#thinkin about this again and. cop.

[toxicanonymity]

busted (jailbird one shot)

2.5k WORDS, JOEL "JOJO" MILLER x f!READER SUMMARY: You roleplay as cop and sex worker. WARNINGS: I8+, no plot just smut, roleplay, manhandling, handcuffs, bj, unsafe PIV, creampie, fluff. writer chooses not to warn in further detail, read at your own risk. Read alone or see jailbird masterlist for relationship & reader history. NOTES: On hiatus, but this has been in my tumblr drafts since 3/20. Ty for the ask. They've both served time. This happens while Joel's aunt/your former cellmate is still locked up. Ty again to everyone who made me write cellmate's nephew (history) 💀. Divider by @saradika-graphics. @toxicfics for notifications.

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You sit on Joel’s bed alone, wearing a short skirt, a lace bra, and fishnet stockings he already ripped wide open the last time you wore them. You finish lacing up your boots, tuck a wad of cash into your bra, and get a tictac mint from your purse. Then you put on the bag and close the bedroom door behind you as you leave. 

As you walk into the living room, the front door opens. You realize you’re holding your breath and feel silly. Your heart skips a beat when he steps through the door. 

He pauses long enough for you to take in his whole form. . .tattooed arms swelling out from the sleeves of his slutty, blue uniform. Your eyes fall to his crotch as he turns to face you. The tight polyester pants leave little to the imagination. The whole, massive outline is visible atop his thigh, straining the fabric. He smooths his mustache and tilts his head, checking you out. Then he keeps a straight face as he steps toward you and says,

“‘S’cuse me, miss. Can I see some ID?”

Your heart flutters. You’ve played the part so many times. Played lots of parts. You're used to being who the client needs. But here you are with a little stage fright in front of your boo. And Jesus Christ, there’s something about his prison tattoos bursting out of that uniform. 

You stand still in the middle of the room and he slowly paces around you. A few feet away, but close enough to smell the cigarette he must have enjoyed outside and the cologne he reserves for date nights. The sight and smell of him makes you tingle. His touch might make you physically swoon. He clears his throat, and your face heats up. You lock eyes with him, and there’s a sparkle in his gaze, but he manages to hold firm, not breaking. 

“I, um – I have it somewhere.” You rifle through your bag.

“What’s that in your brassiere, ma’am?” He takes a baton off his hip and gestures to your bra cup. Your chest is lightly dusted in a caramel flavored shimmer powder.  

“Oh,” you stammer, looking away.  “I dunno why I put this here when I have a purse,” you mutter, half out of character.

“Just what I was thinkin’,” he cocks an eyebrow at you. He begins to stalk around you again, getting a little closer with each step, closing in on you. Then, he holsters his baton and stands behind your back, close enough to feel his body heat. You turn your face to the side and his scent wraps around you. 

His hardness lightly grazes you, and you push your ass back instinctively. His left hand comes to your hip as his right hand snakes around your torso.  His voice is deep and gruff.

“I’m thinkin’ this is dirty money.”

He trails his fingers slowly up your sternum, then over the curve of your left breast to your black push-up bra. You watch the faded barbed wire flex on his hand as he slides two fingers into the bra cup, retrieving the cash. He lowers his volume and his lips brush the shell of our ear. “Real dirty, honey.” 

“It’s nothing,” you shake your head, getting into a better rhythm. 

“Lemme take this off your hands,” he offers and lifts the strap of your purse off your shoulder. He stuffs the cash in it and tosses the purse to Mabel’s easychair. The tictacs rattle as it lands. He returns behind you, and this time, both hands go to your hips.

“I’m thinkin’ we can work somethin’ out,” he murmurs. His hands meander up your sides, then back down. He holds onto your hips and pulls you back against him, lightly grinding his hard length against your skirt, making you throb. 

“Fuck, Jo,” you whine in a whisper, pushing back on him like you shouldn't be. He exhales what you're pretty sure is a laugh. You can picture his smile. You're not ready to throw in the towel on this scene. You compose yourself and ask, “What are you doing?” You step forward, away from him, then turn around with a glare. 

He slowly rubs his arousal and adjusts himself. Then he puts his hands on his hips and shifts his weight. He looks you up and down, slowly shakes his head, and clucks his tongue.  

“Y’know, I didn’t wanna have to do this.”  He reaches behind his back for his cuffs, and you head for the door. 

He grabs you by the arm, and you continue to pull away. 

“No,” you protest emptily, tingling at the thought of him getting rougher.

He wraps a strong arm around you and you keep squirming. He lets you pull away toward the door until you’re up against it. He presses his weight against you with a forearm on your upper back and warns, “Resisting arrest?” 

He wrangles your arms behind your back, and the cold metal edge makes you shiver as your first wrist is cuffed. The second cuff clicks into place and he tightens them. Your cuffed hands desperately feel around the front of his pants, and he shifts his hips to help you find what you're looking for. You softly moan when your palm meets the hard length in his pants. 

“So now ya wanna be good,” he taunts, then lets out a barely audible grunt, pressing his hips forward, arousal swelling against your palm.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, officer.” He takes your hands and puts them on your mid back, and you keep them there. He yanks the whole skirt up over your ass in one go, watching your ass drop, fishnet diamonds stretched over it. His hips push forward and his hardness makes you throb. 

“Spread’em,” he commands. 

You widen your stance. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then wedges a hand between you and the door. Your palms rest on his tummy as he shoves his hand between your legs and feels how wet you are through the pre-ruined fishnets. 

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he growls, then cruelly takes his hand away without so much as putting half a finger in you. 

He grabs you by one arm and pulls you over to the sofa. “Knees,” he murmurs, and helps you down onto the carpet. He pats your head then sits down on the sofa with a sigh, manspreading. He splays his arms out on the back of the couch and looks at you affectionately for a moment before his face hardens again. He takes off his fake utility belt in a hurry. 

“Got five minutes to convince me not to take ya in,” he warns, "If ya can handle it." He lifts his hips, giving you a rush of arousal. He pulls at his uniform pants, and they snap open at the side. This must have been quite a hit all those years ago on stage. For you, he's not wearing anything under them. You glance at his hip tattoo. Yeah.

He frees his massive cock and wraps his hand around the clean shaven base. He squeezes it as he looks at you darkly. "Such a bad girl." He scoots toward the edge of the sofa. Your hands are still handcuffed behind your back, skirt still sitting up above your ass.

You lean forward, dip your head, and he feeds you his cock. You slurp the fat head into your mouth and he sighs, watching you with a softening scowl. "Fuck yeah," he breathes. His knees bracket you and help you balance with no use of your hands as you bob your head. He moans as you suck him. You stretch your jaw, sucking at the smooth, salty tip, then take a few inches into your mouth and hold it, feeling him throb. "God damn," he curses softly. You suck with the back of your throat and carefully take as much as you can, expertly swallowing his length. You take him so deep that your lips brush his shaved pubic skin, and your eyes prickle with tears.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Get up here.” 

You slowly let his cock out of your mouth, and a string of slobber falls away with it.

He grabs your arms and helps you stand. He could stand to be rougher about it. But he's all but abandoning character, overtaken by the way you make him feel. The real you.

He helps you balance as you kneel onto the sofa, straddling him with your thighs spread wide. His breaths are heavy and getting heavier as he eyes your tits and the front closure of your bra. 

He sits up straight. He wraps an arm around you and interlaces his fingers with one of your cuffed hands. "Doin' so good, baby." With his other hand, he swiftly unhooks the front clasp of your bra, and the cups break apart, letting your tits fall out.  He takes a nipple into his mouth, then passionately licks and kisses his way up to your mouth. He palms one breast as he sucks the other and holds your hand behind your back. He pulls you right against him so your clit presses against his warm, hard cock and it makes him moan against your breast as he throbs against you.

He moves you, grinding his cock on your clit. He kisses your breast again, then drags his nose up your chest and feverishy kisses you everywhere on his way to your neck, where he sucks you long and slow. He lets go of your hand and slides his hand down, reaching under your ass to your cunt, where he slides his fingers through your slick then spreads you open for him.

He maneuvers you up to get clearance for his cock. He runs the tip through your slick, then massages your clit with it before notching at your entrance. You twitch at the contact, then begin to sink onto him and he pulls you down with a grunt.

"That's my girl," he breathes.

His lips find yours, and the kiss is long and slow with him seated fully inside you. He moves you on his cock, and his hips roll under you at a slow rhythm, stretching you with his girth, making you twitch already. You break the kiss with a moan.

You look down between your bodies, then purr, “is it hot in here, officer?” 

“God you're fuckin’ hot,” he gushes with urgency.  He reaches in his shirt pocket for the key to the handcuffs and wraps his arms around you. His cock twitches and he fumbles around as he uncuffs you. You rip open his snap button uniform top, then cradle his face and your lips smash back together and his tongue finds yours. He pulls you close. Your tits press into his chest and you moan into his mouth as you roll your hips.

You sigh and curse and moan against each other's mouths as you ride him.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “I coulda came soon as ya—fuck–the way you were clawin’ around for my cock just to feel it—ohhhh.”

He playfully plucks at the fishnets then kneads your ass as you fuck. He lets you take the lead, sliding his hands down to your legs, then your boots. He sighs, "Ohh, baby," as you ride him.

“Yeah,” you breathe, feeling sharply on the edge already, with his cock inside you and the ghost of it pressed up against you through those pants. 

“Ohh, fuck,” he pants, “yeah.” His flesh fills yours so perfectly, stretching you around him. Your body wetly hugs his length as he smoothly thrusts up into you. He growls into your neck, “I can't get enough’a ya.” You card your fingers through his hair. 

“God you feel good,” you gush. “So fucking good. He’s kissing your neck wet and sloppy now. You both breathe audibly. "God, I love this cock," you pant. Your breath is shallow with your pending peak. You grind against him, then let it overtake you. “Fuck,” you breathe as your walls flutter around him. 

He groans as you come on his cock.  As you finish your peak, he’s clearly holding back. You look down at his inked torso glistening. 

You both watch where your bodies meet, and you tell him, “i want you to come.”

“c'mere” he takes your jaw in one hand, and brings your lips back to his. He holds you tight, kissing you for a few thrusts, then his lips fall apart to moan and breathe vocally as he fucks you.

He pulses inside, pinching his eyes shut. He groans into your cheek, and you finger his curls as he pumps you full. Then you relax into his arms.

-

You share a long moment without words, and he holds your head. Then he uses his chest to push you slightly off him. He looks you in the eyes, then does a double take down to your tits and dips his head to kiss one before returning his attention to your face. 

You're still on his cock, and the stretch persists even as he slowly softens.

He looks back and forth between your eyes and blurts out, “you should move in.” 

You laugh in shock. 

“‘m’serious, baby,” he says with a smile. You bite away another laugh and his smile fades. He whispers, “Dead serious.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, then breaks away to await your answer. 

You haven't thought about it, really. Not yet, anyway. But it doesn't feel out of the question. You glance over to Mabel’s chair. 

“She knows,” he assures you. It doesn't make a difference right now, but you pray she'll get paroled sooner rather than later. 

“Just think about it,” he offers. 

You nod and bite your lip, running your hand through his hair affectionately, still plugged by his cock. "Tempting," you smile.

“I'm a lucky man either way,” he says.

Your face heats up, and you reflexively lighten the conversation. “Why’d ya cuff me if ya wanted me on top,” you laugh.

“Hell if I know what I want,” he admits. He kisses your neck then murmurs, “Just want ya every which way all the time.”

thank you for reading, and thank you for your support. love you guys <333. my tag list is gone for real this time, sorry. I'm also on a break from writing & reading but had this in my drafts.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #jailbird #joel miller x female reader #toxicanonymity ☠️ #joel miller x ofc #cellmate's nephew!joel #CN!Joel Miller #cellmate's nephew!joel miller

[aheathen-conceivably]

Violette ran through the farmyard, disappointed that her father's attentions had been pulled elsewhere, when she found Will looking out over the gorge where they liked to play cops and robbers when the adults weren't looking. Before he could even notice her, she had scurried up the fence that protected the horses from falling into the pit below. As she pirouetted and walked along the uneven wooden barrier Will looked up in horror, “Violette! Get down! I told you my Poppa doesn't let us up there. Its not safe!”

Her voice called out from above, echoing off the orange rocks without a hint of fear, “Oh what, are you scaaaaared?”

As though to punctuate her words, she spun her arms around like windmills, letting her balance pull her back and forth like she was going to fall. William let out a small yelp and she leaned toward the left, as though she were falling into the shallow rushing water below. Even the birds flew away at his cry, like they were preparing to swoop after her into the valley to see if she would ever stand against the blue skies with them again.

Instead she caught herself at the last minute, jumping off of the beam and landing delicately on her toes beside William. She greeted his shocked expression with a small bow and triumphant smile.

With two feet safely on the ground, Violette let out a loud laugh, “Oh, don’t be a baby, Will! It’s not my fault you fall for it every time!” She stopped to stick out her tongue at him, “You’re so gullible!”

He crossed his arms and began to sulk away, “I am not! And one time you’re gunna fall for real and I’ll be right!”

She ran after him, still laughing but in a much more gentle way this time, “I’ll never fall! Look!” Once she had his full attention, Violette stood on the very tips of her feet, holding her balance until they went numb and any child with less willpower would have dropped back down. His eyes went wide in amazement but then her heels hit the sand below and he seemed to remember why he was angry with her, “I’ve seen that, Lottie!”

He sulked away again, sinking into the desert flowers in a huff. She stared at him with his head on his knees and suddenly felt a guilty pang, “I know, I’m sorry. We can play cops and robbers now.”

Still he didn’t answer, so she bent amongst the flowers and picked a handful for him. He took them from her outstretched hand and moved slightly for her to sit near him. She leaned onto his arm, trying to nudge out what was bothering him the way she knew she could. He looked up, back toward the fence where she had been walking moments before, "You’re so brave, Lottie, you know that? I been thinkin’ and—and I shoulda said something when Billy was mean to you.”

She grabbed the flower away from him and brought it to her lips, blowing the petals on the breeze before she laid it back on the ground and spoke, “That’s okay. I can stand up for myself. I know you’re my friend.”

“But…doesn’t it bother you? You know, when they ask about your parents…about the way you look and the way you talk?”

Violette absentmindedly laid onto the sand, drawing circles with her finger as her mind raced. Ever since she had put Billy in his place, no one had said anything so blatant to her; but she knew some of them went home to tell their parents or whisper about her behind her back. It was the same thing that happened on the street sometimes, every time someone assumed her Aunt Jo was her mother or gave her parents a dirty look.

She didn’t really know how to explain that it did bother her, because she didn’t fully understand their disdain. Still a small feeling of anger rose up for their glares and questions, the ones that made her feel like her very existence was somehow an affront to them. But she wasn’t going to tell William that, or anyone for that matter. 

So instead she began to adopt a sense of self-assured bravado, which became more real with every feigned response. She sat up and scoffed, answering Will’s question as though it were the silliest thing in the world, “Why would it bother me? That’s their problem. Not mine.”

Then she righted her shoulders and donned a smile, “So are we gunna okay cops and robbers now or are you still a big scaaaaredy-cat?”

Whatever remaining worries they had were forgotten as she ran into the distance, giving herself a head start before she mounted an invisible horse and swirled her lasso in the air. He jumped to his feet and placed an imaginary cowboy head atop his head to don the guise of the cop, chasing an outlaw across the open desert just like they did in olden days.

#1932 #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #1930s #Violette darlington #William Hines

[nebulousbrainsoup]

Hard hours, you say? 😈

I am usually not so bold with requests. And it's quite early. ㅋㅋㅋㅋ But they got me acting up with this comeback. Specifically, Mr. Song Mingi. Just so damn disrespectful. I can't even function. 🫨

Anywhoooo. Pretty please, may I request crossing paths with sharp shooter Mingi at a bar?

You're the best and I hope all goes smoothly with your health appointments. *hugs* 🫰🏿⛰️💜

no YOU'RE the best noona 🥺 💛 the health appointments are health appointmenting in true us healthcare fashion 🤪 but I just got the first scan scheduled so there's progress!! hugs 🫂 🫰🏼sorry this took forever, my body decided it needed more than 4 hours of sleep lmaO

ANYWAY mingi has also been wrecking the absolute HELL out of me too, and he knows what he's doing to us. all the outfits??? the energy his bringing??? and i've been having so so many thoughts about the body roll in the mv like. sir that was FOUL. got me thinkin about those hips 😵‍💫 plus the "You could be my doll" line in Dune????? hello????? let's add him to the EVOLVEverse crew, shall we?

lil bit of crack at the end sorry i HAD to

masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee? | divs from @cafekitsune

smut & warnings below the cut, 18+ enjoy & minors don't touch :)

tags/warnings: fem!reader, outlaw!mingi, sharpshooter!mingi, ft. 2ho, pwp, no use of y/n, language as always, mild alcohol use, gun (singular), i know he's our soft boy but he's quite ominous, use of pet names (doll, baby, slut), slight dom!mingi, i'm on my big dick mingi agenda, semi-public sex (empty bar), oral (f!receiving), fingering, slight overstim, unprotected sex (crowd booing), lil bit of objectification & degradation, unedited

The first thing that caught your eye was whatever was spray painted over the WANTED posters outside; some amalgamation of an 'X' and a 'Z' covering the faces of Night City's infamous rebels. You scoffed, shaking your head softly. They'd be fixed in the morning, so why waste the paint?

The second thing that set you on edge was the music. Usually, on a Friday night, your favorite bar was packed to the brim with people, catching end of week drinks with coworkers, meeting with dates they'd never see again, or partying with friends. The music was barely audible inside on the slowest of weekends, much less outside the main doors. Anxiety roiled in your gut, but you continued on your path, cautiously pushing past them.

Only one man stood in the otherwise empty tavern, his eyes snapping up from the drink he was making to zero in on you, and your heart leapt into your throat. There was something dangerous about his gaze and that familiar silhouette, and you froze in place as your brain scrambled to piece the puzzle together. His lips twitched up in a smirk and, once he had put the finishing touches on his drink, he shifted to the side, revealing the WANTED poster hanging behind the bar and the rifle strapped to his back.

Fuck. You were so screwed. You took a step backward, ready to turn on your heel and bolt, forgetting you ever saw Song Mingi or knew the location of this little bar. He turned back to you, seemingly sensing your want to flee, and narrowed his eyes.

"I wouldn't," he muttered, and your feet rooted to the spot.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you stared back at him, the silence stretching to an uncomfortable level, until you finally found your voice to break it.

"W-What did you do to them?"

He tilted his head. "To who?"

"The..." you trailed off motioning around the empty bar. "Everyone. There had to be people here."

He nodded, sipping his cocktail, completely unbothered. "There were." You blinked at him, annoyance building, and gestured for him to continue. He sighed, slinging the rifle off of his back and setting it on the bartop. "When you bring one of these into a packed place like this, folks tend to scatter."

"And you let them?" He nodded. "Aren't they going to call the cops on you or something?"

Mingi snorted a laugh, downing his drink before making his way around the bar to stand in front of you. "Do I look worried to you, doll?"

You swallowed thickly, shaking your head. "C-Can I go too, then?"

He took a step back, eyes raking over you, and you felt heat flush through your body. "You could always stay for a drink. That's what you came for, isn't it?" Despite your mind's protests, you nodded. "Then have a drink with me, and tell me what a pretty thing like you is doing frequenting a place like this."

---

This was wrong, so unbelievably wrong. You should have never come in here. But you had, and now here you were, the hand of a wanted criminal resting on your thigh as your eyes darting frantically between his own and his lips. Maybe you could blame your impressive lack of restraint on the adrenaline drop you were facing, or the fact that none of this really felt real, anyway. Whether he sensed or saw your internal struggle, you weren't sure, but Mingi's hand shifted off of your thigh, catching your chin between his fingers.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You didn't know what came over you, but in an instant, you had tugged him in, slotting his lips against your own. He groaned lowly, tongue quickly swiping over your lower lip and slotting against your own as you let out a sigh. He stood from his stool and dragged you up with him, pressing your back against the bar so he could slot one of his thick thighs between your own. You whined, letting your head roll back, and once your lips parted, he let out a soft chuckle.

"Well, that's not what I was expecting, but I can't say I'm complaining."

Immediately, you wanted to wipe the proud grin off of his face, but before you could snap back at him, his lips were on yours once more.

---

Your moans echoed off of the vaulted ceilings, the music once again barely audible underneath them. Mingi was on his knees in front of you, his tongue working magic over your core and two of his thick fingers pumping in and out of you, the slick sounds adding to the symphony echoing around you. You tugged at his hair, the unending pleasure beginning to become too much as you neared your second climax, halfway between tugging him closer and pushing him away.

"M-Mingi," you whimpered, and he groaned against you, eyes blinking open slowly. "I can't, 's too quick, ha!" You jolted, grasping at the bar under you as he sucked at your clit again, another of his fingers prodding at your hole.

"One more for me, doll," he purred, slowing his pace to press inside of you. "Gotta make sure you can take my cock.

"'S too much, Mingi," you muttered halfheartedly, his name turning into a needy moan as his mouth returned to you, tongue soothing the sting of the stretch his fingers brought.

He allowed you a moment to adjust, his lips pressing a kiss to your clit and pulling a quiet sigh from you. This was a sight he could get used to, he thought, your blissed out face above him and your thighs tossed over his shoulders. His cock twitched in his too tight pants, and he groaned against you, the sensation sending your hips bucking toward him, and within moments he had picked back up his relentless pace.

---

The bliss when he finally pressed his thick cock into you was like nothing you'd ever experienced. Your lips were parted in a silent scream, only stilted, broken noises of pleasure leaving you. He chuckled quietly, the sound rumbling through his chest and felt through your back as he leaned over you, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck. The bar had proven slightly too high for even his tall stature, so he'd spun you around, bending you over a nearby table. Initially, you had protested, offering to brace yourself where you had already been standing if it meant getting his dick in you sooner, but as quickly as your thighs had begun shaking, you were glad he had taken the lead.

"S-So much," you gasped out, melting underneath him.

"Now you see why I needed to prep you so much? I don't like breaking my toys on the first use, baby." The whine that left you as he pressed in further, his words amplifying your pleasure, pulled another chuckle from him, and he ran a soothing hand over your spine. "Think about how full you're gonna feel here in a minute."

You squirmed, hips canting back toward his own, and the hand on your back shoved you into the table. "Mingi, need more. Need all of you."

"You sure you can take it, doll? You're only a little over halfway there."

You let out a frustrated groan and wiggled your hips again, twisting as well as you could to face him. "Yes, dammit. Split me open if you have to, just give me your cock."

He sneered, the hand on your back snapping up to your shoulder, clamping down to yank you back on his cock as he slammed his hips into your own. A scream ripped from your throat and you grasped at the edge of the table, your breath coming in ragged bursts and your vision going white for a moment. When it cleared again, he was running his thumb soothingly over the nape of your neck, shushing you quietly.

"See why I wanted you to be patient, baby? Hurts when you're not ready for it, huh?"

You groaned, body going lax against the table. "Hurts s' good, Min. Wanna... More," you babbled, eyes slipping shut. "Ruin me."

He clicked his tongue, smile audible. "Cock drunk for me already, huh? What a good little slut. Take what I give you nicely then, okay?"

You nodded eagerly, and at your confirmation, he set into a brutal pace. You clawed at the table frantically for anything to ground yourself against as he bent over you, lips pressed to your ear. Every grunt and growl had shivers lighting down your spine, your walls fluttering around him as heat coiled in your gut.

He had brought you to two climaxes already, watched you beg and moan for him, and from the moment he was sheathed in your tight heat, Mingi knew he wouldn't last long. He told you as much when he braced himself over you, breathing the words into your ear as he nipped at the lobe. You whimpered, shifting under him to reach for your swollen clit and letting him drape one of your knees over his arm for better access. The shift in angle had you crying out as his cockhead began to drag over your sweet spot, your pleasure amplifying tenfold.

He had no warning before you were clamping down on him hard, your orgasm triggering his own, his hips stilling with how tightly your walls gripped him. A broken groan fell from his lips as your cunt milked him for all he was worth, your own whimpers melding with it, body going limp and eyes sliding shut. When you both came back into your bodies, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple and slowly pulled out of you. You bit back a pitiful noise at the loss of his warmth, slowly propping yourself up on your forearms as he reached for something to clean you both with.

For the second time that night, your heart jumped into your throat as your eyes fell on the two men standing by the doors, still rattling shut behind them. Just beyond it, you could see the familiar outline of a car, its roof topped with a light bar. The taller of them had an unimpressed look focused on your companion, while the shorter of the two was staring, wide-eyed, at you spread out on the table, his ears flushing and eyes turning to the floor the moment you caught him looking. Scrambling to put yourself back together, you opened your mouth to speak, but the taller one beat you to it, clearing his throat. Mingi spun, eyes wide for a moment as he took in the two cops, before he broke out into a grin.

"Perfect timing. Yunho, Jongho, this is... Shit, what did you say your name was?"

Your eyes went wide as the two newcomers groaned, rolling their eyes heartily. "Seriously? You're the worst," the younger one sighed, pushing the doors open and making his way back out to the car. Shaking his head, the other one quickly followed.

"See? No need to worry about the cops."

You blinked, glancing rapidly between Mingi and the door. "What the fuck?"

© June 2023 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my work.

#neb.requests #it thinks 😈 #ateez hard hours #neb.atz #neb.moot <3 #noona ⛰️ #song mingi #mingi smut #ateez smut #mingi x reader #ateez x reader #nebulous writes

[starfirewildheart]

Chapter 9

Scars and Souvenirs 

Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.

Pairing: Sy / OFC

Word count: 1784

Rating: mentions of war; being a POW, death and animal abuse. Nothing graphic I promise but if the fic continues (if y'all like it) I'll add warnings for each chapter.

Sy walked over to where the kid was still giving the cop hell and struggling against Debbie's help. He forced the boy down in a chair then got in this face. He spoke in a calm but commanding tone. “Stop struggling before you hurt yourself worse than you already are.”

“You new here? This ain't over by a long shot,” he huffed but stopped his struggle.  

“I'm not a cop,” Sy explained.  “What's your name?”

“Screw you,” the kid snapped.

“Little prick never changes,” the officer rolled his eyes. When Sy cut him a menacing look he walked out of the squad room.

Deb opened the first aid kit and approached him again. “My name is Debbie and this is Sy. What's your name?”

“Screw you.” 

Sy popped the boy in the back of the head. “You will be respectful to her. You understand?” He growled. 

“Owe, yea ok,” he squirmed, wanting to rub the back of his head but unable to because of the cuffs.

“She asked you your name.”

“Mike, my name is Mike.”

“Well Mike, I'm going to clean you up a bit, alright?” Deb asked. 

“Whatever,” Mike huffed.

Debbie cleaned him up and put a bandage on the cut on his head before popping an instant ice pack and holding it to his eye.

Walt stomped back into the room still pissed off. “Are you ok Mike?” 

“Peachy,” he snarked. “Sweet cheeks here fixed me up. See?”

“Sweet cheeks?” Deb asked, arching her brow at him.

Walt sighed before taking Mike to a holding cell. “I don't get it kid. I gave you a chance last time and you're back here again for theft.”

“I just can't get enough of you, Marshall.” He pretended to swoon, falling back on the cot in his cell.

“Fuckin smartass,” Walt growled before leaving him to go back to the squad room.

“What's with the kid?” Sy asked Walt as he was walking them out of the station. 

“Petty theft, B & E, public intox, truancy, fighting, terroristic threatening, smart assed kid.” Walt explained.  “I've tried to give him a chance but he just keeps blowing it.”

“What about his parents?” Sy inquired.

“I've met his old man once. He's a piece of work for sure. Runs a pawn shop here in town when he's not passed out from drinkin.”

“What's going to happen to Mike now?” Deb asked.

“Normally I would say he'd go to juvi but after Gains roughed him up I don't know. He's still got charges against him for robbing Samuelson's Market a couple weeks ago,” Walt told her. 

Sy opened the truck door for her and shook his head. “I know that look. What are you thinkin darlin' ?”

“Maybe he needs some time working on a farm. Sort of like community service but with safety and food and a good role model,” She bit her lip. “Maybe he needs someone to care about him?”

“Or maybe he's just a little prick who's old man doesn't care enough to rein him in?” Walt crossed his arms over his chest. He'd lost faith in people years ago. The world was bad and so were most of its people.

Sy looked between the two of them. One’s face was hopeful, the other disbelieving and he was somewhere in the middle. He could understand Mike acting out with an alcoholic, possibly abusive father and no one to care for him. He looked at Deb. “So you think he's robbing places because he's hungry?”

“And needs things, yea,” She nodded.

Sy crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. Deb looked at both of the big, intimidating men standing side by side staring her down and started to fidget. She felt like a kid who was in trouble. When Sy reached out and took her hand she gasped. He would never hurt her, she knew that but the moment had been so intense it startled her. Neither man said anything as she was pulled along back into the station. “What are we doing “

“Rescuing a new colt for you to rehabilitate,” Sy smirked.

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

Nearly three months had passed since they had convinced the chief to let them take on a work probation for Mike, then they had to go to court with him so the attorney could convince the judge it was a good idea. Once everyone was in agreement they had to get Mike's dad to agree.

Mitch Holmes, Mike's father, was a real piece of work. He didn't give a damn about his son but he would spend hours gushing about how they were distant relatives of ‘The’ Sherlock Holmes.  Walter went with a counselor to talk to him about Mike and he said the living conditions were horrible. Very little food in the house, roaches everywhere and there were bars on the windows to Mike's room and a lock on the outside of his door. 

Walt unleashed on the police that had been on Mike's case before he had gotten to town. Demanded to know why no one had investigated before now. No one ever even made an effort to check on the kid.

While all of that was going on Sy, Walter and Debbie had been setting up video surveillance and listening devices on the S17. Once they started getting data Deb spent a lot of time pouring over it for pertinent information then handing it over to Sy and Walter so they could track shipments and buyers.

Sy yawned and scrubbed his hands over his face. Between work, court and the ranch they were all exhausted. He stood up from his desk in the shared office the department had given them for the investigation and walked over behind Deb. She was sitting with one foot up in the chair and the other on the floor as she read over endless transcripts. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “We need a break, sugar. Let's go get some food. I'm craving steak,” he rumbled against her neck. 

She reached up and lightly ran her nails over his head grinning when he almost  purred. “Steak sounds wonderful and French fries.”

He kissed her neck and rubbed his short, scruffy beard against her skin loving the way it made her squeak and squirm. “God I love you.”

Deb smiled as she stood up in front of him pressing her body against his. “Love you too baby. More than anything in this world.” Tilting her head up she pressed a kiss to his lips which he quickly deepened. His tounge sought entry into her mouth while his hands slid down her back to grip her ass and press her even tighter to him.

The office door opened and Walter walked in looking down at some papers in his hand. “talked to th…” he stopped when he saw them kissing and blushed. “Sorry I..” he started backing out the door. 

Sy smirked and Deb chuckled at him. He was a big, tough cop but so shy and reserved about a lot of things. He and Sy fell right back into that close brother relationship almost instantly. Walt had a shitty childhood and Sy did all he could back then to protect him. They had a bond closer than any blood family had ever been. They were battle buddies. Deb and Walt had gotten close as a result as well and the three of them spent a lot of time bonding too.

Deb gave Sy another soft kiss before pushing away from him and waking toward the door and Walter. “We're going to dinner.”

“Ok. I'll see you tomorrow ,” Walt nodded.

Deb stopped in front of him and shook her head. “Clock out detective grumpy.”

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

Sy, Walt and Deb were all sitting at their table drinking a beer and waiting on their food at the local bar and grill when someone tripped into Debbie's chair causing her beer to slosh all over her. She jumped to her feet trying to brush it off as she eyed the blonde woman.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!” She gasped. 

Debbie looked at her but just forced a smile. “It's OK. It was an accident. No harm done.” She excused herself to go clean up.

“I'm sorry again,” the blonde smirked, winking conspitorily at a woman sitting at the bar before leaving.

When Deb came back from the restroom she saw a woman rubbing up against Sy. He was telling her to leave him alone and that he wasn't interested but she reached down and pawed at his cock grinding her hand against him almost painfully.  Deb snatched her by the hair pulling her away from Sy. “What the fuck do you think your doing? Lindi?” She growled. 

“Let me go you bitch!” She struggled in Debbie's tight grip. 

“He said no and you didn’t listen. Now you'll deal with me,” She growled as she dragged her outside to the parking lot.

“Oh fuck,” Sy and Walt said at the same time quickly following them. 

“You will keep your hands off what belongs to me,” Debbie warned her.

“He doesn't belong to you! He's not married to you,” Lindi sneered. “You've been together for five years and he's never committed. He's just fuckin you until he finds the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with!”

The words stung more than she cared to admit and it pissed her off even more. “Maybe, but I know one thing for sure. It's not you!”

Lindi lashed out at Debbie which she quickly realized was a mistake. Deb tackled her to the ground and started wailing on her. Lindy was screaming and begging for her to stop, apologizing and swearing she'll never touch Sy again. Deb didn't slow down; she just kept swinging.

“Ok, enough,” Sy bent down and wrapped his arms around Debbie's waist and pulled her off of Lindi. “Alright sweetheart, enough,” he soothed.  She struggled against him and he wrapped her up tighter. “Enough,” he growled in her ear. She stilled for a moment before shoving away from him and trying to walk away. He pulled her back and pinned her against a nearby truck. “Calm down sugar,” he rumbled.

Walter knelt down and checked on Lindi. Her nose was busted, lip bleeding and her eye was already swelling. “You learn to keep your hands to yourself? “

“I want to press charges!” Lindi demanded. 

“You have that right but you started this and there are witnesses to this. So she will press charges as well and this will go to a judge. Are you sure that's what you want to do?”

She got to her feet and glared at Walter before storming off.

@shellyshellshell

@enchantedbytomandhenry

@mrsevans90

@summersong69

@mollymal

@warriormirkwood

@bloodyinspiredme

@kneelforloki

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #syverson fluff #syverson x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #captain syverson fanfiction #henry cavill characters #syverson

[fandomgirlz01]

This Can’t Be The End Pt. 1

Nick Stokes X Reader

Imagine on my fandom instagram?: No

Prompt?: No

Request?: No

Requested prompt?: No

Edited: Yes

Word count: 5,502

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings here

You can listen to the story be read out loud here.

Post Date: November 22nd 2022

Post Time: 11:09 pm

Summary: When Nick gets kidnapped, the reader is forced to fear the worst for her husband as she and the team work the case with hopes of bringing him home safe. 

Please refrain from stealing our work, thank you and please enjoy it!!!

Nick’s Pov:

I close my locker after grabbing my gun along with my extra clips. I sit down and start the process of reloading the clips as Warrick walks in. He smiles at me before walking to his locker and taking his shirt off. 

“So I took my girl to that ultimate fight championship on Saturday night,” Warrick tells me as he clips his gun on his hip, then reaches into his locker to get a shirt. 

“Oh, yeah, yeah, down over at the, uh, spur? I was tellin’ y/n about that the other night. We were thinkin’ about going, but she ended up working,” I reply as I reload my gun clip while Warrick puts his shirt on.  

“Yeah. Almost ended up getting into a smack down of my own,” he tells me and I look up at him from the bench. 

“No way. You almost got into a beef?” I ask and he looks at me before nodding as he rolls his sleeves up. 

“You know, Tina doesn’t like me carrying a gun. I play down the fact that I’m a cop when I’m with her anyway,” he tells me and I go back to loading my gun clip as he turns back to his locker. 

“Yeah, yeah, you play the scientist card. I don’t have to do that,” I joke and he scoffs as he grabs his gun. 

“That’s ‘cause your wife works with you,” he says with a smirk and smile. 

“And I love it. I can see her whenever I’d like. You’re a ‘copologist,’” I joke and he nods his head, laughing and I laugh too. 

“Man, you’re whipped, man,” he tells me and I chuckle with a smile. 

“Hey. If it’s y/n, I don’t mind being whipped,” I reply with a shrug. 

“So, umm, we’re standing out in front of the hotel, making out and this guy walks up to me, gets in my face, and asks me how she is,” Warrick explains to me as he loads his clip into his gun then cocks it. 

“No, he didn’t,” I say in disbelief and he nods as he puts his gun back in his holster. 

“So?” I prompt him to continue. 

“I tell him to get lost,” he says with a wave of his hand. “He says, ‘make me.’ So I took a step forward and out of nowhere, his big, fat bodyguard, looking like wimpy from Popeye, walks up and starts to close in on me.”

“This fat boy is looking like he’s obviously carrying some sort of weapon and I'm standing there naked as a porn star with my girl,” he finishes his story and I look up at him. 

“Did you tell them you’re a ‘cop’?” I ask him as he now starts to roll his other sleeve up. 

“They didn’t seem to care,” he tells me as he shakes his head. 

“One of the guys sounded Russian, like he was wanna-be mafia,” he tells me like it’s a matter of fact as he finishes rolling his sleeve up. 

“Fat boy was obviously his bodyguard,” he says and I hum in agreement before looking back up at him. 

“So, uh, you know, I wasn’t physically afraid of the guys, but something was kind of sinister about them,” he tells me as he leans his hand on the shelf part of his locker and puts his other hand on his hip. 

“They were provoking me, but they weren’t making a move. It was almost like they were waiting for me to make a move. Say if I smacked big-mouth, fat boy would’ve come over and stabbed me or something,” he explains and I let out a puff of exhortation as I turn and pick up my gun. 

“Even fat boy was vibing me not to take the bait,” he says as I put my clip into my gun. 

“So what happened?” I ask as I turn to look at him again. 

“Well, valet finally brought Tina’s car up,” he tells me. “So, I maneuver her around these guys and I put her in her car, and I turn my back to them and let ‘em talk this smack,” he explains to me as he turns towards his locker, demonstrating what he did. 

“I’m calming Tina down. Tell her everything’s fine, she drives off and I walk away,” he continues as he turns back around now and I mess with my vest pocket. 

“I called Tina later on,” he explains as he grabs his jacket from his locker then closes it. 

“And I tell her, uh, you know, if she got any problem with me being a cop, she needs to get over it, ‘cause now I’m packing,” he finishes and I look up at him as I readjust my holster on my hip. 

“Yeah. Yeah,” I agree with him as I continue to readjust. 

“What’d you do on Sunday?” I ask him as I lean back and look at him again. 

“Scoured the hotel looking for these punks,” he tells me with a chortle before he turns and starts to put his jacket on as I get up to walk with him, letting out a laugh as I do. 

“Well, hey, I don’t blame you. I probably would’ve done the same if it was me and y/n,” I tell him as we walk out of the locker room. 

“No. You probably wouldn’t have waited to beat on them,” he says while rolling his eyes and I chuckle. 

“Nah, that’s where you're wrong, buddy. Y/n would’a beat me to it,” I say as I clap him on the shoulder while we walk through the halls of the lab and he chuckles. 

“You're probably right on that one. Y/n got a really good uppercut,” he agrees with me and I laugh. 

“Oh, my two favorite guys,” Cathrine says as she comes out of her office as we just walk into the hall. 

“So, I’ve got an assault at stripperama and a trash run at Flamingo and Koval. I’m too busy to play favorites so duke it out. I gotta go meet y/n at our scene,” she tells us as she hands Warrick the slips for each scene before starting to walk off. 

“Tell y/n I told her to call me!” I shout out to her and she smiles while nodding at me before fully walking off. 

“Duke it out! Boy better flip a coin. I’ll hurt you,” I say as I turn back to Warrick as he looks over both slips. I put my hand in my pocket to grab a coin. 

“Yeah, you better flip that coin,” Warrick jokes with a smile as I pull the coin out. 

“Call it in the air,” I tell him as I flip it. 

“Heads,” he says and I catch it before flipping it onto the back of my hand. 

“Have fun at the trash run,” he tells me as he rolls his tongue in his cheek and I grab my slip. 

“You know, I’d do two out of three, but you got a gambling problem,” I joke with him as I walk backwards away from him. 

“No, hey, you know what?” I say as I turn away from him. 

“You keep this,” I joke as I turn back around to face him with the coin held up. 

“It’s bad luck,” I finish off before tossing him the coin and he reaches up to catch it. 

I chuckle as I turn back around and head to my GMC SUV to head out. I hop in the car and my phone starts to ring. I pull it out of my pocket and smile when I see my wife’s number. 

“Well, hello, sweetheart,” I croon with a grin as I answer the phone and I hear her chuckle. 

“Hello to you too, my love. Cath told me you wanted me to call you?” she parrots my greeting and I can hear the smile in her voice. 

“Yeah. I just wanted to hear your voice. Haven’t seen you since you went into work this morning,” I explain and she giggles. 

“Aw, Nicky. It’s nice to hear your voice too. Are you on a case?” she asks and I hum as I put my key into the ignition. 

“Yeah. Just got into my SUV to drive to it,” I muse and I hear her hum. 

“Are you on your own for this one or are you with Warrick?” she asks and I sit back in my seat for a moment. 

“I’m on my own, babe,” I admit to her and I hear her sigh. I imagine her shaking her head. 

“Be careful, then. Ok, honey?” she asks me and I chuckle, nodding even though I know she can’t see me. 

“I promise I will be. You be safe out there too, ok?” I tell her and I know she nods even if I can’t see her. 

“I will. I’ll see you back at the lab, yeah?” she asks and I grin, imagining her leaning against a wall. 

“Of course you will,” I promise her and she giggles again. 

“Ok. Well, I have to go, hon. Cath needs me back in there. I love you,” she tells me and I smile again, nodding even though she can’t see me. 

“I should go too. Gotta get to that scene. I love you too,” I respond and picture her smiling.

“Ok. Bye, baby,” she says and I parrot her before we both hang up. 

Once I’m off the phone with her I buckle my seatbelt before setting my phone in the cup holder. Turning the key makes my SUV come to life and the music from earlier comes on. With a smile on my face I pull out of the parking space and start to drive to the scene. 

♪ It was Christmas in Las Vegas, 

when the locals take the town ♪

♪ Theresa hit a streak And laid her waitress apron down She’d been playing penny poker over at the old gold spike she’s won at Texas hold ‘em So she switched to let it ride ♪

♪ Then over on Fremont street, Six pits won her a car 

She rode it up the strip to where the flashy hotels are 

At first, she hit a royal, Not a dirty one this time 

And then she drew four deuces… ♪

I sing along with Bob Neuwirth as I drive, drumming my fingers on my steering wheel. About half way into the song I arrive on the scene and turn my car off. I put my camera around my neck as I get out, grabbing my CSI case from the back seat before starting to walk over to the officer on scene. 

“Nick,” the officer addresses me as I walk up to him. 

“D.A.,” I greet him back as we continue to walk. 

“What’s going on out here?” I ask and look at him. 

“Well, anonymous, 911 caller reported body parts in this area. I rolled and find this,” he explains until we come to a stop and he lifts his flashlight on the supposed body parts. 

“Hmm. Tasty,” I sarcastically joke before setting my case down and lifting my camera for a picture of what seems to be a pile of intestines. 

He keeps the light on it as I take a couple photos before bending down to my case. I start to throw out the cones I use and get ready to work. 

“Have any idea how long it’s going to take you to get this stuff out of here?” he asks me as I look up at him for a moment. 

“Well… I can’t move the, uh… the ‘body’ until the coroner releases the scene,” I tell him as I pause to look over it again. 

“It’s a busy night. It’s probably gonna take a while, man,” I explain as I lift my camera up to start taking more photos of the intestines and blood. 

“Great,” he replies in an annoyed tone as I continue to take photos. 

“Hey, you mind if I step away for a second?” he asks and I stop what I’m doing to look at him. 

“I need to get some fresh air…” he expands and I look back at the scene. 

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, sure, take your time,” I tell him and he walks off as I continue to take pictures. 

I let out a puff of air at the smell and just as I do, the officer lets out a retching sound and I turn around as he pukes. I watch for a second, making sure he’s okay before pulling some gum out of my pocket. 

“Hey, you uh… want some gum?” I ask him as I hold the gum out. 

“No, thank you!” he tells me as he waves me off. 

I smirk as I turn back to the scene, taking the piece of gum out and sticking it in my own mouth. I then bend down and grab one of my small orange cones before lifting my flashlight up. He continues to cough as I start to walk around the scene, looking for any clues. 

I walk a small ways away before finding a smashed cigarette bud. I stop and put a cone down before taking another picture. I stand back up again and start to walk around some more before finding tire treads. I put the cone down again along with my flashlight before taking pictures of the treads and I look up to where they lead. 

When I look up, I see what seems to be a bag with a cup in it and I turn my gum over in my mouth. I pick my flashlight back up and shine the light over at the bag in confusion. I look at the bag, trying to figure it out for a moment before setting my flashlight back down. I pull some gloves out of my pocket and put them on before walking over.

The officer coughs again, making me stop and look at him for a moment. I turn back the other way as I shake my head in amusement and continue walking.

I walk over to it and bend down, setting my camera aside to look over how oddly placed it is. The officer coughs again and I turn back for a moment to look at him again before turning back to the item. I pick it up and look closer at it. 

“Well, that’s peculiar,” I think out loud before suddenly everything goes dark. 

Reader’s Pov:

“No. I’m telling you he really wants to go away for the weekend,” I tell Sara as we walk into the lab, both looking for Greg. 

“I don’t believe that for a second. Nick barely takes time off,” she disagrees with me, shaking her head as we walk through. 

“No. I’m telling you. He told me himself this morning that we're going to finally get our honeymoon that we didn’t get,” I explain and she shrugs as we walk into Greg’s office. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Sara replies coyly and I shake my head. 

“Believe what when you see it?” Greg asks as he looks up at me and Sara. 

“Y/n here says that ol’ Nicky promised her to take time off so they could go on the honeymoon they never got,” Sara explains as she jabs her thumb over at me. 

“I fully believe him! Nick just wants me to take time off is all,” I argue back with a shrug, even though I know that isn’t really one hundred percent true. 

“Sorry to tell ya y/n, but Sara’s right. Nick really doesn’t take time off. Heck, you should know that. You’ve been married since high school. You’ve been with him since you both started working here,” Greg sassily chimes in and I let out a huff as I cross my arms. 

“I’m telling you guys, Nick means it this time,” I promise them and they both just hum at me. 

“Anyway, Greg, were you able to find anything off the clothes?” Sara asks, changing the subject as she walks over to look at her victims' clothes. 

“And have you done the test on that paint found at our scene?” I ask him and he nods as he rolls over to get the paper and hand it to me. 

“Well, I went over them like you asked me to. The paint at first wasn’t matching too much, but I figured it out for you,” he tells me before walking over to Sarah as I look over the paper. 

“The blood on the shirt was a little weird looking, but I figured it out. I also found-” Greg explains to Sara but gets cut off when Catherine walks in. 

“Y/n, can we talk?” she asks as she looks at me. 

“Umm… sure. Can it wait like two minutes?” I ask her as I look at Sara, who shrugs and gives me a look begging me not to leave. 

“No. It can’t wait,” Catherine replies as she puts her hand on the table. 

“Really, Catherine, I need-” Sara starts, but stops when Catherine holds a hand up. 

“It’s about Nick…”Catherine speaks up and I freeze. 

“What about him?” I ask and she pauses as if trying to think of how to say it. 

“He’s disappeared from his crime scene… Grissom and I are about to go out and look it over,” Catherine breaks it to me easily and my heart drops. 

“I’m coming with you guys,” I immediately reply and she shakes her head. 

“Gris says you're off the case. You're too close to this one,” Catherine tells me with a shake of her head. 

“Where is he?” I ask her and she shakes her head. 

“He’s in his office getting his case,” she tells me and I bolt out of the room in a fast walk. 

I walk quickly through many corridors and labs before coming to his office. I storm in and he looks up at me from his desk. 

“I’m coming to the scene with you,” I demand and he shakes his head. 

“I can’t let you do that. You know how that would look,” he tells me, shaking his head and I sigh dejectedly as he looks at me from over the top of his glasses. 

“Gris, this is my husband. Let me at least come out to the scene, then I’ll stop,” I plead with him and he sighs before pausing to think it over. 

“Ok. Just to the scene. Then you’re done for tonight,” he pointedly tells me as he raises an eyebrow at me over his glasses. 

“Ok. I can do that, but I’m not going home. I wouldn’t be able to bear being there alone without him,” I admit and he nods in understanding. 

“Of course. Stay here or go home with one of us for the night. Warrick should be back in when we get back, maybe you can stick with him,” he tells me and I nod as I start to back out of his office. 

“I’ll go get my case. Are we all going together?” I ask and he nods. 

“Yeah. That might be best,” he agrees and I nod before walking completely out. 

I walk to my GMC SUV that exactly matches Nick’s and click the unlock button before opening the back door. Next I pull my case out and close the back door just as the door to the garage opens. Warrick walks through the door and looks over in my direction. 

He makes eye contact with me and then stands up from leaning on the door. He immediately rushes over to me before pulling me into a much needed hug. 

“I just heard. Just got back. How are you doing, sweets?” he asks me as he pulls back to look at me and tears make way to my eyes. 

“I'm scared, B. Really scared,” I tell him, using the nickname I know is reserved solely for me. 

Ever since I’ve known him, I had tried to find a nickname that would fit him well, but I couldn’t so together we decided that I’d call him B. It’s the first initial of his last name and when I had started using it, it just stuck. 

“I know. I know. Nick’s going to be fine. I’m sure he’s off somewhere and his phone just died again,” he sympathizes with me and I shake my head. 

“No. This is different… he would have found another way of communicating. You know that…” I reply and he sighs, nodding as he sticks his hands in his pockets. 

“I do know that. I’m sorry. I just thought it’d reassure your mind to think positively,” he explains and I smile softly at him. 

“And I thank you for that B, but unfortunately my mind can only think something bad has happened…” I trail off and he looks down at my hand. 

“Gris is letting you go on the scene?” he asks as he points down at my case. 

“He’s letting me come out to the scene, but that’s it. He told me I’m strictly off after. Told me to go home and obviously I told him I’d just stick around here. I’m not leaving and going home to a Nickless house,” I point out and he nods. 

“You can always hang around me. I’ll probably be here for most of the time,” he notes with a shrug and I nod. 

“I know, B. Thank you,” I tell him just as the door opens again. 

“Anytime,” he promises as Gil and Catherine walk through the door and over to us. 

“Ready to go?” Catherine asks and I nod, standing up as straight as I can. 

“Yeah. Let’s go…” I breathe out and they all give me sympathetic looks. 

“I’ll see you when you get back. Come find me if and when you need me, ok?” Warrick asks me and I nod as I purse my lips. 

He then pulls me into a hug and I melt into the brotherly embrace that I know so well. He holds me for a moment, rubbing my back lightly like he knows Nick does, but it only makes me choke up a little more. I hold back my tears as he pulls back and gives my arm one last squeeze before he walks back into the lab. 

Catherine walks over to me and wraps her arm around my shoulder. Together we walk over to Gil’s SUV and she clicks the unlock button. She opens the trunk door and slides her case in first. 

I then slide mine in after hers and she goes around the front to the passenger side. I follow along, but stop at the passenger side back door. She gets into the passenger seat and I get in behind her just as Gil walks out the garage door. 

He looks around for a moment before he makes eye contact with us and then he starts to come over to the SUV. He gets into the driver's seat and it’s quiet as he puts the key into the ignition, effectively starting the car up. After driving for a little while we arrive at the same scene Nick was supposed to be at. 

Together we get out of the car before going to the back to get our cases. Once we have our cases, we all walk up to Jim Brass, who’s already on scene. 

“Think. Did you see anybody else in the area?” Jim grills an officer before looking away from him. 

“I didn’t see anything, sir,” the officer tells him and Jim sighs, rubbing at his face before turning back to the officer. 

“I mean I only took my eyes off him for a couple seconds…” the officer explains and anger courses through me. 

“You’re not supposed to take your eyes off him ever,” Jim tells him in a very strict tone and I go to talk to the guy, but Catherine puts a hand on my arm to stop me. 

“Just be calm…” she softly tells me and I sigh. 

“How can I be calm, Cath? He took his eyes off him. He’s the reason my husband is missing and possibly even worse…” I choke out and she nods. 

“I know honey. I do, but you have to remain calm,” she reminds as she rubs her thumbs over my forearm in a soothing manner and I nod at her while wiping just under my eye. 

“He’s been gone maybe 25 minutes,” Jim tells us as he walks past us with anger clear on his face. 

Catherine keeps her hand on my arm as Grissom reaches up and puts his hand on her upper back as he nods at Jim. Grissom leads Catherine and Catherine leads me as all three of us walk over to the “crime scene.”  We stop at the intestines and Grissom takes his flashlight out to shine it on them. 

He then moves the light up as we all notice a cone by some tread marks. Catherine and I look at each other and nod. Together we get our flashlights out as well and we all slowly start to follow the tread marks. 

We follow them some more and find more cones laying out, telling us that Nick indeed was here. We keep walking until we come up to his vest laying on the floor and I let out a small gasp. Catherine bends down and sets her case down as she shines the light on his name tag, the one that exactly matches mine. 

I let out a puff of air and Grissom looks at me. He grabs my arm and rubs it for a moment as Catherine takes some gloves out. 

“You gonna be ok? Or do I need to get Jim over here to take care of you?” Grissom asks me as he rubs my upper arm lightly. 

“I’ll be ok…” I promise him and he nods before letting go. 

Catherine starts looking at his vest as Grissom continues to walk farther away from us. Catherine seems to find something so she pulls her tweezers out and grabs it. 

“I got some white fibers on Nick’s vest,” Catherine tells us as she pulls it off and looks closer at the fiber. 

She smells it before pulling it away from her face and looking at it some more. She looks up at me before turning back to her case. 

“Smells like alcohol,” she comments before she pulls out a bag and bags it up. 

Grissom walks a little further before coming to a stop and looking at something. I anxiously watch as he walks over to something else before bending down to it. Catherine looks up and over to Grissom as well. 

She then looks at me with confusion and I shrug. She stands up and together we both walk over to Grissom. As we get closer, we can see him holding a crime scene evidence bag up with a cup in it. 

“Why’d you bag that?” Catherine asks as we get a little closer to him. 

“I didn’t,” Grissom tells her and she looks at me again. 

“It’s the wrong color tape,” Catherine points out as we both bend down next to Grissom. 

“No initials on the seal… that’s not Nick's evidence,” Catherine continues to point out issues with it all as Grissom keeps it held up. 

“Maybe it’s a message…” Grissom observes as he looks over the evidence bag. 

“I’ll go try the garbage can,” Catherine chimes and Grissom nods. 

She walks over to the dumpster and I let out a sigh. Grissom looks up at me before turning around for a moment. He looks like he’s contemplating something before turning back around. He bends back down and I look with him, trying to see what he’s seeing, but all I can think about is Nick and tears well up in my eyes for a moment. 

I take a small step away and try to get my emotions under check. Once they are, I turn back to Grissom who still looks over the intestines very thoroughly. He keeps his light on them as he tries to figure something out. 

“Dumpster’s clean. No apparent blood or body parts,” Catherine announces as she stands fully upright inside of the dumpster before getting out and coming over to us. 

“Take a look at this…” Grissom tells her and she bends down next to me. 

“This seems contrived to me. The blood pool is too perfect. There’s no splatter. Like somebody placed these entrails,” Grissom points out as he shows us what he means with his flashlight and I gasp quietly. 

“You think…” I trail off, unable to ask what I know he’s saying. 

“A lure. To grab Nick…” Catherine confirms and I choke on air. 

“You’re saying you think they wanted Nick?” I ask and all goes fuzzy for a moment. 

“David, get this stuff to the doc,” Catherine declares as she turns to David, who’s behind us. 

“Look, I’m… I’m really sorry I didn’t get here sooner. Maybe if I had…” David apologizes, looks at me and I put a hand over my face. 

“Is she doing ok?” he asks when he sees me sway a little bit. 

“She’ll be fine. Don’t worry about her. We’ve got her and we’re gonna get him back,” Catherine promises as she wraps her arm around my waist to help steady me. 

“Gil, Catherine, what is she doing here? She’s too close to this, Gil,” comes the voice of Conrad Ecklie, making us all look at him as he walks up to us. 

“She’s only here for this. Then she’s done,” Gil explains and Ecklie sighs. 

“Ok. Only out here though. No farther…” he demands as he points at me and I nod. 

“Anyway, I want you all to know as far as I’m concerned, labs only got one case tonight. Same for the rest of the department,” Ecklie tells us and some relief makes way to me. 

“Thanks, Conrad,” Gil replies and I just nod at him. 

Another GMC drives up and Warrick gets out. He slams his door shut and quickly walks over to us. 

“Hey. You texted! What do you need me to do?” he asks as he stops in front of me and Catherine. 

“We need you to follow the dogs. Y/n needs to leave, she isn’t doing too well. Me and Griss are going to drive her back and let her sleep for a bit in the break room,” Catherine explains to him and Warrick nods before coming over to me. 

“Hey. Go sleep. I know you won’t probably be able to, but just try, ok? I promise we’ll find him,” he reassures me and I nod at him. 

He sighs before pulling me to him and giving my forehead a light kiss. He holds me in a tight hug for a few minutes before the K9 officers walk over with the dogs. He pulls away and looks at me for a moment and I nod lightly at him to tell him I’ll be ok. 

 He finally pulls away and walks over to the K9 officers. Catherine slowly starts to lead me away and back to the GMC. She helps me get in, seeing as I’m in a daze and then she and Grissom are putting the kits in the back. Once the kits are in the back, both her and Grissom get in. 

Grissom drives us back and when we get to the lab, Catherine leaves our kits in the GMC. She helps me in and walks me to the break room. 

“Here, try to get some sleep while we go over some of tonight’s evidence. Do you want to be there when I tell his parents?” she asks me and I sigh, nodding my head. 

“His… his mom… she’ll feel more comfortable with me in the room. His dad… he’s like my dad too. So yes, I want to be there please,” I tell her and she nods as she rubs up and down my back. 

“Well, I have to go see Dr. Robbins, then I’ll come get you when they get here, ok? Feel free to walk around if you can’t sleep,” she tells me and I nod numbly at her. 

She gets up and walks away, leaving me with a light blanket and small pillow. I sigh as I grab the pillow and lay the blanket over me. I curl up into a small ball and that’s when the tears start. 

I cry until slowly I can feel myself slip into a light sleep. It’s only a little while later that I wake up and blink my eyes. My eyes are sore and most likely red, but I don’t care as I stay laying on the couch for a bit. 

To Be Continued…

As of right now there is no tag list for this series, but if any of you would like us to make one we totally can. For now we have decided just to see if any of you like this one.

#nick stokes #nick stokes x reader #nick stokes imagines #nick stokes imagine #csi imagines #csi imagine #csi x reader #crime scene investigation #crime scene investigation x reader #csi vegas #CSI imagines #CSI imagine #CSI x reader #nick stokes fanfiction #This Can't Be The End #TCBTE #fandomgirlz01 #this can't be the end

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Blood Moon Rising"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky x Steve

Tags: shrinkyclinks, werewolf au, omega Steve, Alpha Bucky, prison au, dub-con, non-con, werewolf sex, knotting, oral (m!rec), hand jobs, held hostage, age gap (40/26), mating, violence, bonding, Dom/sub elements, oral knotting

Summary: Bucky claims Steve in front of the pack. The wolves affect justice for the captive prison guards.

Part 2 - Claimed by the Alpha

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter! Fic Masterlist

When Steve woke, Bucky was there in the cell with him. Steve inhaled and sat up so fast, he nearly toppled himself off the bed. He scrambled to compose himself, though it was a little late for dignity at that point, he supposed. The crappy little mattress pad slid on the concrete bench, and he hit the wall unpleasantly as he threw himself back to overcompensate. “Ow.”

Bucky, who was sitting on the cell’s desk stool, stayed seated and smirked until Steve righted himself. “Have a nice nap?” he asked.

“Worst of my life, actually.” Steve twisted his back to get his spine to pop. “You really have to sleep on these ‘beds’ every night?”

Bucky nodded. “Among other things.”

The solemnity in his voice caught Steve’s attention. There was a world of indignity in him, just barely peeking out. Whatever his crimes were, it was clear that a lot had happened to the alpha werewolf during his incarceration. Even though Bucky hadn’t given him many details, Steve could still see that much. He licked his lips and dared to ask again, “How long’ve you been in here? Really?” This time, he got a straightforward answer.

“Mmn. Just about twenty-six months, now.”

Jesus. “What for?”

“Assault with a deadly weapon.” Bucky paused, seemed to think about it, then added, “And indecent exposure.”

“And no trial?”

Bucky sneered. “Oh, I knew I wouldn’t get a trial. That part came as no surprise. No matter. I just needed a way in.”

Steve squinted. “What?”

“I. needed. in,” Bucky repeated, like Steve was stupid. “I got put in to be able to get my men out.”

Steve just sat there and stared, but then he realized that Bucky was being dead serious. “You … you’re telling me that you got yourself put in prison?” he asked dubiously. “On purpose?”

“I arranged it, yes.”

“How did you manage that?”

Bucky was relaxed where he sat, not overly eager to prove anything to Steve. He almost looked like he was suppressing a smirk at Steve’s expense. “Well, the assault was …” His eyes slid to the side as he considered his wording. “Let’s just say: I was dealing with a ‘pack problem’, and I made sure to do it in front of a local police precinct. Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

“What was the ‘pack problem’?” Steve asked, oddly intrigued at the mental image of Bucky as a vicious werewolf, attacking someone … at the thought of him being shoved to the ground and arrested, his big arms roughly handcuffed behind his back, being hauled away, probably laughing the whole time like the puffed up bad guy that he was. Steve bit his lip. Bucky might've been a criminal, but he sure did make it look good.

“One of my betas broke pack policy. I had to teach him a lesson. I dominated him and made sure the cops saw me doing it.” Bucky bared his teeth in a wolfish smile, and Steve frowned when he realized that he was getting kind of turned on by the thought of Bucky "dominating" someone. “What’re you thinkin’ about there, Honey?” Bucky asked quietly. He gave a pointed inhale, letting Steve know that his reactions were noticeable. “Oh. You got a werewolf kink?”

Steve scowled. “So you what,” he deflected, “you shot someone?”

Bucky really did smile then, a sly and menacing grin growing on his face at Steve’s obvious interest. He sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees, shoulders and arms flexing purposefully. “Shot?” he repeated, amused. “Oh no, Steve. This was pack business. When I put someone in my pack in their place, I do it the old fashioned way.” He cracked his tattooed knuckles, forearms flexing. “You seem like a very optimistic, civic-minded kinda guy. A good student, earnest, squeaky clean. Want to go work for the FBI, be a superstar agent bringing down the bad guys.” He hummed in satisfaction as he saw Steve’s face flush with added embarrassment. “Hmm, yeah. Thought so. You’re a real goody two shoes, aren'tcha? Still believe in the system.” Steve’s lips pressed together tightly, and Bucky laughed at him. “That’s alright, boy. I won’t hold it against you."

"I'm not a boy."

"How old did you say you were?”

Steve resisted answering, but Bucky’s unwavering stare wore him down. “Twenty-six,” he muttered, flushing even worse when the older man chuckled at his age, like it compounded the joke that he already thought Steve was.

“Twenty-six, right.” His eyes locked on Steve’s and he tilted his head. “So you probably don’t know this, big boy, but that bitch they call the ‘criminal justice system’? She just loves to exercise her full and prejudicial might on my kind. Can always be depended on to steamroll us with trumped up charges, no matter how petty the actual crime.”

Steve scowled and firmed his shoulders. “So what? You’re trying to tell me you’re totally innocent? Is that it?”

For a split second, Bucky’s eyes flashed yellow, his expression darkening. “The ‘deadly weapon’? That was my teeth. And the ‘indecent exposure’ was my shift back to skin, in public. Didn’t exactly have a choice, what with the handful of panicked cops pointing their guns straight at me, screamin’ and threatening to shoot, ya know?” He huffed and shook his head. “Anyway, it worked. Got me right where I needed to be.” He patted the side of the concrete stool where he was sitting, the sound echoing flatly in the tiny cell.

Steve squinted at the guy, wondering if he actually had a few screws loose or something. “You knew it then. Knew you’d be getting out eventually.”

Bucky nodded.

“You knew it might take years? And you still threw yourself in?”

Another nod.

Steve scoffed. “That is so dumb.”

“You don’t know what I’d do for my people, Steve,” Bucky spat, venomous, and Steve was reminded that the man was a dangerous gangster who shouldn’t be fucked with. “We’re persecuted at every turn, and if I had to give up a couple years of my life to get them their freedom, then so be it. We have ways of doing things. Loyalty actually means something to Haită."

Steve still didn’t see how being in prison could be any more effective than being out of prison, but he knew he needed to stop asking so many questions. He needed to make himself as unobtrusive and inoffensive as possible. “Why are you here?” he asked, suddenly remembering the Warden in the next cell over. He glanced over his shoulder at the cinderblock wall separating the cells.

“He’s not there,” Bucky said, and Steve turned back around. “He’s been taken away. With the others.”

Steve gulped. That might be a good thing for him, but it certainly couldn’t mean good news for the Warden. “Did you kill him?” he asked. “He has a family, you know. A daughter in middle school. He told me.”

“Well then perhaps he should’ve considered his values better when he was making career choices.”

“Prisons need wardens, Bucky.”

“He didn’t have to treat us the way he did, Steve. Nobody did.” Bucky pointed at his own neck. “You see this?”

At first, Steve thought he was pointing at his tattoos, the winding tails of the oskals that came up onto his neck, but then he followed the direction of Bucky’s finger more closely and saw what he was really pointing at. There was a ring of what looked like old scar tissue all around the Alpha's neck, white and mottled against the natural tan of his skin.

“The shock collars they put on us,” he said nastily. “You’ve seen those?”

Steve nodded, feeling sick. “Th-they’re a failsafe,” he said, weakly echoing the words of the Warden from earlier. “They have to, cause you guys are so strong.”

“Doesn’t mean they have to use silver, now does it?”

Steve’s stomach did something very unpleasant. “What?” His eyes flicked back to Bucky’s neck. “Silver?” he breathed, grossed out at the thought of how inhumane that would be. He knew as well as anyone else did that werewolves were allergic to the stuff. “No,” he said. “N-no, I’ve seen them. They’re iron.”

“Iron-silver alloy,” Bucky growled, face ugly from his rage. “Not enough to make us sick, mind you. Just enough to burn twenty four-seven, tipped just past the threshold of what our bodies can keep up with, so that the skin stays raw.” He sneered when he saw Steve’s wan expression. “That’s right. My neck healed into this within an hour of having it off. Look at the others. You’ll see the same.”

Steve kept his mouth shut, mostly because Bucky was so mad that his eyes were back to flashing yellow. Steve had never seen a werewolf transform and he really didn’t want today to be that day. “Are you going to kill me?” he asked instead, sticking his chin out so that Bucky wouldn’t think he was afraid (he was, but the not-knowing was worse than anything else). Steve wondered how long he’d been asleep for, in the cell. He wondered if anyone had tried to contact the prison yet and realized it was shut down. Help might be close, or it might be far, far away. “Well? What are you gonna do?”

Bucky stood from the stool, looking frustrated. Steve shrank back on instinct, unable to fake bravery as well when the massive man was looming right there in front of him, tattooed arms crossed over his chest. “I have to make an example of you,” he said. “But how that goes depends entirely on you.” He stepped closer, reaching out to brush a strand of Steve’s bangs away from his forehead. Steve flinched and Bucky’s mouth twitched up at the corner. “I spoke with Batroc, you know. He told me how you were ready to fight to the death, armed with nothin’ but a little stubby pencil. That’s cute.” Steve scowled and jerked away, and Bucky let his hand drop with a sigh. “Look, I appreciate your fire, Steve. I do. I wish I’d met you somewhere else. This wasn’t the place to go copping an attitude with people.”

“Excuse me for not wanting to die.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Oh please. You’re not going to die. I’m hoping not to have to hurt you very much at all. But like I said: that’s gonna depend on you.”

“‘Much at all’? What the fuck does that mean?!”

Bucky gave him a long look, his eyes dragging up and down his body not once, but twice. Steve flushed as he saw the alpha’s gaze lingering on the stain at the front of his pants, eyes dark. “You being omega complicates things,” he said. “The men all know, now. I’ll be expected to do something about it.”

“What?” Steve growled. “I thought you were their leader. Why d’you have to do anything?!”

Bucky’s lip curled meanly. “You’re the one who had to go opening your big mouth, telling them you’re here to study them, that you want to be a fed, talking down to them. What did you think was going to happen? Now I have to put you in your place. I have to. You understand?”

Steve didn’t know what that meant, but he was sure he wasn’t going to like it. “What are you gonna do?” he asked again, voice coming out weaker than before.

“I’ll claim you,” Bucky grunted. “So that no one else will.”

Steve felt his face go red. “You mean rape me,” he hissed.

“I mean claim you,” Bucky growled, taking a threatening step forward but stopping when he could see that it scared Steve. He huffed, turning and running his hands through his hair in frustration. “There’s things about our kind, things you don’t understand. It’s—” he cut himself off, jaw ticking in displeasure. “I’m sorry, kid. You won’t like it, but if I don’t do it, then you’re free game for the others. And they won’t hesitate.”

“I thought they had to listen to you,” Steve snapped. “You’re their Alpha. Their fuckin’ Lupului. Why can’t you just—”

“Don’t throw around words you don’t understand, boy,” Bucky grit out. “I’m their Alpha, yes, but if I don’t have a claim then I have no right to stop them.” He looked Steve in the eye. “Power is earned in a pack, not absolute. We respect each other. We follow the rules and traditions of our people. I can’t go breaking them for you.”

Steve was quiet, feeling smaller and more helpless than he had in a long time. He hated it. “Well … … what would they do?” he asked. “To me? If you didn’t?”

Bucky ‘tsked’ and looked away. He wouldn’t meet Steve’s eyes, which in itself was a horrible answer. Eventually, he quietly admitted, “We don’t kill omegas, Steve. You understand? It’s a combination of chivalry and … other things.”

“What other things?”

He sighed. “You’re near non-existent in the human population and dwindling in ours. With pack, it’s ‘waste not, want not’.”

Steve went stock still. Ohfuck. Ohhhfuckfuckfuck. “Well I’m not in your pack,” he said, even more scared than he was before. “Bucky. I’m not in your pack!”

Bucky met his eyes, and Steve did not like what he saw there: challenge, mixed with a tiny bit of sorrow. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re just human.”

“What are you gonna do?” Steve hissed, scooting forward to the edge of the bed when Bucky made to leave the cell. “Hey!”

Bucky turned back at the doorway, a warning look on his face. “It’s like I said, Steve. We have ways of doing things. I don’t get to choose them and neither do you. Just,” he looked down, regretful, “just do what I tell you and you’ll be fine.” He sounded sorry for Steve, and that, more than anything, scared the shit out of him. Bucky slid the cell door closed with a loud clang and turned away.

“Hey, wait! Hang on a sec. Bucky. Bucky!” Bucky walked away, and Steve’s calls went unanswered.

They came to get him what felt like hours later, but Steve had no way of telling time in there. It was Dum Dum and one other guy who opened the door and told him to get up. Neither one of them said much, just escorted him brusquely down the hallways and out to a big room in gen pop. They’d made their way over to C block, Steve thought, his heart sinking as he realized what this meant.

The werewolves had gained control of the entire prison.

There were pack members all around the edges of the room’s large common area, Bucky once again sitting in a chair like it was some sort of throne. C-block’s usual human prisoners were nowhere to be seen. This part of the complex was the lower security area, its inmates allowed to roam the large dayroom freely. Bucky was sitting facing the room of assembled people. Steve’s eyes flicked about, hastily scanning the room and taking in the scene that awaited him. The captured prison guards were all there, and while it was a relief to see that so many of them were still breathing, their present condition didn’t do much to bolster Steve’s hopes for escape.

They’d been stripped to their skivvies and made to sit in the center of the common space, facing Bucky and his throne. They all wore the werewolves’ shock collars around their necks, with handcuffs looped over the collars in front so that they couldn’t lower their arms. Steve caught sight of two werewolf inmates off to one side who were busy going through the guards’ confiscated clothes, sorting everything into piles. Oddly enough, though, Steve noticed that the officers had all kept their work badges—they’d been clipped to their undershirts (or bra straps; there were several female officers present). Some of the wolves stood nearby holding guns and other weapons at the ready, but many of the pack seemed relaxed. Eager for a show, perhaps, as they stood in groups, smoking and murmuring excitedly amongst themselves.

Things quieted down once Steve was brought in. It was eerie, like they’d all been waiting for him. A collar was quickly produced and locked around his neck, though his hands were left uncuffed. And nobody made a move to strip him of his mortifyingly-soiled clothing. How fucking lenient, he thought bitterly. The collar was heavy and uncomfortable—though not as uncomfortable as it’d apparently been for the wolves. A few surreptitious glances around, and Steve could see the proof of what Bucky had claimed: All of the werewolves had that same ring of scar tissue around their necks, the skin pale and thickened, mottled from years of having the inescapable burn of silver against their bodies. Steve gulped and looked ahead to where Bucky sat, wondering if he really intended to use the collars on them; shock them to give them all a taste of their own medicine.

The Alpha hardly spared Steve a glance as he was walked over to the group. Dumdum pulled him to a stop and pressed down roughly on his shoulder, forcing his knees to buckle and his ass to hit the floor hard. Steve grunted and folded his legs in, glancing self-consciously around at the other captives. A few people’s eyes flicked his way, but anybody who looked over quickly returned their attention to Bucky, who sat ahead of them with an unmistakable air of authority.

Steve was struck by the inappropriate urge to laugh at the bizarre picture they all made: sitting cross-legged and meek in a circle on the floor in front of Bucky, like the world’s most fucked up class of Kindergarteners in front of their teacher. He quickly shut down the panicked bubble of humor in his gut, somehow knowing that if he dared to laugh right now, he might not be able to stop. He might cry. And doing either of those things couldn’t achieve much besides making things worse for himself.

He held onto Bucky’s promise that he wouldn’t be killed, though he also knew he shouldn’t put so much stock in a criminal’s word. Even if it was true, Steve still wasn’t looking forward to watching other people’s brains get splattered over the jailhouse floor. He’d never seen a man die before, had never even seen a person get shot in real life.

Since his hands were free, he wrang them anxiously in his lap, twisting his fingers over and over again to try and ground himself and stay calm. He could at least be grateful that he wasn’t cuffed and stripped like the others, could at least take comfort in the fact that he’d been plopped down towards the back of the group. And Bucky’s attention was on the officers, first and foremost.

“Judgment day, fellas,” he said from up front, his tone chipper. Some of the guards scowled, but most of them just looked scared shitless. Not one of them said a word. Steve spotted the Warden sitting off to one side and tried to catch his eye, but he had no success as Bucky kept on talking. “Now, I know most of you fine officers possess the sort of intellect rivaled only by garden tools, but I’m sure it doesn’t need explaining why you’re sitting here in front of me.” He gestured around the room, to all of the other wolves present. “We’re going to have a little sharing session. Don’t worry, everybody gets a turn. You see, I’m affording you something which you’ve long-denied us: the right to a speedy trial.”

Several of the guards visibly reacted, the metal links of their cuffs clinking against the collars as they shifted in place nervously.

“You’ll each come up, one by one, plead your case, and then I’ll open the floor to any of my men who might have something to say about you. And then at the end of all that, I’ll pass judgement. Sentencing will be carried out immediately. But before we jump into that, a quick demonstration." He held up a large remote control of some sort. Steve didn’t recognize it, but the guards definitely did. They all started reacting fearfully. Steve found out why when Bucky pressed the buttons on the remote.

Everyone shouted and convulsed, hands rattling in their cuffs, grappling at the collars as if they could pry them off. A majority of them even collapsed from the pain as they screamed and shook. Steve just sat there watching as it dragged out for several long seconds. His eyes met Bucky’s from across the room, shocked.

Bucky’s expression was stoic, but his eyes gleamed. See, they said. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.

Steve gulped, the extent of that promise had yet to be proven, but he was sure as shit glad that his collar wasn’t one of the ones activated. Bucky had only put it on him for appearances, he realized. This helped to quell his fear just a little bit. The prisoners stopped seizing when Bucky pressed the remote again. Slowly, one by one, they righted themselves back up to sitting, their breathing still laboured as they recovered from the pain. Steve heard a few of them whimpering or cursing quietly.

“There,” Bucky said. “Just a little taste of what you all shocked us with all the time. And at a significantly lower voltage, I might add.” He shot them a saccharine smile. “Any questions before we begin effecting justice?”

The guards shifted around, afraid. One of them blustered out angrily, “You’re making a big mistake! They’ll put all you dogs down for this!”

Bucky’s response was to roll his eyes. “Oh, a dog comment. How original.” He gestured at the man who’d yelled out, and one of the wolves standing nearby promptly went over and pointed his gun right at the man's head. “Thanks for volunteering to go first, Officer …” Bucky peered at the man’s work badge to check the name. “Rollins. Perfect. Come on up, pal. It’s your time to shine.”

The man was dragged up to the front of the room and forced down to his knees in front of Bucky, the gun still pointed at his head. He was shaking, his anger-fueled bravery having diminished. Bucky, for his part, seemed totally relaxed. Dum-Dum approached and handed the Alpha a tablet. Bucky took it, scrolling down the screen with his finger until he found what he was looking for. “Alright. Down to business. So here we’ve got Officer Jackson Rollins. Goes by ‘Jack’. How are you doing today, Jackie-boy?”

The man said nothing to Bucky, just held his gaze for a few tense seconds before going back to glaring at the floor.

Bucky ‘tsked’. “That’s okay. Everybody’s nervous their first time, huh?” He referenced the tablet again and read off, “Let’s see … Officer ‘doggy jokes’-Rollins has been a corrections officer with the Federal Bureau of Prisons siiince … ooh, twenty-eleven, impressive. So you’re old hat at this, huh? Twelve years on the job. And eight of those at our Pen? Hmm …” Bucky slouched back in his chair as he read through the man’s employment records, scrolling through the pages. “Looks like you’ve got a pristine record, never been written up. Even earned yourself a couple’a promotions.” Bucky whistled like he was impressed, making Rollins glower all the more. “And you’ve been assigned shifts to either the Hole or else D block exclusively since you got here. Says here you came on a requested transfer.” Bucky’s eyes flicked up to Rollins. “To work with were pop. Says you ‘specialize’ in it.” Rollins’ jaw ticked, like he was working hard not to snap anything back in response. Bucky’s mouth slid sideways. He let the tablet drop back to his lap. “Well, you didn’t get your defense off to the best start, calling us ‘dogs’. Is there anything you’d like to add before I let the prosecution take their whack at you?”

Rollins remained tight-lipped, saying nothing.

“Suit yourself. Does anyone else have anything to share about Corrections Officer Rollins?” Bucky asked loudly. “Could be positive or negative. Fellow officers, please don’t be shy, feel free to raise a hand. You’re welcome to participate in your coworkers' trials.” At the word ‘trials’ Rollins sneered and audibly scoffed. Bucky’s eyes sharpened back onto him. He flung his hand outwards. “Any of my men who’d like to testify, step right on up.”

Steve felt halfway ill as he watched some of the wolves muttering and nudging each other. A handful of them began to head for the front of the room to “testify.” Steve knew Bucky was only using all the hijacked legalese to mock the officers further, rub salt in the wound that he held all of the power now, and that he was going to mete out his own version of justice to the guards that’d done him and his kind wrong. One by one, the wolves stepped up and aired their grievances.

When it was all said and done, no less than a dozen stories had been told about how Rollins had hurt, abused, or otherwise mistreated them. A few weren’t much more than petty anecdotes and unfairnesses, but the rest, well … Steve could feel his faith in the criminal justice system crumbling faster than waterlogged sand, and Rollins himself looked ready to faint after the last two horrible stories were finished being told. There were accusations of crimes that Steve hadn’t thought a prison guard could get away with, and certainly not in this day and age. Rollins wasn't just cruel, he was creatively cruel.

Bucky ordered him brought to his feet. “Officer J. Rollins,” he said, referencing the tablet's screen. “I have here the complete federal crimes list, under titles 18 and 26 of the US penal code. And golly-gee, you qualify for a few of ‘em.”

Rollins screwed up his face and spat on the floor. “You’re not the judge of me, you fuckin’ filthy animal.”

Bucky blinked at him for a long moment, before he cracked up laughing. It was a hearty laugh and went on for a good few seconds, so it was all the more alarming when he very suddenly stopped, all emotion evaporating from his face. “You know it really kind of seems like I am.” He looked back down and read off, “This court finds you guilty of the charges of aggravated assault, felony sexual battery, extortion, federal civil rights violations against incarcerated citizens, perjury, hate crimes, obstruction—oh! and torture.” He looked back up and fixed Rollins with a steely gaze. “For the commission of these crimes, I hereby sentence you to death.”

Rollins looked sick, but after a few seconds his sweaty brow began to contort back into a panicked fury. He opened his mouth to say something—ostensibly nasty, but Bucky silenced him with nothing more than a somber shake of the head. “I want you to know that my associate over here,” he pointed to Dum Dum. “Is recording these proceedings. We’ve got video and audio going. After my men take you to be executed, complete records will be left behind of what you’ve done, and of what was done to you.” He sat back in his chair. “Drax, Killmonger. Take him.”

Two of the biggest—and scariest—looking wolves approached to grab Rollins’ arms. For a second, it appeared as if the guard would fight. But the men grabbing him were strong, and Bucky shut any further protest down when he warned, “You can go out one of two ways, Mr. Rollins. You go easily, you get a nice bullet to the back of the head. But if you make trouble? Well then you’ll get the honor of a traditional pack execution.”

Steve felt his guts sink with dread, while up front, Rollins scowled. “The fuck does that mean, you freak?”

Bucky smiled, his eyes flashing yellow and teeth partially shifting until they were large and wrong in his mouth. “It means I rip your stomach out in ritual slaughter,” he slurred around his too-big canines, “and my pack takes turns eating little bits of you.” His teeth shrank again, though not quite back to normal. There was still a sharpness to his grin as he asked, “Have you ever seen a gunshot wound to the gut, Officer? I’ll bet you have. I’ll bet you know just how nasty those can be. Now picture the same, but with teeth. A full disembowelment. Lying there, watching a bunch of dogs feast on your innards while you die. It can take minutes till you actually lose consciousness, you know.” His grin widened and he began to purr, the sound emanating up—low and inhuman—from somewhere deep in his chest. Steve had always thought of a purr as something sweet, but this one sounded anything but. “I’ll bet we could draw that out even longer,” Bucky threatened. “Since some of my men have always liked to play with their food, animals that they are.”

Steve inhaled sharply and the people around him gasped as Bucky did something with his face—something monstrous, some sort of seconds-long horror show that made his face roil and move like clay. His bones were shifting beneath the skin, disturbing and wrong, like the heave and pull of the earth before an earthquake broke ground. It was over as soon as it’d begun, the alpha’s face smoothing back out to normal, but it was still terrifying to witness. Up front, Rollins was stock still, his shoulders gone so tense that he almost seemed to vibrate in fear.

… And then the scent of piss hit Steve's nostrils. The two massive wolves at either side of Rollins began dragging him away. He didn’t fight, seeming to have gone into some sort of shocked state, legs moving like stiff rubber that would collapse at any second. Steve couldn’t blame him, not when the guy knew he was being hauled off for execution. Once Rollins was gone, Steve looked to the spot where he’d been standing. A small puddle of urine was on the floor. As messed up as that was, and as disturbed as Steve perhaps should’ve been by it, he still took a small amount of consolation from the fact that now he at least wasn’t the only one to have wet themselves in front of Bucky, in one manner or another.

He glanced down to his own lap where the spot from his release remained, dried and lightened but still there. He could still remember the way that Bucky’s pupils had dilated when Steve had lost control in front of him, how he’d leant forward and licked his lips, excited, nostrils flaring at the scent of Steve’s body’s submission. He’d cupped Steve’s face, spoken so tenderly: “Oh, Sweetheart. You’re going to be fun.”

Steve gulped as he felt his body reacting to just the memory of it. Fuck. That had been one of the most humiliating moments of his life. How on earth would he survive more? And what did Bucky mean, when he said he’d “claim” Steve in front of the pack? Steve had a few good guesses that he was trying hard not to think about, but there was no time to let the dread of anticipation build, because his attention was jarringly brought back to the present by the ‘bang!’ of a single gunshot ringing out.

It came from beyond the room, reverberating loudly through the prison’s corridors of steel and concrete. Minutes later, the two big men named Drax and Killmonger returned, sans Rollins. Apropos of his name, Killmonger had quite a bit of blowback on his body, Rollins’ blood sprayed on him from hand to head. This seemed to be enough to really drum the reality of the situation home in the rest of the captives’ minds. In front of Steve, a lot more of the bodies started to tremble.

By the time a second man named Rumlow, and then a third named Sitwell, had been hauled to the front and “tried,” there were a few captives in the circle who sat silently crying, a few visibly praying. Steve felt ill. Bucky was showing no mercy. Three people had been summarily executed within the past thirty minutes, and there were still almost two dozen prison guards plus the Warden left to go! Would he kill all of them? Even the women? Steve wasn’t sure he’d be able to sit still and keep his mouth shut through that. Not to be a misogynist or anything (the four female officers looked like they were doing a better job at keeping their shit together than many of their male counterparts), but Steve knew he wasn’t going to be able to sit there and just watch while women were hurt. Like he’d explained to his overprotective friends, back at the college: it wasn’t about whether you could win a fight, it was about being willing to try. Steve flinched as the third kill shot rang out from somewhere in the near distance of the prison. In front of him, one of the officers whimpered.

These people didn’t deserve to die this way. No one did.

It was hard to get past the charges though—the awful things that the werewolves all came up and testified to, one by one. The things that Rollins, Rumlow, and Sitwell had done went beyond mere harassment or dereliction of duty. They were crimes of cruelty and vindictiveness. Steve didn’t get the feeling that any of the wolves who stepped up to tell their stories of abuse were lying or even exaggerating. Their words rang true in their bitterness and contempt, their eyes seething with a darkness the likes of which only years of long-repressed, impotent fury could produce. It was an electric sort of anger, shared among them as a group, heavy in the air like static, like ozone. Enough to make the hairs on the back of one’s neck stand up. Steve thought that he’d probably be peeing his pants, too, if it were him on the receiving end of that anger.

According to the “charges” that were read and the stories that were told, Steve deduced that Bucky had purposefully chosen those three men to go first, as they were seriously abusive; their crimes ranging from beatings, to sexual assault, to what probably constituted torture, if Steve was remembering the statutes of US criminal code correctly. Either way, he heard a few nasty stories that he really wished he hadn’t, and that was about the time when he started trying to zone out. Maybe if he just looked down at his knees and focused on the in and out of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, maybe then he could drown some of it out.

He was more than a little surprised when, after that third gunshot and third return of the increasingly blood-spattered Killmonger, Bucky called off the executions and announced to the room that they’d gotten “the worst of the worst” out of the way, and that, barring serious misbehavior or disrespect now, all the other officers could rest secure in the knowledge that they would not lose their lives that day. Their crimes, he said, were not “capital offenses.”

Things moved faster after that. One by one, the guards were brought up to the front and accused of heaping various cruelties and indignities upon the inmates. All of them were found guilty and swiftly sentenced. Bucky had his men break a few bones and punch a few faces of the heavier offenders, but the majority of the remaining officers received only verbal abuse from Bucky and his men; tongue lashings about their character, taunts of the career-ending details that would soon be reaching the authorities.

Bucky’s plan, Steve learned, wasn’t just to get his men in this prison free, but also to negotiate the release of wolves held illegally in other prisons, or at the very least, improve the conditions of their incarceration. There were both audio and video recordings of this entire process, Bucky gleefully informed them, copies of which would not only be left on site at the prison to be recovered, but also taken along with the pack and disseminated to the media, afterwards. This wouldn’t be covered up, Bucky warned them. People were going to find out the truth, and no anonymity would be granted.

After each of their sentencings, each of the guards were led back to one of two barred holding cells. The women lucked out in being the minority, only the four of them had to share one cell. Whilst the men were packed into the second one like a bunch of sardines, nearly twenty bodies in a space meant for two. By the time the last officer had been locked up, it was just Steve and the Warden left sitting before Bucky, all of the wolves encircled around them.

Steve looked over and caught the Warden’s eye. The man was stone faced, his jawline tight and ticking from the clench of his teeth. He probably still expected to die. Steve expected it, too. After the first three offenders had been executed and the lesser offenders locked up, Steve just assumed that the Warden was being saved for last; a grande finale, so to speak. He had a niggling worry that he might be about to witness the so-called “ritual slaughter” that Bucky had spoken of.

The Warden was brought up and glared daggers at Bucky as he was forced to his knees in front of him. Bucky drummed his fingers against the armrests of his chair. “You’re the one responsible for these people,” he told him. “You knew about what was going on and did nothing to stop it. You erased our complaints, made sure that we had no avenue for recourse. You sat on your ass while your men raped and tortured us, beat us, humiliated us for shits and giggles.” The Warden didn’t say anything, didn’t try to deny it, and that seemed to piss Bucky off even worse. “I hear you have children huh?” he growled, eyes narrowed. “A family? I’ve got no idea what you tell yourself when you go home at night and eat your dinner, watch the game, fuck your wife, kiss your kids goodnight. Whatever it is, it ain’t gonna pass muster, now. Your face’ll be plastered all over the news in a few days’ time, right next to mine. Congratulations, Warden. You’re about to become the poster child for prison corruption in this country. Bigotry. Hate crimes. Ugly.” He leant forward and traced the side of the Warden’s face in a mockery of a caress. “When your family holds your funeral? When your wife wears mourning colors and sits and cries in the front row? It’ll be ten times worse. Because she’ll have to sit in the shame of what you were and what you did. I hope her skin crawls, when she’s given the chance to lay that folded flag on your coffin.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, smug. “Not that there’ll be enough left of you to warrant a coffin. You have to pay for what you’ve done.”

“I never hurt anyone,” the Warden spat.

“Don’t play the culpability card with me. You’ve already lost the game and earned yourself the sfărâmarea morții.”

The Warden’s spine stiffened. Steve couldn’t see his face from where he was sitting, but he’dve had to be an idiot not to sense the terror radiating off the man. Steve could pretty much deduce what sfărâmarea morții meant. Only one thing worse than a bullet to the back of the head had been mentioned that day. The only thing worse than a sudden death, was a slow one, and Steve’s heart sank as he realized that there was going to be a grand finale, after all.

In front of him, the Warden was blustering, “What? No. Y-you can’t!”

Bucky’s men were already stepping in closer, the circle tightening. Steve gulped as they moved past him and closer to the Warden, snarling and rumbling deep in their chests. Bucky’s eyes turned yellow and stayed that way. He stood up from his chair and started to undress. He pulled off his undershirt and flung it aside, bearing his tattooed chest. All of him was corded in muscle, honed and thick in the way only years of jail yard exercises could do. All of the wolves copied Bucky, pulling off their shirts and going for their jumpsuit pants. That’s when Steve realized that they were stripping down to shift. They were going to shift right then and there and rip the Warden to shreds!

“Wait!”

His voice rang out, abnormally loud in the echochamber of the cellblock. Bucky looked at him, eyes still yellow and claws halfway formed on his hands. He looked a little … hairier, than he had been moments ago. He snarled at Steve through overgrown teeth. “He dies. I’ve been lenient to all the others. But he has to die.”

Steve’s heart was beating fast with panic. He didn’t know what to say, he just knew that he couldn’t sit by and let a man be eaten alive. He just couldn’t. “Keep him hostage!” Steve blurted, the first thing he could grab onto in his panicked jumble of thoughts. “Take him with you!”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “And why should I do that?”

“Y-you said it yourself: how he’s the poster child for corruption. You want to ruin his image, you can do that even better if you keep him alive. You can … you can use him for leverage! To get things to change at the other prisons!” Bucky paused at that argument, tilting his head thoughtfully. Steve felt buoyed. “You could still kill him any time,” he encouraged. “But it doesn’t have to be now. Not when he’s still useful.” Licking his lips nervously, he used Bucky’s own words against him: “‘Waste not, want not’, right?”

Bucky’s face smoothed over, though his claws and teeth remained out on display. Steve was trying very hard not to look at his naked chest, or lower. Bucky was sporting an erection beneath his clothes, as were many of the other wolves. Steve tried to console himself with the idea that it was part of an aggression reaction, but he wasn’t so sure about that. Around the circle, the wolves were growling, impatient, wanting revenge. Bucky held his hand up and stayed them all. “The boy’s right. Killing the guards is one thing, but the media’ll turn him into a martyr if we kill him. I don’t want the hassle of hostages. We’re going to be on the move, once we leave here. He’ll only slow us down. Better to let him rot with his buddies for a couple’a days.” Several of the wolves growled loudly in displeasure, gnashing their teeth in half-shifted faces. Bucky growled louder than all of them. “We leave him alive!”

“Boss!”

“At least let us break his legs!”

Bucky shut them all up with another growl. “You don’t give the orders here!”

Steve gulped, the dread in his stomach unknotting. His relief was temporary, however, because the wolves discarded the Warden like an old chew toy and turned on him, instead. Steve fell back with a yelp, scooching away on his butt and hands.

“What about him?” one of the wolves growled, another two right alongside him, leering down at Steve. “I think we found our new haită cățea.”

Okay, Steve did recognize that one, and he felt the blood leave his face at being called the pack bitch as these men cornered him. “Hey boy,” one of them said. “You ever sucked werewolf dick before?” They all kept coming closer, reaching for Steve, but before any of them could touch him, Bucky called out,

“Enough!”

The wolves stopped in their tracks and turned to face the Alpha. Bucky glared at them through his half-shifted face. “This one’s mine. Noone touches him but me.” Steve swallowed heavily, feeling faint from his relief.

“He’s fair game!” the same wolf growled, the others snarling their agreement. “You haven’t laid claim! That’s not Pack law.”

Bucky stood from his chair, furious. He looked like he’d grown taller, bigger. He stalked over to the three challenging wolves and got in the one’s face, the one who’d asked Steve if he’d ever sucked werewolf dick. “Back the fuck off, Batroc,” Bucky snarled, “Unless you’d like to get fucked, first.”

Batroc looked livid, but he did back down. He glanced at Steve and sneered. “You haven’t claimed him. You may be Alpha, James, but you still don’t have the right to deny us free meat when it’s available.”

“Yeah! Either claim him or hand him over!”

Bucky snarled so fiercely, Steve was halfway convinced that he’d attack the other wolf. Batroc shrank back at the threat and bared his neck in fear, the other wolves following suit when they could see how close Bucky was to getting violent. Bucky looked over his shoulder to where Dum Dum stood.

Dum Dum shrugged regretfully. “Pack has a right to ‘im if you don’t claim, Alpha.”

Bucky growled in frustration and grabbed Steve’s arm. He yanked him up to standing and dragged him back to the chair. He sat down and shoved Steve to the floor between his legs. “Make no mistake, then. This omega is mine.” He ran a rough hand through Steve’s hair. Steve fought not to recoil, but even if he had, he knew Bucky would just pull him right back in.

Bucky had his legs spread wide, and this close up, Steve could smell all of his aggression and arousal—the latter of which pressed angrily against the front of his jumpsuit pants, making Steve’s heart quicken in trepidation. He could see exactly where this was going, now, and figured he shouldn’t be surprised. He still remembered what Bucky had said to him before:

“You gonna make me suck you off, is that it?”

“Not quite yet, little guy.”

‘Not quite yet’ wasn’t exactly a ‘no’, now was it? Steve gasped without meaning to, when he felt Bucky’s fingers card through his hair and to hold on to it. He used the grip to force Steve’s face down against his crotch, and Steve whined in mortification as he felt Bucky’s erection through the clothes. Fuck, he seemed big. He couldn’t be that big, could he? The fact that Steve could feel his own body reacting to the treatment—warming, pulsing, getting wet—only made him whine harder. “Bucky,” he breathed, afraid to talk any louder, lest the other wolves hear him. “Please.”

“Shhh.” Bucky held his head down firmly, rubbing Steve’s face on his crotch even more than before. It was a show of his dominance, quite obviously. Steve didn’t have to be a werewolf to figure that much out. He knew it, just like he knew that the next words Bucky spoke were part of a display put on for his men, to show them who Steve belonged to. “I claim him now, in front of the whole Pack. This omega belongs to me, and anyone who challenges that, challenges me as their Alpha.” Around the room, the wolves all growled. But it had a different timbre to it this time, less angry and more satisfied. Eager. These were growls of agreement. Steve’s guts churned as Bucky pushed his face against the straining line of his dick. “Feel that?” he rumbled. “That’s all for you, boy.”

Goddamnit. It shouldn’t turn him on to hear that, it shouldn’t. But things low in Steve’s belly twisted and squirmed at Bucky’s tone of voice and his rough hold. He squirmed and fought back, because fighting back was in his blood and he couldn’t not do it, but his protests were only met with more dominance. Bucky grabbed his hair cruelly and wrenched his head to the side, smooshing Steve’s cheek against his thigh, head pinned and unable to do anything but watch as the Alpha used his other hand to shove his pants and underwear down. His cock sprang free, and Steve’s eyes all but bugged out of his head. “Oh … shit.”

Bucky’s dick was … fuck. He was ten inches if he was eight, stupid-big, veined and uncut, thick and dark and tapered at the head like a … like a …

Steve keened, the sound coming out of him unbidden; an omega reacting to an Alpha. Bucky purred smugly at the reaction and pet his hair while Steve tried to grapple with the reality that that thing was going to be going inside at least one of his orifices.

Above him, Bucky laughed. “Aw, is this your first time, baby? Never seen one’a these before?”

Steve grit his teeth to resist the next mewl that wanted to come. It ached where he held it back in his throat, trying not to let it out, not to let Bucky know how much he was responding to this. Steve had seen an alpha’s dick before, okay? He watched porn like everyone else. But he only knew a little bit about werewolf alphas. He had no clue if Bucky’s dick always looked like this, or if it went along with his aggression, with the partial shift that he was letting take over other specific parts of his body: eyes, teeth, nails … and apparently cock. The angry length of it rested heavy in his hand as he gave himself slow, easy strokes. The foreskin moved up and down over the tapered head, and at the base was the intimidating bulge of his knot.

Human alphas had them too, but Steve had only ever watched it in porn. He’d never been with an Alpha, because they were just as rare as omegas in the human population. And even then, Steve knew they didn’t have dicks like this. This was most definitely a werewolf thing. “Bucky,” he breathed, fearful and involuntarily turned on by the sight of the Alpha’s cock and what he knew it could do to him. If Bucky’s knot was this big while flaccid, how much bigger would it get? “Please,” he begged. “I–I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” Bucky purred down at him. He let go of himself to cradle Steve’s face, thumb swiping out and pulling his lower lip down. “You’ll take it like a champ. Cause you’re made for this. You’re made just right to take my big, fat cock inside of you. And you know it too, dontcha boy?”

That time, Steve didn’t hold back the sound that came unbidden. “Noo,” he moaned miserably, hating how weak and unconvincing the denial sounded. “No, no it’s not, I don’t.” Bucky chuckled at him and Steve whined and mewled as he tried one more time to pull away. But Bucky held firm, pulling him back in close with the grip on his jaw. He didn’t push Steve’s head back down against his thigh, but rather sat forward and bent over, putting their faces only centimeters apart.

“You do,” he whispered. “I know you do. Your body knows it too, Steve. I can smell that it does, can smell you wettin’ up back there.” Steve whimpered and Bucky hummed darkly. “Yeah. You know it’s been a while since I had an omega. I forgot just how sweet you all’s pussies smell when you get to creamin’ yourselves.”

In the watching group of werewolves, someone called out for Bucky to “Do it!” sounding enthusiastic.

“Breed him up!” another voice catcalled.

“Bitch ‘im!

Steve gasped as the hand on his jaw tightened its grip. Bucky sat back and took hold of his dick again tapping it against Steve’s cheek. It slid over his lips, musky and wet. The smell was overpowering, making Steve keen low in his throat and arch his back. In his underwear, he felt another gush of slick.

Bucky rumbled in satisfaction at the show of submission. He rubbed his cockhead firmly against the seam of Steve’s lips, spreading the precum around. “You like that, honey? Want more of that?”

Yes! Fuck it smells good. Wanna taste. Wanna feel it inside.

“Nnnh.” Steve squeezed his eyes shut to try and force the traitorous thoughts away, but it didn’t work. It was all just too much. He couldn’t stop his body from reacting. Bucky smelled too good—like alpha, like protector, like mate. The closer Steve pressed between Bucky’s thighs, the further away the jeering wolves at his back became. His inner omega wanted the safety it could find there, the warmth and the domination that this Alpha could give him. Instincts that Steve had spent years successfully ignoring came rushing to the forefront, clouding his mind and slicking his hole. He could feel it back there, just like Bucky said: underneath his clothes, aching for something to fill it, pulsing and leaking arousal to try and tempt the strong Alpha that it could sense was nearby.

Bucky spent a brief moment scenting him with his wrist, rubbing it on Steve’s neck. He gave Steve his scent and took Steve’s in return, and when he was done he played with the tender spot, kneading and pinching at the glands underneath the skin. Steve moaned at the feeling of it and found himself tipping forward without thought. He felt increasingly weak and helpless—just like he had the last time, right before he’d released in front of Bucky and all the others

Oh no, he thought. Please, please don’t let that happen again. Not here, not now. But his body continued to relax, and his mind continued to unravel into that loosened feeling of submission. As Bucky forced Steve’s face down and rubbed his cock and balls all over it, Steve could distantly hear the Alpha’s warm chuckle of, “S’allright, little one. We’ll getcha what you need.”

“Fuck, you smell ‘im? Little bitch is slicking up.”

“Look at his pants. Fuuck. He’s gushin’ for it.

“Can’t believe he hasn’t gone ass up already.”

“How much you wanna bet he squirts all over himself again?”

Steve’s eyes opened as some of the pack’s crude comments and jeers reached his ears. “Alpha,” he pleaded weakly up at Bucky. Bucky was stroking his cock from root to tip again, letting the tip brush over Steve’s mouth and chin. “Please,” Steve whispered, not even sure what he was begging for. “Don’t let them.”

“Not gonna let ‘em do a thing, Sweetheart. You just open up for me now, okay? C’mon, there you go. Open up for Alpha.” He held Steve’s jaw in one hand and guided his cock with the other, pressing, pressing, until Steve was forced to part his lips and take him inside. He cried out weakly, but the noise was hardly audible around the oppressive girth of Bucky’s cock. The fat head pushed over his tongue and soft palate, huge and overwhelming. Steve’s hands shot up to push away, but instead Steve somehow wound up holding onto him, grounding himself by digging his fingers into the meat of Bucky’s firm thighs, his thick waist. Bucky moaned as Steve took the first thrust into his mouth. “Oh, yeah. Good boy. Good fuckin’ boy.”

Steve struggled, choking on the full length of him buried to the hilt and invading his throat, but Bucky soon relented and kept his thrusts shallow. It was still a lot, and Steve drooled and moaned from how overwhelming and sloppy it was and how out of control he felt. Bucky held his head with both hands and murmured gentle encouragements the whole time, hips pulsing against Steve’s face. “Doin’ such a good job, ‘mega. Just keep it up, lemme in. Suck my dick so good, Sweetheart.”

“Mmphh.”

Bucky chuckled darkly. “That’s right. Go on and get your hand back there, now. Show me what I’m smelling. Show Alpha how good you’re feelin’.”

Steve was already lost in the pink-tinged haze of his submission, so it took him a minute to even figure out what Bucky was asking him to do. The flare of his embarrassment that came when he did realize what Bucky meant, was nearly eclipsed by the surge of arousal in his core. He whimpered and reached back, sliding his hand down the back of his pants and under his briefs, swiping through the mess between his cheeks. When he brought his hand back around for Bucky to see, Steve looked at it too. He groaned at the copious amount of slick on his fingers. Shame and heat curled together in his belly, intensifying when Bucky caught his wrist with a gutted moan and spent several moments just staring at it, his hips pushing deeper into Steve’s mouth and making him gag on tiny, wet little sounds.

“Oh God, baby. Lookit that. Fuck. Y’see? I told you. Body’s made for two things, boy; fuckin’ and puppin’.”

Steve keened with what little breath he had, pulling off of Bucky’s cock with a frantic whine, face burning, trying to get away. His mind was at complete odds with his body, and it terrified him how much the latter seemed to be winning. Steve wasn’t used to this kind of feeling. He was used to being able to control his urges, being able to put on a stiff upper lip and soldier past any behaviors that the occasional alpha on campus might throw his way. But this wasn’t the same as resisting alpha boys on campus. It wasn’t the same at all. Bucky wasn’t a boy, he was a man, a wolf, and Steve wanted the dominance that Bucky’s body could provide; that in itself was almost more upsetting than the fact that he was having his face fucked in front of an entire cell block of leering werewolves.

He tried again to pull back again, this time hard enough that Bucky’s cock actually slipped from his mouth entirely. But Bucky grabbed him—“Oh no you don’t. Get back here”—quickly pressing back inside, all the way to the hilt, until his knot was past Steve’s lips and Steve’s nose was buried in his pubic hair. “Shhh,” Bucky hushed, not letting up as Steve struggled and choked wetly on his cock. He kept his head forced down and petted his hair. “Sh sh sh. Just take it, little one. Calm down and let it happen. Let me in.”

Bucky’s unyielding hands felt so good, so right—and the moment Steve had that thought was about the same moment when he started to cry. Confused, sluggish tears began to trail down his cheeks, his mouth stuffed to the brim with cock and knot, his senses consumed by the scent of Alpha. He sobbed in humiliation, overwhelmed. He couldn’t do anything, couldn’t get away, couldn’t fight it. He was powerless.

His body sagged as he finally gave in, his sobs turning into pitiful moans. The release snuck up on him just like it had before. It rolled over him like a wave, growing more and more intense and then breaking and tapering back out, with only the wetness at the front of his pants left in its wake. He cried and moaned as he registered the warmth between his legs. All he could do was cry out little ‘ah ah ahn’ sounds as the release washed over him, and the Alpha responsible for it filled his senses completely.

Bucky suddenly gripped Steve tighter as his thighs tensed and his knot inflated. “Oh fuck, baby. Ohfuck …” Steve started to thrash in panic at the feeling, but Bucky leant over him and held him down, whispering calming words in his hair; telling him to breathe through his nose, that he could take it, that his body was made for this, just ride it out.

Steve shuddered at how overwhelming it all was, the tension relief from that second release still singing through his body. Between his legs, his cock was throbbing. He wanted to touch himself but didn’t dare make a move until Bucky’s knot went down. He just stayed there on his knees and kept his eyes shut, listening to Bucky’s voice as the Alpha touched him and praised him. “S’okay, s’okay. You’re gonna be okay, Stevie. So gorgeous. Just hang in there for me. Jus’ keep Alpha warm, keep Alpha right there inside. Feels so good, honey. So fuckin’ good … nnnh.”

He was buried too far back for Steve to really feel it when his dick started spurting, but Steve could feel the knot throbbing against his tongue as it pumped wave after wave of cum down his throat. He moaned and drooled at the feeling of being so small and trapped and possessed, the thought of Alpha using him, his belly filled with Alpha’s spend, body kept warm and wet, protected and wrung out for Alpha’s pleasure, always …

He was so deep in that primal, pink headspace that he whimpered in protest when it was over and Bucky was pulling gently out of his mouth. “Don’t swallow,” Bucky said firmly, an order which Steve obeyed mindlessly and blinked muzzy-lidded eyes up at him. Bucky held a hand out in front of his mouth. “Give me what you have.” Steve’s whole body flushed hot and his belly swirled as he obeyed and let what cum he had left fall to Bucky’s waiting palm. The Alpha rumbled deep in his chest. “Good boy.”

He proceeded to smear the cum all over Steve’s neck and shoulders, being sure to get the underside of his jaw and right his bonding glands. He seemed satisfied by his work when he sat back fully in the chair, eyes lazily raking over Steve’s kneeling form like he was considering what to do with him next. Against his thigh, his cock lay wet and soft … and human. Steve looked up: Bucky’s eyes had returned to normal, his claws were gone, the hair on his forearms and chest thinned back to normal. Steve sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and fought the urge to topple forward. If he hadn’t been so deep in his own head, he might’ve been outraged over the fact that Bucky had chosen to make him suck his dick in werewolf form. But as it was, Steve was having enough trouble just staying upright. He felt like needy, plaintive, overcooked spaghetti.

Bucky knew it too, reaching out and pulling Steve’s head in close again, encouraging him to rest his cheek on his thigh. Steve did, feeling just a little bit safer when he was right between the Alpha’s legs like this. He knew it made no sense, and he knew the good feelings in his brain were from chemicals and nothing more, but after such a long and stressful ordeal, he’d take what he could get. He wormed himself in closer so that he could sit comfortably and nuzzle at the crease of Bucky’s groin, nose into the soft weight of his balls.

“Close your eyes, Sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, petting a hand through his hair. “You just enjoy your buzz for a minute, okay? Stay soft for me. That’s what Alpha wants.” He waited until Steve was settled, and then looked up at the room of his assembled pack. “Anybody else got anything to say?” he challenged gruffly. Nobody spoke a word, and Bucky grunted in satisfaction. He looked over to where the Warden still sat on the floor, hands cuffed to the collar they’d put on him. Bucky sighed deeply. “There’s been enough bloodshed today. Toss him in with the others.”

“Boss?” Dum Dum looked uncertain.

“You heard me. Rough him up if you want, but stick him in with the others when you’re done. We don’t need any hostages complicating things at this point.”

“No hostages? So what about the omega?” the mouthy one, Batroc, said, nodding Steve’s way.

“The omega comes with us.”

It seemed like one or two of the wolves might argue over that, but before anything could be said, the ghost woman came through the wall at a run. She skidded to a halt in front of them, and Bucky stiffened in concern. “Ava. What is it?”

“Rescue is en route. We have to move.”

Masterlist

Part 3

If you liked what you read and feel so inclined, please consider dropping a tip in the Kofi🍵 cup. It's a big part of what allows me to take time to write. Thanks!

@stuckyversebingo

card: sarahyellow / sarah-writes-stucky

Square D2: Bestiality

@mcukinkbingo

card: sarahyellow

Square I2: Bestiality

#stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve x bucky #shrinkyclinks #pre serum steve #werewolf bucky barnes #alpha bucky barnes #omega steve rogers #a/b/o #prison au #werewolf au #mafia au #mob au #bucky barnes #steve rogers #marvel #mcu #fanfiction #fanfic #werewolves #omegaverse #alpha omega

[aerialworms-art]

I've been wanting to do hourly comic day for ages, finally remembered (at 00:01 on 2nd feb), and here we are! I had a lot of fun with this!

Featuring (in order of appearance) my child Fluffy, Narcissus the brachycephalic cat, Prince the sentient mop dog, and Cassie the-not-so-fluffy-but-also-black cat. And @salty-lich-queen makes an appearance from 19:00-23:00!

I've put a transcript of all the text under the cut cause I was focused on sticking to the hourly thing and forgot about nice lettering 😅

Transcript:

[Page 1]

02/02/2024 (definitely hourly comics day)

00:00-01:00

Me: Ooh, look, hourly comics! There's a lot of these. When is it again?

Search bar: When is hourly comics day? Search results: 1st Feb hourly comics day Me: Aw, fuck.

Me, thinking: No-one will mind if I do it today instead, right? Arrow pointing at me: Going to get snack Arrow pointing at tinsel: Tinsel from 4 Xmas ago Arrow pointing at toy snakes: Snakes from Halloween

Caption: [Int. - Bedroom]

Sweet packet: SWEETS

Me: Oh! Fluffy, thinking: For me? Caption: A surprise kitty!

01:00-02:00

Me, thinking: WTF is wrong with this guy? Caption: Watching Dungeon Meshi for the first time!

Arrow pointing at me: Brushing teeth

Fluffy, thinking: I CRAVE WOTER

02:00-??:??

Caption: Thinkin' bout those old men <3

11:00-12:00

Me: UUUUUUUUGH

12:00-13:00

Me: come... closer...

Me: Time to get up! Fluffy, thinking: Bye!

Me: Actually, I'll just draw some comics first Fluffy, thinking: Oh?

Caption: A few minutes later... Me: Thank you for keeping my foot warm Fluffy, thinking: It's free real estate

Arrow pointing at my dad: My dad My dad: I keep losing books... My dad: Like this Ian Banks one - Me: Oh! The one that's been in the loo for a week?

My dad: AHA! Caption: (yes, it was that one)

13:00-14:00

Caption: Watching more Dungeon Meshi Me/my tea: sluuurp

Me, singing: VOULEZ VOUS! AHA! TAKE ME NOW OR LEAVE Caption: shower ABBA time!

Caption: Back in the bedroom... Me, singing: -DANCE WITH YOU HONEY! IF YOU THINK IT'S FUNNY! DOES YA MOTHER KNOW THAT

Fluffy, thinking: I'm out.

14:00-15:00

Title: The Exciting Adventures of Artie and Fluffy: Leaving the house!

Me: C'mon then! Fluffy: Mow! Mrow! Cat count: 1

Neighbour: Oh! Hello! Cat count: 1

[Page 2]

Me and the neighbour: Small talk Cat count: 1 Dog count: 1

Me: Here, I'll hold her, you go past Fluffy, thinking: DIE Arrow pointing at dog: Oblivious Cat count: 1 Dog count: 1

Me: Hi buddy! Cat count: 2 Dog count: 1

Narcissus, thinking: Friend or Foe? Arrow pointing at Fluffy: Oblivious Cat count: 2 Dog count: 1

Caption: We carried on... Me: Oh! Hello! Cat count: 2 Dog count: 1

Cat count: 2 Dog count: 2!

Fancy lettering: PRINCE! Cat count: 2 Dog count: AWWW

Cat count: 2 Dog count: 2

Cat count: ? Dog count: 2

Cat count: 3! Dog count: 2

Me: Uh oh

Fluffy, thinking: BOO!

Cassie, landing on Prince's head: DONK!

Me: Dude, you ok? Prince, thinking: Look! I can catch my tail!

14:30-15:30

Fluffy, thinking: That's not how I look. Caption: Whoops, spent an hour on this! Cat counter: 3 Dog counter: 3 (one went past while drawing)

15:30-16:00

Me, thinking: Alas, we must part, my love! Fluffy, thinking: What was that noise? Cat counter: 3 Dog counter: 3

Arrow pointing at Prince: Prince again! coming back from school Cat count: 3 Dog count: 7

Me: At last! Arrow pointing at people in the bushes: Three shady people in the bushes (I didn't ask)

Library: Library

16:00-17:00

PLOTTING A GRAPHIC NOVEL

17:00-19:00

Whatsapp contact name: Mum Me, texting: (15:35) Swim after work? Me: (16:54) Missed call Me: (16:59) Heading to pool now come join me! Mum: On my way! (17:04) Cat count: 3 Dog count: 10+??

Police car: POLICE ILOP Me: oo er...

Arrow pointing at a cop: Was saying something about a break-in :S Arrow pointing at cop holding a bag: Stolen goods? Drugs? Arrow pointing at fence behind them: My old infant school

[Page 3]

17:00-19:00 cont.

Scribbled out drawing: IGNORE THIS

Me, thinking: I'm no ordinary girl~

(action) Mum: WAVE! (action) Me: WAVE!

19:00-23:00

My laptop screen: UPERNATURAL

23:00-00:00

Arrow pointing at my chair: Ergonomic chair for back pain Me, thinking: What am I doing?

Me, thinking: Ah, yes. Tumblr logo: t Tumblr post: ~~~~~~DC COMICS Me, thinking: Thinkin' bout those old men again <3

Me: Time for bed!

Fluffy, thinking: Time for FOOD.

#for anyone confused the old men are of course #mcspirk #hourly comics #hourly comic day #comics #hourlies #my art #cats #dogs #artists on tumblr

[lucysmacleans]

thinkin about good cop bad cop scene again cause “no!”

so chris be like asking buck for something and buck says no

and he turns around and ask eddie

eddie: what did buck say?

chris: he said yes!

buck: NO BUCK DID NOT!

eddie: sorry son! *ruffles hair*

chris: this sucks! buck used to be the fun dad!

#buddie #911

[wisteriasymphony]

thinkin about heroes day bugbite

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

Catalyst's arms were bound behind her back by a string she couldn't break, no matter what she tried to use. She had to snap it with her hands, twist it until it tore, even attempted to bite it, but the string seemed to repair itself even before the damage was fully done. It was humiliating to know Gabriel was watching her struggle like a bunny in a bear trap, writhing as it considered gnawing a leg off just for a chance at survival. She wondered why Gabriel had even allowed for her to possibly get caught to begin with.

The massive figure in crimson pulled in the rope slowly, making it seem like Bugbite was dragging in a caught fish or a harpooned whale, a predator delighting in the ease of the catch, grinning through bloodied gums and yellow teeth. The blood in that case was one of Catalyst's few blows to Bugbite that was truly successful. But while kicking an opponent in the teeth would be enough to keel a man over... Bugbite was no mere man.

"You know the deal," Bugbite smiled, still towering over Catalyst even while kneeling down to get closer to her level. "So let's say we cut to the chase, hm?"

Catalyst tried to scoot away from Bugbite's grasp, but to no avail. She knew Hawkmoth could see and hear it all down to her own panicked breath, and yet nothing seemed to be coming for help! Not another akuma for reinforcement, not a swarm to be a distraction, not even Hawkmoth himself.

"You either tell me who you are, and I let you live. Or," they laughed, unholstering a knife from their belt. "I find out who you are anyways!"

Hawkmoth wasn't doing anything. He wasn't even speaking to Catalyst anymore. All these years, and Gabriel would just let her die?!

"You don't know that I'll detransform upon death!" Catalyst spat. "There'd be no reason to kill me, you'd gain nothing from it!"

The knife was raised, glinting in the harsh sunlight, and Bugbite smiled as if to answer that the killing was the reason in itself. Catalyst couldn't see the blade anymore, but she knew it was leveled diagonally above her head. One fell swoop, and she'd be dead in an instant at best. If Hawkmoth didn't care to save her now, would he care to save her if she was bleeding out from the head in a pile of rubble?

"You're right, I don't know!" Bugbite laughed. "...Do you?"

--

Pawltergiest had been busy doing his usual job of trying to evacuate the crowd; He was cataclysming the debris in the peoples' way and leading them into safe avenues and roads, all far enough away to both protect them from harm and from possibly seeing Bugbite 'strike' again. Something had felt off about this day, and he'd just assumed it was because he used to hate being a hero. But now, there was a tenuous balance between him and his partner, and people thought he was useful again. He was the 'good cop' to Bugbite's 'bad cop', in a way.

When he finally caught up to see how Bugbite was dealing with Catalyst..... Nathalie Sancoeur was being carried away, a crude letter "B" carved into the side of her stomach.

"And let that serve as a lesson to your employer," the bug had barked to Nathalie, "That the longer he tries to hide, the more of you will crawl back to him branded!"

Bugbite turned around, finding Pawltergiest entirely still and entirely silent.

"Well, another day's work," she had said, picking up her partner and letting him sit on one of her shoulders as per the usual routine. "How did it go for you, kitty-cat? You hurt at all? -Hell, what am I saying, you probably did great—"

"Claudia, I know her."

"Hm? The uh- Nathalie Sancoeur person? ...I mean, that's good that you recognize her, I suppose."

"No. I know her. She's my dad's secretary."

Bugbite stopped in her tracks. She'd tried hard over the past few days to close off her own emotions to make herself less susceptible; Claudia already had trouble even giving names to her feelings, so she had taken to it quite well.

But she knew what guilt felt like. Regret.

"Ah, look," Bugbite said, scooping Pawltergiest off her shoulder and holding him up. "You know I don't really mean it, kit. They get healed too in the end, y'know. And I, I just get a bit carried away here and there, it wasn't a personal thing."

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

#short king beefcake queen #miraculous fandom #miraculous lb #miraculous fanfic #mlb bugbite #mlb fic #ficlet #mlb pawltergiest #pawltergiest #miraculous chat noir #mlb au #kwami swap #ladybug miraculous #mlb heroes day #thewarmembraceofshadow #dark miraculous content #cw violence

[thedeafprophet]

and,,,A for everyone (or whoever you wanna talk about)?? :D

A) Why are you excited about this character?

I love all my ocs so much,

Jamie makes me excited because I just really enjoy them as a character, theyre a vessel to explore darker thoughts and mental health aspects, while also just being fun and silly and overall a joy to play around with. I absolutely love drawing them and designing fun outfits for them, and thinkin up both the joyful and horrific scenarios I put them in.

Alex makes me excited becase he's really fun to do stuff with. Theres a lot of projection aspects on him, as well as things I'd just Like to explore. Having a character who can just be Blunt and Angry means a lot to me, and I enjoy writing him in situations. He's also just.... nice, themes wise. A guy who's been through a lot, but still stands to break the cycle. who still manages to be caring, despite it all.....

Josephine is, again, a character I just really enjoy. The exploration of the complexities of grief is, well, important to me. Loss is a constant in life, something while not exact, a feature ive had to deal with. the themes of grief and moving on, and the struggle with that, is something that really gets me thinkin. I also just enjoy doing the sciency stuff with josie, its so fun to have a character who geniuenly enjoys stem and engineering in general, and josie is just so fun to play with. i love my mad scientist girl so much <3

I get excited with Aurora for The Violence. she was created with the intent to be powerful and bloody, and boy howdy, does she live up to that. A character who doesnt care about (most) others and is just purely a plot device can be SO fun.... but also rory is a lot more complicated then that! and i get really excited whenever that topic is broached (see: people encouraging me during the reflecion talk) she's a character with a whole lot more issues:tm: then just a base template villain.

aaaaaand this is long so ill just do quick summarys for the others

Gabriel: exploration of identity issues and what it means to be who you are

The housestaff trio: exploration of the working class in the victorian era and the complexity of below stairs

Inspector Lewis: making fun of cops is 10/10, always excited to do that

and then the numerous undeveloped background characters i have are in here somewhere XD

Ask Game From Here

#ask game #oc talk

[graverobber3457]

disparate spiderverse thoughts (spoilers obviously)

thinkin about how ATSV treats cops...hm. cause like theres clearly the tension btw miles and gwen's father being cops and their superhero personas but also the outward tension of them being cops at all. miles dad going "this is why ppl hate us" and being frustrated with the limits of his job. the end of gwens dad's arc not being him accepting gwen and staying a cop but SHOWING that he would choose gwen over being a cop by quitting. the implication that 'cop' is not just a job but a state of mind or ethos with her dad saying he wants to 'quit being a cop' (which is not just in a literal way but a more metaphorical way of how hes breaking from his place in the story)

like the film still does the typical liberal ‘good cop v bad cop’ with gwen telling her dad that hes a good cop and all that but i think its interesting the way he resolves that is by straight up quitting being a cop (though again--is it literal or figurative, such as the beginning of the film when she goes “stop being a cop and just be my dad”?)

theres also hobie, who despite how much they poke fun at his punk attitude and leftism he is also the most correct about how sketch the spiderverse is and the first to quit. and the movie seems to agree with him! like hes the most non cop character in the entire movie and hes also the most correct

#across the spiderverse #spiderman #ASTV #these are not organized or whatever im just rambling #but i think its interesting

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 26

*Warning Adult Content*

- Carlos -

Tree branches whip and scratch my hands and face as I slip and slide down the steep slope towards the bottom of the hill and the rendezvous point at the entrance to the gated community.

My heart races as much from adrenaline as from exertion and I'm already second-guessing my decision to flee.

Maybe I overreacted, maybe there was no reason to run.

John had promised he'd never hurt me, after all.

'He bit you', I remind myself, as I slip on a loose rock and catch myself against a young fir.

In turn, the tree coats my hands in sticky sap.

'That's Creepy Dave's whole point. John will hurt you whether he means to or not.'

At the bottom of the hill, I scramble across a drainage ditch and up the other side to the edge of the road.

Keeping low, concealed in the weeds in case Ian's truck isn't the first car to pass by, I wait, eyes and ears primed.

John's unmarked police sedan has the low purr of a powerful new engine, while Ian Foley's truck has the healthy rumble of a well-loved but aging, vehicle.

I crouch in the brush, barely daring to breathe, trembling like a scared rabbit as the sun sets and the world goes cold and dark.

To pass the time, I do some mental math.

If Ian left his house immediately and drove here without stopping, while obeying the speed limit the whole way, he'd arrive in about twenty minutes after the end of our call.

Right on time, I hear the welcome rumble I've been waiting for.

A pair of familiar headlights swing around the bend and a red pickup pulls to a stop before the fancy iron gate.

Breaking cover, I sprint across the pavement and knock on the passenger-side window.

Ian leans over and unlocks the door and I throw myself into the cab just as another engine roars to life somewhere on the hill above.

"Whoa. What happened, man?" he asks, appraising my scratched, pine-needled and sap-encrusted state. "Are you okay?"

I press myself against the back of the seat.

"I don't know yet. Just drive."

"You got it."

He shifts gears and steps on the gas, doing a u-turn and pealing away with a spray of gravel.

"Take it easy," I admonish breathlessly. "Don't attract attention. One of these guys is a cop."

"The fuck did you get yourself into?"

"I don't know. But I don't wanna drag you into it, too," I say, rethinking my initial plan to tell him and Sam everything. "Just, uh... drop me at the garage. I'll pick up some things and take it from there."

"Nah," Ian shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road. "You're scared and you're not thinkin' straight."

"Do I ever?"

He coughs to hide a laugh.

"Maybe not in one sense, in the other, sometimes more, sometimes less. Regardless, I'm taking you home, to my home, that is. After you explain what's going on, then you can decide what your next move is. In the meantime, Sammy's making dinner. He's gotten really good at cooking," he adds proudly.

I hide a smile and hide the twinge of jealousy that threatens to turn it sour.

Ian and Sam met by pure, random chance.

They were nothing alike and they both had dark and complicated histories.

And yet they complemented one another perfectly.

They made each other laugh and they made each other whole.

They made each other better.

Was it too much to ask for my share of that?

"Yo, Carlos. You in there, bud?" Ian prompts and I realize he'd asked me a question.

"Sorry. What?"

"I just asked if you wanted to stop anywhere on the way or if you had everything you need?"

Everything I need?

An image of John flashes through my mind.

Then I shake my head at myself.

'Perfect guy?'

'The perfect guy doesn't keep telling you he's bad for you and that you shouldn't be together.'

'The perfect guy doesn't keep secrets and only come clean when you catch him red handed.'

'The perfect guy doesn't look at you the way a starving man looks at a full course meal.'

'The perfect guy...

'I stop myself.

Maybe John isn't the 'perfect guy.'

Then again, maybe there's no such thing.

Over a meal of baked potatoes stuffed with butter, sour cream, cheese, green onions and bacon bits, with a side of roast chicken and spinach salad topped with walnuts, chèvre, mandarin oranges and balsamic vinaigrette, I fill Ian and Sam in on the strange, twisted tale my life has become.

By the time I finish, I feel calmer, more grounded, a little ridiculous and incredibly full.

"Holy shit, Sam. Where you learn to cook like this?" I ask, wiping my mouth on a cloth napkin.

Sam ducks his head and blushes adorably.

"Just the internet."

"Didn't know you liked food so much."

"I don't really," he admits, taking a sip of water from his glass and setting it aside. "But engines need fuel, right?"

For a moment, I'm thoroughly confused, then as Ian's face flushes red, things slide into place.

Sam is unusual and probably the only one of his kind.

The result of a mad demonologist's quest for the perfect vessel, he's a synthesis of two beings, a human boy and an incubus.

He retains pieces of each, fused seamlessly into one but the incubus side is firmly bonded with Ian.

Sam replenishes his demonic energy through that bond and in turn...

Well, sometimes you gotta feed your man.

He seems to read my thoughts and shoots me a glare.

I laugh disarmingly and serve myself more salad.

"Too true," I say. "Anyway, this is delicious."

Scowling at me, Sam pushes the dressing across the table.

"So, Let's get this straight," he says, his dark eyes tracking my every move. "Twenty years ago, some murders happened that looked a lot like the Ritual of Feasts. Shortly thereafter, Lucille's son dies of a 'mysterious illness' which she blames on a botched exorcism performed by Toni and your mom. Then, according to Aunt Toni, your mom goes missing after a particularly bad possession, in search of something that will cure her of her tendency to get possessed."

"So far so good," I say.

"Okay, so fast forward twenty years. You move to Spring Lakes and happen to end up renting property from Lucille Peters, who insists you give a job to her deadbeat nephew, Kyle. Kyle gets murdered and it looks like the Ritual of Feast is on again. Enter a hot cop who turns out to be sort-of-but-not-really-a-vampire, who's totally into you but also might kill you if he fucks you again."

Sam clears his throat and consults the notes he took on his cell-phone, pushing his silky black hair behind his ear as he does.

When I first met him, he looked like a kid.

Now he looks like a man.

He's grown into himself and while he's still slender and petite, he has a strength and confidence that he lacked before.

Meanwhile, Ian is a little softer, a little more relaxed and comfortable in his own skin and I wonder at how the two are rubbing off on each other.

Besides in the usual way, that is.

I catch Sam's glare and wince like a student caught daydreaming when the teacher asks a question.

"Uh... yeah, pretty much."

He looks back at his notes.

"Right. Next, Toni disappears, this David guy shows up, your prime suspect has an alibi and you decide to run away from the hot not-quite-a-vampire dude to avoid getting brainwashed or kidnapped."

"Yeah." I sigh. "That about sums it up."

Sam glances at Ian.

"Right, so... How can we help?"

I look up and catch the flash of his grin and feel my spirits lift a little.

Sam and I haven't always seen eye to eye but in the end, I know he's got my back.

"Tonight's the night of the second Feast," I say. "The ritual's supposed to take place before dawn. I just... need a safe place to stay."

"We got you," Ian says. "We'll brew some coffee, get the PlayStation set up. We'll keep you safe and have some fun while we're at it. You played the new Gran Turismo yet?"

I shake my head.

I don't even know what that is.

"You're gonna love it," Ian assures me and motions for Sam to get the entertainment ready while he sees to the kitchen.

Six hours later, I've finally mastered the controller enough to beat Ian in a race, though I'm still a virtual mile behind Sam and I suspect Ian let me win.

I don't mind.

I feel safe here, with my friends, the only sure friends I have in the world.

At least until around 5 AM, when a familiar car parks on the street and the doorbell rings. 

[jovialjuggernaut-draws]

replaying the dragon ages again and thinkin abt riddlebat bc thats all my brain is capable of

anyway eddie would be a city elf snake oil salesman who claims to be dalish and to have Secret Cures for What Ails You

he will Also claim to specifically be a dalish mage (the keepers first, thrust out of the clan by the jealous second) if and only if he thinks itll Sweeten The Pot

he straight up invents the dragon age equivalent of laudnum

he also sells, like. regular old honey as a topical ointment. which isnt Terrible for most things so it Seems to work

anyway the trouble with this is bruce would be basically just alistair??? half elven bastard son of nobility, raised by the chantry, templar training but not a full templar- even the dumb fucking puns, except bruce says them with a straight face where alistair cant stop laughing at his own jokes

anyway idk what the Plot would be so i havent Written anything but. just Imagine it. feel it in your Heart. eddie with painted on "tattoos" trying to sell Secret Magic Potions to an undercover cop who both Knows hes lying and also has no power to actually Do anything about it. the inherent Tension

#bruce would still try to get eddie arrested for apostasy. just to scare him. #then theyd try to execute him and hed Feel Bad and rescue him probably #look at that! a plots forming #sort of lmao #riddlebat

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2023 #7: In which Cameron and Donna think about big changes

Cameron was congratulating herself on going up to bed at 12:20 am, and not her usual 1 or 1:30 or even later, when she went into the bedroom, and saw that Donna wasn’t there. The sheets were rumpled, as if Donna had gone to bed, and then gotten back up again. Cameron pursed her lips, and then decided to get ready for bed. After she brushed her teeth, flossed, and changed into an old t-shirt and even older pair of pajama pants, gifted to her many years prior by Donna, she went to the media room.

She found Donna there, sitting on the couch, remote in hand clicking slowly through television stations, curled up and huddled into the corner, next to the arm, legs hugged tightly to her chest. Licorice the cat was with her, loafing on the back of the couch.

“Hey,” Cameron said, from the doorway. “It’s late. Well, not that late for me, but, do you wanna go to bed, maybe?”

Donna frowned over at her. The corner of her mouth turned up reflexively at the sight of Cameron, but she sighed, “No, not really.”

Cameron glanced over at the television, and saw that Donna had landed on a rerun of Taxi, a show that Cameron hadn’t paid much attention to when it first aired, but that was surprisingly hilarious to her now. Looking back at Donna, she said, “What’s on your mind, Boss? Thinkin’ about work?”

“What if I’m too old to take risks?” Donna asked. “What if quitting Symphonic to start Phoenix is a terrible idea? Am I a terrible wife and business partner for thinking that? What if, what if, what if? I’m freaking out!” Donna cried.

“Okay, yeah, I can see that,” Cameron said, moving slowly toward the couch. She carefully reached for the remote and as she took it from Donna’s hand she said, “We’re gonna find you some nice, soothing Bob Ross to watch, okay?”  

“I checked, he’s not on!” Donna wailed, slumping, deflated, onto her side. 

Cameron sat down next to her, “Well, let’s just check again.” She clicked through the channels, to the guide station. As she scrolled though the tv listings, she said, “Wow…kinda feels like we’re already back in that fast-paced, high-stakes, breakdown every day start-up life, huh?”

Timidly, Donna said, “You think I’m being overly dramatic?”

Cameron grinned at the tv. “I would know if you were, wouldn’t I? It’s nice to be the calm one now and again.”

Donna smiled glumly. “Not gonna argue with any of that.”

“I don’t think you’re being overly dramatic,” Cameron said, still looking at the tv. 

“Really?” Donna said. Sitting up, she turned to Cameron and said, “It’s not that I don’t believe in Phoenix, I do, and I’ve been looking forward to working together on a site again, so much, but, the idea of leaving Symphonic….”

Cameron finally gave up. “You’re right, no Bob Ross.” She went back to Taxi, and then she leaned back against the couch, and looked over at Donna. “It would be a big change. If it were me, I’d probably be freaking out too.” 

“I was thinking,” Donna said, crossing her legs sukhasana style, “what if I compromise? I could stay at Symphonic, and you could run Phoenix, or maybe I could work there part time and keep my very highly paid position at Symphonic? Or maybe I could hold off, and you could get Phoenix off the ground, and I could join you there eventually? Is that a cop out, though? Am I just being a total coward?”

Cameron narrowed her eyes skeptically. “You’re a lot of things Donna, but a coward isn’t one of them.” 

“It feels cowardly to try and come up with some kind of halfway solution,” Donna pouted. “You wouldn’t be sitting here trying to figure out how to half ass two different things because you’re too scared to move on.”

“Are you kidding?” Cameron scoffed. She sat up, and leaned in dramatically toward Donna. “Have you met me?! Or, okay,” she shrugged, “maybe I wouldn’t be clinging to a job at a venture capital firm. That’s the thing though.”

“What?” Donna asked, perplexed.

“I’m not you, and I’ve never had a job like yours to leave. I’ve started companies, but not like Symphonic, not the way you did,” Cameron said, folding a leg underneath her. “You remember when I called you a parasite? I apologized, because it was mean, and also because I was wrong. You built something real. After a lot of losses. Something that helps other people build real things, real, important things. You built your place in this industry, and you mostly did it alone. Gordon didn’t help, and I didn’t help either.”

Donna’s shoulders relaxed. She looked at Cameron, warmly, and said, “That’s not really true. You helped. Even if you didn’t exactly mean to.”

“I’ve also never been where you are. You’re not just a CEO,” Cameron said. “You’re a provider. You’re the breadwinner. Which is hot, honestly. Even if it maybe shouldn’t be.” 

That made Donna smile.

“Of course,” Cameron said, “whatever you wind up deciding, it kind of doesn’t matter. Because no matter what, you are part of Phoenix’s story. And also, because, no matter what, I’m with you.”

Eyes filling with tears, Donna said, “I know. It’s still nice to be reminded, though.” She leaned forward, awkwardly, and gave Cameron a grateful if watery kiss on the cheek.

Cameron grinned at Donna, cheeks slightly pink. Then, she said, “I was gonna ask if you’re ready to go to bed, but, honestly? I don’t want to. I’d stay up all night every night playing games if I could, probably.” Waving the remote toward the tv, she asked, “Do you wanna be my little spoon and watch this syndicated classic sitcom with me?”

Donna kissed her again, and said, “I would love to, thank you for asking!”

She moved so that Cameron could lie down along the length of the couch, which wasn’t quite long enough for her, and then she lay down in front of Cameron, who folded one arm underneath her, and wrapped the other around Donna’s waist. After a little while of lying there, calmly, listening to the tv, and also Cameron’s breathing, and the cat’s light snoring, Donna didn’t feel worried anymore. 

#femslash february #femslash february 2023 #fic #fan fiction #donna clark #donna emerson #cameron howe #licorice emerson howe #phoenix rising!

[visceravalentines]

Happy 1k! I’m so happy to join this fandom with y’all. You make my day better with your fun stories: )

On a sadder note tho… Bo! You’re gonna hate me for this but something’s wrong with the car again (my car had to get fixed like 3 times) : (

Like legit, dad took it in to get it fix and the next day he said I can take it to school but then halfway there something like pop? And it’s not the tire but I barely turned into a plaza but lost energy by the driveway and couldn’t go all the way in.

*Sniffle* what’s worse was that across from me were two motorcycle cops who were helping a car get towed and they had to push me in ;-;-;-;

No ticket but I cried like a baby in a plaza by a convenience store until dad could pick me up. I’m now using my uncle’s old car which I’m sad but grateful for.

Even tho I hate it, at least the cigarette smell in the car reminds me of you❤️❤️❤️

Baby girl, I'm gonna need the name and address of your mechanic. I just wanna talk to him, that's all. Could be the distributor, could be the timing belt, be glad to take a look for ya.

Hate the thought of you sittin' there cryin'. Wish I woulda been there for you. You can always call me, darlin', even just to keep you company on the phone 'til your daddy shows up. Y'did just the right thing and I'm relieved you're safe.

Can't say I mind you thinkin' about me, but you best be sure that car ain't gonna give you trouble either. Bring it by 'n I'll give it a look. We can make a day out of it. ;)

#asks #pina-chan #1k follower celebration #dilf bo sinclair

[ificouldhelpyouforget]

[21] We'll Be Okay (Tim Riggins x OFC)

MASTERLIST | DWHI MASTERLIST

Warnings: angry mom and getting kicked out again

Words: 1.5k

I started to worry the more nights Tim came home late. He looked guilty every time he walked through the door. I thought it was from the late night shifts, but the guilt didn't go away when he'd leave in the morning. Something was wrong.

I stopped Tim one morning by blocking the door. Skeeter's ears perked up, waiting to see if we were going to play. Tim didn't meet my gaze.

"Tim, something is wrong and I need you to tell me what it is." I crossed my arms. "I've let the look in your eyes go on for way too long. Do you not want to work with Billy anymore?"

"No. I want to keep workin' with him."

"Then what's wrong?"

Tim sighed and turned his back on me. He ran his hand through his hair, looking at his boots. "Billy turned the place into a chop shop."

Skeeter's tags jingled as he laid his head back down.

"You know you can go to prison for that, right?"

"Billy won't listen to me, but I want us to have that land. I'm almost there and once I have it, I'm done." Tim leaned over the sink. "Billy is an idiot."

"Joining him in this isn't the smartest idea you've had."

"I know. But he's my brother."

I wrapped my arms around him. I pressed my cheek to his back. "You're a good brother, Tim, but you don't have to risk prison to get money or help your brother."

"He won't listen to me, pullin' the family card. I try tellin' him they won't have him if he gets caught... He won't let me talk, thinkin' I'm the same kid he took care of." His voice was strained. "We buried a fuckin' car frame last night, Catherine. People are gettin' nervous about the cops and backin' out. I don't want to help him anymore, but I can't let him keep doin' this alone... I can't for Mindy and his kid."

"Please let me help you with the rest of the money. I can get scholarships to help with school and loans through the government. Please just stop doin' this. We'll get Billy to stop, too. We will."

Tim nodded and went quiet. I felt his body shake in the stillness of the camper. My hold tightened.

The things that we'll do for our family.

*****

Tim and I went to the bank the following day with cash in hand. I covered the last little bit he needed and stayed passive as he handed all of it over to the woman there. We walked out with the deed to the land and with heavy hearts.

We went straight to the property, driving through the gate and up the hill a little. Tim parked and we climbed into the back of his truck. I snuggled close to him as we stretched out across the bed. Tim's eyes closed while I glanced up at the clouds.

"When are thinkin' of buildin'?" I rubbed his chest soothingly.

"Soon, I hope." He pulled me closer. "Thank you, Catherine."

I nodded against him. "I'll always be here to help, Tim. I wish you would have told me sooner... Or I would have come to you about it as soon as noticed something was wrong. I'm sorry, Tim."

"It's not your fault. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"It's okay. We're gonna fix this. Neither of you will go to prison and you'll get to start buildin'. We'll be okay."

Tim started rubbing my back, making my eyes close in delight. The rustling of fabric, excited birds, and the occasional car passing by were the only sounds we heard. The air settled around us, letting us feel a sense of calm.

Tim took a slow breath. "After I finish the house, would you wanna marry me?"

I shot up to look at Tim properly. He was completely serious. I couldn't find my words as I processed his. Tim Riggins wanted to settle down? With me? It was unfathomable. And the best damn thing he could have asked me.

My lower lip found its place between my teeth as a small smile crept onto my lips. "That's exactly what I want to do, Tim Riggins."

He sat up to kiss me desperately. He grabbed my hair and brought my body closer. His kisses were hungry until he slowed them, taking a passionate turn. He was out of breath when he pulled back.

I met his lips a few more times before following his jawline. I brushed his hair away to kiss his neck, nuzzling my nose at his throat. His hand in my hair tightened. I nibbled on his flesh in response.

We delayed going back home to take care of business in his truck since we had all the privacy in the world on that piece of land. It was completely different from any other time we'd been intimate. I didn't think we could surpass love, but it happened. I was still reeling when I crawled into our bed, curling up next to Skeeter.

Tim smiled, leaning over me to kiss my forehead. He hovered over my lips for a breath before I connected us gently.

"Hang on," Tim whispered as he straightened and scrounged around his things.

I watched, using Skeeter as my pillow. I smiled when he came back over and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't have anything else," he said, taking my hand. He placed something heavy in my palm. "It'll have to do until I can get you the real thing."

I stared at Tim's State ring from 2006 when the Panthers won. I remembered how excited I was during that game and when I went to see him after. We weren't really close then, not like in Mexico. A lot changed after he saved me from the party that night. All for the better.

I clenched my hand around it, sitting up, and kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Tim."

He kissed my lips just as someone knocked on the door. "I'm gonna get that house built overnight at this rate," he muttered, kissing me a second time. Tim stood and peered out of the window. I saw his shoulders slump.

He opened the door. "What, Becks?"

"Wanna watch a movie?" She looked inside at me. "You can come, too."

"As long as I can cuddle with him, I'm down."

Becky grinned. "Of course."

The three of us went to Cheryl's room where the TV was. We used the bed as our couch. Tim laid out between us, wrapping his arms around me when I put my head on his chest. I put my leg over his waist.

I wasn't aware of the movie Becky put in. I was too busy playing with Tim's ring, allowing me to study all of its features. I'd need a chain for it so I could wear it. I let it rest on Tim's chest, my hand flat over his heart.

I peered over at Becky a little way into the film and saw that she fell asleep. I smiled at her peaceful face, glad that we could make her feel comfortable enough to nap in our presence. I glanced up at Tim, running my pointer finger along with his jaw, his lower lip. He smirked and kissed my finger. He brought me closer to his face to kiss me properly.

"What the hell is this?"

We sat up and Becky stirred. Cheryl stood in the doorway livid.

"You," she pointed at Tim. "Two girls in my bed? One being my fucking daughter? You're disgusting."

Tim tried explaining, but she didn't listen. Becky spoke up and was also shut down. I barely got my mouth open before she rounded on me for letting my boyfriend do something with a high school girl. I couldn't tell her she was wrong about it all.

"Get out of my house. Pack your things and go. Both of you."

I was going to snap back, but Tim took my hand and dragged me out of the house. Cheryl followed. Tim brought me to his truck, getting me inside. He glanced at Cheryl as he climbed into his side. Her arms were crossed and Becky peeked out through the screen door. Tim backed out of the drive silently.

The two of us went back to my house, dark and lonely up the hill. My parents must have left for their next long trip, once again not telling me when they were leaving. Moving away left me out of contact even more so than when I lived with them. As bummed as I was to know they didn't even say goodbye, their trip couldn't have come at a better time.

I hated how quiet Tim was as we walked into my house. I hated that he went straight into my room, stripped down to his underwear, and climbed into my bed. I changed into my sleep clothes, setting his ring on my bedside table, and crawling into bed behind him. I hugged him and left soft kisses on his back and shoulders.

"We'll be okay," I whispered.

Tim only covered my hand and squeezed. Throughout the night, his hand stayed attached to mine. It wasn't until the morning when he had to wake up that he let it go.

#fnl #fridaynightlights #friendship #highschool #love #ofc #originalcharacter #originalfemalecharacter #romance #timriggins #timrigginsxoc #tvshow #fnl fanfiction #Friday night lights fanfiction #Tim riggins fanfiction