#ALSO FUCKING LAST TIME I POSTED MARK I TWEAKED HIS SKIN TONE BUT WHEN I LOOKED ON MY PHONE IT WAS SO OFF IM SO SORRY THAT WAS NOT ON PURPOS

[cautionwetfloor-png]

umm who is this guy

[rocorambles]

Kinktober Day 27: Overstimulation

Pairing: Kuroo x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Porn Star Kuroo AU, Overstimulation, Degradation, Corruption Kink

What Kuroo loves most about you is that you genuinely don’t care that he’s a pornstar. Of course you had been shocked at first when he finally told you his profession and he thought that he had lost any chances of being with you when you started stuttering, face becoming flustered as you struggled to find the right words and he steeled himself for the breakup he knew was about to happen. But when you had finally found your rhythm again and just said “okay, thanks for telling me”, still the same love and affection in your eyes as you stared up at him, he had been dumbfounded. 

“You don’t care? You don’t have any questions?” 

In an odd plot twist, it’s him who starts interrogating you for your surprising reaction, but something warm curls inside of him when you shyly bite your lip, avoiding his curious gaze and a sharp grin spreads across his face at your next words. 

“You’re still you, Kuroo. This doesn’t change anything. Also what would I even have questions about? It’s not like I have any experience or know anything about sex to have thoughts about it…”

Your voice trails off in embarrassment and Kuroo can feel excitement rise in him when his quick mind puts the pieces together. 

A virgin. 

It all makes sense now, why you've always been so nervous about too much PDA and contact, so flustered whenever it's just the two of you alone in one of your apartments, so adamantly against sleeping over at night or letting him stay over. He had been worried that you just weren't attracted to him, that your love for him was growing cold, hence his confession in an attempt to be more open with you, to communicate better, to show you how much he loves you. 

But this...this is a far better explanation than he could have ever hoped for and he can't stop himself from practically purring and trapping you in his wiry arms, smirking at your squeak as he buries his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder, holding you tightly to his body until there's not an inch left between you, his toned muscles right up against your softer figure. 

"Do you want me to show you? Teach you? Here I thought you didn't like me, but my kitten was just shy." 

You lightly scowl, trying to find some fighting words to stop your boyfriend's teasing words, but when he begins to lightly pepper open mouthed kisses up the side of your neck, words get stuck in your throat, tiny mewls escaping instead as you clutch at Kuroo's shirt. And he coos down at you, as your breathing becomes uneven, as your chest heaves up and down, your nipples pebbling as they rub against him. All from just a few kisses. And his thoughts get darker, more feral, as he wonders how much more he can ruin you, what other pretty reactions he can coax out of you. 

You yelp when you're suddenly being whisked off to his bedroom and promptly dropped on a bed, but before you can move, you're pinned to the soft surface as Kuroo hungrily kisses you while he removes both your clothing. And when you're both bare, he pauses, just taking you all in, eyes ravenously staring at you. Shyness rushes through you and you move to cover yourself, to close your legs, but you whimper when strong thighs shove their way between your legs, when large hands pin your hands to your side, lips wrapping around one of your nipples.

Kuroo takes his time, mouth sucking, licking, biting, kissing every inch of your bare skin as he explores the treasure you've hidden from him. He smiles against your skin as you writhe against him, cute moans echoing throughout the room, groaning and biting you harshly as you rub your pussy against his quickly hardening cock. 

Pleased with the blue, purple, and red marks he's left on you, he focuses on grinding purposefully against your drenched pussy, gritting his teeth at how wet you are, his cock already soaked with your slick even without sliding in and he has to control himself from slamming into you right then and there. But he distracts himself with the intoxicating view of your pleasured face, the way your hands clutch at his bedsheets. 

You already look so ruined and he's barely done anything, but he wants to see you completely break apart and his fingers toy with your clit, relishing in the way you scream louder, the way you twist and contort even more, until suddenly you're tensing so hard he thinks you might break. And there's a moment of stillness as you stare wide-eyed at him, mouth open wide, eyes unseeing, before you fall to pieces, wailing and screaming in ecstasy when you fall over the edge. 

You're exhausted, mind and body heavy and dazed as you lay in post-coital bliss, twitching every now and then as Kuroo's fingers continue rubbing against you. But minutes pass and you begin to whine as he doesn't stop, body instinctively trying to inch away from him, but you sob when hands grab your hips, keeping you still. Your eyes widen as he replaces his fingers with his cock, slapping your clit and teasing your folds with his heavy length. 

“You sure you want this to be over already, kitten? We haven’t even gotten to the good part.” 

He waits, giving you the chance to back out if you really want to, but he darkly smirks as you submissively stay still, parting your legs even wider for him. And getting impatient himself, he begins to slide inch by inch inside of you, letting you adjust, making you feel every part of him as he fills your tight unused hole achingly slowly. You’d heard horror stories about the discomfort, the pain, and yet you feel none of that as your sopping wet cunt stretches, a heady dizzying pleasure overtaking you. You never had a chance to come down from your last orgasm and to feel so full, so soon is mind shattering and you claw at Kuroo’s arms in an effort to ground yourself as you’re brought to new heights. 

But your journey is far from over and when overstimulation begins to be overpowered by lust, Kuroo begins to thrust in and out of you, slowly building his tempo, but making sure every thrust is deep, strong, purposeful. And in hindsight, you think it’s easy to tell exactly what he does for a living as he smoothly rolls his hips, pistoning in and out of you in controlled, practiced moves, pace consistent, never tiring. The unknown pleasure is intoxicating and you feel the coil of arousal tighten alarmingly inside of you once again and all it takes is Kuroo biting your lower lip and tweaking a nipple for you to fall off the edge once again as he continues rocking in and out of you like a well oiled machine. 

In. Out. In. Out. 

That’s all your brain can think of as Kuroo continues working your body over as you lay there, forced to orgasm over and over again, forced to shatter around his cock again and again. Lewd moans become desperate sobs. Sobs become incoherent babbling. Babbling becomes quiet whimpers until you’re just laying there, barely conscious, body and mind destroyed and drowned in an overwhelming cocktail of pleasure and overstimulation. And Kuroo just keeps on going and going and going, putting years of practice, stamina, and endurance into play, feline eyes never straying from your face, your body, your debauched state only fueling him even more. But even he has a limit and when he sees the mess he’s made of you, sees the fucked out look on your face, he stops holding back, hands digging even deeper into your skin as he wildly thrusts, chasing his end. And when it arrives, he pulls out, stroking his cock furiously as he sprays thick white spurts all over your stomach, your breasts, staring in awe at how you’d look right at home on any of the sets he’s filmed. 

But when you use the last bit of your energy to whisper his name, he immediately snaps back to reality and suddenly it’s glaringly clear that this isn’t work and that you aren’t just another porn actress he’s working with. And his heart soars at the love he sees in your eyes as you weakly pout for him to hold you and as he cradles you gently in his arms, sheepishly apologizing about being so rough and laughing as you grumpily mutter for him to not apologize for things he’s not actually sorry about, he thinks about all the other things he has left to teach you. After all, Kuroo’s always been a good student and it’s his duty as your boyfriend to make sure you keep up with your studies. 

[stressedkitkatttt]

Just A Little Jealous

A little jealously never hurt...

Quick Note: school has started back up for me, and some freshman are already trying to burn down the place, so I will be working on stories during the week and try to post them on the weekends. We're gonna see how long that lasts because we all know how horrible I am at posting things on time... For those who have requested stories, I am sorry I take so damn long to post them, but I promise that they will get posted!

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: a jealous Christopher Velez, size kink, teasing, angry sex

Anon: I love your blog 😍😍😍 Your Zabdiel stories are *chefs kiss*. I was hoping if you had time could you do a Christopher Velez imagine with a size kink and jealous sex?

Enjoy some jealous Chris with a size kink <3

~~~~~~~

You were at a club downtown with the guys. They wanted a good time and it had been a while since you and Chris went out, seeing as he was still recording music. You put on a nice dress, that hugged your curves but wasn't too tight; you wanted to dance after all, and paired it with some nice, but comfortable, heels coupled with a nice necklace Chris had bought you a few months back. You make sure to check yourself, fixing up some small details before you walk out to the living room, and see Chris sitting on the couch, on his phone as he waited for you.

He noticed you in the reflection of his phone screen as you came up behind him and he turned, eyes going wide. He smiles and stands up, pulling you close and burying his face in your hair. "You look very beautiful," he mumbles. You hum and wrap your hands around him. He pulls away, "Let's go. I want to show you off tonight." You loop your arm around him as he leads you down to the street and hails a taxi.

The rest of the guys were already at the club when you arrived. You guys head inside and Chris takes you to the VIP section and you head to the bar as Chris finds his buddies. You order your drink and take a look around. Once you finish it, you head over to Chris, who was talking to Zabdiel, and he pulls you close. "I want to dance baby," you lean up and run a hand through his hair. He nods as you drag him to the dance floor. You find a spot and turn to face Chris, who smiles.

The song ends and changes into one with more of a provocative beat. You smirk and grind down on Chris, who is eager to grab your waist and pull you closer to him, leaning down to nip along your neck and tug your earlobe, telling you how sexy you looked. When the song ends, you're both sweating both from grinding together and the heat generated from the other people on the dance floor.

"I'm gonna go get another drink real quick, wait here." You tell him over the bass of the new song. He nods and you weave through the other people to get to the bar, ordering water. As you finish and turn to walk back out on the floor when the sea of people moves just enough to give you a clear sight of Chris standing with Zabdiel again, chatting away. You huff and walk into the crowd, dancing along to the beat. Maybe if Chris sees you dancing alone, he'll come and get you.

You dance alone for a couple of songs when you realize that Chris isn't gonna come and dance. You contemplate going over to him but you hold back. You decide to show him what he's missing. You continue to dance alone and when there's a break in the music, you feel a tap on your shoulder, which makes you turn around, expecting to see Chris. Who you saw was definitely not Chris. He was decently handsome, obviously not as handsome as Chris. He offers you his hand and asks to dance.

You know you should decline but he seemed very polite and a little voice was telling you this was a way to get back at Chris. He did say he wanted to show you off and yet he was talking to Zabdiel. If this didn't get his attention, you didn't know what would. You accept his offer just as the song starts to play. It had a nice beat, not too fast and not too slow, a good song for people to enjoy dancing to. You had to give it to this man, he was a good dancer, matching your movements.

When the song changes to something you can get down too, you glance over to check on Chris. Surprise, surprise he's still in deep conversation with Zabdiel. What the hell could they be talking about that is so important? Chris had told you the past few days he wanted a break and let loose. Well, you decide to kick it up a notch with this stranger and you begin to grind down on him, just as you did with your boyfriend. He seems to notice how you eyed Chris and places his hands on your hips, not moving them too far. He seems to know he's in a game of sorts and he doesn't want to provoke anything further.

As you continue to grind, the feeling of someone watching you makes smirk. You don't have to look to know that you've got Chris' attention. You can also feel the man tense. He suddenly loosens his grip and you watch him back away, giving you a wink before disappearing into the crowd. You don't have time to react as someone grabs your wrists hard. "We're going home. Now." His tone is scarily calm. He tugs on your wrist as he pushes through the crowd and out the door. You take a deep breath as the cool night air hits your skin.

Chris hails a taxi and opens the door for you. You hop in and Chris gives the driver the address. As soon as the back door closed, the air was suffocating. The ride back was silent but his tight grip on your thigh was letting you know that you're really in for it when you get back to the apartment. The ride is about ten minutes and soon, too soon, you're outside the apartment complex. You get out as Chris pays and drags you inside.

You reach the door first and wait for Chris, who opens the door and lets you walk in first. You head straight to the kitchen where you get a glass of water. Chris enters the apartment and slams the door, leaning against it as he locks it, staring intently at you. You make eye contact and play innocent.

"What?" You say, taking a sip from the glass.

He takes a breath in, "You know what, nena."

You bat your lashes and tilt your head, "Mm, no, I don't. Care to enlighten me?" You barely have time to react as Chris pushes off the door and now stands centimeters from you. You stumble back and he keeps pushing you until your back hits the wall. He leans down and places his hands on either side of your head, placing the glass of water on the counter.

"Don't you dare play innocent with me, chica. You know exactly what you did tonight." You know Chris would never lay a hand on you, but he was damn good at intimidating you with just his body. "Why were you grinding on that man like that? Were you planning on fucking him if I hadn't come and stopped you?"

You snort. "Of course not, papi." The tone of your voice changes to a sultry one as you bring your hands up to play with his shirt. Chris, however, was not in the mood. He takes your wandering hands and pins them above your head.

"But I was alone and you had said you were going to show me off tonight. The only thing you showed anyone tonight was that your conversation with Zabdiel was more important. I was just simply... showing you what you were missing." You pout your lower lip.

"Oh no, you don't get to touch me after what you pulled tonight. Do you think he could've fucked you better? Make you cum as hard as I can?" He's right in your face now, plump lips brushing your own. You can feel how hard he is, pressing against your lower abdomen. He suddenly brings a knee between your legs, resting close to your throbbing core.

"N-no," you reply, captivated by the new look of jealous rage in his eyes.

"Then why were you grinding on him like that?" You don't reply. "Well, it seems I haven't made it clear enough about who you belong to if you're going off and finding other people. So I guess papi is going to have to remind his little girl who she belongs to." You yelp in surprise as Chris picks you up and takes you to the bedroom, his words barely registering in your head. You feel a sudden rush of wetness down in your core at his words.

You land on your bed and Chris pins you down. You haven't seen him this worked up in a long time. You decide to push your luck even more. You suddenly bring your hands up to his chest and push back. He stumbles back and looks at you a little shocked. "You don't get to touch me tonight. You said you were gonna show me off and you didn't." You see his eyes become black and he stalks back over to you, making your heart flutter.

"I'm in charge tonight. You don't tell me what to do nena." His hand wraps around your throat, squeezing enough to make you suck in a quick breath. "I'll take what I want." He pushes you back onto the bed and wastes no time in taking off your shirt and pants, hearing the fabric protest against his rough hands, leaving you in one of Chris' favorite lingerie sets.

He groans at the sight of you and leans over your body, beginning to mark up your neck with harsh sucks and nipping teeth. His hands wander up and quickly massage your chest over the lace, tweaking your nipple and making you arch your back. He pulls his lips away from a dark hickey he was working on and brings his lips to your ear. "Are you going to apologize?"

His words wash over you and you bring a hand up to his hair, grabbing it and tugging, making him groan. "I'm not apologizing," you lean up and bring your lips to his throat and leave a mark on him. "Because you don't deserve it." He moans and places a hand in your hair, pulling your lips away from his throat and crashing them together. Your lips molded quickly and the kiss was bruising.

He suddenly pulls back and pushes forward, making your back collide with the bed. He begins leaving marks all down your body to your heat. His hot breath fans over the lace, making you shiver in anticipation. He pulls the lace to the side and his tongue collides with your nub and you moan his name, hand going straight for his hair and tugging. He groans and flattens his tongue, adding two fingers.

With the stimulation of his fingers and his tongue, he's got you like putty in his hands. He knows you're close when your walls tighten against his fingers. He builds the fire in your belly, bringing you closer and closer until he pulls away at the last second. You're ready to chew him out for not letting you cum when his hand finds your throat again.

"Like I said, you don't have a say in what I do to you tonight." His dark eyes are looking into yours and you want to protest against him. Yet, the feeling of his fingers and tongue is an addicting drug and you wanted to feel them again. "Are you going to apologize now or am I going to have to keep punishing you?"

You couldn't hold yourself back.

"Like I said, I'm not apologizing because you don't deserve it." You fire back. He narrows his eyes and he has half a mind to tie you up, but the closet seemed so far away and he knew how desperate you were to cum. It wouldn't take much more until you broke. He doesn't reply to your snappy comment but he goes back to his original position and starts rubbing you at a slow pace.

You squirm against his teasing fingers, but he places his other arm on your hip, trying to keep you still. He brings you to the edge once again and you clench your jaw, not in the mood to give in to him. He continues to bring you to the edge once more and you want to slap him. He moves up so you're face to face, his hips flush with yours and you can feel the outline of his hard cock through his pants. He felt so much thicker tonight then he ever has previously. Maybe it was because you were so eager to get him inside you.

"I know how much you want my cock, nena. Beg for it." He says, just barely moving his hips against yours. You glare defiantly at him and he smirks, grinding a little harder. Being edged three times made your clit a little sensitive, and the feeling of fabric against it made your legs twitch. You decide that he can't be the only one torturing you. Reaching between your bodies, you find the tops of his pants and slide your hand over the material, feeling a solid outline of his cock. Nope, he was definitely thicker than usual.

You give a firm squeeze and he bucks his hips. He's just as eager as you are, though you both are too stubborn to give in first. You find his tip through the material and gently rub a finger against it, making him groan. You're a little surprised that he hasn't tried to stop you. You tease him just as he did to you, though you only get to edge him once before he finally gives up.

"Fuck it!" He growls and stands up to take off his clothes. You quickly remove the lace you wore and Chris was on you seconds later. He positions himself against your entrance and your eyes roll back as he pushes in. He took his time, and the deeper he pushed himself in, you couldn't help but moan his name loudly as he reached places you didn't know he could reach. When he bottomed out, you had never felt so full with him. You've fucked plenty of times but something about tonight was different. Chris was going to ruin you and you were going to gladly let him do so.

"Look how well you take my cock, princesa." He boasts. "I bet his dick isn't as big as mine. I bet he can't make you moan like I can. Nobody knows your body better than me." It was the truth. Nobody could ever come close to how Chris makes you feel. You reach for his hair but he repositions himself so he can pin both your arms above your head. "You don't get to touch me."

You're about to bite back when he begins to move his hips, which quickly gives you an amazing sensation that leaves you speechless. He finds a semi-quick rhythm that gives you both just enough satisfaction but not bringing you to the edge quickly. His lips find your neck and begin a new hickey. You begin to squirm against his body, moving your hips up against his and he lets you. You can feel his cock reaching places, even at this slow pace, sending you over the moon in burning pleasure.

When he pulls his lips away, there is a dark mark forming. This pace is nice and all, but you're impatient, and still feeling the anger from earlier, not to mention you can't leave your mark on him, you demand that he goes faster. When Chris makes eye contact with you, you know you've pushed a nerve. In retaliation, he goes even slower. You can curse at him as much as you want, kick and complain, but he's in charge tonight and you know it.

This slow pace is a double-edged sword, not only affecting you but him as well. He didn't realize how much he needed his release then when he went slow. He tried not to show how much he wanted to pound you into next month but he couldn't hide everything from you. You could already tell he was struggling to not let the beast take over. This pace was your final breaking point. Taking in a breath, you apologize.

"Chris, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have grinded on that man tonight." He looks up at you, breathing hard, before he picks up his pace instantly, eager to bring you and him to the edge. This pace quickly builds up the fire and your walls are squeezing around him and he moans your name, eyes closing and head dropping to your chest.

"I'm sorry too." His voice was muffled by your chest and you almost didn't hear him. You don't respond, so he picks up his head and looks at you, pupils wide as he draws near. "I should have made good on my promise to show you off," his voice stutters a little. You both work off the last of your anger in the final moments. He lets go of your hands and you drag your nails down his back, leaving red marks, and he finds a spot under your jaw to make one final mark on you.

His hips begin to stutter before he cums, his hips lazily thrusting as you cum moments after him. Both of you stop and Chris rolls off of you, panting. When you both calm down, he helps you clean up and comes up behind you, making you roll onto your side and he wraps an arm around you. "I'm sorry baby," he apologizes again. You turn your head, catching him in your peripheral.

"What were you and Zabdiel talking about anyway?" He doesn't respond and you turn and face him, giving him the look.

"Well, I can't tell you..."

"Why not?" You suddenly press a hand to his shoulder and roll him onto his back, surprising him and even yourself as you climb on top of him. "Do I have to force it from you?"

"It's a surprise nena," he says, grabbing your hips. "Something special I planned for our anniversary next week..." You look down at him, shocked.

"Really?" He nods. You didn't plan on forcing anything out of him, it was an empty threat, but something about him always got you going. "Think you can go for another round?" He grins wide and nods as his hands travel up your body and find your chest.

"Good, 'cause I can go all night long..."

~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @cracraforfandoms @kmsmedine @kikixfandoms  @richardscurls

[nonasuch]

how I would fix star wars

inevitably, I have been thinking about How I Would Fix Star Wars, and make the parts of TRoS that displeased me into a more coherent story. 

unfortunately, to do so will require the use of a time machine and veto power over the Lucasfilm Story Group. but IF I had those things here is what I would do:

I actually would not make a lot of changes to TFA. The main ones would be:

toning down Starkiller a bit as a threat, to a one-shot-per-planet deal but with a faster recharge time

slightly more stormtrooper stuff -- establish what Finn’s leaving behind and give Phasma a little depth. 

if possible, put some kind of distinguishing visual marker on the trooper who marked Finn’s helmet.

a small background detail that isn't important yet: after the village massacre at the beginning, show stormtroopers collecting the bodies, trooper and villager alike. if possible, do this after every scene with a significant body count, throughout all three movies.

either give the knights of ren some actual stuff to do or cut them out entirely

show kyle chafing at snoke’s leash, maybe demanding to know more about some of snoke’s various Secret Projects, and being dismissed

give rey a little time to settle in with the Resistance before leaving to find Luke. we don't have to show it much, just make it clear that she’s making a home there and has bonded strongly with Leia

clean up some weird pacing and make the travel times/distances between planets more consistent

honestly other than that I wouldn't change much. I genuinely like TFA a lot and its strength is in how well it establishes the new characters.

for TLJ, some bigger changes but the bones of it I'd leave alone:

make it more clear why the tracking through hyperspace is a big deal and make the solution less of a fetch quest

I really like parts of the Canto Bight plot but I would probably swap it out for something with more stormtroopers in it -- let Finn interact with other troopers and remind us that there are individuals under those helmets

(a recurring joke: Finn can always tell troopers apart when they’re in uniform, and Rose can never figure out how. he thinks it’s because he was a trooper, but no, it's because he’s Force sensitive)

maybe get close to convincing some of them to desert, but either they fail last-minute or the deserters get caught and killed

Finn and Rose escape by the skin of their teeth thanks to a trooper who helps them, letting them know that even if they aren't brave enough to leave, there are plenty of troopers who aren't all-in with the First Order

again, after any major fight show the body cleanup. troopers carrying and stacking the dead in neat rows. start hinting that there is something more ominous here than fanatical tidiness

the Snoke stuff -- make it more obvious that Snoke is orchestrating stuff other than just running the First Order. maybe have Hux ask about the cargo ships they're sending to the Unknown Regions, and get shot down

make part of Kyle’s refusal to leave w Rey due to his burning need to Know All The Secrets, and conviction that as Supreme Leader he could really clean up the joint

once Snoke is dead, show Kyle getting access to his secret files/vaults; do NOT show what he finds there

I'd also want to clean up some wonky pacing and timeline/travel distance stuff, probably, but again I really like most of the movie so it’s nothing major

also keep Phasma around for the next movie! what the fuck, she rules, why would you not

okay so that brings us to TRoS, which… would need a pretty major overhaul. 

First of all, we are working under the assumption that I have a time machine, so I made Carrie Fisher go to the cardiologist on the reg starting on day 1 of TFA rehearsals, and she’s fine and able to play the part as she was meant to.

with that in place, here’s how I would restructure:

we keep the Hammer Horror opening scene, but tweak the Emperor’s reveal. he’s much more corpse-y, without the tech umbilical keeping him alive -- a wraith animated by Dark power. 

lots of grandiose claims about his unstoppable army and his impending dominion over the galaxy, ultimate triumph over the Light, etc

don't show the armada yet -- just kyle’s reaction, which is genuine fear.

news of the Emperor’s return isn't a broadcast, but a whisper. a transmission from a terrified First Order cargo pilot, who’s learned the truth about his one-way trip to the Unknown Regions. passed through the lower ranks by rumor and hearsay. eventually leaked to the Resistance by an unknown First Order source

I like the idea from the beginning of the movie, that Rey’s trying to speak to dead Jedi through the Force. but it’s not working, and she shares her frustration with Leia

make it clear that she and Leia have a deep, strong bond.

give Rey a Jedi artifact to hunt for. maybe there’s a place or a thing that she thinks will let her commune with fallen Jedi, and that’s what they go looking for.

that lets us keep some of the fetch quest, but the First Order’s not as actively on their tail. 

they keep crossing paths anyway, and every time there are troopers doing something worse. maybe at one point they see troopers refuse to massacre civilians, and being killed themselves instead.

also they take Rose with them, because this movie needs more Rose

still have those post-battle scenes of body cleanup. now the cleanup crews are being killed once they’re done

this could be a good use for the Knights of Ren, actually. whatever is happening, they're part of it

Leia is more active throughout: she's on the move, recruiting allies for the Resistance, trying to figure out what's happening in the Unknown Regions

she has an actual scene with Lando, and he goes to Rey on her orders

tweak Poe’s backstory with Zorii. he worked with her while undercover for the Resistance, and left them in the lurch when the General needed him back. 

he’d have recruited her, if there had been time, but now he's glad he didn't: most everyone Poe recruited to the Resistance died at Crait.

when Rey crosses paths with Kyle, he’s obviously rattled. he Knows Something that he won't or can't tell her and he's even more fatalistic than usual.

lean harder on the unease/whispers of dissent in the First Order as they're told to do more and more awful things. maybe a scene where someone -- not Hux -- disagrees openly, and Kyle says something that implies that he's getting orders from someone above his head.

this gives Hux a chance to snark at Kyle -- isn't he supposed to be the Supreme Leader, now? who's telling him what to do?

off Kyle’s reaction -- someone is telling him what to do, and he's terrified of them in a way he never was of Snoke.

(keep Hux-as-informant, that was done perfectly)

Rey’s artifact hunt still takes her to the Death Star wreckage, off rumors that Palpatine hoarded Jedi artifacts. 

we meet Janna &co. Finn is so relieved and happy to meet other troopers who survived defecting. Janna tells him that there used to be more, that it used to be easier to get out, but more and more troopers have been killed in the attempt, without escaping.

by now it’s clear: there is Something Wrong With The First Order, beyond the obvious.

Rey fights Kyle in the Death Star ruins. Kyle tells her the Emperor wants to turn her to the Dark Side, that he can’t be refused or stopped, that even death won’t let her escape from him.

the fight plays out similarly, but Leia’s distraction doesn't kill her. 

after Rey heals him, Kyle faces his fear and talks to Leia via Force bond. He tells her what the Emperor is planning, and it’s Ben Solo who leaves the ruins.

he can give Leia files or some other concrete proof via the same trick he uses with Rey in the movie, because that’s honestly very cool and it was used really well, so we’re keeping that

when Rey talks to Luke on Ach-To, he tells her that Palpatine used the Empire to sow chaos and fear, because that made the Dark Side stronger and gave him more power to tap into.

Luke says: “I think he would have been happy to burn the whole galaxy down, as long as he could rule over the ashes.”

Rey realizes she can’t hide from the Emperor, and knows he’ll never turn her to the Dark. she goes after him.

Leia sends the Resistance to back Rey up and sets out to rally the galaxy with Lando and Chewie

finally, it’s confrontation time! Rey faces Zombie Palpatine, and he reveals his plan in all its glory:

he’s built an army of the dead. ghost ships, crewed by all those bodies we've been watching the First Order collect for three movies.

some of them we recognize, if we’re paying attention: the trooper who marked Finn’s helmet, Lor San Tekka, Hux. there are long-dead clone troopers, little more than skeletons in filthy white armor. half-functional Separatist droids. Resistance fighters and First Order officers killed on Crait. countless civilians. 

they’re all dead, all animated by Palaptine’s Dark Side powers, fueled by the strife and chaos he continues to sow throughout the galaxy

he doesn’t want to blow up any more planets. he wants to kill the shit out of absolutely everyone: the end of all life, and all Light. everyone in the galaxy a soldier in his undead army

he wants Rey to strike him down and become the new Sith Empress, ruling over an empire of ashes.

but we are discarding the granddaughter shit, because frankly it is not necessary and makes no sense. 

he can just be like ‘ah yes, a feral desert child, powerful in the Force, with no inconvenient ties to hold her back. I've had good luck with those, mostly.’

now, a brief side trip: what is the First Order doing, in the midst of all this?

well, the rank and file are actually not super down with the ‘join the glorious army of the dead’ plan. half of them are in open revolt; some try to run, some seize control of their ships and decide to fight for the living

Phasma leads Team Living. yeah, I kept her for a reason! Gwendoline Christie is great at this!

Ben shows up as before, fights the Knights, does the cool lightsaber trick with Rey. he fights with Leia’s saber.

when Palpatine drains their life force to restore himself, though, something happens differently:

it’s actually Leia’s life force. she gives up her life for her son and for the daughter of her heart, willingly and gladly, knowing she has rallied the galaxy to their aid. she tells them, before she goes, that help is on the way

the giant fleet that arrives to fight Palpatine has First Order ships in it. finally, everyone is on the same side. Palpatine has been playing both sides against each other since Episode 1, but it won't work anymore, now that they know what he wants. the long con is over. they're united against him.

Rey beats Palpatine the same way, Ben revives her the same way, but Leia’s sacrifice means he has enough juice left to survive it. 

idk about the kiss; I am Reylo-agnostic

but he’s going to try to shepherd the First Order into something that builds and protects, instead of destroying. 

people like Janna and Finn, who got out, and Rose, who lived under their heel, will show him how.

Finn is Force sensitive, and so are some of the other former troopers. 

some of them want to become Jedi

Finn wants to follow Leia’s path: do the training so he understands how to use the Force, but he's not meant to be a Jedi. he's going to be a leader -- not a general, hopefully, but a leader for peacetime.

so like. they won! hooray.

Rey takes the name Skywalker, still. Ben is fine with this: he’s a Solo-Organa. 

there can be a touching Force ghost reconciliation, or not, whatever

so. that is how to fix star wars. you’re welcome. if anyone out there has a time machine and an in with Lucasfilm, hit me up I guess?

[bjy-on-ao3]

Hi, I really enjoy you writing, especially your Persona content. The way you portray Adachi is on point, at least in my opinion. So I'd like to request Adachi being visited by his s/o in Prison (during a conjugal visit) and they have sex, please?

Here you go, Anon~ I hope you enjoy!

I once was considering something like this in the past, but crushed my own hopes when researching stuff. Turns out only a handful of countries allow conjugal visits (Japan not among them), as well as only a handful of states in the U.S. and not for heavy crimes like murder (which makes sense considering) - and even then they aren’t exclusively for sex stuff. However, knowing that someone else wanted something like this lets me suspend my disbelief a little and write it, anyway.

(There’s still a LOT of stretch here though, so don’t take this as a source of information. For example, the visitor isn’t strip-searched - but it’s more fun to have that as part of the fic.). Also funny enough, this is the first non-dubcon/noncon Adachi fic I’ve written for some time. (As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

Tags/Warnings Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Slight Cockwarming, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, Begging, Established Relationship

Summary In which Adachi gets a conjugal visit in prison from his s/o for not-so-wholesome purposes.

Fic Friday

Pent-Up Penitentiary (F! Reader/Tohru Adachi)

Going through the long, tedious process of filling out paperwork and waiting for approval, you had wondered again why a conjugal visit to your boyfriend in prison sounded like a good idea. Not that sound decision making was your strong suit, considering you had chosen to stay with him after the revelation he responsible for the murders of two women. Maybe you secretly had a death wish of your own. Or you thought you knew him better than either of those women had and that knowledge protected you. That aside, you had spent a lot of time alone with him. If Tohru Adachi had wanted to kill you by now, you figured you would have already been dead.

The boring and seemingly endless paperwork had been a mild inconvenience compared to the next part of the process. A strip search was mandatory, they informed you, and you had hated every second. Sure, it was a fantasy you had played out before, but with Adachi, not some random idiot whom you barely knew and cared nothing about. ‘It’ll be over before you know it and worth it’ you had repeated silently, pulling a sour face the entire time. Finally, it had ended, and you let out a breath of angry relief you didn’t realize had caught in your chest.

The more difficult parts of the process behind you, they had escorted you to the designated area - a short row of plain, small single-story buildings surrounded by a tall, sturdy fence that towered oppressively on all sides. A reminder your visit served only as a temporary illusion of normalcy and when it was over the bars, bulletproof glass, and shitty phone systems would separate you all over again. Your face fell as you dwelt on that reminder, freed from your thoughts when the escort officer stopped by a door and cleared his throat,  nodding to it before returning toward the gate.

Taking a deep breath to tamp down the fluttering in your chest, you opened the door and stepped inside, taking a quick glance around the interior. It was much more than you expected - nicer than some studio apartments you had seen in Inaba, outfitted with a small kitchenette and bathroom, an archway with no door leading off into a bedroom. In the central area there was a coffee table and even a small television, sitting opposite a comfortable, but well-worn looking couch.

As you stepped further into the blandly decorated space, the sound of the door opening and shutting interrupted your inspection. You heard boots on the floor come to an abrupt stop and sensed a presence behind you. “This is… nicer than I expected.” You said casually, turning in place.

Your eyes fell as expected on Tohru Adachi’s face. His lips were set in a small, bare smile that was tired, cynical, and, dare you say, a little happy, all at once. You knew if you mentioned that last emotion he would vehemently deny it and suggest you get your eyes checked. “Well, not the process, that was awful, but this,” you added with a wave of your hands.

“Go figure, even criminals get it better than hard-working people,” he answered, and you could hear his bitterness. Having heard his feelings before on how he seldom got what he felt was owed to him, it was no surprise. “Whatever, that’s not what we’re here for,” he dismissed, shaking his head as if to banish the thought.

You didn’t step forward to embrace or kiss him, simply waiting for him to make the first move. If you knew Tohru, a few months behind bars would not have turned into a ball of sappy emotions. Even if he had thrown himself at you, you knew he would have told himself it was all carnal need, not sentimental in the slightest. Besides, he liked to lead the show.  “Strip.” The word was demanding, and to almost anyone else, you were sure it would have sounded cold.

“Straight to the point,” you answered, unruffled. You knew the game with Adachi. Many months dating the man - from shortly after the murders, up to the time of his apprehension - had taught you a lot. “You never had any patience,” you ribbed with a half-smile, but didn’t move to shed any clothes. It was more fun if you didn’t make it that easy on him - especially when you had a good idea of how he might respond.

“Oh? I’m the one who has no patience?” He moved away from the door until he was so close you could feel the heat of his body and breath. “I don’t remember being the one begging all the time before,” he reminded you smugly, and you felt your face flush.

“Only because you-” you argued.

“Ah ah,” he touched a slender finger to your lips, cutting off your argument almost childishly, “enough flapping those pretty little lips.” You felt your skin heat further and a vague hum of arousal between your legs, catching an undercurrent of excitement beneath his condescension. “Get undressed. Now.” The last word was hard and low, but the glint in his eyes was more devious than angry. “Unless you want to be punished?” Adachi added, grabbing your chin in one hand and tilting your head to ensure you looked directly into his grey eyes.

You wet your lips involuntarily - a quick flash of pink that Adachi’s eyes followed - before swallowing thickly. “Like you won’t punish me anyway.” You countered, enjoying the expressions swirling in his gaze.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.” In a quick motion, his hand swept from your chin to the back of your head, curling his fingers harshly in your hair near the root. You groaned in response, biting down on your lip at the sting that shouldn’t have been so pleasant. “That’s what I thought,” Adachi hissed cheekily, “Now don’t make me say it again.”

He released your hair and let his arms drop, taking a step back so you had space to undress. You rubbed your scalp gingerly before finally obeying, starting with your shirt. You unbuttoned and peeled the garment away, revealing the low cut cups of the bra you had bought for the occasion. You peeked at Adachi as you stripped, the tingling between your thighs quickly rising, joined by growing dampness that made you press them together for an instant of relief. Next came your skirt, which you shimmied out of as enticingly as you could, revealing panties to match the bra.

You reached back, undoing the clasp bra clasp and letting the straps slide off your shoulders until they caught around your elbows, the cups falling away. Your nipples, already half peaked from excitement, stiffened fully with exposure to the cool air. “That’s better,” Adachi said appreciatively. He stepped back toward you as you pulled off the bra and tossed it onto the floor, reaching forward and greedily filling both hands. “God, I’ve missed these tits,” he confessed, kneading roughly before he began to tweak and roll your nipples between his fingers.

You sighed and moaned at the rough touch you had craved since Adachi had been sent away. It wasn’t the same when you fondled yourself alone at night - the warmth of his skin and calloused feeling of his hands was impossible to replicate. “They’re all yours, Tohru,” you breathed, almost dreamily, eyes drifting shut, surprised by how much of a relief his touch on your body again was.

But Adachi wasn’t about to let your sudden compliance go unnoticed. “Look at you, acting like a brat before,” he pinched a nipple especially hard as if continuing to punish your previous defiance. “But you sure sing a different tune once I get my hands on you. What’s the change of heart, baby? Did you miss me?” The words were mocking, rather than sweet, as if the thought of missing someone was something to be humiliated about.

You fought through a whimper while Adachi continued to grope at your chest, attitude not entirely driven away by the thrill of having his hands on you again. “I don’t know, did you miss me?” You asked, imitating his tone.

He pressed in closer, dipping his head toward your neck and nipping it sharply. “The only thing I’ve missed is your body,” he said dismissively, squeezing your breasts hard enough you gasped and whined. “Your tits and that sweet ass and tight little pussy,” he growled in your ear. “I missed what’s mine.” His voice rang low and possessive, and he sealed his claim by latching onto the racing pulse in your neck and sucking a dark mark into the soft skin.

“Fuck you, Tohru,” you cursed, feeling your cunt throb in reply to his words. “I-I don’t even have to be here.”

Adachi straightened up, and when you met his eyes again, you recognized a dark tint among the hunger. “Oh? Then why are you? Admit it, you wanted this as much as me.” There was cruel delight in his voice. You knew he got off on putting you in your place as much as you did from agitating him. “Missed my cock so bad you were willing to let a stranger strip search you to have it again.” Your chest heaved as one of his hands drifted down your stomach and over your hip, and you couldn’t suppress another lewd sound. “Because you know no one else can make you feel as good as I do.”

His wandering hand stroked over your clothed cunt, before slipping to your backside and pressing your hips into his so you could feel his hardness through his slacks. “But it’s been a while. Maybe I need to remind you,” he mused.

The hand on your chest moved to your head, forcing you down onto your knees in front of him. You looked up, eyes half-lidded and pupils wide. You licked your lips again, eyeing the bulge in his pants. Even if you took pleasure in insolence, staring up at Adachi as he loomed over you like a starving beast was insanely arousing and you were willing to be compliant.

“I forgot how hot you look on your knees where you belong,” Adachi sneered. He wet his lips as you had, but the same action on him was hungry and predatory. Pinning you in place with his lustful stare, he reached to unbuckle and strip off his belt and unfasten his pants. He pulled out his cock, flushed and leaking, and stroked it for a moment. He didn’t miss how your gaze followed the relaxed motion or the way he smeared the pearl of pre-cum on the head over it. “Tell me how much you want my cock and maybe I’ll let you have it.”

You hesitated, running your tongue over your lips, eyes remaining on his cock. As much as your on-and-off bratty act irritated him, it made watching you struggle between it and your desire for him before eventually giving in so satisfying. He smirked as he spied the instant of resolution pass over your face. Your hooded eyes flicked up to meet his, lips wet and slightly parted. “Please, Tohru?” The words weren’t sickly sweet, instead oozing arousal. “I want your cock. I need it.” You continued to look up at him, lustfully and hopefully.

“Hmm,” he hummed, pretending to mull over your plea, “I don’t think you want it bad enough,” he said, and only your craving for what was in front of you kept you from half-heartedly rolling your eyes. Adachi always liked to push, and that hadn’t changed in your time apart.

But giving in to start made it easier to keep going. “Tohru, let me suck your dick, please. Don’t you want me to?” You did what you could to give him your best pleading expression to match your words. “I promise you won’t be disappointed.”.

The signs of Adachi’s smug satisfaction increased, your pleas stoking the rush of power and hunger he enjoyed so much. “There’s the little cockslut I remember,” the way he said it, the degrading name sounded almost like praise. “I guess you’ve earned it.”

He buried one hand in your hair, tilting your head back and pulling you toward him. You eagerly met him the rest of the way, slipping the head of him past your lips. You sucked lightly at first, swirling your tongue and dipping it into the slit before tightness in your hair urged you  forward. You gladly took more of him into your mouth, relishing the familiar taste and weight on your tongue. Letting your eyes droop nearly closed, a satisfied moan escaped your lips as you hollowed your cheeks and began a steady pace, loving how Adachi’s hand in your hair flexed.

There was a low, answering sound from above you. “Fuuck, I’ve missed this. You look so good sucking my cock.”

Eyes opening, you glanced up as best you could. Adachi’s intense stare met you, wide blown pupils rendering his stormy eyes nearly black and his chest rising and falling quicker. The tantalizing look sent a shudder through you, encouraging you to continue with even more enthusiasm. You lay one hand on the leg of his slacks, bracing yourself as you went on. Adachi cursed again, rolling his hips forward, and only the hand on his leg kept him from choking you on his dick in surprise.

Streams of swears and a few lewd names muttered under heavy breath drifted from him, accompanied by several more bucks into your mouth, until his pace was almost constant. After the first you had prepared yourself for more, knowing they would come, focusing on relaxing your gag reflex. You still choked a few times on his length, but reigned in the spasms, feeling a few tears well up and burn your eyes and a single stray trail of saliva drip down your chin.

The labored breathing above you escalated, as did the number of curses and obscenities until they seemed to blend. “Damn, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep that up. Shit,” he swore, and the strain in his tone was obvious.

His cock twitched on your tongue, rewarding your efforts with more salty pre-cum, before the hand in your hair stiffened. His harsh grip stopped you, sunk down on his cock as far as you could go, and you glanced up questioningly. The rock of his hips had come to a full stop, not the stuttering pace you were used to when he was about to cum. He tugged you off his cock completely and you whined in protest.

“Tohru, please.” Having gotten a taste of him again, you wanted nothing more than to finish what you had started.

He blew a quick puff of a silent laugh through his nose, his pompous expression marred by the lurid flush on his cheeks. “Who’s the impatient one here, again, sweetheart?” He teased. Your lips twisted in a frown and your brows furrowed, bottom lip sticking out sulkily. “Heh, you look so cute pouting like that. Don’t worry, I’ll let you have plenty of my cum later. But not yet.”

He pulled you up roughly, steering you towards a wall as soon as you were properly on your feet. You stumbled, your back hitting the wall with a thump that made you wince and mutter a quiet curse. The prick of pain was quickly forgotten as Adachi closed in, pulling your panties down so eagerly they almost tore, eliciting another sound of quiet protest before you kicked them away. He hiked your legs up around his waist, pinning you against the wall with the force of his hips.

When his dick slipped slickly against your pussy lips, your head fell back against the wall with another thud, a low hum coming from your mouth. You rolled your hips and pushed against him, admittedly just as impatient as Adachi was to have to his dick inside of you, but only brushed the swollen head over your clit.

“Bet you’ve been thinking about this as much as me.” His lips were warm against your ear, breath rolling over your neck in hot puffs. “Tell me you want it and I’ll give it to you,” he coaxed, wanting to hear you beg again now that he was pressed so close to your heat. You groaned, wishing he would just hurry and fill you up rather than play more games. “C’mon, baby, speak up. You went through all that trouble, didn’t you? Tell me how much you need my cock again.”

“I want it. Now,” there was an edge beneath the desire, the hint of your impatience and annoyance. “Fuck me, Tohru. I can’t take it, I need your cock. I can’t wait.”

Adachi didn’t make you beg further, pleased with the filth he had drawn from your lips. He adjusted the angle of his hips before lining up with your slit and pushing inside. You groaned and he sighed as his thick head slid past your opening, each hot inch of his cock stretching you in a way you didn’t realize you had missed so much. He pulled back a few inches, before rocking his hips back and smoothly sinking into you completely.

A growl met your ears before his lips touched your neck, sucking hard. You gasped and cried out, hips reflexively grinding against him as you basked in his lips and the fullness from his dick. “Ah, fuck, better than I remembered,” he breathed when his lips left your skin, giving a languid thrust out and back in, to the delight of you both.

You hooked your ankles together around his waist, urging him closer, deeper as his thrusts became more steady. His lips returned to your throat, peppering your skin with nips and sucking more small marks into it. Hands clenched around your thighs, Adachi shifted you against the wall, the new angle letting his cock stroke you in a way that elicited even more excited sounds from your lips.

“Yes, fuck, Tohru. More, more, harder,” you pleaded.

“Fine, sweetheart, I’ll give you more,” he answered, the force of his hips driving harder until each thrust left your head feeling thick and foggy. “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t think about anything else,” Adachi promised. Sure enough, all you could care about was the pleasurable ache each time he pounded into you and the cruel, seductive rasp of his voice.

“Yes, yes, please. Fuck me until I can’t think of anything else!” You echoed, again pressing him forward with your heels and trying to meet each brutal thrust. Your mouth hung open, every sound unrestrained and wild. “More, more, more,” you repeated like some obscene chant.

“Just can’t get enough, can you? You asked for it, sweetheart. I’m gonna fill you up again and again and you’re gonna love it,” he said, his bawdy words reaching through your lust-addled mind, making your cunt clench more greedily around him. “Maybe I’ll just keep fucking you until you pass out. I bet my little cockslut would love that, wouldn’t you?”

“Aah, fuck, yes!” All you could do was agree with him, your stubbornness long forgotten in the throes of the ecstasy you hadn’t been able to relive in months.

“Fuck, almost there,” Adachi breathed when your cunt contracted around him extra tight, as if trying to force him to fuck you even harder to draw out of its embrace. “I wanna feel you cum on my cock first. Touch yourself for me,” he compelled you, how close he was getting plain in his husky voice and labored breathing.

“Fuck, Tohru, yes, anything for you,” you agreed, in a tone even further gone.

You reached down almost mechanically, fingers clumsily reaching just above the place your bodies met and rubbing your clit urgently. Already awash with pleasure from Adachi’s rough pace and dirty words, your body reacted swiftly to the new attention, the buzz of pleasure in your gut transforming into a hot coil that threatened to snap.

“That’s right, anything for me,” he agreed possessively, his eyes glued to where your fingers worked feverishly and his cock disappeared into your body. “Who do you belong to, baby? Who’s the only one who gets to fuck you like this?”

You struggled to answer him with coherent words, the spring in your belly reaching its breaking point and bursting in ripples of heat. “You, Tohru, I’m all yours. Only, aaah, you, you, you,” your speech melted into an incoherent jumble of wild cries and expletives, unable to focus any longer on anything but the delicious clenching of your pussy and the electric waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“Fuck, that’s right. So here’s a reward for my sweet little whore,” he degraded, leaving sloppy kisses and more bites on your neck, his pace spurred on by your cries. “Just the start of how much I’m gonna fill you up tonight.”

With his promise, he stiffened against you, bucking especially hard several times into your trembling heat. He came in hot spurts, filling your cunt with warmth until it seeped out around him. He murmured your name low, before biting hard into your neck, a yelp interrupting your moans.

When Adachi was completely spent, he withdrew, easing you back onto your feet and stepping away. Legs weak and threatening to buckle, you stayed against the wall for much-needed support, eyes closed and panting heavily. Nearby you heard the rustle of fabric and the soft sound of more clothes hitting the floor.

Before much longer, you were yanked away from the wall, nearly falling. You opened your eyes to see Adachi stripped down to nothing as well, and despite how tired you felt, you couldn’t help but linger for a moment on his cock, still half-hard.. Adachi pulled you through the open archway to the bedroom, dragging you down onto the bed. He pulled you roughly against him until your back met his chest, both damp with sweat.

“Tohru, let go,” you complained, feeling overheated and sensitive. Surprise jolted another moan from you as he groped your thighs, spreading your legs long enough to bury himself in your heat again.

“Weren’t you listening? I’m gonna fuck you until you pass out, sweetheart.” he reminded you snidely, curling his arms around you. One splayed across your stomach, the other squeezing a breast roughly, but almost absently. “I just need a little more motivation first.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he couldn’t see. “Sure, motivation. Can’t just call it cuddling like a normal person, can you?” You accused dryly.

“Shut up,” he snapped. You had a feeling his face was flushed with a mixture of anger and humiliation at your words. Whatever he wanted to pretend, his actions spoke louder than his defensive words. “You sound a lot better when your mouth is stuffed with my dick. Maybe I should just put it back to better use instead,” he threatened.

“Well, I am still waiting for that taste, Tohru.”

[bxmbiiii]

Detention (M)

(A/n: This is my first smut that I wrote a year ago, but I’m posting it now (crazy right?). This was requested by a associate of mine (I wrote it for her) so if you see it on her wattpad or tumblr, no I didn’t steal it. I did, however, polish, tweak, and clean up the smut part mostly because, when I looked at it before it was cringey as hell.)

Jimin's Pov

BRRING!

"Class is dismissed."

I huffed a breathe of relief that this godforsaken class was over.

'Finally get to leave this hell hole'

"Not you Mr. Park."

'Fuuuck'

"What could I have possibly done this time Mr. Min?" I asked rolling my eyes" and slumping in my seat.

Mr. Min arrogantly smiles, showing off a cute- 'What the hell is wrong with me? Cute? Hell no!'

Mr. Min Yoongi is my stupid, fucking annoying, Algebra teacher. This class happens to be the last of my day, which makes it the longest. 'Yay me!' If you couldn't detect the sarcasm already, no, I don't like him...

Okay maybe I do, but it's hard when your highschool teacher is hot as fuck, but tortures you every second they get. So what if I might fall asleep during his class, or forget to turn in homework most of the time? It doesn't mean he gets to pick on me about it, and call me out in front of the whole class does it? I just wish-

"MR. PARK!" a loud ass voice suddenly screeches at me. I jump in surprise and I'm met with Mr. Mins crotch in front of my face. I slowly look up into those dark brown sexy eyes, and I feel my face slowly start blushing profusely.

"Mr. Park have you been listening to anything I've been saying for the last five minutes?" He questions me, pink lips twisting into a devastatingly hot smirk.

".....no." I speak up meekly.

"I said 'If I catch you breaking anymore classroom rules this semester I will punish you.' Now go on home before your parents start worrying." He casually backs away from my desk, turning around, and heading towards his desk.

'I will punish you.' The words ring in my ears and I quickly feel myself get hard. My eyes were glued to his ass, hugged tightly in sleek black dress pants. l felt my dick harden in my pants a little more, as I hurriedly began putting my books together. I stood up when finished, and made my way to the classroom door.

My hand was on the door knob when, "Also Mr. Park?", I turned my head to the left quickly, facing Mr. Min. "Make sure to get a good nights sleep." He flashes me a quick gummy smile, which almost makes me cum in my pants, and I leave out the door quickly.

'Great, now I gotta jerk off when I get home, before starting on homework'

(Next Day)

'I'm in Mr. Mins class again, reviewing our unit for an upcoming test, when some bitch starts bothering me'

"Hey....Pssst!" The voice to my right tries to grab my attention.

"Hey, Jimin. Jiiimiiiiniiie~. Jim-" the voice gets cut of by, you guessed it me.

"What in the hell do you want?" I whispered, whipping my head sharply to the right to be met with Jungkooks (a young ass kid who's in my class for some damn reason) big ass eyes.

"May I borrow a pencil?" I rolled my eyes.

'Is this bitch serious?'

"No, now stop-"

"PARK JIMIN!" Mr. Min angrily cuts me off.

'Aww shit. Thanks-a-fucking-lot Jungkook'

"Do you have something to share with the class? I thought I had a discussion with you about this behavior yesterday." He says tilting his head to the right, staring into my soul.

"It-" I could hardly get a word out to defend myself, before being cut off again.

"Don't try to bring up petty excuses, as I clearly saw you distracting one of your fellow classmates. If you think that your all mightly and superior then-"

"You know what Mr. Min? FUCK YOU AND THIS CLASS! I wasn't interrupting shit, and you know that as much as I do. I don't understand why you constantly pick on me, but I do know I'm fucking sick of it." My breathe was labored, and face probably as red as a tomatoe after getting everything off my chest.

"You have afterschool detention Mr. Park." Mr. Min eyes me dangerously. He goes back to the white board going over the lesson.

'Fine with me' I roll my eyes and zone out waiting for class to end. The sooner the class ends, the sooner detention will too.

BRRING!

(Jimins Pov)

I slump in my seat as I eye everyone (especially Jungkooks dumbass) with envy packing up and leaving the classroom.

A good silent ten minutes go by, and I find myself starring at Mr. Min. I let my eyes trail over his god-like face. Nicely kept dark eyebrows,and a small slightly widened, round nose. His lips were small, but full and deliciously pink. His bottom lip was caught in underneath his teath. His skin was a smooth ivory, with a light tan, and he had an upside-down diamond shaped face, with jawline that could send me to heaven. His eyes.....were looking straight at me.

'Fuck, I got caught'

"Do you see something you like Mr. Park? Or should I say Jimin?" He asked me with an alluring tone.

"N-no. I just had something on my mind that's all."

(Yoongi's Pov)

'He thinks I can't tell....cute'

Jimin is a student of mine, a student I very much enjoy. Yes, I may pick on him in class, but seeing him get flustered after is arousing. I get hard sometimes just by the way he bites those plump lips of his. God that hair. It looks so soft, and I wouldn't mind pulling on it while I hit it from behind.

'A simple session wouldn't hurt, would it? But I'm his teacher, I would get in trouble if caught.’

*watches Jimin bite his lip out of anticipation*

'Fuck it, I'm catching that case.'

(Narrators Pov)

Yoongi stands up abruptly from his chair, making Jimin flinch slightly in fear. Jimin could see Yoongi’s eyes grow dark with lust, and felt his cock slowly become hard. Yoongi made his way to Jimin’s desk. Jimin faced downwards, unable to look Yoongi in the eyes without the erection in his jeans getting harder.

Yoongi shot out his right hand, cupping Jimin’s chin, and jerking his head up to meet his eyes. Jimin’s large innocent eyes, staring back in to his, made his own cock hard.

“Go lock the door.” Yoongi’s deep voice vibrated throughout the classroom, sending shivers down Jimin’s spine, directly to his cock. With the quickness, he shot up out of his seat, and headed towards the door.

‘Click’

As soon as the door was locked Jimin felt Yoongi’s presence behind him. He could feel Yoongi’s erection on his ass, and it excited him.

Yoongi lowered his head right beside Jimin’s ear and spoke huskily, “ You’re gonna obey every single command I give you. Got it?”

“Y-Yes.” Jimin replied shakily.

Yoongi snaked his hand around Jimin’s waist and roughly palmed his erection, “Yes what?”

“Yes Daddy~”, Jimin groaned, his head automatically rolling back onto Yoongi’s left shoulder.

He smirked, “Good boy. Turn around, on your knees, now.”

Jimin turned around, and quickly dropped to his knees. Now face to face with Yoongi’s erection. He looked up into Yoongi’s face, as if to ask permission to unbuckle his pants. Yoongi nodded his head, and Jimin immediately started to undo Yoongi’s belt. He successfully pulled down his pants, and was met with a mouth watering sight. Yoongi’s cock was large and hard. The tip was bright red, precum deliciously leaking from it. Jimin licked his lips in anticipation, he wanted to taste him.

“Fucking hell. Suck me off al- ooh fuck~” Before he could finish his sentence, Jimin’s tongue was already pressed against his tip, kitten licking.

“Don’t fucking tease.” Yoongi warned. His hand shot down towards Jimin’s head, gripping his fiery red hair, when Jimin took him completely in his mouth. Yoongi’s groans filled the spacious classroom, and Jimin bobbed his head to and from. Relaxing his throat, Jimin swallowed around Yoongi’s cock, earning a loud gutteral sound from Yoongi. Jimin breathed carefully through his nose, his face now red and doused in tears. Once again he swallowed around Yoongi’s cock.

Suddenly Yoongi pulled out, “I’m gonna fuck your face, and you’re going to take it, okay?” Jimin nodded and opened wide. Yoongi shoved himself into Jimin’s mouth once again, causing Jimin to gag slightly.

“Fuck you feel so good.” Yoongi groaned, causing Jimin to moan in return, sending vibrations throughout Yoongi’s cock. Yoongi then started fucking into Jimin’s mouth at a fast pace. Jimin held onto Yoongi’s thighs as he started thrusting at a fast pace. Jimin soon started to feel his own precum seep through his boxers as he looked up at Yoongi. Yoongi using him to get himself off turned him on. His mint green hair stuck to his sweaty forehead with his head thrown back, and his sharp jaw slacked open, as moans flowed from his mouth. He looked like a God, and Jimin wanted to please his God. So Jimin tighten his lips and sucked hard.

“FUCK! Fuck! Fuck~” Yoongi’s hips stilled as white hot ropes of cum coated Jimin’s throat. “Swallow it.” Yoongi commanded, and of course Jimin obeyed. He smirked when Jimin stuck his tongue out showing his obedience proudly.

“Get up.” Yoongi ordered. As Jimin stood to his feet, Yoongi gripped him by the collar of his shirt and their lips crashed together. Jimin moaned into the kiss as he felt Yoongi strip him of his clothes as their tongues fought for dominance simultaneously. Jimin disconnected their lips and began to suck bruises into the side of Yoongi’s neck, moans now loudly projected in his ear. Yoongi pulled Jimin off him, staring at him for a while, before dragging him towards his desk and sliding everything to the floor.

He layed Jimin on his stomache, “Do you remember the punishment Daddy promised you baby?”, Yoongi questioned into Jimin’s ear licking his earlobe, positioning his length at Jimin’s opening.

“Ye- Ohhhh fuck DADDY!” Yoongi roughly entered Jimin without warning. He tightly gripped his hips, fingerprints sure to leave marks behind, and began to thrust roughly into Jimin.

Snaking one hand around Jimin’s throat and squeezing the sides, Yoongi began to speak in time with his thrusts. “This *thrust* is *thrust* what *thrust* happens *thrust* when *thrust* you *thrust* disobey *thrust* Daddy *thrust*.” Yoongi’s unrelenting speed had Jimin screaming at the top of his lungs.

“I’m sorry Daddy, so fuc-...goo-..aah~” Jimin moaned out his apology, any words after it completely incoherent. He felt the knot in his lower stomache began to unwind.

“Fuck aah...Daddy I-I’m gonna cum~” Jimin warned Yoongi. Yoongi quickly removed his right hand from Jimin’s neck and brought it down towards his cock, gripping Jimin’s neglected length, and stroking it furiously to match his thrusts.

Jimin’s moans rose in pitch, “Cum for Daddy baby boy.”, Yoongi groaned into Jimin’s ear. With that the knot in Jimin’s stomache snapped.

“AHHH FUCK YOONGI! Daddyy~” Jimin screamed loudly cumming all over Yoongi’s hand and desk.

Jimin simultaneously clenched his ass, causing Yoongi to go over the edge too. “J-JIMIN! Aaah~” Yoongi hotly moaned, filling Jimin up with his seed. They stayed in the same position for a while to catch their breathes.

Yoongi then pulled out of Jimin, watching closely as his seed slowly seeped out of Jimin’s ass, “Fuck, that’s so hot.”, causing Jimin to blush hotly. They slowly began to get dressed, and the intense block of silence fell upon them as Yoongi picked up the mess he’d flung from his desk earlier.

Jimin couldn’t stand the silence, so he opened his mouth to speak, “So-”. Yoongi cuts him off with a quick peck to the lips, grabbing Jimin’s hand, “You, me, Saturday at the cafe ‘round the corner at 6pm. Don’t be late.” With that he gathered the rest of his things and left. Jimin stood there dumbfounded, clenching the hand Yoongi had grabbed, he noticed a piece of paper.

‘Call/text me. XXX-XXX-XXXX

~Love M.Y.’

[voresmithing]

Truce: Chapter 14.2

Get outta here, Deadeye.

He hadn't listened.

So now he sits handcuffed to a metal table and on the wrong side of the law.

The Law, it turns out, looks like Commander Fucking Reyes. Or Ex-Commander. Or whatever. Jesse wasn't military and only knew as much about Overwatch as a couple of blockbusters and gossiping through smoky nights with the gang had taught him. But he'd seen the posters, the papers, the magazines, the comics, the action figures, so when Reyes walks into the narrow room with corrugated walls he's been held in for the last hour, Jesse doesn't much manage to bury his surprise.

The thing is, when you meet the Real Person, they're supposed to be smaller than the movies would have you believe. No one is really larger than life. No one can be six-foot-one and feel nine feet tall. And maybe it's just the skull fracture he's still recovering from or being handcuffed so that he can't stand, but Reyes just kind of reads as huge, at some base and instinctual level. The same part of Jesse's brain that tells him when to pull the trigger so that three bodies all hit the floor simultaneously lets him know that this guy could put Jesse through one of these thin metal walls if he wanted to, and that he just might. The interrogation room's stale air coalesces around Reyes like a fist, and he isn't doing anything other than looking at Jesse over the rim a dark blue tablet.

"Huh," Reyes' voice is deep and deceptively mild. His eyes dart back to the screen of his computer. "No wonder it took admin so long to find you."

"Find me?"

Jesse had about ten thousand expectations on how this might go, and thus none at all. He'd been a 'criminal' all his life, but you weren't really a criminal in the Post-Crisis Southwest. There'd have to be laws for that, and authority to enforce them. Deadlock did what they did wanted because no one was there to stop them. So he'd been tied up by other gangs a few times, and he'd drawn lines in the sand that the uninitiated had to walk, but that was it out here. The rest of the country had given up on New Mexico, Arizona, a good half of Texas, and all of south Cali. And hell, that was fine by him.

But it also means he's only seen how this goes in movies and, much like how films always got gunfire and blood-spray and bodies wrong, he's been doubting their validity when it came to setting his expectations on being brought in by Overwatch.

So when Reyes mentions finding him he wonders if somehow the reputation of Deadeye had preceded him to a national level. Flattering and terrifying all at once. He forces a grin. "Who were you looking for?"

"Jesse McCree, that's what you're calling yourself, yeah?" Reyes pulls up a seat as he speaks, tone conversational, and drops the tablet on the table where Jesse can see it. It's a file for a Jessica McCree, born 3/4/2037 in Las Cruces New Mexico. Sex: Female. Parents: Anne McCree and--

'Jessica' doesn't have any photos, but Anne does. Jesse feels something like being squeezed along a bruise that happens to cover his entire chest and looks away.

"So you could only find my sister? Sorry, I was born off the books, so--" Jesse lies automatically.

"That's what admin figured. Not all that uncommon, though you're a little old to be a Crisis baby." Reyes drags the tablet back, taps the file closed. "Til they talked to the hospital."

Jesse grimaces. Thinks about waking up in a smock, in a white room, no gang or gun anywhere in sight. He'd done his best to charm the nurses, at least when he was able to string two words together without drooling, and he'd more or less succeeded. But it wasn't like that meant they'd be keeping his secrets.

He scowls and says nothing. He's learned a lot of self preservation, growing up in Deadlock, and keeping your mouth shut is his number one survival technique. Reyes seems thoughtful and unperturbed, waiting like he expects Jesse to come up with another lie, maybe argue, but after about ten seconds of silence unfurling between them, Reyes speaks as if there had been no gap in the conversation at all.

"So, Jesse," and yeah, Jesse's surprised to hear Reyes make a point to use his name, "What happened to your parents?"

"What do you think?"

"I think," Reyes responds with an effortlessly unruffled tone that reminds him of Dolly, "you should answer me."

Dolly'd always kind of tweaked his tit with that. He grumbles, "Awfully full of yourself, demanding my sob story when you haven't told me your name."

"You can call me Reyes."

He says it like it's nothing, like that information comes unbound from context or questions, but Jesse can't stifle an urge to shift uncomfortably. "...are you really him? The guy in the movies?"

"The guy in the movies is named Charlee Mena. I'm just the guy doing my job. And right now, my job is to figure out what to do with you. So let's try this again, where's your family?"

Somehow, Reyes makes him feel ridiculous for even being interested. It's not like he was even a fucking fan, obviously everyone's favorite was Reinhardt anyway. So he shoves the fact that this guy is that Reyes aside and answers the question shortly, "dead."

"During the war?" Reyes asks, his tone just as neutrally invested, and Jesse nods. There's nothing special about his story, and he doesn't remember much of it anyway. "Anyone who isn't? Cousin, uncle, grandparent?"

Jesse shrugs, and the handcuffs clatter against the table with the movement. "What's it matter? You gonna shove me off on someone instead of sticking me in a cell?"

"Hah, with how marked up your arm is?" They both flick their gazes to Jesse's exposed left arm. The forest of black crosses has grown from his wrist to halfway up his bicep. A territory war had broken out with Bonewash and he'd been busy the last eight months. "You don't even have a chance in hell of even getting tried as a minor, forget parole. Nah, you might be able to fight it a while if you get a good defense, but one way or another you'll go in for life, kid."

That he might get let up on for his age hadn't occurred to him. And life probably won't even be that long. He makes himself grin, cocksure and uncaring. "Sounds like your job is pretty easy then."

Reyes purses his lips. It's the first sign of a temperament being tested, and Jesse has to guess it's because the wrath of the law doesn't inspire any fear in him.

But it only lasts a few seconds before Reyes sighs and stretches, getting to his feet. "Before I hand you over to the feds, I've got a bet to settle with a friend of mine. How's your head feeling?"

"Like shit," he answers honestly. The drugs wore off hours ago, and the throb behind his eyes has been perpetual since.

There's a clacking sound as Reyes removes a set of plastic keys from his pocket. "Can you still shoot?"

"I..." Jesse feels his heart stop, confused and hopeful at the same time. It occurs to him suddenly that no one's going to give him a gun in jail. Life sounds a lot longer when it means bored out of his mind and completely useless. "I can always shoot."

Reyes unlocks his handcuffs, they pop open with a subtle hiss.

"Alright then, let's see you shoot."

It turns out Reyes' friend is Ana Motherfucking Amari.

They find her stretched out in the sun, stripped down to a tank top and combat pants and lining up her sights on remote targets zipping around at what must be a thousand yards out. Jesse can only see them because Reyes hands him a set of binoculars to observe her batting the steel grey disks around like she's playing kick-the-can with bullets. When her magazine is spent and the echo of gunfire has faded, she rolls to her feet and shoulders her rifle in a single unbroken motion. She grins when she sees them, a bright and hard humor flickers across her face as she looks over Jesse, then Reyes.

"Decided to take my bet, Gabriel?"

Jesse swallows, thinking movies really just never stop lying, because once again Hollywood just couldn't can this and reproduce it for a screen.

She's not like anyone he's ever seen. There's a raw, cracked look to people raised out here. Edges like glass, skin like sandpaper. The New Mexican sun will give you the texture you need to hang on through anything. But she's smooth like titanium; not unscarred but merely nicked by blows he thinks might've cleaved someone lesser in half.

He holds his breath. He wishes they hadn't taken his fucking hat so he could take it off. He curses not getting the chance to look in a mirror in days.

"Bet?" He echoes.

"She thinks you might be half as good as your reputation." Reyes crosses to a blue and weather-beaten munitions trunk, popping it open with another tap from his key ring.

Jesse keeps his eyes on Reyes, afraid of what expression might form if he looks at Amari. "You don't?"

"Nope."

It's not a surprise, really. Jesse's lost track of how many times he's been asked to prove himself. Hell, for the boss it'd basically been a game. Showing off his young hot shot, telling Jesse to keep sleeves off his left arm as the tattoos crawled further up it. It had always filled him with two parts smug pride, and one part a buried humiliation whenever he remembered he was performing tricks like a well trained dog.

But frankly if someone like Amari pat his head and called him a good boy he figures maybe there's worse ways to use his talents.

Reyes returns with a pistol, warns him to not get any stupid ideas because it's loaded with low-impact rounds, and holds it out.

Jesse hesitates, hand hovering over the butt, trying to figure out how this might be a trap. But his fingers itch to find a trigger, and after a few seconds he yanks the gun from Reyes' unresisting grip. Whatever, he's fucked anyway.

The gun in his hands feels too light. It is clean and new but worn around the grip in a way that says it sees a lot of use anyhow. Immaculately kept. He doesn't recognize the exact model, but it has full and semi-auto settings, shoots twelve .30 caliber rounds, and is feels almost fragile compared to the modified old Desert Eagle he was used to using these days.

"This isn't my gun."

Reyes has rearranged himself next to Amari, and tips his head in her direction with his arms crossed. "Your gun is evidence. That's her gun."

Looking at them both at the same time feels a little like standing right up on the edge of a cliff so that all you can see is endless, exhilarating sky, and so he only darts a glance at them from under his tense brows. "You can't just give me a new gun and expect--"

"What'd I say, Ana?" There's a smug note to Reyes' voice. "Kid's a con artist not a murder sava--"

Jesse knows his cue.

The first bullet explodes through a thick cardboard silhouette fifty yards out with a rapport that is quieter than Jesse expects but still loud enough to punctuate the end of Reyes' goading statement.

"Ohh, not a bad shot." Amari croons behind him. "Last chance to back out, Gabriel. I won't let you off cheap."

Jesse wonders if they have something going on, in the movies they kept it professional.

"Suure, one bullet into a stationary target. He's a natural. Ana, were you always this easily impressed?" He hears Reyes' smooth sarcasm on his left. Jesse can pick his shape up in the corner of his eye. "Come on, kid. I want to know why they call you Deadeye."

Jesse sucks in a steadying breath, says nothing, and shoots.

He's handled a lot of guns, there were a lot of options when you work for arms dealers. And he's learned to impress with just about every type of pistol he can get his hands on. This one is new, fancy, too quiet and absorbs so much recoil he can't feel the shock in his joints the way he is used too. The trigger depresses so smooth each bullet emerges like a surprise. He empties the clip perforating a line down a single target, nose to groin. The vertical spacing is uneven in a few points, but goes straight down the silhouette's spine.

"Hn. Tight aim, alright, but--"

There is a sharp click from Ana on Jesse's right. "Don't try to weasel out of it. I don't think Jack has that kind of consistency without aids."

"We're not rating Morrison, Ana. This is about if a sixteen year old has seriously been showing up every wanna-be cowboy in--"

"I'm not done," Jesse interjects quickly, shoulders hunching when he realizes he'd interrupted, then presses on anyway. "Give me two more clips."

"Two?" Reyes asks, and Jesse turns to face him, chest puffed with what he hopes reads as confidence.

"Two, if you want to see why I got named Deadeye." He forces a smug grin, "Less, if you're just afraid of losing to her." He tips his empty hand toward Amari.

Reyes rumbles, appraises him with a gaze that makes Jesse feel like his veins have turned brittle, and then gets two more clips.

Jesse reloads, finds his hands are trembling.

He still gets anxious about it, usually when there are lives on the line, but sometimes when it's just his reputation. He breathes, so long and slow that he can feel the warm desert air seeping into him from inside. Shooting is easy, he reminds himself.

He pulls the trigger twelve times in under three seconds.

The sound of gunfire can be soothing, if you hear it enough. If you control it, so it reverberates like music notes in your bones. Echoing from finger to wrist to elbow to shoulder. He can feel it in his jaw, his inner ear. The familiar violence shimmies all the way up his right side.

The bullets rip a large hole in the center of a target twenty-five yards out. He expects to hear something smart from the audience, something about how he should have just fired in auto, but Reyes and Amari are both silent fixtures behind him, and he loads in the last clip.

It's late fall, and the almost-cool temperature is rare and perfect. The light isn't so bright that it increases his headache, and the terrain that unfurls around the temporary buildings serving as Overwatch's base of operations is filtered pastel under the October sun. A half a dozen targets remain untouched, sticking out stark and rigid among the thigh-high shrubs; two at fifteen yards, easy, one more at twenty-five and fifty each, and a couple of real long shots out at seventy-five.

Jesse inhales and cracks his knuckles. Exhales and drops his hand with the gun down near his hip. Goddamn unprofessional, he bets, but it's not about aiming. It's about mapping the pattern into his muscles. Get the thinking out of the way before he even lifts his gun so that when it's time to shoot there's nothing but reflex.

He takes in the range with eyes so wide he can feel the sun pricking the insides of his retinas, jerks the gun up clicks the trigger down four times. His left hand rests level just beyond the rear sight, and each blast sends the gun bouncing up against his palm only to be immediately steadied, fired again.

Four holes bloom into the four nearest targets, starting right and moving left but so fast they seem to appear simultaneously. Eye, eye, nose, mouth.

Jesse's heart races and hands ache like he'd been there shooting for hours. He swells and can't stop a grin that he's afraid to turn and show his captors.

A hand lands on his right shoulder, small but deceptively heavy, and squeezes.

"Nice shooting, kid." Ana Amari says, then, with a grin in her voice Jesse has to turn to get a look at, she walks away, slapping a stone-faced Reyes in the waist as she goes. "Next time we're in Bengaluru, Gabe. My favorite place. You better be ready to drop two weeks pay on it."

Jesse decides he doesn't care that Reyes isn't impressed. The sound of Amari praising him was going to echo between his ears for weeks. Not a bad final shoot.

But when he is handing Amari's pistol back to Reyes (safety on, magazine detached), the momentary elation buoying him putters out and leaves him in a free fall. He turns away to look back out at the desert for as long as he can while Reyes is locking up the weapon. He tries to etch the landscape into memory but finds the idea that he might not see it for a while, might not see it again ever, distracting in its unbelievably. The desert is always there; out every window, at the end of every long road, beyond every mountain stenciled against the horizon. Love it or hate it, you diffuse into it all the same, until only density distinguishes you from the dust in the air.

What could prison do to change that?

Maybe he wouldn't even live long enough to need to worry about it.

There's something brewing behind him, a disquiet in Reyes percolating toward confrontation that Jesse can feel like a thunderstorm charges the air.

In some ways, Reyes reminds him of many men in Deadlock. Guys who hold themselves like they're made out of gunpowder, all dangerous but still inert energy. Some of them will never go off, but Jesse's not fool enough to trust that, and so he's learned to track them with a gut instinct that holds him in an even orbit just outside their potential blast radius.

Jesse makes himself turn, tries to read the meaning in the set of Reyes' shoulders, but can't settle on anything other than 'pissed off'. So he loads up a weak grin, almost self-effacing. "Guess she really got you, sounds like you had a lot riding against me."

"Heh," there's a gravel to Reyes' voice that wasn't there before. "Figured I'd at least get to call it even. But you didn't leave me a lot of room for debate there."

Despite the tense anger, a wistful amusement plays on Reyes' face, and Jesse again wishes he had a hat to fuss at. Mixed emotions can be hard to navigate, especially when he can't figure out the origin. Reyes doesn't actually seem all that burned about the money.

"Are you two, uh... you know?" He asks, mostly to distract, partly to know.

That catches Reyes by surprise, and his bushy eyebrows climb up to his near invisible hairline. "With Ana?" He laughs, a low roll with none of the earlier texture. "I'm married, kid, but not to her."

Jesse doesn't point out that even a kid knows marriage doesn't mean faithfulness, especially not when you're friendly with a lady who looks like that. It doesn't matter anyway, really. The dangerous energy in Reyes has dissipated, leaving the man only frowning at him in puzzlement, and Jesse looks away from the scrutiny, reaches for a hat he doesn't have.

"You ever been arrested before, Jesse?"

That sounds like a trick question, so Jesse stays quiet, waiting to spot the tripwire.

"Didn't think so." Reyes nods, sussing out the truth effortlessly. He leans back against a table with his arms crossed, the table legs scrape over packed sand at his weight. "Going off what I heard from your charming Deadlock pals, half of you have never seen anything but this wild west bullshit. So let me explain how this plays out."

Reyes waits and Jesse says nothing; listening but feeling a hundred miles out. Reyes's low voice harmonizes well with the melancholy settling in his chest.

"You've basically got a few options; you can confess to every life you've allegedly tattooed into your arm there, or try to convince the judge you've just been playing around, that there's no way you've actually put four dozen men in the ground in the last, what, three years?"

"Four."

Jesse doesn't expect to hear Reyes pause at that, but there's a sound of him sucking at his teeth, three beats, and then an exhale. "Mary mother they start 'em early out here." Jesse watches a lizard skitter jerkily through the dust a few yards out and waits for Reyes to continue. "And you know what? If you'd kept your head down, that might've gotten you a sympathy verdict. Toss the kid a lifeline while the adults rot out of sight for the rest of their lives. But nah, you had to go be a show off. So what's everyone going to think when they find out about you making yourself an easy bet in the local death games down here? Trading ears for to make yourself a hot shot?"

Jesse had almost gotten lulled into it; a comfortable, detached acceptance that this was effectively the last day of his life. But the mention of the game jerks him back into the moment, and he stares at Reyes whose lips have curled on the sour story.

"Don't look so surprised. What did you think was going to happen when you and a few hundred other geniuses were handing a woman proof? Expected us to just never hear about it? Hell, soon everyone in the country's going to. Someone's case study is going to get famous, maybe one of your friends writes a book. Next you could be the one appearing in movies."

It feels like his heart has sunk all the way down into bowels. It's disorienting to realize that the idea of having his story in movies actually makes him feel nauseous. Jesse forces a smile but feels it curdling, "Hope they make me hot."

"Would that make it worth it, kid? Get yourself a household name? You sure got it spread out pretty far down here."

"I didn't ask for that," Jesse grates out without looking Reyes in the eye.

"Sure you didn't, just branded your arm up so everyone would know."

"So what?" Jesse spits as his back goes up, more cornered than he'd felt handcuffed to a chair thirty minutes ago. "I live here, asshole, I might as well be good at it."

"How's that working out for you now?"

"I'm still alive!" The shout emerges hoarse and already tired, the effort of raising his voice lights up a pain behind his eyes from the remnants of the injury that had put him in the hospital. "I get to eat every night, I get to shoot all I want, most of the people who'd want to kill me are too scared to try."

Reyes isn't surprised by the outburst exactly, Jesse can't imagine Reyes ever looking like Jesse managed to get one up on him. But his mouth stays closed so Jesse keeps letting his flap.

"Must be nice to just get to ride up in a place you've never given a shit about, toss everyone in prison, then drop by D.C. to collect your medals from the President for taking out the trash. Nice of you to clean up the place for everyone who got to abandon the rest of us when the omnics hit." Not that Jesse remembers when they crossed the border, rolling north in from the Sonora omnium, but he'd heard the story enough from people who hadn't been toddlers at the time that he pictures it as a tidal wave of uneven metal, glinting bright enough to blind as it breaks across the desert. "Maybe you'll get another movie out of it. Sure would help out your public image about now, right ex-Commander?"

As soon as the words pass his lips he feels like they shouldn't have, but the blood is too hot in his head to care now. He steels himself for a fight, fists rolled, ready to give back what he can against the raw force he'd felt coiled inside Reyes since he first saw him.

But Reyes responds with an unimpressed and unperturbed frown. "Yeah, no one came to save you so you can't be held responsible, that's how it goes? Bet you've learned all kinds of lines so you can sleep at night while kids younger than you are killing themselves and each other with the guns your buddies put in their hands."

Jesse glares, struggles not to lose eye contact then does anyway. The problem isn't that Reyes is right, the problem is that he doesn't know the fucking half of it.

The blood rushing through his temples has cooled, but it does nothing for the splitting pain electrifying the space behind his eyes. Abruptly he just wants to be shoved into a cell so he can call it a day. Maybe it would be dark and quiet. Maybe he'd had more than enough sun in his life by now and spending whatever time was left in a place without windows wouldn't be so bad after all.

"What do you even want, man?"

Jesse meant it as a dismissal, and a snotty one at that. Like being called kid over and over by strangers had made him want to live up to it. Whatever it takes as long as they can be done here.

But there is a loaded silence following Jesse's complaint. Jesse feels it coiling his gut like Reyes has his hand on the trigger and is deciding whether or not to pull, and has to double check that the man isn't really pointing a gun at him.

Reyes decides to fire.

"I want you to work for me."

The suggestion catches Jesse like he's finally found the ground after shooting for legends took him high into the sky and then shoved him into the air without a parachute. A visceral pain crushes his diaphragm, making it impossible to breathe. The only sound he manages to get out is a weak and started "Oh."

And though he knows he must have a thousand questions, the only response to come to mind is okay.

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