered “I love yous” were spoken before he was handcuffed in front of you.

“Okay, Mr. Tillman.” Agent Meyers guided him to an SUV, sitting him in the back.

His eyes were filled with worry as they shut the door, mirroring your own. Andy sidled up beside you as they drove out of sight.

5 Months Later

“You don't have to keep coming every week.” The way it came out let you know he was tired but so were you. Tired of him acting like you were just going to give up and leave him to rot in a prison cell.

Since he'd helped the feds, they had given him a nice plea deal with a reduced sentence of 18 months. With good behavior, he might be out in 12.

It was the best he could have hoped for with all the involvement in Roy's dealings, but Gator had given them enough to send him away for the rest of his life.

It was still going to be agonizing but you wanted to be there for him every step of the way.

“Yes, I do. Who else is going to bring you these nasty cookies you love?” You teased. Packing another overnight bag for your 8-hour trek.

“Y’gonna make me fat, if ya keep bringin’ those.” He chuckles on the other end. “But seriously, if the drives gettin' to be too much, ya’ don't have to.”

“I don't have anything else to do. I know that sounds pathetic but it's true. All I do is work, and then come home. The only thing that's getting to be too much is how quiet the house is. I miss you.” You said it earnestly, sighing into the phone sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I'm sorry Bunny, if there had been another way…” he trailed off, sighing on his end as well.

“No. Don't start that. I am so damn proud of you, Gator Tillman!”

Of course, it was all over the front pages, but they left out the part where he had been an informant. Everyone assumed the very worst about him, just like Roy. But he was your hero.

If only you could see the grin that split his face any time you told him that. The way his eyes lit up. He had sought Roy's approval for so long, it felt refreshing to hear that he'd done something right from the one person who truly loves him for him. All the fuck ups, all the short comings he saw in himself that you never judged him for. You loved him. You were proud of him.

“I love you, be safe. I'll see ya’ tomorrow.” He had his one-minute warning come through the line.

“Ok baby. I'll see you tomorrow. I love you more!”

“Not possible.” He grinned again, as the line clicked dead.

He'd been sent to FCI Sandstone, a low security facility in Minnesota. It was a little over 8 hours from Lehigh. Thankfully Roy was sent halfway across the country to a maximum security facility so neither of you would ever have to cross his path again.

In the few months that he's been away, it's been a struggle. You were left on your own again, but you could breathe a sigh of relief. The entire town felt like a weight had been lifted. No one was looking over their shoulder fearing they might be on the bad side of Roy Tillman.

Andy was appointed interim Sheriff, since half the department went down with the raid. Andy and just a few others were left to pick up the pieces and start from scratch.

He was a good man. Gator made sure that he was never implemented in anything to do with Roy or himself. He was doing a great job, weeding out the few left behind and hiring new, upstanding deputies to help run things. There was no doubt he'd be running and win the upcoming election.

-

You had your routine down, leaving out every Tuesday afternoon after your shift. Hitting up the same motel halfway there. Waking up before dawn to go the rest of the way. Spending Wednesdays with him at the prison.

They'd give you one-hour allotments of visiting time. You'd been his only visitor.

You drive through the gates, flashing your smile and waving at the guards. They knew you by name at this point.

“Hey Bill!” You greeted the guard at the entrance.

“Hey, Y/N. Must be Wednesday.” He chuckled, waving you through the X-ray. You knew the routine. Tossing everything into the bin to go through, then yourself. Pat down examination and you were off to the designated visiting area.

You'd always sit at the table closest to the window, furthest away from the guards. It was quiet. No one bothered the two of you.

You sat the cookies in front of you. The one thing you had actually taken the time to learn how to make and you'd gotten good at it. He loved them.

You were staring out the window, when the buzzer went off alerting you to the door being opened.

He walked out, hands cuffed in front of him wearing that prison issued bright orange jumpsuit you were now so accustomed to seeing. His hair was never slicked back anymore, but he kept the cut the same. Soft brown locks hung down against his forehead.

He donned that crooked smile that made your heart melt as he made his way over to you.

“Hi baby.” He sat across from you extending his hands as the guard unlatched the cuffs. He rubbed his wrists before placing his hands to the table.

“Brought your favorite.” Shaking the Tupperware in front of you, then sliding it over.

They allowed some touching in the visitor's area but not enough. You longed to push the hair from his face and kiss those lips you've missed.

He took the lid off and immediately dove in, taking a cookie and humming around the sugary taste.

“I think these get better every time, Bun.” Finishing it before looking back at you, a crumb at the edge of his lip. You reached up, and brushed it away with your thumb, lingering just a moment.

“God, I miss you.” You whispered, dropping your hand as he reached across the table intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I'm right here, and hey, if I stay off the naughty list I get conjugal visits next month.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively making you laugh and roll your eyes fondly.

“As much as I would love for you to fuck me senseless, you know that's not what I mean.”

“I know, baby.” The grip on your hand becoming a little tighter.

You fell into an easy conversation. You always told him about what was happening since he left.

“Spoke with Andy. They're expecting and he's absolutely over the moon. They're still planning on getting married, but they're going to wait until after the baby.”

You were still talking but he was hung up on that first part. He felt like a failure all over again. That could be you and him. Happy. Engaged, maybe even married. But no. He was stuck here because of all the stupid choices he had made long before he'd met you. He knew he didn't deserve you.

You stopped talking when you noticed his crestfallen appearance. Eyes glossy, and pouty lips.

“Hey, what's wrong?” You shook his hand lightly. “I know that look. Don't.”

“It's just…” he began but you cut him off. He got like this from time to time.

“I know what you're thinking. Stop, ok. We'll get our happy ending once you get out of this place.” You smiled.

A happy ending. What you truly wouldn't give. You'd both been through too much to not see this through.

“Plus, I'm moving closer. I can get another job, another place to live. We don't have to go back to Lehigh. Nothing ties us to that place.”

“Bunny,” his gaze softened. He truly didn't deserve you.

“Nope. I know what you're going to say. I've already made up my mind.”

“Fine, just make sure to clean out the house good before you do. Attic too.” You looked at him with confusion, knowing you had never stored anything up there.

He simply smirked and winked at you.

“Um… ok weirdo. If you say so.” You eyed him warily. “I…”

“Tillman, times up!” The guard shouted, interrupting you.

“I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you got in, sweet thing.” He said, winking before his hands were cuffed once more.

You watched as the guard led him away. It was always inevitable, but it didn't hurt any less each time.

It scratched at the back of your mind on the drive home. He was so adamant about checking the attic. It was going to bug you the entire way.

This time you wouldn't stop halfway to rest. Making the drive back to Lehigh in one go, making a few gas station runs but nothing more.

You got in late that night, feeling dead on your feet as you walked into the house throwing your bag on the couch making a beeline for the hall where the access to the attic through the ceiling lay.

You reached up, straining, barely grabbing the thin string but you were able to pull it down as it fell open with a creak.

You took the rickety steps one at a time, grabbing your phone to use as a flashlight. Your head popped up looking around but not immediately seeing anything. To your right, there was a duffle bag you didn't recognize but this must be what he was alluding to.

Your hand gripped the handle, it was fairly heavy, as you brought it back down slowly, placing it on the kitchen table.

Taking a deep breath, you tugged the zipper, gasping when the contents were finally revealed.

The bag was full of cash. More than you'd ever seen at one time in your life.

What you hadn't known is that Gator found that bag when he had rescued you, immediately recognizing it because it was the same one, he had seen at Roy's a few days before it all went down.

That was his turning point. The final nail in the coffin. If Roy could do this to you, there was really nothing he wasn't capable of.

The feds had been whispering in his ear for a few months. After you had broken it off that morning, that was his first call. Even if the future with you was uncertain, he had to keep you safe and taking Roy down was his only choice.

As the initial shock wore off you noticed an envelope sitting to the side.

You tore it open immediately to find a handwritten note.

Bunny,

I figured sooner or later you'd find this before I got out. Knowing you, you're ready to high tail it out of Lehigh and I don't blame you.

Get out of Lehigh, you deserve better than this. Better than me. I never understood why you stuck around, you're too good for me.

On the off chance you still love me, there's enough to get you by until I get out, if you want to wait for me. I understand if you don't. I'm writing this knowing what lays ahead of me.

I know you're going to be pissed, but I did it for us. For our future, if you'll have me. I know I should have done it sooner, and I'm kicking myself for writing it in a letter instead.

There's a velvet box hidden in my sock drawer, if you haven't found it already. I promise I'll ask you proper once I get out. I love you Y/N, more than anything.

Love, Gator

PS- Got your necklace fixed. Missed seeing it around your neck.

Tears began to stream down your face as you clutched the letter reading it over once more before your feet started carrying you toward the bedroom you once shared with him.

You hadn't touched any of his things since he'd been gone. So, you'd never happened upon the small velvet box he was referring to.

You shoved his socks out of he way until your fingertips brushed up against it. You hesitantly pulled it into view, holding it in your hand until you sat on the bed.

You were still crying as you lifted the edges. Your necklace slipped out, catching it before it hit your lap. It had been broken during the kidnapping but with everything that had gone on since you hadn't thought about it but were now grateful to see it again.

Your eyes roved over the ring that was held within. It was simple, modest by most standards, but it was perfect. You'd never expected this from him.

It was a thin, gold band with three diamonds. A center cut with two smaller ones flanking each side. You hesitantly lifted it from the box, sliding it down your ring finger and holding it up to examine it more closely, as it caught the light and sparkled with your movement.

Finally, you clasped the thin gold chain back around your neck, holding the delicate “G” between your fingertips once more.

You knew he'd be calling around noon the next day, expecting you to have stayed at the hotel overnight. You had an idea, not letting on that you'd found everything laid out for you, instead surprising him on your next visit.

It was bittersweet, packing up your things and getting ready to leave Lehigh. The first home you shared with someone you truly loved.

Since you'd let him know you were moving to Minnesota to be closer to him, it had been a whirlwind of emotions and planning. Your next weekly visit was tomorrow.

In a week's time you had already found a small apartment for rent not far from the prison that would be perfect until he was released so you started the packing process.

During your calls, you'd never let on about the duffle bag. He couldn't say anything, so there was no way he'd mention it over the phone which played to your advantage. Keep him waiting and wondering.

Today when you walked through the gates you were positively giddy. Not only were you surprising him, but this would be your first conjugal visit.

Unlike before, they led you to a small room in the back of the prison. It provided privacy with a small bed and seating area, a counter dividing the room in two.

You were instructed to sit. They'd bring him in.

Your knee was bouncing with anticipation at the thought of finally being able to touch him after 6 long months of waiting.

The feel of running your fingers through his hair, his arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace, vibrating at the thought.

You moved the container of cookies to the small table in front of you as the door swung open.

Gator stepped in, a wide grin splitting his face, as he walked further into the room. His eyes never left you, licking his lips as he turned his body toward the guard so they could unshackle him.

“Alright Tillman, you've got an hour. Just be dressed by the time I get back.” He nodded, “ma’am” leaving the two of you alone.

“Hey, sweet thing!” He rubbed his wrists, watching you ease up from your seat crossing the room, quickly advancing toward him, barely giving him enough time to move his hands out of the way before you pummeled into his chest throwing your arms around his waist pulling him into a bone crushing hug.

“Damn Bun! Miss me that bad?” Letting a small chuckle escape, circling his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.

“You know I miss you!” Melting further into his chest. The fabric of his worn, orange jumpsuit scratched at your face, but you just buried it deeper, breathing him.

You held each other for a few moments before finally lifting your head. As your eyes met, he moved his warm, calloused palm to your cheek before he moved in letting his lips crash to yours, nose pressing into your cheek as he tilted his head pulling you further into him.

He immediately deepened it, hungry for more. His tongue darts out, licking at your lower lip as you part your mouth for him. You hummed at the taste of him, almost making you weak in the knees and rushing a spark to your core.

You finally broke apart, panting as your foreheads came to rest together.

“It would have been a yes, you know.” You whispered. “You should have just asked a long time ago.”

His brows knit with confusion as he pulled away to look down at you, his eye catching the glint of gold around your neck immediately cluing him in to what you meant as his gaze softened, and a lopsided grin returned to his face.

“Yeah? That so?” He reached for your left hand, pulling it into view. The ring was situated on your hand perfectly. “So, you still want to be with me?”

“Of course I want to be with you! I love you, you idiot! And you absolutely are asking me properly once you get out of here!” You giggled as he lifted you excitedly, peppering kisses all over your face as you tried to squirm away from the sudden onslaught of affection.

“So, does that mean I'm fuckin' my fiancé today?” Setting your feet back on the ground.

“God, is that all you're worried about?” Rolling your eyes, slapping at his chest.

“No. But Bun, I'm dyin’ here. It's been six fuckin' months.” He suddenly pressed his hips into you, his already hard length pushing into your lower stomach.

“Sure you haven't fallen for your burly bunkmate? I know it can get really lonely in here.” You laughed, as he groaned.

“Real cute, Bunny.” He was walking you back as he spoke, suddenly lifting you up on the small counter stepping between your legs and crashing his lips to yours once more.

The kiss turned more heated as you both tilted your heads, melting into each other as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him further into you by the collar.

He began to trail lower, kisses to your jaw to that little spot below your ear that has you releasing a breathy moan that instantly has his cock twitching between you.

“Oh fuck, I've missed those sounds.” He hissed out, helping you shed your jacket letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor reattaching his lips to you, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down the side of your neck.

Your fingers trailed up his chest finding the zipper on the orange jumpsuit you've come to loath, slipping it down as he let you pull it from his shoulders, letting it fall open to his waist. He wore a plain white shirt underneath, fisting the material in your hands as he pulled your hips closer to the edge of the counter.

His hands drifted under the fabric of your top, sending goosebumps across your flesh, as they roamed higher. Raising your arms to let him discard it alongside your jacket.

He's quick to drift to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with ease, letting the fabric fall away from your chest as his large palms engulf your soft flesh, kneading it a little roughly only spurring that now prominent ache between your legs when his thumbs graze over your nipples causing your back to arch further into his touch.

“Oh fuck, baby!” You moan out, gripping the bottom of his shirt trying to pull it up. You were needy. It felt like a lifetime since you'd been able to give him so much affection. Feel his warmth, skin to skin, lips skimming over your soft flesh. Reacquainting with each other's bodies.

Once his shirt was discarded, his hands traced your curves sending a shiver through you.

Your eyes caught the scar on his shoulder that hadn't been there before. A harsh reminder of what he's had to go through.

He follows your eyes, as your fingertips trace over the bit of gnarled, dark flesh.

“I would take a million more as long as I knew you were safe.” Whispering between you.

“I know you would. I just wish you didn't have to. I love you.” Whispering back, moving forward to place a kiss there before placing another to his lips that quickly turned heated once again.

You pushed at the jumpsuit, he helped you discard it and toe off his shoes as you worked quickly on your jeans.

Once his attention came back to you, he helped you lift your hips and slide them down your legs. His hands were immediately back to you, roaming any of your exposed flesh he could reach.

He took a moment, pressing his lips to your forehead, hand to your jaw.

“I've missed you so fuckin’ much Bunny. I love you.” Leaning his forehead to yours, closing your eyes, feeling the warmth of his palm to your cheek.

“I've missed you too.” Whispering as he captured your lips once more, less rushed. His lips glide across yours, tongue ghosting along your bottom lip begging for entry as you parted them. Tongues moving against one another in a slow, passionate dance.

He closed the small gap, as you wrapped your legs back around him. His clothed length pressing into your core as your hips seemed to move on their own accord grinding down against him, catching your clit on the downward movement eliciting breathy moans from both of you.

His hand slips between you, finding the damp spot on your panties, pressing the pad of his thumb into the soaked fabric.

“Bunny, you're so wet. All this f’me? Fuck, I'm a lucky bastard.” He hissed out, finding the edge of your underwear pulling them to the side and letting his fingertip trace your slit before pushing at your aching entrance only breaching slightly, making your hips chase his hand for friction. He trailed up, finding your swollen clit as the pad of his thumb swiped deftly before pulling away. The band of your panties snapping back into place.

“You wanna move… this over t’the… bed?” He rushed out between pants and feverish kisses.

“Please.” You manage to get out before he's gripping your ass, hauling you up and over across the small room without his mouth ever leaving yours.

His knees find the small bed and tosses you down. The springs are a little hard and unforgiving squeaking under your weight with a small bounce that makes you giggle all the same as you lean back to stare up at him.

He's long and lean, looking a little more toned than you remember. Boxers doing nothing to hide his raging erection. His hard cock straining against the fabric, now eye level with you.

You reach up, tracing a finger down the length of him, leaving him gaping and throwing his head back.

“Fuck, I need you.” He hisses out, as you gingerly reach up pulling his boxers down his toned legs, finally releasing him. His length bobs against his abdomen, standing at full attention. Your cunt clinches at the thought of getting him inside of you. Never satiated properly for the last six months you were aching.

He didn't miss the way your thighs rubbed together as he looked down at you, as you took him in your hand, bringing your lips to his soft, ruddy tip, placing a soft kiss there before shifting your head as you ran your tongue up his entire length.

“Oh fuck, baby.” He pulled your chin up to look at him, as you smirked. “Hey sweet thing, as much as I would love to have your mouth, I need your pussy.” The end came out as almost a growl as he began to ease you back onto the bed, his fingertips grabbing at your panties as he practically ripped them from your legs as you heard an audible rip but you didn't mind as he tossed them somewhere across the room.

Crawling between your thighs, parting to accommodate him eagerly. His thick chest hair rough against your nipples, as he presses himself to you taking his length at the base, suddenly running it up your soaked folds making you moan out and arch further closing any gap between you.

“That's it baby. Need it as much as I do, huh?” He hummed, bumping your clit on the way up that made you whine as he captured your lips once more, lining himself up as his head catches your dripping hole.

Your hands grip at his back, running your fingers through the short locks at the nape of his neck pulling the strands when he pushes himself in an inch more.

The toys at home could never fill you the way he could with his thick, long cock. It began to sting as he pushed further. A moan caught in your throat, as your head hit the back of the bed, mouth going slack at the feeling.

“Goddamn, Bunny. You're so… mmmph…. Fuckin' tight.” He grits out, face turning soft once he looks up to notice your brows pinched tight.

“Hey, Bunny. Relax f'me, baby.” He coos, cradling your jaw, thumb rubbing soothingly under your bottom lip.

“I'm relaxed, you're just a lot, baby.” You finally say, opening your eyes gazing into his lust blown irises, nearly black save for the thin mossy ring around the outer edge.

“Yeah?” Lopsided grin returning. “Too much for that tight little cunt?” Not letting you answer before finally burying himself completely as your nails dig into his back with a near pornographic moan escaping your lips only spurring him on.

He slowly pulls out, feeling your walls stretch and flutter around him before quickly plunging back in, feeling impossibly deeper before rocking his hips into yours at a brutal pace.

The stretch and sting slowly subsides giving way to pleasure as he pushes in and out, a fresh wave of arousal soaking you both. You can't suppress the filthy moans falling past your lips.

“That's it baby, let them know how good I'm fuckin' MY pussy. Ya’ don't have to be quiet in here.” He continues roughly pushing his hips into yours as you gasp and writhe beneath him. The sounds of your slick as he drives into with each thrust would have you blushing, but you were too wrapped up in the feel of him to care.

The way your walls were sucking him in and pulsing around his cock, like you were made just for him, was enough to make him cum right then and there.

“Mmmph, Gator you feel so… g-good.” Managing to squeak out, the head of his cock continually massages that spot on your frontal wall with ease.

“Missed this pussy so fuckin' much. Been dreamin’ about the day I could… fuck… cum in her again.” His thrusts get more urgent, as your pussy flutters around him once more.

“Yeah, Bunny? Want my cum? Stuff you full until you can't take anymore?” You whimper at his words, that coil within you winding tighter with each in and out motion working you both toward your high.

He nips at the soft skin at your bared throat, gaining your attention.

“Huh, bunny?”

Barely able to think or speak at this point, you nod at his question knowing he wants an answer. He moves his mouth higher, taking your bottom lip between his, sucking lightly before letting it go with a slight pop. He loved you like this. Too cock drunk to speak and about to fall apart only for him.

He moves his hand between you, expertly finding your clit, as he begins rubbing circles against you working in tandem with his thrusts bringing you closer to the edge. Your back arched off the bed, crying out.

“Fuck! Don't stop!” You huffed out.

“Wouldn't dream of it, sweet thing. Need you t’cum f’me. Gonna leave you so full I'll be leaking out of ya’ for days.” Another whimper slipped out, just as that coil began to snap.

You didn't have time to warn him before your pussy clamped down around him.

“Oh fuck! There she is.” He hissed out, taking his hand from you so he could pound you into oblivion, chasing his own release while working you through yours.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, sure they were drawing blood at this point from the grip you had on him. Your orgasm hit so hard that your toes curled as sparks flew behind your eyelids.

A few more thrusts and he follows behind you, his dick throbbing and kicking up inside of your tight channel as his balls tightened, painting your walls with his spend. He continued to fuck it into you, cursing and panting before collapsing onto your chest.

“Oh fuck Bunny. Goddamn, I missed you.” It came a little muffled, his lips pressed up against you where his head lay in the crook of your neck.

“I missed you too, baby.” You hummed, as he finally pulled his softening cock from you, laying on his side, so you could be face to face kissing the tip of your nose and pulling you close.

“You're an idiot, if you thought I was going to run. We've come too far to give up now.” You whispered, with warm affection and brushing his hair softly from his forehead before leaning in for a kiss before you were so rudely interrupted with a loud knock.

“10 minutes Tillman!” The guard shouted through the door.

“Fuck.” He hissed, leaning his forehead to yours. “That went by too fast.”

“Yeah, it did.” You giggled, kissing his cheek, sitting up.

“Hey,” grasping your hand, once more looking at the ring on your hand. “I’m sorry ya’ fell in love with such a fuck up.”

“I'm not. You're a good man, Gator Tillman. You just needed a push in the right direction. No one ever thought you were a fuck up except Roy and look where he is.” You placed your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

You finally pulled away to get up and get dressed, as he followed suit knowing your time was dwindling.

“You better grab a cookie, while you still can.” Pulling your shirt back over your head.

“Bun, I got my sugar fix.” Grabbing you from behind, pulling you back into his chest, kissing your cheek as you melted into his touch. “Just needed my sweet thing.”

The door swung open, jarring you both from a few moments of bliss.

“Thank God your dressed.” The guard sighed and laughed as you both rolled your eyes.

You faced him quickly, stealing away one more kiss.

“I'll be back next week.” Smiling softly.

“I know, baby.”

You watched him go, winking at you before he walked out the door.

The next few weeks were a blur, seemingly going by in the blink of an eye.

You had said your goodbyes in Lehigh. Henry throwing you a small going away party for the hell of it. There were a few tears and lots of well wishes. Of course, Maggie made you promise to keep in touch.

You could have easily used the money that Gator had supplied for the next couple of months, but you didn't see a reason to waste it all. Using it more for a nest egg for the both of you.

Finding a job wasn't difficult. Every bar or diner usually had a high turnover, easily securing a waitressing job at a diner not far from your apartment.

Life went on for the next few months. Seeing Gator weekly, phone calls every other day to get you by.

As it drew closer to his incarceration hitting the one-year mark, you became anxious. The parole board would be looking at a possible early release and you had hoped the feds would put a good word in for him, but it wasn't a given.

“So, by this time next week we'll know if you're finally a free man?” Phone pressed to your ear, sitting on a wooden crate by the dumpster out behind the diner.

“Yup. Warden told me yesterday that the parlor board was already reviewing the case.” He sounded hopeful but you weren't convinced.

“That’s great baby.” Voice coming out a little weak, ready for all of this to just be over and done with.

“Cheer up, Bunny. I have a feelin’ it'll all work out.”

You hoped he was right. Never failing to believe what came out of his mouth. He had a way of sounding so sure of everything.

The day of the hearing, you sat by the phone practically chewing your nails down to the quick. Busying yourself with whatever would distract you, but it wasn't working, as you found yourself glancing at the nearby clock every few minutes the closer it drew to noon when the hearing would begin.

You knew it may be a while before you would hear from him, but anticipation and anxiety were getting the better of you.

12:15, 12:30, 12:45

Still no word. It felt like torture, every agonizing second drawn out.

Suddenly that familiar number popped up, quickly pressing that green button with frenzied energy.

“This is a call from Sandstone Correctional Institute. To accept this call from Gator Tillman please press 1.”

You held your breath as it connected him over.

“Bunny?” His almost breathless voice came through the line.

“Hey, baby. I'm here.” You rushed out, heart pounding in your chest.

“I'm coming home.”

Home. Such a funny notion to him now.

He didn't think of the house on the ranch or even Lehigh. He only pictured you. Your kind smile that captivated him the first time he laid eyes on you. That unruly mouth that could knock him down a peg but was heaven all the same. He loved everything about you.

The only person that had ever made him feel truly loved.

He was coming home to you.

-

Processing was completed and 48 hours later you were sitting outside the prison gate, leaning against your car.

The loud buzz signaling the gate opening grabbed your attention as he strolled out. That cocky demeanor was still intact, dick first, head held high; smirking when he spotted you across the lot already running toward him.

You jumped straight into his open arms, being fully enveloped by him burying your head into his chest. It was like you could finally breathe for the first time in months.

“It's finally over?” You spoke timidly, holding tight as if he might be wrenched from your grasp.

“It's over.” A simple but all-encompassing answer; both free to live the lives you want.

“So, where to handsome?” Starting the car and looking over to him.

“Well, I thought we could make a stopover in Scandia.”

You quirked an eyebrow his way.

“Uh… My sister, Nadine, well Dot reached out to me a couple of days ago. Thought we might swing by.” He smiled and shrugged.

“You have a sister?”

“Yeah. Well, she was also my stepmom. Long story.” He chuckled.

“Gator, what the hell?” Rushing out with a look of abject horror on your face.

“Bunny, it's not what you think. I can tell you all about it on the way. She's expecting us for supper.” He leaned over, kissing your cheek.

“God, your family is more fucked up than I thought.” Pulling out of your spot and getting onto the highway.

He grasped your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Yeah, but you still agreed to marry me.” He grinned.

“I haven't agreed to shit. You still have to ask.” Giving him a smirk in return but admiring the ring proudly situated on your left hand. You wouldn't trade him for the world.

You'd gone through literal hell, and you weren't about to let him go now. It didn't matter where the two of you ended up as long as you were together.

#gator tillman #gator tillman smut #gator tillman fluff #🐊 #badge bunny series #gator tillman x female reader #gator tillman x badge bunny #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman fanfiction #gator x bunny #badge bunny au

[wormdebut]

LET DOWN AND HANGING AROUND (CRUSHED LIKE A BUG IN THE GROUND)

Ahoy! This is my first VERY LATE ficlet for @corrodedcoffinfest ! My absolute bad for being so late, but BOY am I HAPPY TO BE HERE!

Warm Up Prompt One: Taxed. Word Count: 1000 (scrivener says 1000 Wordcounter says 979. IDK Man, it’s within limit), Rating: T, Pairing: None, CW: Swears, Smoking, Angst Tags: Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, Freak

----

October 1987

They've been at this for fucking years. Eddie feels like a fucking girl scout.

'Well hello there Mr. Music Man, would you like to buy a box of shitty garage band metal?'

Except they weren't fucking shitty. All of the guys had been working their assess off, writing, playing shows, shitty gig after shitty gig after shitty gig.

But they haven't managed anything. Nothing, zilch, nada.

They had a small crowd showing up at the Hideout, and the owner, Benny, started letting them play not only their usual Tuesday but because Eddie had been helping him with placehe was letting them play Saturday nights now too, which was great because while he appreciates the likes of his uncle and Wayne's best friends on Tuesdays, there were almost twenty people every Saturday night and that was something.

They also had a standing gig at a bar in Indianapolis at least once a month, lately they've been playing The Barrel every other week and Eddie thought--he thought--that that would get them somewhere.

The guys were fucking exhausted but Eddie kept pushing because they could do this. Corroded Coffin was great. They were great and somebody was going to see that…right?

Eddie saw what they had. He did. But the guys--

"C'mon Ed, we can't keep sneaking Gareth into bars forever. I think we need to--maybe consider other options or--" Jeff rambles. They were supposed to be practicing but Jeff Williams had to swoop inwith his stupid common sense bullshit. Jeff motherfucking Williams is one of the best guitarists Eddie has ever had to the privilege of listening to, but Jeff wants to go college like a real boy!

Gareth cuts him off, "It's just the two bars man, and I have a fake, if I need it anyw--"

Would you look at that, it's time for Freddy to cut in. "Yeah, but you're three feet tall and have the face of a newborn child."

Gareth shoves at Freddy's chest. "Oh fuck off, man. At least I'm not a virgin!" He yelps and great. This is great.

Now the band is fighting, again, because Jeff wants to go to College, Goodie is a Virgin, and Gareth is short.

Eddie just want to play music.

If they all want to yell, Eddie can yell louder. "See. Do you see what happens when you start talking about 'other options' Jeff? Chaos--and not the fun kind!"

"See, Eddie--this is the fucking problem with you. All you care about is your music, your dream, It's all about you!"

Jeff is yelling at Eddie, Gareth and Freak are rough housing, how did this even happen. All Eddie wants is to do something. Be something. He believes in this, in Jeff, and Freddy and Gareth, in the band.

And he gets that everyone is taxed, tired. Eddie is fucking exhausted. Gareth is trying to not fail his senior year. He gets it, he does, but-- "You know what, Jeff?" His voice breaks, and isn't that fucking humiliating? "Some of us, don't have college as an option. Did you ever consider that?"

Eddie leans over and grabs his cigarettes from the table, before shoulder checking Jeff as he leaves.

——

What’s the fucking point? Eddie puts everything into lyrics that people probably don't even know, all of them spend hours writing and harmonizing, making sure chords make sense, just for everything to be a pipe dream. They haven't taken a break for anything. It's either work or school or Coffin Shit. They haven't played D&D in months. They've just been doing this.

But it's all Eddie has. How the hell was he ever going to get out of shitty ass Hawkins, if it wasn't this way? He didn't exactly ace his finals--even the third time around. Honestly? He's pretty sure they just let him pass, to get him the fuck out of there.

He lights up what feels like his eighth cigarette--it's not, it's his second--and stares out to the empty street. They use Gareth's garage to practice…for being as straight laced as she is, Ms. Emerson sure does believe in the band.

Dottie Emerson and Eddie. God dammit, maybe Jeff is right.

He should go back, he should go back and apologize, and let this go. He has the job at the Hideout, he can save and maybe move to Indy--play an acoustic at some bars or…something.

God, he's just so tired of this shit.

He finishes his cigarette, and tries to breathe. Breathe in--hold--breathe out--he doesn't realizes Jeff until he taps his shoulder.

"Hey." Jeff says, quiet. Eddie, just nods, grabs his pack and offers a cancer-filled olive branch. Jeff takes it.

Eddie doesn't say anything. Doesn't want to, doesn't know what he should say.

So Jeff does. "I'm sorry, Ed. I didn't mean to make you upset. I'm just fucking tired man, we all are and I do want this, I do, but it's fucking scary." Eddie turns, watches Jeff blow out smoke. "I got accepted to IU, did you know that?"

Eddie blinks. He did not know that. "No, you hadn't mentioned it."

Jeff turns to look at him, "I didn't want this to happen."

Eddie closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath. In--hold--out. "You should go." He forces a smile, watches as Jeff's eyes shine for a moment--no wonder he had that silly crush on him his second senior year, but it was only for like a week, leave it alone--before he srunches his face up, Eddie can't help but laugh. Jeff always does that, when he's stressed. It makes him look like a rabbit.

Jeff goes to speak, but Eddie cuts him off. "Let's do this Halloween show, it'll be our going away gift to our tens of adoring fans."

Jeff laughs at that, nods, and pulls Eddie into a hug.

Everything will be fine, with or without Corroded Coffin.

#worm brain #everyone buckle up cause I'm determined to knock all of these out #they will follow a story line BUT also stand alone #so note that even though eddie thinks this is the end thats a big fat lie #Steve is out there somewhere #and so will Corroded Coffin being famous as fuck #I promise #eddie munson #stranger thing #stranger things ficlet #pre steddie #cause BOY WILL THEY BE HERE #Corroded Coffin #All the boys. They are all here and they be fighting #corrrodedcoffinfest #worm coffin verse

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @subeddieweek, day three.

Menace to Society

Prompt: Brat/Wet/Choking | Word Count: 2556 | Rating: E | CW: Gagging | Tags: Established Relationship, Teasing, Taunting, Bratty Sub Eddie, A Bit of Orgasm Denial, Choking (on Cock), Light Biting, Light Spanking, Rimming, Unprotected Sex

He's a nuisance. A little shithead. A menace to society and Steve's life, as a whole. 

And Steve wouldn't have it any other way. 

Eddie is dripping water all over the hardwood floors of the bedroom as he stands in front of the closet, totally naked. His wet hair is dripping down his back, and he has to be freezing cold. The fan is whirring overhead, the window AC blowing full blast. But Steve just watches, waiting to see how long the little brat can hold out. 

He's pretty sure Eddie didn't even attempt to ghost a towel over himself, let alone dry off. 

Flicking through the shirts, Eddie's acting like he's never seen any of them before. Like, this is a brand new wardrobe and not his same old, ratty ass clothes that he refuses to replace, like, ever.

Steve waits. And Eddie stalls. 

He finally selects a plain black shirt, and pulls it over his head and slides on a pair of red plaid boxers. They're both clinging to his wet skin, and it can't be comfortable. But Steve says nothing, not even when Eddie slides into bed, his cold, wet hair soaking into the pillow, not even when he slides right up against Steve, pushing his face into Steve's neck. 

This cold, wet, rat of a man. 

And he's all Steve's. 

"You're a little brat," Steve says, and he can feel Eddie's smile against his skin, pressed against his pulse point. He's sure it's hammering away, giving away that he's not exactly as unaffected as he hopes he seems.

"And what are you gonna do about that?" Eddie asks, licking a wet stripe towards Steve's ear. 

"If you want something from me, all you have to do is ask." 

"Where's the fun in that?" Eddie questions, and Steve laughs. He's not sure how he's the boss here, he doesn't feel like he's the boss of anything that happens in their house. 

Long, long ago he was yanked off his feet by the living, breathing tornado that shares his bed. And he knew he could either ride out the storm, or take cover.

And he'll ride out the storm, always.

Eddie leans in and bites him hard on the neck, and it's his cue to act. He knows it, so he manhandles Eddie off him, and over onto his knees, until he's draped over his lap and draws back his hand and smacks Eddie on the ass. Once, twice, three times, a little harder with each blow.

Eddie just laughs. 

"Tickles," Eddie mumbles into the pillow. 

So, Steve strikes him again. Harder.

Then yanks on the damp boxers, wrestling them off Eddie, and pushing his t-shirt up his back. 

And Steve finds that Eddie has clearly worked himself open in the shower, despite knowing how much Steve likes to do it himself. 

"You disobeyed me," Steve says, spanking him again, then pressing his thumb against Eddie's stretched hole. 

"Well, if you'd be a little more competent at the job," Eddie says, and Steve grips his hip. 

"Hey," Steve says, firm, unyielding. It's effective, and the tone is all Eddie needs to change directions and back off. To mind. Steve's made it clear he doesn't like to be degraded or shamed, doesn't like to feel like he's bad at things, like he's bullshit, and Eddie knows better, even if he's being a fucking brat right now.

"Too far, sorry," Eddie says, and he reaches back to pet Steve's hand. 

"That's what I thought," Steve says, dumping Eddie onto the bed, moving to stand in front of Eddie. He tugs down his own underwear, just over his ass and palms his dick. 

Then he crooks his finger at Eddie, beckoning him closer.

"On your knees. Hands behind your back." 

Eddie whines, "But I'm ready…"

"And you'll still be ready when I am," Steve says firmly, pointing at the floor, "on your knees."

Eddie slides off the bed, and does as he's been told, but has a bitchy look on his face the entire time. It's a big job, but Steve will try to fix that attitude, so he grabs Eddie's cheeks between his fingers, pinching, forcing him to open up his mouth. Demanding that he lowers his jaw. 

He does, and Steve pats him on the cheek, softly, "That's my good boy. So docile, so giving, such a soft boy."

Steve's paying him back, even if Steve knows him well enough to know this won't rile him. Eddie wants to submit, even if he isn't exactly docile. Isn't soft. And doesn't want to be. 

When he lets go, Eddie is still sitting there, his mouth open. Waiting. Waiting. Eyes hooded.

Steve palms his own dick, stroking the length of himself, right at Eddie's eye level. Making him watch. 

Eddie sticks out his tongue, and Steve grins at him, can't help it, but still tells him, "You're a goddamn brat." 

And Eddie clamps his mouth shut, defiant. 

Loving Eddie, is living with constant consented to chaos.

Steve does nothing, just keeps stroking his own cock, lazily. Nothing works better on Eddie's bratty bad attitude than simply ignoring him. Lack of attention, that's what gets him to shape up.

So, Steve fists his own dick, and closes his eyes, tilting his head back. Long, smooth strokes, showing that he can please himself. That he doesn't need Eddie. That he can do this without any of his input.

Steve knows the silence won't last, can't. Eddie'll get jealous of Steve's own hand. He'll get too impatient. Steve's not wrong.

"Well, are you gonna do anything about it?" Eddie snaps.

Steve grins, wicked, opening his eyes as he leans down to get closer to Eddie's face.

"Of course I am. I was just waiting to see how big of a hole you were planning on digging for yourself, first."

Eddie's jaw drops back down, mouth open and pliant. Willing and waiting. Not wanting to be left out.

And that's more like it.

Steve rewards him for it by sliding the head of his cock against Eddie's bottom lip, then the tip of his tongue, before sliding in, in, in. Bumping the back of Eddie's throat. 

Eddie gags, he always does, and Steve's instinct is still to pull out. Even after all this time. Even after Eddie has told him not to, again and again. And Eddie must know that, must feel it happening, Steve withdrawing, so Eddie disobeys the order he was given and takes one hand out from behind his back, grabbing a handful of Steve's ass, pulling him in even further into his mouth. 

His cock sliding into Eddie's throat deeper than before, gagging him even worse.

Steve buries his hand in Eddie's hair, close to the scalp, and pulls him backwards. Off his dick completely. And Eddie makes a choked noise at the loss, but lets go of Steve's ass, and puts his hand back behind his back where it belongs. But he looks up at Steve with wet, betrayed eyes.

Steve brushes his thumb against Eddie's forehead, and Eddie nods. Just ever so slightly. 

He's okay, just pouting. 

"Do I need to hog-tie you and set you in cement? Or can you behave for once in your goddamn life?" Steve asks, and Eddie offers up his wrists, more belligerence than an actual offering, and Steve ignores him. "Behind. Your. Back," Steve repeats slowly, and Eddie puts them back where they belong.

Eddie nods, lowering his eyes, finally submitting.

So, Steve presses back in. Pressing, pushing until Eddie's eyes are watering more. Big and shining with unshed tears, but locked in on Steve's. Unwavering. 

Begging him, silently. 

Pupils blown wide, as he's getting lost in the scene, and it's a look Steve adores to get out of him.

So, Steve gives him what he wants, and bottoms out, choking him. He holds his cock in Eddie's throat for a few breaths. 

Then pulls out. Eddie gasps for air, just for a second, then opens his mouth for more. 

Steve gives him more. Over and over, until he's ready to torment Eddie further. Or, well, until Eddie's ready to be tormented further, seems more accurate. Steve's in charge, but this is always, will always, be about Eddie and his wants. His needs.

How they get there will be in Steve's hands, but the end game has always been clear to Steve. Make Eddie happy, even if he has to torture that happiness out of him, inch by inch, squeeze by squeeze.

"I'm gonna come," Steve tells him, "right down your throat."

Eddie whines, and attempts to shake his head no.

"Are you telling me no? Are you the boss of me?" 

Eddie whines again, shaking his head.

"All that work, and for what? Nothing," Steve says. "What'd you use? Your fingers? A toy? Hidden away, stretching yourself open, unable to wait for me to take care of you."

Eddie can't answer, not with Steve's cock in his throat. 

"Yeah, like that," Steve says, and then grips the back of Eddie's head. 

Eddie whines.

"Here it comes," Steve tells him, and presses as far in as he can. Eddie's nose is buried in his pubes, taking it. 

He doesn't come, never planned to, but he jerks his hips and groans like he has, and when he pulls out, Eddie swallows like he did. Giving him the big, sad doe eyes as he does it. Really laying on the patheticness.

Steve tucks his still hard dick back into his underwear, like this over. Because Eddie likes that. Likes to feel denied. Even as he whines, and kicks up a fuss, he is getting off on it. Steve knows he is. 

So, Steve crawls in bed, and Eddie follows. Steve lays his head back on his cold, wet pillow and sighs, like he's settling in for the night. 

And Eddie curls up right next to him, settling against his body. 

Steve reaches up and pets Eddie's hair, leaning over to kiss him on the head. 

"You're perfect," Steve says. 

Eddie doesn't miss a beat, "I know." 

Steve laughs. 

And Eddie grins. 

"You gonna be good for me a little bit longer?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods, adamant.

Eddie is bent over on his knees, and Steve is caressing his skin. Worshiping him. Everything about him. 

Before Eddie, before this life he loves, Steve hadn't thought about being in charge in a long time, his king's crown long thrown away with flourish and good fucking riddance. But Eddie wants Steve to drive. Even when he's being a little brat. He's still begging for Steve to take charge. To lay a firm hand against his body, guiding him. 

Steve never used to feel comfortable being in control of anything, not really, not even in his King Steve days. But he's learned to enjoy it, to do this with Eddie. Would do anything for Eddie.

He's slicked up his dick, and made sure Eddie is actually ready, and he is, before pressing inside. 

Eddie makes the most beautiful sound Steve's ever heard. A happy whine, and Steve thinks he's done good. Done right by Eddie. 

And that's all he ever wants to do. 

Make him happy. No matter what that entails. 

Even that comes from making him suffer, just a little bit, first.

"Don't you even think about coming before me," Steve demands, and Eddie whines about that, too.

Steve presses his fingers into Eddie's hips as he fucks him, and Eddie is finally behaving now that he's gotten exactly what he wanted. Head hung low, relaxed in his total submission.

That won't do. Not at all.

"What? Nothing to say now? No running commentary?" Steve goads.

Eddie says nothing, and Steve's not sure he can right now.

But he squeezes down on Steve's dick, and it makes Steve smile. He rubs his hip bone, thumbing the sharp point of it. 

"C'mon, it's the closest thing I get to hearing a sports play-by-play these days." 

Eddie scoffs, and Steve is baiting him. He watches sports all the time, much to Eddie's pissing and moaning. 

"This is entrapment, Harrington," Eddie finally breathes out. 

It is. It definitely is.

"I think you like it when I'm bratty," Eddie adds, his forehead resting against the mattress, his voice a little muffled.

Steve smiles, where Eddie can't see, "Lies." 

He feels so good, open and slick, and Steve fucks him with long, hard strokes. Well practiced, after so many years together. Eddie's so fucking wet, he must have used an overabundance of lube.

Steve shifts his hips, changing his angle, and works over Eddie's prostate. Over and over, with precision, trying to shove Eddie to the precipice without toppling him over it. He wants Eddie to feel like he's gonna fail, but not actually fail. 

Eddie whines, hanging his head, loose and limp. Finally, completely pliant. Trusting Steve.

And Steve keeps him there, dangling on the edge. Brushing past his prostate on every third stroke, then every fifth, every tenth. Backing off as he reads Eddie's body language. Eddie's loose, basically melted, but Steve can still tell. Can still read him like an open book. He knows everything there is to know about Eddie Munson.

It's the hardest he's ever studied in his whole life.

And Steve knows that Eddie's gonna come, soon.

So, Steve lets go of his own control, and shoves right into Eddie's prostate one more time, dick jerking as he empties himself into Eddie and Eddie whines, coming untouched all over the sheets below.

After Steve, as directed, like a good fucking boy.

Steve pulls out, and slaps him on the ass one more time, but this time in a good game sort of way, and Eddie laughs, wet and amused. 

"I have no bones, my bones have gone," Eddie says, collapsing to the sheets, laying in his own wet spot and not giving a flying fuck. 

Steve will just have to clean him up. Take care of him. So, Steve rubs his back, and then presses his thumb against Eddie hole. Loose and wet, so fucking wet.

Steve leans down and runs his tongue over it, flat and soothing, and Eddie sighs, content, "That feels good."

Steve rubs his hand on Eddie's ass cheek, and Eddie tries to spread his legs further, as Steve presses his tongue to him, over and over, cleaning him up, soothing him. 

And then Eddie is finally quiet, finally still. Because he's fallen asleep.

Steve will have to move him, have to clean up the bed, but for now, he just rests his cheek against Eddie's bare side, throwing his arm over Eddie's damp thighs, now wet with sweat instead of water from the shower, and closes his eyes.

And smiles.

Steve does like it. The brattiness. Lives for it, honestly. Longs for that spark in Eddie's eyes, asking, begging, pleading, trusting Steve to do something about it. Trusting Steve to do so many things that Eddie will love, even if he pretends he doesn't, the whole goddamn way.

That is, until Eddie is finally settled and still, satisfied, just like he is in this very moment. Lightly snoring, a sound that is music to Steve's ears. Background noise that means he's home.

And Steve presses his lips to Eddie's skin, loving on him a little bit more.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @subeddieweek and follow along with the fun! 🖤

#subeddieweek #steddie fic #brat/wet/choking #sub eddie munson #thisapplepielife: subeddieweek #thisapplepielife: short fic

[midnightbrightside]

pearl and maya come down to see phoenix early into the 7yg. and what do you know, kristoph is there too. phoenix introduces them as pearl studies this new man. she's come to terms w the fact that phoenix and maya arent together, but when she sees how kristoph's hand is placed on phoenix's arm something clicks. "oh! mr kris is mr nick's 'special someone'!"

phoenix goes to correct her but kristoph shushes him, "let her have a little fantasy, it's easier than correcting her anyway."

"yeah, but she'll expect us to act all couple-y in front of her." phoenix warns

kristoph raises an eyebrow, "is that all? half of my office already thinks we're an item, i dont think we'll find it difficult." it's mostly the truth, most of his office have deduced that theyre sleeping together and a few of them call phoenix "mr gavin's boyfriend" when they think he can't hear them.

and that makes phoenix pause. kristoph isn't wrong. everyone seems to think there's something going on: staff at the borscht bowl, kris's coworkers, and now pearls... fuck it, whats the harm in indulging her a little? "yeah, kristoph is my special someone" and he's gotta admit, pearls's delighted squeal makes the lie worth it.

throughout the day it's surprisingly easy to fake it, especially since maya and trucy pick up fast and play along. phoenix is thankful that theyre so smart and put up with his bullshit. even so, every time kristoph laughs at phoenix's jokes or leans into his arms he can feel trucy's gaze boring holes into his back. he doesnt know what she's looking for, but it's a relief when they put her and pearl to bed for a sleepover.

in trucy's room pearl sighs dreamily "wow, mr kris and mr nick are really, truly in love!" she's kicking her feet.

trucy hums a doubtful little "mhm..." and pearl looks worried.

"oh no, you dont sound so sure"

trucy's eyebrows are pinched together like shes thinking very very hard, "i know uncle kris likes daddy a whole lot, i KNOW he does..." she trails off.

"... but?" pearl prompts.

"i don't know! grown-ups are weird" she mumbles, frustrated. daddy and uncle kris aren't actually dating, she knows that. but they didnt seem to not like being a couple today. maybe that means they like each other? but that doesnt feel right either.

pearls pulls trucy out of her thoughts, "hey, if mr nick and mr kris are boyfriend-boyfriend does that mean you have two dads?"

trucy blinks. "uncle kris isnt like daddy," she smiles, "but if he was i think that means i have three!"

meanwhile kristoph, phoenix, and maya are in the living room. maya thanks them for saving her from a million questions about nick on the way back, and tells kristoph it was nice to meet him, it's good for nick to have a "friend" who lives near him for once. she means it.

the moment kristoph leaves maya turns to phoenix, "he's a weird guy."

phoenix smiles "he's not so bad once you get used to him. besides, he's good to trucy and i, and i appreciate that." he doesn't know why kristoph has been so kind to them, but he's in no place to question someone's generosity.

theres a pause as maya thinks, "hell, edgeworth was weird too and you were right about him. i'll trust your judgment this time, gavin seems to make you happy" a smile creeps onto her face, "so dont take 3 years to confess to this one," and she laughs as phoenix sputters and blushes.

#phoenix is so desparate for affection hes not seeing the warning signs and so kris just keeps burrowing deeper and deeper into his life lol #krisnix #Phoenix wright #kristoph gavin #trucy wright #maya fey #pearl fey #ace attorney headcanon #ace attorney #phoenix wright: ace attorney

[bobbimorses]

Real reasson about Clint and Bobbi's divorce? I tough because Bobbi cheated on him, but not sure

absolutely not! i think that misunderstanding is likely from the end of the mockingbird solo in 2016, which decided to go ahead and try to retcon a very key event. let's get into it...

in west coast avengers, the whole team time travels to the old west. their time machine is broken and can only travel backwards. while trying to time travel back further, the phantom rider punches bobbi and takes her off the machine, separating her from the team (in space and time)

phantom rider takes bobbi to his cave and concocts a drug to convince her she's his wife

eventually, the two-gun kid (cowboy friend of hawkeye) tracks them down and is able to snap bobbi out of her drugged stupor. she realizes the extent of coercion that's occurred. clint is trapped in ancient egypt (and also dying), so he's not around for what comes next; during a showdown with bobbi, phantom rider falls off a ledge.

because fuck this guy, bobbi makes her choice: that is, choose to do nothing.

phantom rider's spirit actually just gets reincarnated when he dies, which bobbi admittedly didn't know about at the time, but fuck that guy.

when clint and bobbi are finally reunited, she doesn't divulge the sexual assault that occurred. several issues later, phantom rider's spirit in the present tells clint bobbi killed him and doesn't say why (bc fuck that guy). in what is notoriously the most dickish response (and writing) possible, clint goes "that's not what he said!!!!!!!" when bobbi tries to tell clint why she let phantom rider drop (bc, again, fuck that guy). and so, a rift is born.

clint's whole motto is "avengers don't kill," so his contentions are: you killed someone, you lied by omission, you betrayed my trust by not telling me. bobbi's are: that doesn't count as killing, that guy was a rapist, you are being a shitty husband. also fuck that guy.

the ensuing issues are a bunch of "pick a side" bullshit with the team and squabbling. which was ridiculous. clint's stance was so ridiculous that while all their acid and strife in west coast avengers continued, clint and bobbi would constantly be trying to reconcile and acting tenderly toward each other in concurrent issues of solo avengers. bc other writers thought "yeah fuck that guy."

so that's why they broke up. but also they didn't bc they got back together? but also they didn't get back together bc that was a skrull. but that wasn't supposed to be a skrull at the time and was only one retroactively. but then they got back together anyway. i digress.

ANYWAYS this brings us to mockingbird #8 (2016), which attempts to retcon all that in a way i can only describe as insulting. first of all, phantom rider's described as an ex of bobbi's, which is a terrible start.

then this happens:

yeah. whether the writer was trying to retcon the reasoning behind the divorce, bobbi having been sexually assaulted, or whatever aspect of the entire storyline, what instead comes across is that the writer decided "woman who survived sexual assault and asserted her agency in letting perpetrator die" should be "so like, bobbi cheated on clint, bc she makes her own decisions!" while we have panels of a man drugging her. ???? the only way you could potentially reconcile this is bobbi is lying to phantom rider to get him to fuck off (bc fuck that guy), but as i mentioned, she also calls him her "ex" in her internal monologue earlier in this very same issue, so that definitely didn't seem to be the writer's intention. sooo. we should all collectively ignore this retcon attempt.

there's also the added complication of whether their divorce was finalized during west coast avengers what with bobbi being presumed dead but then not dead, and then clint actually dying and then undying and then dying and then undying again, bobbi confirming they were divorced in new avengers reunion, but then hawkeye v4 later having clint sign divorce papers...but that's not the crux of the issue at hand. leave that for a wills and trusts probate hypo.

SO in summary: not really. if you found this obnoxiously long, enjoy this even longer text post i once made summarizing their relationship, kind of!

#bobbi morse #meta

[iwonderwh0]

Hostile relationships between Hank and Connor are so entertaining to me, you don't understand. Making them hate each other to the point of wanting to intentionally hurt... I have a whole AU dedicated to them developing such a vile attitude that in time it's impossible to tell who is the aggressor and who gets hurt more. In a situation where Connor, after getting his share of bullshit develops such a dislike for the man that he can intentionally provoke him, knowing his anger issues, just out of pure curiosity as to how far Hank's hatred for him goes. Knowing that hurting him will actually hurt Hank much more than himself as Connor does not feel pain nor fear (or truly believes that he doesn't) and even destruction of his full frame if occurs (and Connor counts on it, because then it's financial harm he can inflict on Hank, not only emotional) is only a matter of temporary discomfort in exchange to quite permanent damage to Hank's psyche (and wallet).

What a weird position. To be an object in legal terms with a power to twist and play with another person like a squeaking toy, knowing fully well that you cannot be held accountable for your actions as you are not legally a person.

To be the one in control and power as a human being with "human rights", the one giving orders, only to be small and powerless in hands of a thing that despite having to obey you, knows how to play you into making you obey it.

Connor as a personification of a device filled with dark patterns that turn the end user into the actual product, the one actually being used through this interaction. Except Hank is not at all clueless about this state of affairs and this is precisely the reason he hates Connor so much — he represents the most offensively intrusive case of "Corporations trying to convince you that their device is your friend. Your family member. No less than a person deserving of your emotional labour, sympathy and affection."

And the fact that Connor in fact is a person (even when the one unaware of this fact yet) is only making it so much more fucked, because ironically it doesn't cancel out previous fact about him being an exploitative tech existing in the interests and for the profit of third parties.

#connorank #dbh #dbh hank #dbh connor #detroit become human #platoniconk #not platonic but it's a neutral ground territory so I'll include this tag as well

[transmascissues]

it’s so funny to me that people used to try to warn me “if you go on t it won’t make you androgynous it’ll just make you look like a man” because 1) i do want to look like a man, that is famously a major part of being a trans man but also 2) t literally has made me androgynous?? like they were wrong on both counts. i got most of the looking-like-a-man changes that i wanted (deep voice, broader body, hair all over my body including my face) and i also give every single cis person in a five mile radius a stroke every time they try to figure out my gender. the assumption that trans men wouldn’t actually want to look like men and the assumption that cis people are good at correctly gendering us once we’re on t are both weird as hell.

#people said this to me all the fucking time pre t #to the point that it did almost make me too afraid to go on t bc ‘what if they’re right and i don’t really want to look like a man?’ #but it turns out that was bullshit on so many levels #i look ‘like a man’ now and love it and also am the most androgynous person most cis people i meet have ever seen #y’all just don’t know how t works at fucking all #transandrophobia #transandromisia #transmisandry #virilmisia #virilphobia #anti transmasculinity #transmascphobia #trans men #transmascs

[silver-horse]

it's fascinating that those biphobes compare women liking astarion to women liking legolas and they mention a popular post that says "I never understood why so many straight women are into legolas. what do you think he is going to do? top you?" they bring this post up like some sort of proof "haha. so right. so true."

EXCEPT the notes on that popular post are filled with THOUSANDS of women commenting "no. I am gonna top him" and "bold of you to assume women can't top" and a lot of them are bisexual women commenting "I am bi and I only like men who look like a girl lol" honestly relatable Lmao

they act like that shitpost is pointing out some truth about how those women are silly. but the replies on that post show the stupidity of that assumption. people really don't get that feminine looking women don't just want to be rough handled by some masculine dude. and people have varied tastes and sexual desires. there is so much misogyny all tangled up in the biphobia. but it's subtle in a way that they don't notice their views on these matters are flawed because even when we point out what's wrong with these gender essentialist stereotypes, they ignore it and treat it as a joke "haha you all act like we wanted to behead bisexuals"

#my thoughts #I say this as someone who doesn't give a fuck about legolas #but acting like that post is so true is dumb #like those women don't know what they chose to like... #or like a man with pretty long hair and clean shaven face cannot possibly like women... laughing my ass off #my post #my posts #biphobia #text post #textposts #bg3 mine #misogyny #tumblr bullshit #2k #1k #lgbtq #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #legolas #the lord of the rings

[insanesonofabitch]

You know, as a (kind of) new fan, I barely know shit about the full spn experience of watching shit unfold in real time—which obviously took years. When I was scrolling through Nov 5th tag, destielgate and all that, I found a fairly huge amount of people shitting on Andrew Dabb, especially for writing the finale. And I got curious about this infamous writer guy, like what else did he write?

Then I went to Google and saw that he wrote What’s Up Tiger Mommy. Then Hunteri Heroici. Clip Show. Road Trip. Bloodlines??? Stairway to Heaven?????? The Things We Left Behind????????

The Prisoner???????????

All Along The Watchtower?????????????

Lost & Found??????????????????

Like obviously, none of these episodes are perfect. But these includes HUGE destiel scenes—like pivotal moments that greatly affects the relationship and it’s development and how the audience view it. And so much of these are obviously, blatantly romantic. As explicit as it can be. Like the direct canon couple parallels? At least THREE times? You’re telling me this man is responsible for The Lovers Quarrel ft. Suffering Sam in season 8? “I’ll watch over you”? The Dean/Cas - David/Violet parallel???? Cas’ deleted personal heaven???? “Don’t lose it over one man”????? Cas giving up his Angel army for one guy?????? The Dinner Date?????? The Sam/Jess - Dean/Cas - Claire/Kaia parallel??????? The climax of Cain/Colette - Dean/Cas Mark of Cain plot line??????? “You know, I always thought I could be a good dancer if I wanted to be”???????? The PURGATORY REUNION?????????? The start of THE FUCKING WIDOWER ARC?????????????

The Fucking. Widower. Arc. The stark contrast between that and Cas being barely mentioned in 15x19 and 15x20???????? Listen—and I’m just spitballing here—but what if this guy isn’t the fucking problem. You cannot convince me that someone who wrote all that, who contributed to all that, does not fucking see it…

…oh my fucking god. What the fuck were in those omitted scenes?

#note that ​I don’t know what this guy has said in the past maybe he’s said some bullshit but like. actions are louder than words or whatever #just look at these fucking episodes man. these scenes. I literally did NOT expect his episode line up to be so full of destiel. #I just— I have so many fucking questions. #supernatural #spn #spn scripts #spn finale #spn finale fuckery #spn gate #spngate #spn meta #destielgate #destiel meta #destiel #deancas #casdean #dean winchester #castiel #dean x castiel #andrew dabb #dabbnatural #reiotalks

[spotsupstuff]

as i'm workin on my Ancient stuff- i've got to say that it is really interesting and neat (read: nasty) that there's a good chance most of the Ancient population probably didn't actually wear masks. but We think they did cuz the only really solid evidence of what they looked like at all all comes from places of the higher social circles. and those strived for religious... superiority, i guess. brownie points, not actual dedication to the religion for the sake of its teachings but either because it made them look good, put them higher in the social hierarchy or whatever manipulation have you (or the flawed look upon the religion aka "we gotta get out of this cycle no matter what")

all we are left with are the bastards. the simple people and their cultures that were left to weather the Iterators' rains were simply washed away. nobody cared for their way of life- as long as it served the higher circles well and they stayed submissive (enough so that at the end everyone would take a dip in the void), nobody had to give a singular shit

just how much do we not know about the Ancients' *everything* because of this disregard? how much do we think we are right about, when such is true only for the small but privileged piece of the species?

#Spot says stuff #rw #which is why i -goes insane over oc lore again- #VIVA LA REVOLUCIÓN BAYBEEEEEE #this came to me cuz like. sparrows is very much a Bruh girl. shes a yeehaw if you know what i mean. shes kinda stumpy cuz she grew up in- #-the farms of Euros' facilities n had to haul things around. ancients from the iterator cities? or the ones on the murals? very much dont- #-look like that nah. theyre like twigs without any muscle to hold their bellies in some kinda form so they look like That. the masks- #-themselves originally became a thing for religious reasons. what reason would a farm girl have to wear a mask while workin in the fields? #yanno? it sounds mostly impractical. n down there they prolly werent such religious nutcases like the ''Higher Ones'' #sparrows' granda would have some choice words bout her havin a mask now JKVLDSMLKC he constantly complains about Euros cuz like #he remembers what it was like before Euros was turned on- man had an iterator rain free childhood n now he has to deal with This bullshit #''back in M'day we didnt hefta be runnin fro' some rain generated by an overgrown *Toaster*!!! we played in da grass for however long- #-we wished!!! sure aye it was standin there n overshadowin us from time to time but-" ''ya ya we kno granda settle down before u pull smth' #iterators r so fucking terrifying

[qcomicsy]

I don't think we talk about Robin War as much as we should, this is insane this kid is insane. HE WAS THE LEADER OF A MOVEMENT.

A BIG EARTH SHAKEN MOVEMENT.

Yeah I get it, The Robin movement had no official leader. But we cannot deny how he was one of the most prevalent voices. How he is so good with his words that he was able to to encourage not only all of them to go home and all of them to go fight.

And fight for their fucking lives, for Gotham's safety.

And you don't understand the Robin, wasn't a team they didn't have leaders, they didn't have training, they did't had someone o be assigned to be in charge, hell half of them shouldn't be older than 25! This is a social movement, made mostly by yound adults and teenagers.

Being able to to influence this amount of people in less than what a month? In matter of minutes is absolutely fucking insane. This isn't easy shit, this isn't lightly shit.

This is fucking revolutionary.

For fuck sake he knew DAMIAN, fuckin Damian for a day and was able to get his point across into that kid's thick skull.

This random kid, with not training in martial art, who saw Damian beat up not only his fellow comrades, but Red Hood and Red Robin themselves, who may or may not be aware of Damian's reputation as a deadly Robin (if that comes to the public and knowing Gotham and Gotham's relationship with vigilantes he might) stood up on his own feet and got his ass beaten by him without even considering back down from it.

Duke Thomas was ready to die that night and this is fucking earthshaking.

#this isn't a quirk is a insane op character trait and I'm ?????? on how this isn't (as far as I'm awere) used narratively again yet #I think the only other batfamily member who comes close to this is Dick Grayson and even him as far as I know was able to be that good in #that great scale #Most batfam characters becomes leader beause they are the most capable and (fix it) focused at something (Dick grayson and Tim drake) #But by sheer word and organization atrategy???? not even Batman #thats diplomat behavior man #what I'm sayin is that Duke Thomas can bullshit in and out himself of situations and thats fucking bonkers in this essay I will– #q rambles #q rants #Duke Thomas #Robin War