#(and then ran kicking and screaming back to the choke point)

[felikatze]

AYOOOOOOOOO

another parent killed without remorse. i let takumi kill him and i am SO disappointed they dont have battle quotes. takumi how do you feel about pulling an alcryst here

[iydiamartinx]

THIS MEANS WAR III

Dick Grayson x Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 3.3k synopsis: Gotham’s youngest neuroscience lecturer never planned to get tangled up with two of its most eligible bachelors. Both are determined to win her over—without revealing they know each other… or that they’re vigilantes. But when the Joker takes an interest in her, things get a whole lot more complicated. a/n: I'm not fully sure how I feel about this chapter, since Jason is surprisingly tricky to write, but I hope you all enjoyed! warnings: attempted mugging & sexual innuendos

GOTHAM STREETS

You hadn’t stopped smiling since you left the bar.

You tried. You really did. Kept your head down, hands buried deep in your coat pockets, boots tapping out a steady rhythm against the uneven Gotham pavement. But every time your mind replayed something he said—or the way he looked at you when you teased him—your lips tugged upward like they were betraying you on purpose.

Dick had surprised you. In all the best ways.

You’d expected someone charming, maybe a little smug—he was too attractive not to be at least a little aware of it—but what you hadn’t expected was the ease. The comfort. The way conversation flowed like you’d known him longer than an hour. How he actually listened when you spoke, even when your words slipped into science—what Milo liked to call your “brainiac voice.” And not only did he keep up, he added to it. Challenged you. Made you laugh so hard at one point you nearly choked on your wine.

And then there was the way he looked at you. How he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention—like you were someone worth listening too. Worth knowing.

You’d been on your fair share of dates—most forgettable, some mildly scarring. But this one… it felt different. Effortless. Familiar in a way that made no sense. He asked questions that weren’t filler. He listened like he cared. And when you’d said goodbye, he’d looked at you like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

Truthfully, neither were you.

But you’d insisted on walking home alone—claiming it was close, which, technically, it was—though the real reason had less to do with distance and more to do with needing air. The space to process everything. A few quiet blocks to let the night settle over you before reality crept back in and your logical brain kicked down the door.

It was foolish, maybe—letting one good date stir up that much hope. You weren’t that girl. You didn’t do that. Even with Jake, it had taken a handful of dates (and a bottle of wine) before you’d started to soften. But with Dick?

It had been effortless. Like your heart had skipped the part where it’s supposed to check for red flags.

God help you, but you already kind of wanted to see him again. That was terrifying.

You turned into an alley—a shortcut toward your apartment. You were still buzzing from the date, your thoughts spinning, smile lingering like a stubborn echo. So much so that, for one foolish second, you forgot where you were.

This was Gotham. And rule number one?

Never take an alley after dark.

You didn’t see him coming. One shove and your back slammed into rough brick, the breath knocked from your lungs. A hand clamped over your mouth before you could scream. His breath reeked—alcohol, smoke, something foul and rotting—and the cold press of metal kissed your throat.

“Stay still,” your attacker hissed. “Or I’ll cut your pretty neck.”

Your mind screamed to move, to run—but your body froze. Just for a second. And then the fight kicked in. Old instincts reared up, you weren’t going down like this.

You forced your body to go limp, pretending to give in. Waited. Just until his grip eased. Then, with everything you had, you drove your knee into his groin.

He let out a strangled noise—somewhere between a groan and a wheeze—and stumbled back.

You ran.

Made it halfway down the alley before his hand caught your arm again. You spun, adrenaline lighting you up, and punched him square in the face.

“You bitch!” he snarled.

“Now that’s no way to treat a lady,” a deep, distorted voice drawled behind you.

Your attacker froze.

You felt it—the shift in the air. Watched his expression drain of colour.

“Hood,” he stammered. “It’s… it’s not what it looks like. I swear—”

The knife clattered to the pavement as he raised trembling hands.

Red Hood emerged from the shadows like a walking threat. Boots heavy, twin pistols holstered but clearly visible at his sides. The red helmet gleamed under the flickering alley lights, tilted ever so slightly. Unreadable.

“I saw what it looked like,” he said, voice smooth and mechanical through the modulator. “And I’m gonna go out on a limb and say it didn’t look like a misunderstanding.”

The man stammered. “I—I didn’t touch her, man! She hit me first!”

“Oh, poor you,” Red Hood said dryly, already reaching for him. “Bet that’ll sound real convincing when your jaw’s wired shut.”

He grabbed the guy by the collar and slammed him against the opposite wall—hard. The man whimpered, sliding down like a sack of garbage. Dazed. Bleeding. Breathing. 

Red Hood swiftly zipped tied him for the police and then he turned back toward you, and you instinctively took a half-step back before freezing mid-motion.

That helmet turned.

“You alright?”

You blinked, adrenaline still thundering in your chest. “Define ‘alright.’”

He paused. “Still breathing. Upright. Capable of sarcasm. You’re fine.” His tone sharpened. “Which means you can tell me what the hell you were thinking. Who walks into a Gotham alley at night?”

Your spine straightened. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t just wander into places like this unless you’re actively trying to get mugged,” he snapped, jerking his head toward the man slumped nearby. “You wanna end up dead in a gutter or are you just new here?”

“Oh, I’m sorry—should I have teleported home instead?” you snapped, heart still racing. “It was a shortcut. That’s it.”

“A shortcut?” he echoed, like it was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. “Congratulations. You shaved off what, thirty seconds? Was it worth the knife to the throat?”

“I didn’t know he was going to be there!”

“You never know,” he bit out. “That’s the point. It’s Gotham. Rule number one: don’t go out in the dark. Especially not in alleys.”

“I’m not stupid,” you growled, fists clenched at your sides.

“Then start acting like it.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You flinched, breath catching.

He paused, chest heaving slightly beneath the jacket. For a moment, the alley was silent but for the distant hum of the city. “You were lucky tonight. That’s all it was. Next time, maybe I’m not here. And maybe someone worse finds you.”

You stared at him, fists clenched, cheeks burning. Not with fear—but with embarrassment. Frustration. Fury.

“I didn’t ask for a lecture,” you muttered.

“No,” he said flatly. “You asked for a shortcut.”

“Asshole,” you spat.

“Sure. Call me the asshole when I just saved your ass.”

“I had it handled.”

That made him laugh—rough, humourless. . “You had it handled? Right. I showed up just in time to watch you get handled into a wall.”

You stepped forward, eyes blazing now. “Yeah? And I still got out of it. I kneed him first. Clocked him too. Or did you miss that part while playing Gotham’s angriest knight?”

He tilted his head, helmet gleaming beneath the alley’s flickering light. “That’s cute princess. You want a medal for being half a second away from a news headline?”

“No,” you snapped. “I want to not be treated like some helpless idiot because I had one bad night. You don’t know me.”

There was a pause—charged and electric.

“I know enough,” he growled.

You raised your chin, defiant. “Then you should know I don’t take well to being talked down to. Especially not by a guy hiding behind a helmet and a complex.”

He stilled. Just for an unnoticeable moment.

You weren’t afraid of him. Not the guns. Not the name. Not the reputation.

You stood there, furious and unshaken, like he was just another guy off the street who’d pissed you off. Not a vigilante. Not Red Hood. Just a man with too much attitude and a helmet to hide behind.

Normal civilians got scared. Normal civilians said thank you and rushed home with shaky breaths and adrenaline still spiking.

What the hell was wrong with you?

Because you weren’t scared. Not even close.

“God, you’re infuriating,” he muttered.

“And you’re annoying.” You folded your arms. “But here we are.”

Another pause.

The tension between you didn’t fade—if anything it seemed to thicken. 

He didn’t move. Neither did you.

Finally, he stepped back, retreating into the shadows.

“Go home, smartass,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes, crouched to grab your fallen purse, and muttered a string of creative insults under your breath—but when you looked up, he was gone. And yet… you felt him. Somewhere above. Watching.

He didn’t stop watching until you were safely inside your building.

This was your first encounter with a Gotham vigilante—and man, was he an asshole.

Jason had just watched your infuriating ass disappear into your apartment complex—because apparently, Gotham shortcuts were death traps and you didn’t believe in better choices—when his comm crackled to life.

“How was the date, dickhead?” Jason muttered, eyes fixed on your building.

“Someone’s in a mood,” Dick replied, voice disgustingly bright. Jason could practically hear the grin.

Jason grunted. “Answer the question.”

“It was great.”

Jason snorted. “No way.”

“I’m serious,” Dick insisted. “Smart, funny, terrifying—in a good way. Total knockout.”

Jason’s brows furrowed. “Terrifying in a good way?”

“She roasted me and quoted serotonin receptor pathways in the same sentence.”

Jason blinked. There was a beat of silence where he genuinely didn’t know what to say. Then one corner of his mouth twitched upward behind the mask, and his eyebrows arched slightly. “…Kinky.”

Dick barked out a laugh. “Right? I think I’m in love.”

Jason groaned, dragging a hand down his masked face. “You say that every time someone tolerates you for more than twenty minutes.”

“This one didn’t just tolerate me—she mocked me with clinical accuracy. It was like foreplay for my ego.”

Jason shook his head, lips twitching again despite himself. “I hate you.”

“She also said she doesn’t do second dates often.” Dick went on, more thoughtful now. “So naturally, I begged like a man with no shame.”

“Which you are.”

“Exactly.”

Jason leaned back against the rooftop ledge, one boot resting on the low brick barrier, eyes still trained on the window across the street. His voice shifted, lower. “So… you’re really doing this?”

There was a pause, just long enough for Jason to hear the sincerity settle into Dick’s tone. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know I want to see her again.”

Jason didn’t respond. Didn’t need to. The pause stretched, heavy in its own way, until Dick broke it.

“So what’s got you in a bad mood?”

Jason exhaled through his nose and tipped his head back slightly, gaze dragging upward toward the Gotham skyline. The clouds above were thick and dark, hanging low with a threat of rain. Sirens whined in the distance, their sound warping slightly in the wind.

“You know the usual,” he muttered, “beating up scumbags, saving civilians, keeping the streets clear for romantics like you.”

“Aw,” Dick cooed. “So chivalrous. Anyone ever tell you you’re a real catch?”

“Only in your dreams.”

Dick snorted. “Seriously though—bad night?”

Jason hesitated, gaze flicking toward the apartment window he’d just seen you walk past, you’d made it to your place safe. “Let’s just say Gotham delivered its usual charm. Creep with a knife, a civilian with a death wish, and me playing babysitter.”

“You alright?”

“I’m fine. She’s fine. Dumb as hell, but fine.”

“Dumb?”

“Took a shortcut through an alley. Alone. At night.” His jaw flexed, the muscle ticking hard beneath the edge of his helmet. “You do the math.”

“Oof,” Dick said, wincing audibly. “She’s lucky you showed up.”

Jason didn’t reply right away.

From the other end, Dick sighed. “It sounds like a usual night on the job. So what’s wrong?”

Jason’s jaw flexed. “She mouthed off at me,” he muttered, almost sounding petulant. 

“So do you. Constantly.”

Jason scoffed, pushing off the ledge. He began pacing along the rooftop edge, glancing down at the street below. “She told me off, then strutted into her building like she didn’t almost get stabbed five minutes prior.”

Dick let out a low, impressed hum. “…Hot.”

Jason stopped mid-step, turning sharply. “Shut up, Dick.”

“You’re thinking about her, though.”

His hand flexed at his side. He knew exactly what Dick was doing—and worse, he knew he wasn’t wrong.

“I swear to God,” Jason growled, “if you don’t end this call—”

“Okay, okay,” Dick said, still laughing. “I’ll let you go. But I am getting the full story tomorrow. Don’t think I won’t drag it out of you.”

Jason rolled his shoulders, already turning his back to the apartment and heading for the fire escape. “I liked you better when you were getting shot at in Blüdhaven.”

“Love you too, Little Wing.”

The comm clicked off, blessed silence returning to his ears.

Jason exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. He turned back one last time, casting a final glance at your window.

“Infuriating,” he muttered.

YOUR APARTMENT

You groaned as you rolled out of bed, every muscle in your body protesting the movement. Your side ached, your legs were sore, and your back felt like it was body slammed by a bear. God, you really wished your body was sore for an entirely different reason.

You winced as you stretched, muttering curses under your breath. You really should’ve taken Dick home while you had the chance. Whoever said sleeping with someone on the first date was trashy had clearly never met Dick Grayson. That man could charm the pants off someone’s grandma and probably have her baking cookies for him after.

Speaking of…

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and blinked against the screen’s glow. One new message. From him.

“Had a great time last night. Can’t wait to see you again.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the stupid, giddy sound bubbling up your throat as you responded. 

Thankfully, it was the weekend. No lectures. No lab work. No coworkers to fake professionalism around while your brain short-circuited over one man’s text. You had the whole day to yourself, and as you got dressed—tugging on jeans, your favorite coat, and a scarf soft enough to feel like a hug—you already knew where you were going.

First stop: Cafe Nero’s.

Your usual. A buttery croissant and a cup of iced coffee with a splash of vanilla.

Next? The bookshop.

The bell above the door chimed softly as you stepped inside, the warm scent of old paper and fresh espresso instantly curling around you. Sunlight bled through the tall windows, casting golden slats across the hardwood floors and over the scattered reading chairs nestled in cozy corners.

You wandered toward the back, cradling your coffee cup in one hand as you traced your fingers over the spines of new novels with the other. The ache in your side throbbed beneath your coat, a stubborn reminder of what almost happened—but you ignored it. Compared to the fluttering thrill still tucked under your ribs from Dick’s message, it felt small. Distant.

He’d enjoyed last night.

He wanted to see you again.

Now, with a croissant in your stomach and your fingers itching for a new read, the world felt calm again. Almost normal.

“I wouldn’t pick that one.”

You blinked, turning your head—and your eyes landed on a man leaning casually against the next shelf. Thick leather jacket zipped halfway, dark jeans worn in all the right places, and bright, poison-green eyes fixed on you with an expression equal parts amused and assessing. His hair—black as ink with a streak of white at the front—was tousled like he hadn’t planned on being seen today, but his posture said otherwise. Confident. Sharp-edged. Like someone who didn’t mind getting into trouble—or starting it.

“Excuse me?”

He nodded at the book in your hand. “That author’s all hype, no heart. You’ll be disappointed by chapter three.”

You arched a brow. “And you care what I read because…?”

He shrugged, unbothered. “Call it a public service. Mediocre storytelling is a crime. I’m just doing my part.”

You scoffed before glancing down at the book in your hand. “Right. And here I thought Gotham’s biggest crime was murder. Turns out it’s just bad literature.”

He smirked, completely unbothered. “Hey, murder’s messy. Bad writing’s slow, painful, and somehow still legal.”

You blinked. “…Are you seriously comparing my book choice to murder?”

He gestured to the cover, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m just saying—if you’re gonna invest your time in something, might as well make sure it knows how to keep you satisfied.”

“And what do you know about what keeps me satisfied?” The words slipped out before you could stop them—sounding more flirtier than you intended. God. Milo was creating a monster.

His grin widened. “Because I know books. And I know women.”

You studied him more carefully now—the cocky set of his jaw, the glint in his eyes that said he was used to mouthing off and dealing with the consequences. He had the posture of someone who picked fights with the world for fun, and the scars to prove it. Everything about him was a bad boy, through and through. 

He reached over, his arm brushing just close enough to make your breath hitch, the scent of leather, cologne and…gunpowder? curled around you. His body shifted nearer as he plucked another title from the shelf.

“Here,” he said, holding it out. You recognized the cover—it’d been trending online all week. “Strong plot. Sharp dialogue. Main love interest actually has depth… the kind that keeps you up thinking about them even after the book is done.”

You took the book, more to humor him than anything, and scanned the back cover. “And if it’s terrible?”

“Then you can yell at me over coffee. I’ll even pretend to be sorry.” His voice dropped an octave. “But if you’ve read it already, you know it’s a good pick. And if you haven’t—you’ll thank me for introducing you to it.”

You glanced up at him, “Well, I have read it.”

His smirk widened. 

“And I agree—it wasn’t bad,” you said, slow and coy. “But it’s not her best work. Not even close.”

You state watching as his smirked faltered. 

“You picked it because it’s trending. Vaguely steamy with enough grit to make it look deep when it’s actually just shallow fiction in a leather jacket. Compared to her earlier stuff? It’s second-tier, if we’re being honest.”

His eyebrows rose slightly—whether from amusement or disbelief, you weren’t sure.

“And,” you added, stepping into his space, “it says a lot about a guy who picks the easiest option without doing his homework. Because if you really knew anything about women—or me, in that matter—you’d know I’m more than capable of picking out my own damn books.”

Jason stared at you, momentarily stunned.

You set the book neatly back on the shelf and grabbed the one you actually came here for. “So, no. I’ll pass.”

Then you turned, heels clicking against the floor as you walked away, fully prepared to leave him behind in the dust of his own misplaced confidence.

“Wait—hold on—” he started.

“I’m sure you’ll have better luck next time, paperback Casanova,” you tossed over your shoulder, not breaking stride. “I’m sure there’s a girl out there who’s impressed by leather jackets and surface-level charm. Try aisle three.”

And with that, you disappeared down the row.

Then he exhaled a disbelieving laugh. Sharp. Breathless.

“Holy shit,” he muttered.

He wasn’t exactly a womanizer—not like Roy, who’d mellowed out a lot since Lian was born—but he’d never been shot down that fast, or that hard. 

You were infuriatingly attractive, all wit and spine, and it pissed him off how badly it worked on him. He really shouldn’t be wasting his time chasing after you —and yet, here he was. Standing in the middle of the aisle like an idiot wondering how the hell he was going to get a second chance. 

You were something he hadn’t realized he was missing lately.

A challenge.

And he couldn’t resist a good challenge.

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Taglist: @mei-simp, @sept3mberchild, @a-brilliante-mariposa, @feralwolfkat, @mercuryathens

[alltheirdamn]

Rotten | cowboy!joel x f!reader

Part III

Summary: When it rains, it pours. You want to hate Joel so badly, but it’s so hard when he keeps fighting for what he wants. Rating: 18+ MDNI Word Count: 7.6k Warnings: No-Outbreak AU, heavy banter and arguing, brat taming, explicit language, mild violence, kissing (!!!), outdoor sex, fingering, orgasm denial, rough unprotected piv sex, squirting, choking, slapping, creampie, aftercare, a fuck ton of angst, a dash of fluff A/N: if you came for the smut, part 1&2 are always there for your enjoyment...but if you stayed for the angst and the ending they deserved, then this is for you. i'll never shy away from angst and the opportunity to deepen a story past pnp, so if you don't like it pls don't fucking bite it. anyway, a HUGE thank you to @lotusbxtch for helping me work this final part out, you are my partner in crime. and thank you @mermaidgirl30 for always screaming about these two with me <3 xoxo everyone, enjoy Part I & Part II

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Storm clouds brewed above you, their grey formation migrating together until the darkness blanketed the sky. The incoming rainstorm made the cattle restless in the fields, and you were fighting through the whipping wind, trying to wrangle them back into the barn. Usually, you’d let them wander through the fields during calmer storms, but the churning clouds made you nervous for what was to come. 

Mac hesitated beneath you as thunder cracked through the air, the sound rippling through the rolling fields. He bucked against your grip on the reins, timidly backing away from the path you were guiding him on. The cattle were too spread out to control by yourself, but you could handle it. You weren’t raised to back down from a challenge, and that’s all this was—a challenge. The only issue was that there was little room for error before the storm reached its full potential. 

“C’mon, Mac. Y’gotta work with me,” you said, frustrated. 

You steered him toward the right side of the field, using him as a lead for the cattle to follow. It was useless; they only ran in the opposite direction and further away from you. You cursed at the sky, gripping your saddle horn as you leaned into Mac’s neck. The storm would come crashing down soon, and you’d be chasing the cows through the downpour alone. 

“Y’want some help?” Called out a voice in the distance. 

The deep timber of Joel’s voice frightened the herd, making them sprint through the tall grass in every direction. Fuck. You steered Mac around, facing Joel in the direction of him as he barreled toward you on his horse. He had one hand holding the reins, the other holding down his cowboy hat against the wind rushing over his body. 

“Fuckin’ dammit, Joel!” You screamed. “I had it under control!”

You didn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. 

His horse came into a slow trot beside you and Mac, and you whipped your head to the side to glare at him. Under the shadows of the storm clouds, his brown eyes glinted brightly, absorbing every ounce of light left above you in the sky. God, you hated him. You hated his stupid eyes, his smug smirk, and his broad body sitting atop his horse. 

“Lemme help you,” he offered. “Y’can’t get them all wrangled alone. Y’need another horse helpin’ move them.”

“No, I fuckin’ don’t! I can handle it, Joel!”

“Darlin’, I know y’can handle most everythin’, but this storm is gettin’ too crazy to be out here alone. Lemme just help herd them together, then y’can take it from there.”

“Jesus Christ, why can’t y’just leave me alone?” You yelled, exasperated. 

You glanced back at the cows, now several yards away and deeper into the fields than you wanted. Shit, this wasn’t good. Kicking your heels against Mac’s sides, you sent him into a full sprint through the open fields, distancing yourself from Joel and propelling yourself deeper into your endless expanse of land. It didn’t matter if you got caught in the midst of the storm; you just wanted to prove your point. You could do this. You didn’t need help. You didn’t want help. 

Joel called out your name, the sound of his horse galloping behind you growing louder. You pushed yourself harder, forcing Mac to run faster. Lightning struck down into the field miles away, the blinding light causing Mac to rear upwards. You tried to steady yourself in the saddle, swinging the reins to the side to guide him back onto all fours. He only fought against your hold, jerking his head back and forth as he huffed out a loud whine. 

“Mac, calm down!” You begged. 

A hand came beside you, gripping the reins and tugging them firmly to the left. Joel steered Mac beside his horse, taking control and limiting your ability to calm Mac down. You tried yanking the reins from Joel’s large hands, but he only tightened his grip. 

“This isn’t the time to be stubborn,” he barked. “You’re gonna get caught in the storm.”

“I have responsibilities!” You seethed. “I need these damn cows in the barn ‘fore it starts gettin’ bad. I can’t just leave them out here!”

“They’ll be just fine! It’s one storm,” he argued. 

You grasped at the reins, tearing them from his hands. Another ripple of thunder shook the air around you, and you took it as a sign that time was running out. You needed to work against the storm before it was too late. Leaning into Mac, you pushed him into a long gallop toward the herd. You managed to gain the lead around them, zig-zagging Mac until they grouped together. Joel watched from a distance, his horse standing restless in the blowing wind. You were doing this without him, proving you didn’t need help. 

The cows grunted as you urged them into a faster pace, the view of the worn-down barn drifting closer. You were acutely aware of Joel trailing behind you but couldn’t find the energy to care. Let him follow. You’d rip him to shreds when the cattle were safe. Mac continued his waltz back and forth, obeying your commands as you guided him in a rhythm behind the cows. You tuned out the sound of thunder rumbling above you and kept your breathing even as you pushed through the wind tearing at your face. 

“Alright, let’s get y’all inside,” you said, coaxing the cattle through the open barn doors.

They rustled through the hay-covered ground, veering off in different directions. Some went straight for the water basins, while others huddled in dark corners behind the wooden beams creaking above you. You kicked your legs over Mac, sliding to your feet and giving him an appreciative pat against his neck. Softly kissing his jaw, you smoothed down his mane and waded through the cows to check them over. The sounds of hoofs pounding into the barn startled you—and the cows—and you clenched your fists together before turning toward Joel. 

“I told you to leave me alone.”

Dismounting his horse, Joel waltzed his way into the barn, thunder clouds casting dark shadows over his large frame as he walked closer. Under the brim of his cowboy hat, you could see his smug grin and glittering eyes, just watching as you shook with anger.

“All I was tryna do is help,” he explained. “No need to get feisty with me.”

You stepped closer, rage boiling inside your veins. You hated him. You hated the help he offered because he thought you couldn’t do this alone. He thought you were weak—incapable. Well, you weren’t. You were more than capable of handling anything out on your land. That’s what you were raised to do.

“I don’t want your fuckin’ help, Joel. And I don’t want you ‘round here.”

“Why?” He pressed. 

You were toe-to-toe with him, staring up at eyes that looked at you with anything but anger. Where was that menacing look he usually wore? Where was his dominance? Why wasn’t he fighting with you? 

“You piss me off!” you yelled. “You come ‘round here ruinin’ my fuckin’ day. You don’t take no for an answer. You don’t let me live.”

“Darlin’, bein’ alone ain’t livin’ at all. Why don’t y’want someone ‘round? Why don’t you want me ‘round?”

His body crowded you, his hands roaming up your arms, squeezing your tense shoulders as you disappeared under his shadow. You shook him off, breezing past him and into the open space outside the barn. You didn’t want to give him the answer; you couldn’t explain it without being vulnerable. And Joel was the very last person you wanted to be vulnerable with. 

“Hey!” Joel hollered. “Would y’come back inside? It ain’t safe out there right now.”

As if to prove his point, lightning struck the fields just a mile away, the instant clap of thunder rattling through the air. Drops of rain began to pelt the dirt around you, misting your hair and face as you glanced up into the sky. You worked at shutting the fences together, ensuring everything was tied down and secure before the storm hit full force. 

Two strong arms braced themselves around your middle, pulling you away from the barn until your boots dragged through the mud. Your house was only feet away, and you knew that’s exactly where Joel intended to take you. Maybe he’d fuck you through the anger like he always did, but not even that sounded appealing right now. You wanted to be alone. 

“Let me fuckin’ go!” You screamed, thrashing against his firm grip. 

“No. I’m sick of this fuckin’ attitude y’always got. Ain’t gonna listen to it anymore.”

You drove an elbow into his stomach, forcing his arms to slip from your torso as he doubled over with a soft oof. You staggered away from him, staring him down through the pelting rain. 

“I want to be alone!” You raged. 

“Why do y’want to be alone so bad? Y’don't have to be alone, you know,” Joel argued. 

He had a hand pressed into his side, no doubt to quell the pain from your jab, and a grimace twisting up his lips. You were soaked from the rain now, your hair matting down onto your forehead and cheeks as you stared at him. Humidity thickened the air around you, leaving you suffocating in your skin. 

“I can take care of myself,” you defended. “I—.”

“I know y’can take care of yourself,” Joel interjected. “You’ve made that perfectly fuckin’ clear! All I’m sayin’ is, what if you didn’t have to?”

“And do what?” You laughed bitterly. “Have you take care of me? In your fuckin’ dreams, Miller.”

Joel dragged a wet hand over his face, his eyelashes weighed down by the heavy droplets. You folded your arms over your chest, your shirt soaked and no doubt see-through. It didn’t matter; too many emotions flooded your mind to even care about your appearance. 

“Y’drive me fuckin’ crazy, y’know that?” Joel cursed. “Always gotta be so fuckin’ stubborn and pissy. I can’t stand it.”

“Then why do y’keep comin’ ‘round?!” You tossed your arms up in defeat, huffing out a cloud of air through the torrents of rain.

“Because!” He shouted.

“Because why?”

“Christ, y’just don’t fuckin’ get it.”

Joel tore his hat off his head, rushing toward you. His strong hands gripped the sides of your face, his nose brushing over yours. With a deep inhale, he crashed his lips against yours, the taste of rainwater and smoke falling onto your tongue. Everything inside your body tensed up, too afraid to cave into his embrace. But Joel held you closer, tangling one hand into your damp hair, coaxing your mouth open wider. His tongue rolled over yours, and a moan slipped from your mouth and into his. He swallowed every tiny noise you made, drinking in your vulnerability as it coated his lips. Every slant of his mouth over yours was a step closer to your undoing; he would ruin you completely if he kept kissing you. 

“Stop,” you mumbled against his lips.

Joel pressed harder against you, his nose smashing into your cheek as he deepened the kiss. He was consuming you from the inside out, sucking out every emotion and bleeding you dry. You sank your teeth into his bottom lip, pulling it hard until he broke away with labored breathing. He brushed a finger over his mouth, finding blood seeping along the surface of his bottom lip. 

“This how y’wanna act?” He questioned, his eyes a swimming pool of onyx. 

There it was. 

Your chest rose and fell as you tried to slow your breathing, watching Joel flex his fingers at his sides. You had torn yourself from his grip and left him empty-handed; if you did it first, then you wouldn’t have to face the pain of losing him. Christ, the realization hit you like a freight train. 

You hated him… you had to hate him. 

You wouldn’t let yourself feel anything else.

“Go home, Joel! I don’t want you!”

“Sure fuckin’ felt like y’did,” he huffed.

Then he was on you, wrangling you down into the mud until you were pinned beneath him. Sloshing against the wet earth, you clawed at his flannel, tearing your nails through the soaked fabric. Joel clamped a hand around your wrist, pinning it above your head as he lowered his face close to yours. Your other hand came up to his face, smearing thick mud over his scruff-covered jaw. Every time he leaned closer, you pushed his face away, distancing yourself from the addiction that beckoned; lips saturated in the rain, soft and inviting…a sweet promise of something you could never have. You wanted him to ruin you like he always did; you needed the pain. You needed the reminder that this was nothing but physical that kept you colliding together. 

“Stop. Fightin’. Me.” He panted.

“No!”

You continued swatting at his face, mud caking into his mustache and over the bridge of his nose. Joel pried your hand from his face, pulling it above your head and clasping your wrists together under one large palm.

“Enough!” He barked. 

 He shredded your wet shirt apart with his free hand, the saturated pieces fraying into the muddy ground. With a snarl off his lips, Joel bent down and ravished your body with open-mouthed kisses, his teeth marring your neck and chest. You arched into his touch, hissing at the pain of each bite into your flesh. 

“Fuck,” you groaned.

This. This is what you wanted. You wouldn’t fight this because this was what you wanted. Right? You mewled as he marked your body, leaving bruised patches of skin in his wake. Pleasure began to pulsate between your legs, a constant ache that only grew stronger the longer you lay beneath him. You needed him inside you—assaulting you with quick thrusts until your brain turned off. 

Joel worked at peeling your pants from your legs, huffing out a frustrated breath as he fought with the denim plastered to your skin by the rain. Maybe you'd laugh at his struggles if you weren’t blinded by so much rage. But you were beyond desperate for release—release from the pleasure boiling under your skin and release from this constant painful ache inside your chest. With your pants and underwear lazily tossed into the puddle of water beside you, Joel smoothed his hands over your curves, his fingers pinching and twisting your pebbled nipples. Every inch of your body was drenched with rain, the droplets pelting your face as you tried to bite back another moan. His fingers roamed down your stomach, slipping easily between your legs and through your silken folds. 

“Please,” you whined. 

It was the first time you willingly begged for anything from Joel. You bit your lips to hold back any more desperate pleas. 

“Look at you, darlin’,” Joel teased. “Finally learned some damn manners.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped. 

You chased his fingers, lifting your hips as he brushed the pad of his thumb over your clit. Everything was so sensitive and heightened that you could hardly blame the rain for your eyes blurring as he drew slow circles over the aching bud. Joel coaxed small noises from your mouth as you writhed against the wet earth. 

“You gonna be good for me, darlin?” Joel asked, his voice lost behind another rumble of thunder.

“Just make me cum,” you bit out. 

“Y’think I’m just gonna give you whatever y’want right now? After the way y’treated me? Nah, I don’t think so.”

His lips twitched into a smug grin, his fingers teasing their way into your slick entrance. Joel paralyzed you with a heavy stare, and you turned your head away, staring off across the field to avoid his eyes. The longer you looked at him, the harder this would be.

He curled two fingers inside you, dragging them over the spongy spot that had your insides rupturing with ecstasy. Every stroke of his fingers was another tug on that pleasure unfurling within your core. Squeezing your eyes shut, you focused on the rhythm of his movements, the quickness of his fingers, the thickness as they stretched you wide.

“Gotta look at me if y’wanna cum,” Joel said, plunging his fingers deeper.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes tighter. You couldn’t look at him, not right now. 

“Look at me!” Joel demanded.

A sharp sting bolted across your face, sending your eyes flying open. Joel’s eyes were darker than the thunderstorm hanging above your bodies, emotions swirling deep within his irises. You saw it all—the anger, the pain, the need. This is why you didn’t want to look at him; it reflected everything you felt, too. His fingers pinched your chin, holding your face firm within his grip. You had nowhere to go. You were trapped—trapped beneath him, trapped inside yourself. 

Joel worked his fingers harder and faster, pulling cries from your lips until your orgasm skyrocketed through your body. 

“Fuck, Joel!” You cried. 

His jaw twitched as he watched you unravel beneath him. Your core fluttered with phantom ripples of your orgasm, your body unwinding from its tension. You had enough of this—you didn’t want to be under his control. Not when his eyes softened and his body pressed closer to yours. 

“Get off me,” you begged. “Fuck—get off!”

Joel tore his fingers from you, drawing them into his mouth as he cleaned your arousal from his skin. There wasn’t a single ounce of rage radiating off his body, which only angered you more. For how much fight you were putting up against him, he wasn’t giving in like he usually did. 

Frustrated with everything, you shimmied your body far enough upward to twist your hips and swing a leg over his waist. Joel relinquished and allowed you to wrangle him to the ground; your hands splayed over his chest, his shirt soaked beneath your fingers. Joel gazed up at you with hungry eyes while he worked at undoing his belt buckle. Rain pelted his face, washing away the mud as it streaked through his graying curls. Christ, he looked so beautiful beneath you; you would kiss him if you weren’t so fucking scared. But you didn’t want that—at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. Above him, you could hurt him however you wanted; you could torment him until he snapped. 

“This what y’want, darlin’?” Joel asked, breathless. “Y’wanna use me? Go ahead.”

You didn’t want to use him; you wanted him angry enough to snap back into his commanding nature. You wanted him to break you apart. You wanted his handprints seared into your skin and his filthy words in your ear. But he kept staring at you with eyes that could fracture your heart into a million pieces. There wasn’t a hint of darkness in his eyes anymore, all of it replaced by that deep-rooted need you couldn’t stand to look at. 

Joel’s cock throbbed in your hand as you lined it up with your entrance, the velvety skin damp from the rain, sliding into your sex without resistance. You lowered yourself until his length filled you completely, the stretch rendering you speechless. Slowly, you began to grind against him, letting your body move fluidly until you buzzed with newfound pleasure. It coursed through your veins, igniting that fire low in your stomach you so hungered for. 

You rolled your hips faster, leaning into him to thread your hands through his matted curls, your nails digging into his scalp. Joel wouldn’t move with you—he lay there with his hands gripping your waist, letting you take the lead.

“Keep usin’ me, darlin’,” Joel whispered. “I can take it.”

It wasn’t what you wanted to hear. You hoped your nails clawing in his skin would elicit a response…anything. You sped up the tempo, raising yourself along the length of his cock and pushing yourself down. 

“I hate you,” you panted, throwing all your weight into each drop of your hips. “I hate you so fuckin’ much.”

“I know y’do,” Joel said softly.

You dragged your nails down his hair and over the graying patches of hair along his jaw. Dirt collected under your nails as tiny red welts rose to the surface of his skin. Joel wasn’t phased by any of it, not even a grimace of pain when you squeezed your hands around his throat. 

“Hate me back!” You begged.

“No.” 

You choked him harder, throttling him as your sex clenched around his cock. You couldn’t even focus on the pleasure curling inside your stomach, your anger suffocating every sensation in your body. 

“Goddamnit, Joel! Hate me!” 

His tan skin flushed underneath your hands, and your rage took hold of your body as you sent your hand flying across his cheek. Nothing. Not a single reaction from your anger. Joel should have had you on the brink of death at this point after all your yelling and fighting. That’s what he did best—he hurt you until the pain became pleasure, and your control slipped out of reach. But he wasn’t feeding into your pleas. He wasn’t even considering it. That stupid brow furrow softened, his eyes looking at you with a mixture of emotions, none of which you wanted. 

“Fuckin’ hate me!” You screamed. “How much more can I keep hurtin’ you ‘til you hate me back?”

Joel lifted himself up despite your efforts to hold him down. Everything felt electrified with your bodies pressed together, sticky wet skin against wet clothes. Your body pulsed with pleasure…with anger…with everything you wanted to escape. His hands wrapped around your back, guiding you along his cock as you kept your hands squeezing around his throat. 

“But I don’t hate you.” He was soft-spoken as if to coax you out of your aggressive haze.

You dropped your head onto his shoulder, sinking your teeth into his skin as you rocked against his body. Faster and faster, your hips moved, driving his cock deeper inside you; all the while he remained paralyzed against you. Small flexes of his fingers against your skin were all you could feel, and his breathy moans in your ear were enough to drive you mad. Your teeth were bearing down into his shoulder with enough force to draw blood, yet he didn’t move a muscle. 

Releasing your grip, you jerked away from the warmth of his body with a snarl twisting up your lips. Why wasn’t he taking control? You deserved the torture—the complete domination of his body against yours. Why was this time different? Why wouldn’t he give you what you wanted?

“Why won’t you hate me?!” You wailed. “Why won’t you fuck me like y’always do?”

Joel silently watched as you pounded your fists into his muscles over and over again. You could keep hitting him, keep yelling, keep pleading…but what was the use? He wasn’t giving in, and you were growing tired. You were so fucking tired of fighting.

“Is this not enough?” You cried, your voice cracking. “Am I not enough?”

“Oh, darlin’,” Joel sighed.

His breath was hot against your ear, his lips dangerously close to your skin as you continued crying. His cock throbbed inside you, yet your pleasure dissipated. You didn’t want this anymore. You were broken. 

“Why am I not enough?” You whimpered.

Your hands stopped their beating, and you let the emotions you had kept at a distance crash against the surface. Sobs wracked through your body as your head fell into the crook of his neck. Joel’s hands brushed up your back, caressing and holding you close. He buried his face into your hair, one hand tangling in the soaked tendrils, holding you flush to his chest.

“I got you, darlin’. S’alright,” he crooned. 

Your tears bled into his shirt, untraceable within the wet fabric that clung to his strong shoulders. Your body shook with each wave of cries, and Joel just kept holding you, kept shushing you until your sobs turned into whimpers, and you had nothing left. 

You were so scared to lose everything—your land, your generational responsibilities… Joel. Everyone in your life had vanished. All you had left was hundreds of acres of empty land and a hollow chest with a half-broken heart. You could take the pain he gave you because that’s what you deserved. You didn’t deserve this tenderness, not after the way you treated him. Anger and hate were enough for you; it was enough to pacify the ache of wanting more. You weren’t worth more than this. 

“Please, Joel,” you muttered. “Please hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Joel whispered. “I can’t. Y’got yourself under my skin, and I don’t want it any other way.”

“No…don’t do that,” you mumbled. “Don’t say things like that to me.”

“C’mere, lemme look at you.”

Joel pushed your shoulders forward, peeling you away from his chest. You hid your eyes from him, lowering your head and away from his longing stare. 

“Darlin’, look at me,” he coaxed, his fingers brushing under your chin and lifting your face. 

The rain was falling slower now, large droplets smattering against your cheeks and forehead. You tried to avoid his eyes, watching the rain roll down his nose and over his pouty lips. For once, the thought of kissing him didn’t scare you. 

Joel squeezed his fingers around your jaw, softer than you were used to but still effective in getting your attention. Through the tears still blurring your eyes, you gazed into his brown eyes, the softness crashing into yours. With his brows slightly pulled up in concern, Joel exhaled, finally seeing all the broken pieces he held in his arms. 

“You are enough,” he vowed. “Attitude and all, you are enough. If y’wanna hate me, then hate me. Hate me all y’want ’cause I can handle it. Just please don’t hate yourself. I see how scared you are, darlin’. Ain’t got nothin’ to be scared ‘bout with me, ‘kay?”

You nodded solemnly, letting your forehead fall against his. Joel smoothed his hands down your back, slowly guiding your hips up until his cock slipped from you. Your core clenched around nothing, the ripples of your denied orgasm rolling through your body. Fucking out your anger was one thing, but you couldn’t fuck away your feelings. Not anymore. 

“C’mon, darlin’,” Joel urged. 

He lifted you to your feet, following suit and rising from the slippery ground. Bending slightly, Joel curled an arm around your back and the other under your knees, tossing you up and cradling you against his chest. You let your head rest on his shoulder, watching the mud dry on his tan skin. With bleary eyes and a heavy heart, you felt guilty for making him care for you. You were supposed to be good on your own; you were supposed to be independent. You didn’t need taking care of, yet here you were, limp in Joel’s arms and exhausted.

He waded through the muddy puddles around the barn and carried you toward your house. Water dripped down the patchy roof, rattling against the storm drain as it rolled down the side of the walls. The smell of the thunderstorm wafted over Joel’s body, invading your senses with each heavy inhale. He walked up the porch steps cautiously, kicking the door open with the toe of his boot. It didn’t bother you when it smashed against the wall, the wood rattling at the force. 

Still keeping you close to his chest, Joel walked through your tiny farm home, familiarizing himself with the layout until he found the door to your bathroom. Propping it open with his knee, Joel guided you inside, gingerly lowering you to your feet. 

“Let’s get you in the shower, darlin’,” Joel urged. “Needa get y’warmed up.”

“I’m okay,” you croaked, wrapping your arms around your bare chest. 

Joel huffed a quiet laugh, bending his head down to kiss your dirty forehead. 

“Stubborn lil’ thing. C’mon, I’ll join you.”

You glanced around the bathroom, staring at the yellow wallpaper peeling around the crown molding. Time—and weather—had done its damage to your home, but no one ever visited, so you never thought about fixing it. But now Joel was standing there, truly seeing your house and not just focusing on you pinned to the couch, and you were awfully insecure. Every paint-chipped crevice along the wooden walls, every creak in the floorboard, every water stain along the corners of doorways… was just another reminder of how bad you were at existing. Focusing on the land and keeping the animals cared for was easy, but it was hard to care for yourself. You didn’t matter; you never had. 

“Hey.” Joel’s voice was soft in your ear.

You looked back at Joel hesitantly, watching his clothes drop to the floor. Piece by piece, Joel slowly materialized into a reality you hadn’t imagined. Without his cowboy boots or worn flannel, Joel was soft everywhere. His dark chest hair curled around his torso and down his navel, his stomach soft and moldable. His tapered waist looked much better out of his jeans, and his thick thighs were worth spending hours kissing. All his rough edges and calloused skin morphed into something so much more tender and inviting—something you yearned for in unspeakable ways. 

“Do I need to carry you into the shower?” He asked, half teasing.

You didn’t have the energy to laugh, so you only stood silent, waiting for him to run the water until the steam fogged the mirror. Once it ran hot enough, Joel pulled back the curtain and dragged you under the spray of the water. Mud slipped off your skin, swirling down your body in dark rivulets and into the drain. 

Joel’s body pressed against yours, his arms snaking around your waist. You felt his warm lips press into the skin of your neck, trailing further down as you leaned into his touch. The longer you spent in his embrace, the more pliant you became—malleable. 

“Can I help wash you, darlin’?” Joel muttered into your neck.

You wanted to decline to prove you didn’t need help, but Joel was just as stubborn as you. He’d persist, and you were terribly close to hitting your limit on how many times you could tell him no. So, you gave him the tiniest nod and let him steer you under the water. He reached around you to grab the shampoo, pumping enough into his hands to massage over your scalp. The drag of his fingers through your tangled hair was enough to loosen the tension in your muscles. Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling of his hands on your body the only sensation you could focus on. 

Joel remained silent, moving soapy hands over your body until there wasn’t a speck of dirt left. Eventually, your body hit its limit, and you sagged into his chest, your eyes tired and heavy. He reached over and turned the water off, the immediate chill in the empty air sending shivers down your spine. 

“Stay here,” Joel muttered. “Lemme grab a towel.”

“Y’don’t even know where they are,” you grumbled. 

Joel chuckled, slipping a hand down your chest to hug you closer. His scruff tickled your neck as he nestled into your body, swaying you softly against him. 

“Then show me,” he whispered. “Get me used to this house.”

Tears stung your waterline at hearing his words; he wanted to be here with you. Not just in this moment. He was thinking about the future, and you couldn’t understand why you were worth more than this. 

“They’re up in the cabinet outside the bathroom,” you offered. “Just don’t slip on the tiles, old man.”

“There’s my girl,” he laughed. 

You hid behind the shower curtain, watching Joel’s ass leave the bathroom as he roamed into the hallway. He was only gone a moment, returning with two towels in hand. You couldn’t help but stare at how water clung to his chest hair, curling the brown hair in swirls as they trailed down his stomach. His cock hung low between his thighs, half hard and thick. You still didn’t get your last orgasm, and maybe that was something you could rectify later. Later. 

“Sure starin’ a lot for someone who hates me,” Joel quipped, holding a towel. 

“Shut up, Miller. I can do whatever I want.”

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it,” he smirked. 

You stepped out of the tub, turning around so he could wrap the towel over your shoulders. His arms wound around your body, rubbing the fabric into your skin and drying you off. You twisted the towel over your chest and returned to watching Joel in all his glory. He used his towel to dry his hair, the salt and pepper curls sticking to his forehead. You liked Joel like this—soft and natural. As much as you enjoyed the fire in his eyes and the aggression in his actions, this was something so enticing. Slinging the towel around his waist, Joel beckoned you closer and hauled you into his arms. 

“Wanna get in bed with me?” He asked. 

“Now you’re askin’ permission for things? That’s new,” you scoffed, peering up at him with an eyebrow raised. 

“Alright, have it your way,” he huffed.

Bending down, Joel tossed you over his shoulder, making you squeal as his hands planted themselves on your ass. He waltzed out of the bathroom, hauling you down the hall until he found your bedroom. The overcast sky shadowed your room through the windows, and you were so ready to curl up under the covers and hide away. 

Tossing you onto the comforter, Joel climbed over you, caging you between his arms. You shied away from him as he leaned closer, his face dangerously close to yours. You were unsure if you were ready to kiss him again, though your body thrummed with the aching need to feel his lips against yours. He roamed a hand over your chest, his fingers dancing up the column of your neck as they squeezed softly around your throat. Instinctively, you arched into his touch, relishing the slight dominance back in his movements.

“Y’gonna fight me if I kiss you?” He teased, bending down closer.

“Maybe,” you whispered.

Joel’s lips twitched into a grin as he pressed his body into yours, his mouth a breath away from yours. With a flex of his fingers around your neck, he closed the gap, his lips colliding with yours. It wasn’t frenzied like the first time; his mouth was warm and soft against yours. He moved slowly, letting you adjust to every slant of his mouth, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth as an invitation, allowing him to steer this kiss in whatever direction. 

Roaming your hands up the expanse of his muscular arms, you dug your nails into his shoulders, dragging him closer until you were flush with his body. He broke away from your lips, trailing his mouth down the hollow of your neck, sucking marks into your skin. 

“Joel,” you whined.

“Hmm?” He muttered.

“I need—.”

Your begging was cut off short as he pulled down your towel, his mouth suctioning around your pebbled nipple. Your fingers tangled in his wet hair, pulling slightly to guide him off your body. He bit the sensitive bud, rolling your nipple between his teeth. He was relentless, and you found yourself caving into his desires the longer he spent ravishing your body.

“I know y’can be demandin’, darlin’,” Joel said, releasing your nipple from between his teeth. “So, let’s fuckin’ hear it.”

“Fuck me, Joel,” you begged. “Fuck me, and don’t be gentle.”

“Y’like it when I’m rough with you? Y’want me to fuck you into the mattress?” He questioned.

“Christ,” you exhaled. “Please.”

Joel wasted no time tossing his towel across the room and lifting your legs high into the air. You didn’t care that he had you pinned beneath him; you wanted to see his eyes wild with lust while he fucked himself into you. Shuffling his knees up, he maneuvered both of your legs over one shoulder, his hands sliding under your ass and lifting your hips. He slowly eased himself into you, and you let a moan slip from your lips as his cock brushed against your cervix. Yes. This is what you needed.

“S’fuckin’ pretty when you’re stuffed with my cock,” Joel grunted, rocking his hips against yours.

“Mhmm,” you whined. 

You couldn’t formulate a coherent sentence when you were struggling to breathe. You were so fucking full of him, and the angle he had you molded into only shoved his cock further inside you. Joel rutted against you slowly, but each drive of his hips hit hard against yours. You reached for his hand that gripped your calf and pulled it down until it wrapped around your neck.

“Greedy lil’ thing,” he smirked.

Joel flexed his fingers around your throat before fully gripping it, stifling your breathing until your vision darkened. He snapped his hips harder, speeding up his thrusts until your bed frame smacked into the wall. Arousal dripped down the seam of your ass, coating Joel’s cock as it slipped in and out of you. Coils of pleasure twisted inside your stomach, and you let out strangled whimpers as you tried to swallow around his fingers.

“Y’enjoy bein’ fucked like a lil’ slut?”

“Y—yes,” you choked.

“Louder for me. Wanna hear ya’.”

But his grip tightened, cutting off your words as they lodged in your throat. Tears slid down your cheeks as you chased the burning pleasure coursing through your body. The orgasm you lost earlier was surging back to the surface, and you clawed at the feeling as it wracked against your core. Joel could sense it, too, his pace ruthless as he assaulted you with powerful thrusts.

“S’my girl need to cum?”

My girl.

The sentiment alone could have skyrocketed your orgasm to the surface. Joel’s eyes gleamed with pride as he looked down at you, satisfied at your reaction as your lips tipped up into a timid smile. The sound of being his girl didn’t sound so bad…but you’d think about that later. You needed this. 

“Please,” you begged. 

“You gonna be my good girl, darlin’? Gonna make me proud right now?”

Joel unwound his hand from your throat, threading his fingers into your hair. He bent down, forcing you further into the mattress as he captured your lips in a hungry kiss. He leaned in closer, your body nearly folded in half against his, your thighs pressed into his sweat-slick chest as your calves still rested over his shoulder. Every inch of you was covered in him: his musky scent, his smoke-tinged breath, his deep grunts lost inside your mouth. It blanketed over your fears, and you lost yourself in him. He was consuming you from the inside out, and you couldn’t help yourself when you deepened the kiss. 

“C’mon,” Joel urged, his words lost against your mouth. “Make me proud.”

Your orgasm erupted through your body, stare sparkling behind your eyelids as you seized up. Your core fluttered around Joel’s cock, milking him through each ripple of your orgasm as it passed through. 

“That’s my girl,” Joel praised. “Fuckin’ drenchin’ my cock.”

In a blur, Joel had you flipped onto your stomach, his cock vanishing from you for only a moment before he was yanking your hips up high and driving back into you. 

“Fuck!” You cried out, your fingers clawing at the comforter.

“Ain’t stoppin’ yet, darlin’. You’re gonna give me one more.”

You weren’t sure if you had anything left to give, but with Joel ramming into you from behind, you had no choice but to relinquish all control. Slick arousal ran down your thigh as Joel plunged deeper, his cock spearing into you and tearing you apart. 

“Please don’t stop,” you panted. “So close, Joel…I’m so close.”

“I know. I know,” he crooned. “Doin’ so good for me.”

Joel’s fingers dug into your hip bones, anchoring you into the bed. His touch was bruising—brutal. Your head dropped between your shoulders, your tears falling onto the sheets. Euphoria thrummed in your veins, ready to explode at any given moment. The loud echo of Joel’s hips slamming against yours battled against the storm still brewing outside; each thrust its own sound of thunder erupting inside your tiny bedroom. 

Pleasure fractured through you, your skin lit on fire as your orgasm lapped up your spine. You seized around Joel’s cock, arousal gushing from you and coating his length as he slipped in and out of your sex. Joel grunted in satisfaction, pinning your hips to his as he let your orgasm flutter through your body. 

“Fuck yes,” he groaned. “Makin’ such a mess of me, darlin’. Filthy lil’ thing just squirtin’ all over my cock. Y’want my cum deep inside you now? Want me to fill you up, darlin’?”

You nodded vigorously; your mouth opened in a silent plea despite Joel towering over you from behind. He couldn’t see the way you mouthed please, but he felt the desperation in your body as you pressed your hips back against his. Joel took you hard, barreling deeper inside you with each thrust until you felt him shudder with a breathy moan. Your name slipped off his lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his release filling you to the brim. It dripped out the sides, mixing with your arousal as it rolled down your thighs. Christ, you were so fucking full of him in every single way. 

Joel slumped over your body, his mouth warm against your spine as he left small kisses on your skin. You sunk into the bed, your legs giving out beneath you and leaving you exhausted and listless. Time passed slowly, and Joel finally slipped from you and tumbled onto the bed beside you. He quickly pulled you into an embrace, tucking your head under his arm and against his chest. Though your body was still unwinding from the way he fucked you, you felt yourself tensing back up. To feel this close to someone felt foreign and unsure; every fiber of your being fought against this, yet you were too tired to overcome it mentally. Joel’s fingers curled into your waist, digging softly into your skin as if to beckon you closer.

“You doin’ okay, darlin’?” He asked, his voice hoarse and tired.

You buried your head into his chest, refusing to look at him. How could you voice your fears when everything inside his eyes scared you the most? You could run from your feelings, but you could never outrun the softness of his brown eyes.

“I don’t know how to do this, Joel,” you mumbled into his chest.

“Do what?”

“Be with someone,” you confessed. “I don’t know how to be anythin’ other than alone.”

He nudged you softly, trying to coax your eyes to meet his. There was no point in hiding; at this point, you’d lose any battle against him. Lifting your head, you caught a glimpse at his eyes, their soft brown color shaded by clouded a deep sense of concern. 

“Let me show y’what it’s like,” he offered. “Let me care for you the way you deserve.”

“I’m just scared,” you whispered.

“What’re y’scared of?”

Joel raised a brow, the furrow above his nose deepening. He was silently trying to understand your hesitancy, which you appreciated, but it didn’t feel right to be this vulnerable with him. The moment you spilled your heart to him, you’d never have it back. Your walls would be broken down, and you’d have nowhere to run and hide. Sucking in a breath, you allowed the words to tumble out of you. 

“I’m scared that if I let myself fall for you, I’ll lose you like I lost everyone else.”

“Darlin’,” Joel sighed. 

He tilted your chin up, placing a gentle kiss against your trembling lips. 

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You showed me how strong y’can be. Now it’s my turn to be strong for you, ‘kay? Can I do that?”

“You aren’t supposed to be like this,” you said, shaking your head.

“How am I supposed to be?” He questioned.

“You shouldn’t be this nice to me. I don’t deserve this after everythin’ I’ve done. I deserve all the mean shit y’been doin’ to me.”

“Why can’t I do both?” He chuckled lightly, squeezing your side. “I can still be mean as long as I get to love you, too.”

You propped your head onto his chest, watching him for any fault in his words. You truly didn’t understand how he could feel all these things for you when you’d been nothing but awful. You pushed him away constantly; you got on his nerves. Why did he want you?

“You love me?” You asked, tears welling in your eyes. 

“Yeah, maybe I do. Got me wrapped ‘round your bratty lil’ finger, darlin’.”

Joel leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. His lips traveled down your damp cheeks until he captured your mouth once again. You slid your hands up his chest, your fingers tugging at the curls at the base of his neck. He pulled you in closer and maneuvered your body over his, your chests pressed together and hearts beating in the same rhythm. 

“This doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop givin’ you hell, Joel,” you smiled, breaking away from his lips. 

“Oh, I’m countin’ on it, darlin’,” he chuckled.

Outside, the storm continued barreling through the fields, the quiet sound of rain tapping against the windows. Joel kept you tangled around his body, his warmth never leaving you as time drifted away. The fear still lingered in the back of your mind, but it wasn’t as powerful anymore. You had your land, you had your responsibilities, and you had your man. 

You could have it all. 

You did have it all.

[popcornpoppypop]

Spitfire - Chapter 2

Summary: Lena's life is in the balance. Everyone is blaming themselves. None more so than Dr. Abbot.

Warnings: Blood, Attempted suicide, talks of vomit.

A/N: Please take care of yourself. Let me know if I missed a warning, and if anyone would like to be added to taglist.

“I got a faint pulse!” Dr. King noted as everyone’s head shot up to look at the monitor, the EKG coming to life.

“Thank fuck.” Jack sighed.

“Give her another unit of type matched blood and call up to the ICU and make sure they have room for her. Dr. King you don’t leave her side until she is settled in the ICU.” Robby ordered as he followed Jack out of the trauma bay.

“You got her back?” Dana came running up.

“Yeah, she’s got a hell of a long road ahead but she’s still here.” Robby rubbed his eyes.

“I should have said something.” Jack sighed.

“Hey, you can’t blame yourself. You two watch over all of them and it’s not an easy job. There were no signs that she was here. She kept it quiet.” Dana rubbed his arm.

“But she was here! It was our job to watch and make sure she never got to this point!” Jack snapped. “We failed her, Dana. We failed and she almost died because of it!” Jack stormed off.

“He’s never going to forgive himself for this.” Dana sighed.

“Neither of us are.” Robby shook his head as he walked off. He didn’t have to wonder where Jack had fled to, the same place Robby wanted to be right then.

The brisk morning air hit Robby’s face and made the stray tears caught on his eyelashes fall down his cheeks, leaving icy trails.

Jack stood at the edge of the roof, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. He looked out over the city, all the people going about their lives as if nothing had happened. As if he didn’t almost lose one of his best friends.

“We’ll have to put her on medical leave for a while.” Robby cleared his throat.

“I shouldn’t have pushed her so hard.” Jack shook his head.

“You pushed her as hard as everyone else. Nothing you did caused this.” Robby leaned on the railing.

“I saw her cracking. I saw it.” Jack snapped. “I should have pushed her to talk. I let it be, I didn’t want to upset her. So fucking stupid.” He scoffed.

“We all thought she was handling it. Maybe she learned too much from me.” Robby sighed, his head falling.

“She deserved better.” Jack’s voice cracking.  Robby went to reply but his phone buzzed, knowing it was from the ED he answered.

“Okay, yeah. Wait, what!? How!? Should have taken her myself. Thanks, Dana.” Robby sighed as he hung up the phone, running a hand through his hair.

“What?” Jack huffed.

“She’s settled in the ICU. She woke up, delirious, tore the sutures from her arms.” Robby could feel it all crashing down around them.

“Jesus. I mean, how did they let that happen!?!” Jack snapped.

“they fixed it up, sedated her. She’s in soft restraints now. Apparently, she wouldn’t stop screaming.” Robby cleared his throat in an attempt to remain unemotional.

“Shit. Fuck!” He kicked the gravel in frustration.

“I’ll do my best to keep an eye on her today. You need to get some sleep.” Robby nodded.

“Fuck that. I’ll sleep tomorrow. She shouldn’t be alone. Her shitty mom isn’t going to show up anytime soon. I’ll sit with her. Make sure she’s taken care of and no one is dropping the ball again.” Jack growled as he went to leave.

“Jack. Jack!” Robby ran to catch up with him. “Be careful with her. Don’t put your shit on her.” Robby warned.

“I know. I’m not.” Jack said as he made his way to the ICU.

The eerie quiet of the ICU was such a jarring contrast to the constant barrage of noise in the ER. It made Jack’s hair stand on end. He walked up to the nurses station, asking where to find Lena. When he got to her room, he peered inside and saw her sedated, pale, her arms held down with soft restraints and wrapped with arm guards covering her wounds.

“Jesus, kid.” Jack choked on his words as he went to sit next to her.

“Oh. Sorry, Dr. Abbot.” A nurse came in holding a bag of fluids. “I’m just getting her next round ready.” She gave a tight smile.

“Your fine. Do what you need to.” Jack nodded. “Were you here when she came up?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What happened? Robby said that she was screaming?”

“Oh. Yes. We got her into her room and she started to wake up. She started screaming at us, before we could stop her she tore the sutures from her arms. We had to redo them.”  The nurse was clearly upset with having witnessed the event.

“What was she screaming?” Jack knew he’d regret knowing.

“She just kept screaming to let her go, let her…die. Though, at one point, she screamed she was worthless and we had better things to do than help her. She’s in a lot of pain.” The nurse shook her head.

“Yeah. I missed it.” Jack growled to himself.

“I’m not sure when her mother will be here, maybe that will help.” The nurse said.

“What? You called her mother?” Jack’s head shot up.

“We had to; she’s her emergency contact.” The nurse looked confused.

“Fuck. That won’t help. Her mom isn’t a great mother to say the least.” Jack sighed. He knew there wasn’t anything to do to stop it.

“Oh. I’ll try and let you know before she comes in. Maybe you can run interference.” The nurse said, typing something into her tablet.

“Thank you.” He nodded as she left. “How did I miss it all.” Jack put his hand on hers.

He didn’t mean to fall asleep. He had fought it for the better part of an hour. He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep. The image of Lena covered in her own blood and pale, kept playing over and over. He was jolted awake by screams, blood curdling screams.

“Lena! Lena, you’re okay!” He jumped up and grabbed her arm, she was trying to rip her arms from the restraints.

“Let me go! Just let me go!” She sobbed, her voice raw and broken.

“Please, Lena! Calm down! It’s Jack! I’m here!” Lena looked up, her far-off gaze sharpened on his face.

“Jack? No, no, no, no! Please go! I can’t…I can’t…” She sobbed.

“Try and breathe, Kid. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.” He told her. A nurse came running in, armed with a syringe.

“I have more sedation.”

“No! No. Just give her a second.” Jack put his hand up to stop the nurse.

“I just want to go. Please.” Lena’s voice was small and quiet now. It was somehow more heartbreaking than the screams.

“We’re okay.” Jack told the nurse. “Lena, you scared the shit out of us.” Jack sighed, his hand keeping a firm hold of hers. A mutual lifeline.

“I just…I don’t know.” She shook her head.

“Kid, you gotta let us in. Let me in. Someone, anyone. We can’t help you heal otherwise.” He tried to reason with her.

“I just keep failing. I fail them all.” The tears fell down her face silently.

“You don’t. You fight for them. You fight harder than anyone else.”

“It doesn’t make a difference. I’m never good enough. I’m not worth this effort.” Her words felt like a punch to gut. Jack nearly doubled over, she said them with such conviction.

“You're worth every effort.”

“Let me go. It’s easier.” Jack looked at her like she had just slapped him. He had said the same thing. He said it when his friend told him he had lost his foot. He said it when his wife found him on the floor of the bathroom, empty pill bottle in his hand. He said it when he sat crouched in the corner of her trauma room, covered in her blood and Robby tried to get him to be anywhere else.

“I can’t do that. It’s not easier, not for me. Not for Robby or Dana or Collins or Mel or any of us.” He looked away, the tears and effort to stop them hurting his eyes.

“Stop arguing with me.”

“No can do. We love you too damn much to let you go. To let this illness get the better of you.”

“No one loves me.” Lena sobbed.

“I know you think that right now. I know your past and the people in it made you feel that way. I’m not going to bull shit you. Never have, never will. You are loved, Kid.” Jack grabbed her hand, squeezing it tight.

“It’s too much.” She whispered, biting at her lip.

“I know. I know it is.” Jack sighed. He wanted to be better at this. He wanted to have the perfect words, magic words, that made her better. That’s not how it works, he knows that. He’s been here.

“You should go home.” She sniffled. The sedation was starting to let her be more cognizant, more her.

“I’m fine right here. You don’t give the orders, remember?” Jack attempted a smile, it couldn’t reach his eyes.

“You should sleep.” The copper taste of blood started to fill her mouth as she chewed a gash in her lip. Jack saw the trickle of blood in the corner of her mouth. He grabbed some square gauze and brought it to her lip.

“If you keep doing that, they’ll knock you out again and keep you that way.” He started.

“maybe I want that.” She couldn’t look at him.

“Yeah. I can see the appeal.” Jack tossed the gauze. “Lena, I’m a selfish bastard. I’m going to keep you on this fucking planet because you’re my friend and the thought of not having you here makes me want to vomit. If it’s tough love you need, I’ll make sure you got it. If you need me to be gentle, I’ll do that. But you’re not leaving us, not like this.” Jack crossed his arms as he stood at the end of her bed.

“You are a selfish bastard.” She spat. “Get out of my room.”

“No.”

“Get out of my room so I can sleep.” She rolled her eyes. Jack watched her for a moment, analyzing her.

“Okay. I’ll go for a bit. I’ll bring you something to eat when you wake up. Those nurses are going to keep a good eye on you though. Don’t try anything fucking stupid.” Jack warned as he left the room.

The elevator doors opened to the ER, the wave of chaos almost made Jack stumble back. He made his way to the hub, people kept stopping him to ask about Lena. He brushed them off with a simple “She’s fine.”

“Dr. Abbot, is she okay?” Mel came up to him. The concern in her eyes made his chest hurt.

“She’s okay. She’s got a lot of work to do.” Jack sighed.

“I wish I noticed the signs. I thought she was just tired.” She shook her head.

“Hey, you can’t blame yourself. Right? What she needs now is support. Just worry about that.” Jack patted her on the back and walked off.

“You think you’ll take your own advice anytime soon?” Dana asked as she walked up to him.

“Probably not.” He leaned on the counter, his head falling into his hands.

“ICU said they’ll move her to psych when there is space.” Robby informed them.

“So, never.” Jack huffed. “They called her mom.”

“Fuck sake, that girl has been through enough.” Dana put her tablet down and fell into her chair, the grief and frustration starting to mix and make her head hurt.

“Yeah. They’ll call when her mom shows up so we can run interference.” Jack rubbed his tired eyes.

“Brother, go get some sleep. We’ll be here, she can’t do anything upstairs anyway. She’ll keep for a while.” Robby patted him on the back.

“She learned too much from me.” Jack shook his head as he walked away.

Taglist: @icarusinthesea @marvelcasey05

[fallrafwe]

,,OBSESSED”

a/n: this is based off a request 😍🥰 also i might’ve put some parts that were inspired when drew was in a short film called up the hill 🤷 sorry for taking days to write this im having hard times and i struggle writing sometimes

warnings: dark!rafe, strong language, NONCON, piv, unprotected sex, baby trapping, choking, hair pulling, fake orgasm, cream pie, fingering, edging/orgasm denial

summary: dark!rafe and pogue!reader never truly get along so rafe decides to teach her a lesson

After meeting Rafe for the first time, he started talking to you all the time, you met him at a party, but you have no idea why he seemed to like you, you were a Pogue and working two jobs. Making time for him was the hardest thing to do, two different schedules everyday. He always insults you about not making time for him, manipulating you or gaslighting you, even going as far as to hurt you if you didn’t take a day off, he wouldn’t even care if it got you fired, whatever he wanted, he would get, he made sure of it, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

Coercing you to have sex with him was always a common thing, and you couldn’t even care anymore. You did it just so he would leave you alone. He could ask you to do it somewhere, and even if you weren’t in the mood, you would do it anyways. Today though, it was a bit different. Rafe had knocked on your door on your day off, “Rafe? What the hell are you doing here?” you asked. He didn’t respond, just bumping your shoulder as he walked in. You scoffed at his carelessness, “Okay, Rafe, you can’t just fucking walk in here whenever the hell you want!” you yelled, closing the door and going after him as he headed for the kitchen.

He caught you by surprise when he turned around, and grabbed your wrist. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, talking to me like that, drop the fuckin’ attitude.” He said, glaring into your eyes as he towered over you. The height difference made you intimated, as well as his tight grip. “Okay. Can you please just get the fuck out?” You said, trying your best not to say anything too bad, but still wanting him to leave. He shook his head and shoved you against the wall, your front facing the wall. He brought your arm to your back and pulled it to the side, making you shout in pain, “Ow, ow, Rafe! Stop!” you yelled the best you could, your face being squished against the wall.

“You’re a fuckin’ Pogue, so learn your place, yeah? Y’need some dick in you to learn?” He laughed quietly as you struggled beneath him. You writhed as you eventually worked up the courage to bring your foot up and kick him, making him fall back slightly. He exhaled as you ran to the front door, staying there before you pulled out your phone, “Get the fuck out, or I’m calling the cops, Rafe! I’m not joking!” you screamed. Each time he took a step, you turned away from him with caution, making sure he didn’t leave your view. He nodded, “Call the cops and see what happens.”

His hand twisted the door knob, opening the door and walking out. How could he make a threat right before he left? Rafe was a fucking psychopath and you should’ve known that right when you met him. You took a deep breath in relief, running over to the door to lock it. Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest, that was your worst interaction with Rafe yet, and you didn’t know what to expect next, but you didn’t wanna be near him to find out.

So you didn’t go near him, you ignored his texts, his calls, and not once had he come to your house. You were at the point of relaxation, not caring what he had to say to you, he was not one of your priorities. You could work without having him beg you to take off, try to hurt you or manipulate you. For once in your life, you felt free from the grasp he had on you. He was obsessed over you, sometimes it felt like you had more control over him, but you knew that was never true. Rafe would do anything for you to stay with him, for you to hook up with him, and today proved it.

Three huge bangs came from your front door, the sound reminded you of knocking, but with the side of somebody’s fist. The loud thudding didn’t stop til you answered the door, and there you saw Rafe standing in front of you. Your jaw was dropped, but that’s how both of you were on the couch, you straddling his lap and kissing him passionately. His tongue was fighting yours, making you moan into the kiss. You could feel his bulge pressing into your clit, you felt disgusted but continued anyways. A hand traveled up your waist, resting on your tit, you felt it squeeze which made you take your mouth off his. “Rafe, look, I’m not in the mood, okay?” You breathed heavily as he stared into your eyes, he took his other hand and pushed your head against his, continuing to make out with you.

His hand went up higher, eventually resting on your throat. You felt him lightly squeeze, you brought your hand to his and led his hand to your cheek, letting it rest there instead. You guys continued to make out until he took his hand and placed it on your throat once more, you pulled out of the kiss to tell him to stop. Once you did, his grip tightened. “What are you doing? Stop!” You said, trying your best to pull his hand off. His dark, blue eyes stared into your eyes, and this was one of the many times you truly felt scared of him. “What? Can’t breathe?” He asked, tilting his head sideways barely as he looked at you struggle, it felt like your airway was closing in on you, and it practically was. “Rafe— Rafe, stop.” You managed to get out, your hands clawing at his, it only made him squeeze tighter.

“Stand up.” He said, the demanding tone could be heard in his voice. You could barely hear him, everything was like ringing in your ears. A quick slap brought you back, and you could feel a hand being taken off your throat. You were shoved off his lap, falling on the floor then standing up quickly. His presence made you quake as he turned you around and led you to a table, one hand forced your head down as he worked his belt with his free hand, the belt was then used to tie your wrists together, acting as a pair of handcuffs. The fact he did this with ease made you wonder how he could do it, did he practice with others? Has he done this before? That was something you never doubted. The fabrics rustling made you sob.

“Rafe, stop, please!” you yelled. His response was almost immediate, “Shut the fuck up, don’t wanna hear y’talk unless it’s those sweet noises, yeah?” he said carelessly. The whole interaction had you scared shitless, how rough was he gonna be? Was he gonna hold back? Was he gonna do anything else? It had your heart beating through your ears, anticipating his next move. The feeling of his tip rushing through your entrance made you cry out in pain, the burning sensation of him stretching you out made you want to die. It took no time for him to start plowing into you, his hand starting to grip your hair tightly, pulling your head back. “Fuck, this pussy s’fucking sweet, just f’me,” the way he slurred his words made you think he was pussy drunk already.

The burning sensation had you sobbing, tears staining your cheek as they dropped down onto the wooden table. His thrusting only got more aggressive, the way he moved made you so uncomfortable, and the way he did this without giving it a second thought, you knew he took things far, but not this far. Your only option to escape was to fake your release, just to make him stop, since he always wore a condom, it made this even worse. Moans filled the air, but you weren’t thinking straight, so you weren’t able to distinguish if they were real or fake, it felt like every time he thrusted he was hitting your cervix, which could explain the desperate moans as he continued. “Yeah? Y’like the way I fuck your pussy, huh? Such a fuckin’ slut, just for me, too.”

Wetness burned through your pussy, beating you at your own game. Realizing you liked this made you sick, so you didn’t wanna have an orgasm, or else you would feel even more pathetic than you already felt. Your pussy pulsated around his cock, making him groan, his grip on your hair only getting tighter. At this point, he was recklessly pounding into you, the only thing that mattered to him right now was his pleasure, partially yours too, his ego was too big, so if you came because of him, it only boosted it more, knowing how good his sex game was. “You gonna fuckin’ cum on my cock, hm?” He asked, you nodded, knowing you were lying. Your movements were practically forced by yourself, and you expected him to not know.

Rafe’s cock twitched in your pussy as it squeezed around him, pulling him in. He let loose of your hair, putting both of his hands on your waist and gripping. “S’fucking close, gonna cum in you.” All of a sudden, everything you were doing was ceased. You felt a pit in your stomach, “What?” you asked, and you only did so because you thought Rafe was joking, you thought he was gonna play it off as a joke, that was exactly what you were hoping for. “You heard me.” He said, giving you more thrusts before eventually letting his cum fill you, riding out his orgasm in your pussy. Your eyes were squeezed tight, “Rafe, Rafe, what the fuck did you do?” you whispered. You felt him pull out, the feeling of his cum slowly dripping out of your entrance. “You didn’t wanna follow what the fuck I say, I’m not gonna follow what you say. If you just— just fucking listened to me, I wouldn’t have done that.”

His hands pulled you up, turning you around so your back was on the table, you felt his hands feeling around your body. His head leaned in towards your neck as his left hand cupped your cunt, “I know you didn’t cum. So you’ll give me as many as I want, alright?” his boxers and pants were already pulled up, making you glad. Thoughts were already racing about what you were gonna do about it, his words made your body shiver. Tears filled your waterline as he started fingering you with both his ring finger and middle finger, his fingers were curling up, hitting your g-spot. A moan slipped out of your lips as he worked his fingers. Your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him in closer, boosting his ego was the last thing you wanted to do, but it felt so good, you needed more. He was pushing his cum back inside you as he moved in and out, tears running to the sides of your face.

You were right on the edge, recognized by your squeamish body movements and loud, pornographic moans. Rafe pulled his fingers out, a loud gasp escaping your lips, you tugged on his hand with one of your own, “You want me to keep going ?” he asked. Your head nodded, “Okay. Tell me you’ll keep the baby.” he said, without any emotion at all. You were unsure, and you didn’t want a baby, but it was Rafe. He was a fucking psychopath and you already knew if you tried to get rid of it anyways that he would do insane things, he’ll ruin you for life. He could tell you were hesitant about saying it, hell, you were hesitant about even seeing him again after this, but he would force his way into your life anyways. However, during sex you acted like a completely different person, so your subconscious answered for you, “Fuck, okay.”

Even if you couldn’t see it, you knew he was smirking as he dipped his fingers back into your aching cunt that was already painted with his cum. Your head kept nodding as he kept going, you were lost in a state of pleasure, the way he pressures his fingers against your g-spot made you think you were going insane. His hand moved faster and faster until you let loose all over his fingers, moaning loudly as he let you ride your orgasm out. Your arousal was evident when he pulled his fingers out, “Was crying f’me to stop, now look at you.” he said, laughing softly. He looked at you and shoved his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself. Your tongue instinctively sucked on them, he grabbed your jaw as you did, “I’m staying here with you, every fuckin’ night. You’re keeping that fucking baby.” he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and took his hand off your jaw.

The way he talked to you like you were a dog who had to follow their owners every command scared you, he was only doing that so he wouldn’t leave you, but maybe that was what you wanted. You wanted him to force you into doing everything you didn’t want, you needed him in your life, or maybe it was due to all of his gaslighting and manipulating to think that he was all you needed. It wasn’t though, you just needed to be away from him.

[littlelovelunette]

Hii! Could you do a sevika x reader, where Reader takes too much shimmer to the point that she gets injured, and Sevika worries and takes care of her. Thank you and don't forget to take care of yourself too! 🫂💗🫂💗

Shimmer In My Veins

Sevika x Shimmer Addicted!Reader

Contains angst, blood, throwing up blood, drug addiction, sevika cries

It wasn't the first time Sevika returned home to you being high. You both worked under Silco and working under Silco meant you both got a special supply of Shimmer.

Sevika barely got attacked by anyone due to her reputation around Zaun as the scary lady. You? Not so much.

You needed to consume high levels of Shimmer every single day, getting it injected deep in your veins for the sheer ability to fight off goons, and survive.

But the amount you were taking everyday was starting to get to your head.

You loved the thrill. The sensation. The burn. The way your body moves faster. The way your veins glowed in the dark due to the drug. You were wasted. Addicted.

You knew it. She knew it.

But this time when you were high it was a different sort of high. You had completely overdosed.

You stumbled into the wall when you heard the door opening. "H-help, 'Vika." You could only whimper before your body swayed again.

Sevika's eyes widened and her instincts kicked in. She rushed to your side, her knees dropping to the floor so she could cradle your body which was turning against you.

"Fuck. Fuck. We need to get you help." You heard her deep voice rumbled.

Your head was spinning and blood was pouring out of your mouth and nose. You didnt know what was happening. Nothing like this had ever happened before.

"Please." You pleaded pitifully, your eyes blurring and getting more unfocused but you didn't want to die like this.

Your fists curled against Sevika's top. Desperation choking you like a vice as your hands fisted in her shirt.

Sevika's mouth opened to speak but before she could say anything—

You started wheezing, the blood rising to your throat stuck making you choke.

"Spit it out, keep your mouth open." Sevika said her voice shaky but yet very controlled emotion-wise.

She let you turn over and cough the blood out. "Don' feel too good." You mumbled, head lolling back onto Sevika's lap.

"You're a mess." Sevika picked you up bridal style, your blood getting on her clothes but she didn't care.

Worry gnawed on her heart like a hungry predator. She knew her stress levels were skyrocketing.

She didn't care.

She wanted you safe.

Sevika's head was filled with a million thoughts. A million possibilities of what would happen to you now. But none of them ended well.

"H-h-hurts." You choked out to Sevika who only held you tighter.

"You'll be okay. Fuck. You'll be okay." She said as she ran.

Where was she even taking you?

You had no idea.

You tried your best to stay awake but eventually the heaviness of your eyelids became too much and your eyes fluttered shut.

Sevika cursed loudly. She was afraid this was the last of you she'd see. Seeing the death of her loved ones could've made her immune to seeing deaths— it did. But your death?

Oh just the thought of it ripped something right out of her heart. Sevika would much rather have her own death than yours.

Darkness.

You could hear the faint whirring of machinery. You were supposed to be unconscious but your mind was very much awake.

Once something was injected in your arm, you felt the sting of the needle piercing your skin. The sting in your arm was followed by a strange churning in your stomach.

White hot pain shot through your body and you felt something discharging from your mouth. Something as glittery and dangerous as Shimmer. You were throwing it all up. Mixed with your blood, of course.

The pain was severe.

But you couldn't tell anyone.

You couldn't scream.

When you woke up in soft bed, you were a little confused. You thought you'd died. With a soft groan you looked around and saw Sevika sitting there with her head in her hands.

"H-hey..." You said weakly fuaisnt Sevika's head to jerk up. She saw you barely awake and a sigh of relief left her chest.

Sevika knelt down next to you beside the bed. "Thought I lost you, too." She mumbled and buried her face in your small hand.

You wanted to stroke her hair and tell her you were okay but you were not okay. Your hands felt thinner than before and were shaky.

Each and every cell in your body protested.

Everything hurt so badly.

You squinted a little. "Baby, don't cry." You whispered. Your voice was laced with pain.

Sevika wiped her tears away roughly sniffling and replied. "I'm not crying."

You smiled faintly. "Your eyes sweating then?"

"Stop joking around. You could've... Died." The last word came out strained and choked. Sevika looked away, head tilted up so the tears didn't fall down her cheeks. "Or induced to a fucking coma." She added.

You saw the veins on her neck pop momentarily. "Thought I lost you and—" Sevika didn't say anything further. She pulled you in a hug. You winced but didn't protest.

You let her hug you.

You felt the warm tears hitting your cold skin, running down your neck and shoulder. Sevika's body was shuddering with the force of her sobs.

Big, bad Sevika reduced to this because of your addiction to Shimmer. Your hand raised up and rested on the small of her back.

"I'm sorry." You whispered.

[miley1442111]

no promises- a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: aaron had to save you.

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: general cm minds topics, guns, trauma, a kid is hurt, talk of abductions, talk of harm coming to the team, the reader is harmed, talk of surgery, talk of choking, etc.

You hadn't even realised he was behind you until you felt the familiar but unwelcome sting of a bullet in your arm. You screamed out, falling to the ground in pain as he ran off. 

Get up. Something inside you said. What if he gets to the team? To Aaron?

You got up. 

Running after him, you ignored the sounds of the rest of the team on comms and continued, following his footsteps. You can’t shoot him, you reminded yourself. He’s the only one who knows where the kid is. 

You caught a glimpse of his hand, turning left. “Put your hands up, put the gun down,” you pointed your own at him, the young girl in his hands as he pointed a gun at her. “Put the gun down now.” 

He didn’t respond, a sick smile on his face. He’d been abducting children, ones that eerily reminded you of your little sister. Your eyes were closing and you could practically feel the blood flowing out of you, he’d definitely hit you somewhere bad. Yet, you had to save this girl, even if it was the last thing you ever did. 

“And why, pray tell, should I?” He asked, a disgusting smirk on his dirty face. “Do you not wish her the same fate as yourself?”

“No,” You grunted out, still ignoring the screams from the other side of the comms. No one had followed you into the hidden door in the back of the warehouse, leading to a maze of endless rooms and confusing signs. “She’s a little girl, take me instead.”

His interest was piqued. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron felt sick to his stomach. “Take me instead.” was ringing in his ears as he scoured the warehouse, desperately trying to find him. He felt everything was happening in slow motion, he could taste the copper of his own blood, he’d been biting his lips. His anxiety was taking over. You hadn’t spoken on the comms for a whole 20 minutes, you could’ve already been gone. He’d heard gunshots, you could be dead and he’d be able to do nothing. 

Nothing. 

“Sir,” He heard a sobbing child, he whipped his head around and saw her, the little girl the unsub had last taken, hsi heart stopped. Immediately he wrapped her up in his arms, allowing her to cry into his chest. When his ears finally focused in, he could hear her soft apologies, he pulled his head away, adrenaline and genuine dread running through his body. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he promised her, cutting her off. “Look at me- you have nothing to apologise for, at all.”

“But the woman-” she cried and his face hardened. Damnnit. 

“We’ll find her, don’t worry.”

“She was bleeding!” she cried into his chest, sobbing harder. 

“She’ll be ok, she’s strong,” He whispered, quelling her tears and after a few minutes she slowly allowed the exhaustion to overtake her and fell asleep against him. In that time, he’d let his own tears fall, you were hit. You were missing. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron walked through the confusing maze with a SWAT team hot on his heels. Finding there was one exit and entrance, you and the unsub still had to be in there. Spencer was busy mapping out the warehouse and maze through small drone cameras they’d sent out around 40 minutes after your comms were shut off but Aaron couldn’t wait any longer. You were missing. 

They’d found your earpiece on the floor beside your gun and a trail of blood. The trail of blood followed on the wall, and they silently moved along it. Everyone held their breath as they kicked open a door, just praying to find the unsub and you, alive. 

They found what they were looking for, just not in the conditions they wanted. You were on a surgery table, a heart monitor showed that you were barely alive. Aaron wanted to scream. He set his sights on the unsub, an unfamiliar rage settling in him. His hands were around the asshole's neck before he even knew what he was doing, and it took three officers to pull him off. 

He blacked out after that. Spencer said he went with you in the ambulance, and waited for 14 hours while you had emergency surgery. 

You were alive. You had 12 broken ribs, a broken arm, shattered hip-bone, some facial wounds from when the unsub had beaten you up, and you’d lost a kidney and almost a lung. But you were alive.   

Aaron walked into your hospital room the second the nurse said he could. He saw you sitting there, being fed jello by a nurse and he smiled. You were still alive. 

You looked at him and smiled to the best of your abilities. “Hi,” you croaked out.

“I love you,” he said, taking your right hand. Surprise spread across your features and a warmth set in your stomach. 

“I love you too.” 

“Never do that again,” he said with bated breath. “I think you’ve taken years off my life with the stress.”

“No promises,” you joked and he smiled. “Now feed me my jello.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :)

[jakeyzzz]

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- broken promise.

𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝑔𝒽ℴℴ𝓃 𝓈𝒾𝓂 𝒿𝒶ℯ𝓎𝓊𝓃

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 ； 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍， 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍／𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 ， 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ；{ attempted suicide, mentions of domestic violence, fighting, drugs, overdose, hospitals, mentions of alcohol and cigarettes, mentions of death, crying, eating, kissing, making out, happy ending ! } not proofread!

（ 𝓁ℯ𝓉 𝓂ℯ 𝓀𝓃ℴ𝓌 𝒾𝒻 𝒾 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈ℯ𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 ！）

!!! english is NOT my first language

𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍!

𝗐𝖼 : 4,4k

'' I can't do this anymore. ''

'' What do you mean you can't do this anymore ? '' 

Sunghoon's voice was filled with rage. This was your 5th time arguing that week. You've spent the last two hours yelling and screaming at each other, and you were slowly losing your mind. 

'' Answer me ! '' Sunghoon said through gritted teeth, taking a few steps forward. He was now standing only a few inches away from you, his body almost touching yours. You looked directly into his eyes with your empty ones, trying to find a sign of regret. But the only thing you could see was pure anger. 

'' Why are you so quiet all of a sudden ? I told you to answer my fucking questi-'' Sunghoon couldn't finish his sentence. He was interrupted by a painful stinging sensation on his cheek. 

You slapped him.

You both stared at each other in shock for a few seconds, not saying a single word. You took that moment as an opportunity to run away from him. Sunghoon held his cheek with furrowed brows when he started following you. 

'' No, No, No. Don't run away now '' He yelled, quickening his pace. But you were faster. Before he even had to chance to reach your arm you ran into the bathroom, slammed the door shut and quickly locked it. 

You stared into the mirror, trying to catch your breath while listening to Sunghoon's footsteps getting closer to the door. You carefully sat down on the cold floor, resting your head against the bathtub behind you. 

'' Open the goddamn door ! '' You heard Sunghoon shout from behind the door. 

'' I swear I'm gonna kick the door open if you don't open it right now'' He threatened. You sobbed into your hands to the point where it was getting hard to breathe. Your strength was long gone. The sound of Sunghoon's fists aggressively hitting the door was so loud, you were sure your neighbors could hear it as well.

'' Please let this be over soon... '' You whispered to yourself. 

You stared at the wall, trying to think of a way to get you out of this hellhole. But Sunghoon's voice was so much louder than your thoughts. He didn't stop knocking on the door for even one second. 

And all of a sudden, you choked on your tears when something caught your eye. 

Your orange pill box you placed on the bathroom sink the night before. You weakly reached for it, taking it into your hand before staring at it for a few seconds. 

'' 8 pills...'' You thought. 

'' 8 pills and it would all be over. ''

It wasn't like you wanted to take your life. But you were so exhausted. And you thought giving up might be the only way to get away from him. 

His touch wasn't gentle and loving anymore. Whenever he touched you it was painful. And instead of making you blush, he covered your body in bruises. 

You gently took the lid off the pill box before letting the pills fall onto the palm of your hand. You took a deep breath in and without thinking twice, you quickly put them into your mouth before swallowing them. 

There was no turning back now. 

The first few seconds you didn't feel anything. But after a few minutes had passed, you felt your heartbeat slow down. And after a few more minutes, you knew you'd be going into cardiac arrest. 

'' Y/N ?! I'm giving you one more chance to open the door right now''

'' Y/N ?! '' 

'' That's it. I'm kicking the door open. '' And he did. 

He used his whole body strength to open the door, only to find you passed out on the floor. 

'' Y/N ? Fuck, what the hell have you done ?''  He mumbled as he ran towards your body before kneeling down to check your pulse. 

No pulse. 

Sunghoon panicked when he noticed your pill box on the floor. He didn't waste one second before calling an ambulance. He quickly explained what happened and after approximately 10 minutes you were already on your way to the hospital. 

A bunch of doctors had gathered around you, trying to save your life. One of them was performing CPR on you, while another one was trying to save you with some medication. And all of that was happening while Sunghoon was watching. For the first time that day he didn't have any anger inside of him. Instead he felt nothing but fear and guilt. Realisation had finally hit him. And it hit him hard. Really fucking hard. 

He ruined you. It was all his fault. He was the reason you took your own life. He was the reason your family would never  see you again. He could've stopped you from leaving. But he didn't. He put you through hell instead. 

'' 21 year old female, benzodiazepine overdose '' Sunghoon heard a doctor shout through the hallway of the hospital as soon as they rushed through the door. 

'' Into the emergency room ! '' 

Sunghoon tried following you, but he was stopped in his tracks by a doctor.

'' No. You're staying here.'' 

'' B- But- '' 

'' Sit down. '' 

Sunghoon sighed sharply. 

'' Alright. M'sorry '' He said, finally giving in. He lowered his head as he sat down before watching the doctor walk away from him, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He sat there for hours. 

He kept watching more doctors entering the room you were in, and he was slowly going insane. He had no idea what was going on until one of the doctors finally approached him. He quickly got up from his chair before nervously wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans. 

'' Sorry for the long wait. We finally got the permission to tell you she survived. But that's the only thing I'm allowed to tell you right now. Since we found a bunch of bruises on her body we're also gonna have to get the police involved. Are you gonna cooperate ? '' 

Sunghoon let out a shaky breath. He has never been this relieved. 

'' Yes ma'am. '' 

He sighed.

'' Good. Will you tell me your name please ? '' 

'' Yes. ''

Sunghoon knew he owed you this. And he knew he wanted to be completely honest to the police. He wanted to tell them everything. And after telling them everything, he wanted to disappear out of your life forever. That was his plan. 

And that's exactly what he did. That's what you deserved. A happy life without him. 

Deep down you knew Sunghoon never chose to end up like this. He never wanted to be someone who would hurt the girl he loved. Because that's what his dad did. Sunghoon's mom passed away when he was very young, and his dad was an alcoholic. No one ever got to teach him what real love feels like. The only thing his dad taught him was how to roll a cigarette. He learned that when he was barely ten years old. His dad made him feel useless. He barely even talked to him. His dad only talked to Sunghoon when he needed something... a cigarette or a new bottle of vodka. But he never told him he loved him. He has never heard those words before. Not even before his mother passed away. He didn't have anyone but his dad until he met you. The first time Sunghoon told you he loves you, you secretly wondered if he knew what he was talking about. You wondered if you were the one who actually showed him what love feels like, or if it was just his imagination of what love might  feel like. The first year with Sunghoon was perfect. Flowers everyday kind of perfect. But the year after, everything went downhill. Loving him suddenly wasn't easy anymore. He started hurting you ... mentally and physically. And you knew you somehow had to leave. But you didn't know how. No matter what he did, you still loved him. And that scared the living shit out of you. But that's over now. He's gone. He's gone for good. 

You were in your hospital bed, slowly waking up to someone squeezing your hand. You weren't able to open your eyes yet, but you were able to feel some device giving you additional oxygen through your nose. You were alive. 

You slowly tried opening your eyes, which was hard but eventually worked. Your sight was incredibly blurry tho. You couldn't really tell who was squeezing your hand. 

'' You lied '' The person next to you spoke up. 

'' S- Sunghoon ? '' You mumbled weakly, trying to focus on the person. 

'' Not even close '' The black haired boy chuckled, waiting for you to finally recognize him.

'' Jake ? '' You guessed.

'' Bingo ! '' 

You smiled weakly before closing your eyes again, taking a deep breath. 

'' You scared me. '' He said, his tone much more serious than before. 

'' I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do anymore. '' 

'' Don't apologize. I understand '' Jake said, placing a lingering kiss on the back of your hand. 

'' You still lied to me tho... '' 

'' What do you mean ? '' You quietly asked. 

Even though you didn't even look at him, Jake forced a smile. 

'' You promised me you wouldn't leave '' 

'' I'm sorry '' You apologized. Jake noticed a tear rolling down your cheek. He gently wiped it away, being as careful as possible. 

'' If you leave, I leave. '' 

That's what you've been telling each other for years. Jake has always been your best friend. And when he found out about your attempt a few hours ago, he completely broke down. He felt like he was suffocating. 

'' I don't think I could live without you '' He confessed, holding back tears. 

'' You don't have to. I'll be okay '' You murmured before slowly opening your eyes again. Your sight still wasn't perfect, but it was definitely less blurry. You could actually see Jake now. 

'' Where's Sunghoon ? '' 

'' Don't worry about it. ''

It was hard not to worry about it. You knew you shouldn't care, but you still wondered if he was okay. Even though he ruined you, he also saved your life. Instead of letting you die, he decided to get help. He saved your life by not leaving you alone on your bathroom floor. But he also saved your life by leaving. Even though you should be, you weren't mad at him. You already forgave him, and you wished him all the best for the rest of his life. But you were happy he was gone. He made the right decision when he decided to leave. It was for your own good. 

'' Is my mom here ? ''

Jake smiled softly.

'' Yeah. She's outside talking to a doctor. Do you want me to go get her ?  ''

'' Yes, please. '' 

Jake smiled lightly before getting up from his chair. He left the room for a few seconds, and eventually returned with your mom by his side. Seeing your mom's swollen eyes made your heart sink. She sat down on the chair next to your bed and for the first few minutes no words were exchanged. You just looked at each other with the same expression on your faces. 

Your eyebrows were furrowed and your lips were trembling as tears threatened to fall from your eyes. You looked at each other in pity. 

And just when your mom got up to put her arms around you, you both started sobbing uncontrollably. She felt your hot tears slowly start soaking her shirt as you weakly tried hugging her back. By the way she held you, you could tell how scared she was of losing you. And she had so much guilt inside of her for not protecting you from Sunghoon. She wanted him to suffer just as much as he made you suffer. 

'' I love you so much. Don't ever forget that '' Your mom choked out while softly stroking your hair. 

'' I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you from that monster '' 

'' Aren't you mad at me ? '' You whispered as you kept crying. 

'' Why would I be mad at you ? I could never be mad at you. I just need you to promise me you won't leave '' She answered before kissing your forehead. 

'' I promise. ''

You took a deep breath before looking over to Jake, who was busy wiping his tears. He chuckled between his tears before walking over to you, joining you and your mom. 

He kneeled down next to you before gently taking your hand, softly caressing it with his thumb. 

'' I'm gonna protect you for the rest of my life, Y/N. I promise '' He reassured you. 

You smiled weakly. 

'' I know you will. ''

Before any more words could be exchanged, your little moment with Jake got interrupted by a doctor entering your room. Both Jake and your mom quickly got up on their feet again, waiting for the doctor to speak up. 

'' Y/N Y/L/N ? ''

'' That's me '' 

'' It's so good to see you ! How are you feeling ? '' The doctor asked with a warming smile on his face. 

'' I've been better ''

'' That's completely normal, don't worry. Your body went through a lot in the last few hours. I'm gonna have to make a few tests tho ... Is that okay ? '' 

'' Sure '' 

'' Great '' He said before starting to check your eyes first. 

He tried making you feel as comfortable as possible throughout the whole process and before you even knew it, he was already done. 

'' Everything seems to be just fine. But we're still gonna have to keep you here for a few days just in case. You're really lucky you survived. We've had a lot of patients who didn't make it. I hope you know we're all really glad you woke up. '' 

'' Thank you '' You said, smiling softly.

 He sighed lightly as he got up from his seat before saying his goodbyes, finally leaving you alone with your two loved ones again. They stayed with you for the rest of the day until they were told to leave. 

The next few days at the hospital went by quickly. Your mom was mostly busy working which means you had a lot of alone time with Jake. He visited you every single day and stayed for as long as he could. He even talked about how he wanted to secretly stay overnight, which you told him not to do since you didn't want him to get in trouble. But he would've done it anyway. Because to him getting in trouble was worth it if it meant he could stay with you. That's how much he cared for you...

'' What do you wanna do first when you get home ? '' He asked, holding your hand tightly just like he always did. 

'' I don't really know yet '' 

'' You're so boring '' Jake giggled. 

'' So what ? Do you have any Ideas ? '' 

'' I have a bunch of things in mind... ''

'' Tell me '' You commanded, smiling

'' There's a lot of options. You could watch your favorite movie, eat your favorite food or maybe even let me take you out on a date so we can do all these things together ? '' 

Your smile widened seeing Jake get shy all of a sudden. He was so cute. 

'' That was smooth... '' 

'' So ? What do you think ? '' Jake asked as he tried avoiding eye contact.

 You pretended to think about it for a few seconds before finally answering.

'' I think I'd really love that. '' 

You could see Jake's eyes light up almost immediately. He didn't even try to hide his blushy cheeks anymore when he looked at you smiling with all teeth. He left a gentle kiss on the back of your hand before intertwining your fingers, reminding you what having butterflies feels like.

'' I'm really looking forward to our date '' He whispered.

You were released the next day. 

After 6 days you were finally allowed to go home, and Jake was already waiting for you in his car in front of the hospital. He drove you home, which was now your mom's house again. She was already at the door when you arrived, welcoming you with a big hug. Being at your mom's house felt really good. It made you feel nostalgic. Especially when the smell of your favorite blueberry cupcakes hit your nose. Your mom used to make them for you a lot when you were little since they have always been your favorite. 

'' These are amazing '' Jake said, clearly enjoying the sweet pastry. 

'' Thanks, love. Please have as much as you want. '' Your mom answered, smiling happily. 

You could tell how happy she was you were back. 

'' So... do you guys have any plans for today ? '' 

'' I'm taking Y/N out on a date '' Jake said. 

Your mom's eyes widened in excitement. 

'' Thank god '' She said before moving closer to Jake. 

'' I've always liked you more than you know ... Sunghoon '' She whispered into his ear. 

'' Why are you whispering ? That's so unfair ! What did she say, Jake ? '' You whined in annoyance.

Jake giggled. 

'' Don't worry about it '' He said before pulling you into a hug. 

'' I'm gonna leave you two alone now. Have fun ! '' Your mom said before quietly leaving the room with a huge smile on her face.

'' It's getting kinda late don't you think ? '' Jake mumbled as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

'' Should I get ready ? '' 

'' You already look beautiful '' 

'' Come on let me at least change into something cuter... ''

Jake looked at you for a few seconds before gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

'' Alright. Meet me in my car in 15 minutes '' He said.

'' Okay '' You whispered under your breath before hurriedly running to your room.

You quickly went through your closet, trying to find something to wear. You ended up finding a blue denim dress you were gonna combine with your favorite overknee boots. The dress used to be your absolute favorite before you started getting bruises all over your body. But since all of your bruises were finally fading, you were confident enough to wear it again. You quickly styled your hair, trying to make it look as effortless as possible and applied some light makeup to complete the look. You put on your jewelry before checking yourself out in the mirror one last time. And when you were finally satisfied with your appearance, you eventually left the house. 

When you quietly closed the door behind you, you could see Jake lean against his car. 

And when he finally lifted his head to look at you, his jaw dropped. 

'' You look... Wow '' He looked at you in awe, making you feel shy under his gaze. 

'' You look amazing ''

'' Thank you '' You answered shyly, trying not to smile too hard. 

Jake smiled as he gently took your hand, leading you inside his car. 

'' Where are we going ? '' 

'' To my place ''

'' I know it might sound boring but ... you'll see '' He said before starting the engine. 

The drive went by quickly. 

Words couldn't describe how excited you were. Driving around with Jake already would've been enough to make the date perfect. But you knew Jake had a plan. And your excitement only increased when Jake finally pulled up into his driveway. 

You both got out of his car before walking over to Jake's front door hand in hand. 

'' Can you uhm... close your eyes ? '' Jake requested with nervosity written all over his face. 

''  Y- Yeah sure '' 

Jake smiled as he unlocked his door before leading you inside. He made sure you wouldn't hurt yourself by holding your waist from behind while walking. He led you into his living room where he had set up lots of blankets, pillows, fairylights, some of your favorite dishes and a movie projector. 

'' Okay. I think you can open your eyes now '' He whispered, hugging you from the back.

You chuckled sweetly before finally opening your eyes. You took in the view around you, immediately noticing how much effort Jake put into decorating this room. The whole living room was decorated so beautifully, it could've been straight out of a magazine. 

''I prepared all of this before picking you up. Except for the food ... my mom helped me with that''

'' Jake I- ... This is insane '' 

'' You like it ? '' 

'' Are you kidding me ? I love it ! It's perfect '' 

'' I'm so glad you love it. Wanna sit down ? '' 

You happily nodded your head before getting comfortable on Jake's couch. 

He smiled watching you snuggle up in one of the blankets. 

'' C'mere '' You said, patting the spot next to you. Jake giggled softly as he sat down next to you before putting an arm around you. You immediately scooted closer to him, shyly smiling at him from under the blanket. 

'' Why are you smiling like that ? ''

'' I don't know. I just feel really happy and... safe '' You mumbled.

Jake giggled. But after a few seconds of staring at you, his face expression suddenly got serious. 

'' Is everything okay ? '' You nervously asked. 

Jake cleared his throat before answering. 

'' Yeah, everything's alright. ''

You knew he was lying.

'' It's pretty clear something's wrong. Tell me what you're thinking about... ''

'' I don't wanna ruin the mood '' He said, avoiding eye contact. 

'' You won't. '' 

Jake sighed before finally looking at you again. He took your hand as he forced a smile on his face before finally speaking up. 

'' Watching you fall in love with him was one of the hardest things I've ever had to witness. And then he almost took you away from me. I should've kno- '' 

'' Jake. ''  You interrupted him. You knew exactly where this was going. 

He was gonna put the blame on himself. 

'' I could've prevented all of it from happening '' He whispered under his breath as he tried holding back tears. 

'' Listen to me. I don't think you understand... ''

You said before straddling his lap, making him look at you by cupping his cheeks. 

'' You couldn't protect me from Sunghoon. No one could... because I loved him. So stop feeling guilty. You have no idea how many times you've saved my life '' 

'' Not this time tho '' Jake said as a tear rolled down his cheek. 

'' Stop '' 

You used your thumbs to gently wipe his tears before pulling him into a hug by his neck. 

'' I've always wanted to thank you but I was never really sure how... '' You whispered as you let him cry into your shoulder, holding him tight. 

'' Thank me for what ? ''

'' For making me feel loved and wanted when he didn't. ''

Jake slowly lifted his head again, so he could rest his forehead against yours. He looked straight into your eyes when you noticed a soft smile tugging on his lips. 

'' Did I ruin our date ? '' 

You giggled. 

'' No. Not at all... '' 

You couldn't help but get lost in each other's eyes. And for a few minutes no words were spoken. 

Your lips were only a few inches away from his, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin. But when Jake noticed you were slowly leaning in to kiss him, he moved away.  

Not because he didn't want to kiss you, but because he wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing. 

'' Im sorry, are you sure you- '' 

You playfully rolled your eyes with a smile on your lips before shutting him up by kissing him. And this time he didn't move away. The kiss started off gentle, but ended up getting more and more passionate. You moved Jake's head closer to yours and hesitantly parted your lips, letting his tongue into your mouth. You put your arms around his neck to pull him even closer to your body and just when you didn't expect it, three words spilled from his lips. 

'' I love you ''

He mumbled against your mouth.

 And instead of answering, you immediately closed the gap between your mouths again, kissing him even more deeply. He gently bit your lower lip as his big hands soothed your arms up and down. Your hands went through his hair as you continued moving your lips on his. And as you gained more confidence, you swiped your tongue over his bottom lip, eliciting a deep groan from his throat.

'' Oh ? '' You teasingly whispered against his lips, making him blush.  He pecked your lips one last time before burying his face in your neck, making you giggle. 

'' Jake ? '' 

'' No '' 

You quietly laughed at his behavior. 

'' Look at me '' 

Jake whined, thinking you were gonna tease him. He slowly lifted his head from your neck, unintentionally showing you his rosy cheeks. 

'' I love you too '' You confessed, making Jake's eyes widen. 

'' Y - You do ? '' 

'' Yes. I do. ''

Jake immediately pulled you into his arms, peppering kisses all over your face making you giggle.

'' I love you. I love you so much. I always have, and I always will '' He said, holding you in his arms.

Without saying another word you kissed him again, playing with the strings of his oversized hoodie. This time the kiss was more gentle, as your lips were moving rather slowly against his. You took your sweet time kissing him, which made the moment feel even more intimate. 

'' I really hate to interrupt but I feel like we should continue our date. We've still got some things to do...'' Jake mumbled against your lips.

'' I love kissing you tho '' 

'' Same here ... but the food- ''

'' Okay, Okay. You're right. '' 

Jake giggled quietly before gently picking you up, not wanting to hurt you. Your legs were wrapped around his waist as he carried you over to the table before sitting you down on one of the chairs, shooting you a giddy smile as he sat down next to you. 

And for the entire rest of the night he made sure your first date would be more than perfect. And it indeed was perfect ... How could it not be ? It was with Jake after all. Your best friend, and the love of your life. 

You knew your healing journey was gonna be incredibly hard. You had a long way to go. But you were sure everything would be so much easier with Jake by your side. He was so patient with you, and he made you feel things you've never felt before. He was your  safe place. And you knew he would love and protect you forever. Just like he had promised.

taglist - { @leiclerc , @itulipy } ⁺˚*･༓☾

[whump-queen]

Slanted Light, Spilled Gold

prev | Seven Masterlist

Tags: servant whump, domestic whump, burns, restraints | Words: 1.8k

༻✦༺ 

Seven stirred when he felt something sliding across his face. There was pressure around his ankles—he hardly registered that he was being dragged.

He jarred awake with a cry when his bruised face hit the floor. The carpet—gracious carpet—certainly could’ve been worse. He tried to bring his hands to his face—tried to cup the bruised eye socket that screamed against yet another impact, but his arms didn't budge—they stayed stuck to the small of his back, locked in place by the cinching metal. His wrists were numb. 

What time was it? Seven blinked and squinted against the bright light that hit the side of his face that wasn’t pressed to the floor. Sunlight peered through the blinds. 

“Get up.” Wes gave Seven a good-morning kick in the ribs. 

“Breakfast. Now.” 

It was an order. 

Seven tried to move but was immediately stopped by Wes’ foot stepping down on his head. 

“And for the record, I’m still mad at you.” 

Wes bent down to unlock the cuffs, sparing no weight to grind Seven’s face into the floor with the sole of his foot. Seven groaned as his bruised eye was ground hard into the rug. It was agony on the wound, all tiny rough fragments that dug into his purpled flesh. 

Freeing Seven’s reddened wrists, Wes slid the cuffs into the back pocket of his jeans. Seven gasped as he slowly brought his arms in front of him for the first time since last night. He saw angry red at his wrists—rings of raw flesh—what looked to be dried blood cracked over in a few places. 

His shoulders seared in pain at the position change. He’d slept all night like this. No wonder it hurt so bad. His breath caught in his chest as he tried to flex his stiff muscles. He clenched his teeth, sucking air through the gaps between them like water through the jaws of a whale. 

He clenched his fists. Made a point of moving all his fingers around. Each movement sent pins and needles stabbing up his arms. 

Wes wasn’t patient today—no more than any other day—and gave Seven’s ribs another hard kick, earning himself a choked cry. It’d hit just atop the still forming bruises from the night before. 

“I don’t have all fucking day!” Wes shouted, even though Seven could hear him just fine. 

Wes turned and slammed the door behind him. 

Another bright morning in the penthouse.

Groaning against the protest in his arms, Seven pushed himself off the floor. He rose, staggering a little, aiming to address his wardrobe and the general—he looked down at his bloody wrists—state of himself. 

He washed his wrists and face in the adjacent bathroom, wincing at the way his face looked—his left eye was swollen, a deep red ring formed beneath his eye, like the markings of a red raccoon. More discoloration darkened his brow bone, deep reds and purples and blues. Seven touched the skin, experimentally. His jaw tightened. It felt tender and hot. 

There were other bruises on his face, but that eye stood out like a bright red beam. There was absolutely no hiding it. It would be there for a while. 

Wes didn’t normally hurt him this badly, not anything this visible anyway. Seven figured he’d wanted to make a statement. Not that he’d needed to, but that fine detail was as dead in the dirt as Seven’s hope for a pain-free morning. 

He slipped into a soft t-shirt and some loose-ish jeans. Old clothes from Wes. They were a little big on him, but Wes had told him not to wear his manor uniform since they’d moved into the penthouse. Inclined towards casual joggers and t-shirts himself, one might infer that Wes didn’t want to be out-dressed in his own home, especially not by his own servant. The theory remained unspoken, though no doubt Wes would have had choice words for anyone with such a presumptuous opinion.

Seven ran his fingers through his hair before opening the door with a slight groan. Making a noise helped, sometimes. When Wes wasn’t around to hear him. Praying that Wes was open to bribery this morning, Seven padded down the hall and made his way towards the kitchen. 

༻✦༺ 

There was a science to the Apology Breakfast. Emulsifying the hollandaise just so. Getting the bacon to that perfect stage of crispiness, cooking the hash brown into a perfect, crisp pancake. It was the same meal every time, and after this many apologies, Seven had it down pat. 

But he didn’t find his usual rhythm today.

The ache in his arms didn’t subside as he prepped the ingredients— it seemed to grow worse with every minute that passed since he’d first moved them. 

It wasn’t supposed to be that labor intensive, Eggs benedict. He’d made it a hundred times. But his arms ached—and between the strain of cracking the eggs and stirring and flipping and roasting and chopping, he found his shoulders slowly starting to go numb. His hands shook as he held the spatula. 

He just needed a moment. Everything was cooking. Ignoring the mess on the island behind him and leaning against the counter by the stove, he let his arms drop, his head fell to his chest, his eyes fell shut. He was so fucking tired. And sore. So so sore.

He blinked up in a panic when he heard a noise that was not correct. The high pitched sizzling of the sauce—too hot—overheated. His hand jolted to the burner dial but it was too late—seconds passed and the boiling didn’t subside. In a rush to save it, Seven opted to remove the pot from the flame entirely. 

That was when he fucked up. Grabbing the handle in one hand, his arm muscles suddenly gave out when he tried to lift. The pot was going to tip, he could feel it. That was his second mistake—sticking his other hand out to steady the pot, and yanking it back immediately when it felt his skin sizzle against the heat of the metal. He lurched, his other arm flying to protect his freshly burned hand and flinging the pot of sauce in the process.

He watched it happen in slow motion. Right in front of his eyes. As the pot tipped on the side of the stove and went down. A loud clang echoed through the penthouse when the pot hit the floor. Seven’s whole world froze. His heart had stopped working, he was sure. He was sure he would die right then and there. 

But he noticed a heat creeping on his toes and was forced back to the realization that this had indeed happened—and there was sauce everywhere. On the stove, on the floor, it was starting to seep up onto his toes when he scrambled back instinctively, grabbing the paper towels but knowing an entire roll wouldn’t be enough. 

He could feel tears pricking his eyes as he scrubbed at the floor, using large bundles of paper towel to soak everything up before—

“Why am I even fucking surprised.”

Seven’s blood ran cold. Wes wasn’t even yelling. His tone was low, angry, but eerily calm. Seven could handle the yelling, expected the yelling, but the fake calmness almost scared him more. 

“I—I’m sorry sir,” Seven choked out, scrubbing the floor with his burned hand and watching his tears fall into the tile below.

“Why the fuck did i think you could handle anything?”

Seven cringed at the sharpness. There was the edge he’d expected. “I,” Seven’s tongue felt too thick for his mouth. “I—I’ll fix it. I’ll clean it up.” 

“Yes. You fucking will. And if you burn anything or fuck anything else up, you can spend the rest of the day on your knees.” 

“Yes, sir,” came Seven’s frantic response. Anything to appease him. 

He could smell the food starting to burn. 

“Please just, just let me fix it, sir,” he raised his hands in a show of innocence, afraid to rise off his knees without Wes’ permission. 

“Fucking do it, then,” Wes hissed, turning and stomping back to the living room, vowing to think of a way to punish Seven accordingly, after he had his Apology Breakfast, of course. 

Seven scrambled to mop up what he could—the deep clean could come later. There was no time to tend to the burn—he washed his hands and wiped his forehead, before turning back to the stove. Apart from the complete collapse of the hollandaise sauce, everything else seemed to be okay. A little overdone, maybe, but not quite burnt. Seven wasted no time plating the meal and placing it on the table where Wes now impatiently sat, monitoring Seven’s progress from across the room.

Wes considered the plate in front of him, then considered Seven. His gaze made Seven squirm, and he could read that something was wrong. Hoping to appease him, Seven dropped to his knees by Wes’ chair. He was only met with more tense, heavy silence.

Wes looked back at the plate before he spoke. 

“There’s no sauce,” Wes’ voice was casual and dry.

“I—y-yes, sir, I’m sorry. I would remake it but I—” Seven struggled to explain himself, as though caught in a lie, despite the fact that Wes had witnessed the whole thing. “I didn’t want the rest to get cold, sir. Or, or burn…”

The beat of silence that hung only made Seven tenser. Wes just stared down at him.

“I could make some more if you—”

“No,” Wes cut him off. “It’s fine.”

Seven was about to lower his head, arguably out of respect or mostly just desperately wanting to escape this situation, but he froze when he saw Wes’ hand approach his face. 

He flinched back, expecting to be hit, but no hit came. Wes simply slid his finger down Seven’s cheek. A small drop of sauce still lingered there, he hadn’t noticed, with everything else. Even worse, Wes brought his finger to his mouth and licked his fingertip clean. 

“It’s a shame,” he remarked, “It's actually really good.”

Seven felt an awkward twinge of both pride and shame. He knew why this was the Apology Breakfast. Wes liked it. It made Seven proud when Wes liked his cooking. Like he was being useful. Like he could do something right, for once in his stupid life. 

But this had been a disaster. He supposed he could’ve burned it. That would’ve been worse. At least Wes hadn’t beaten him for it, yet. 

Seven knelt on the floor in silence while Wes ate his food, until at some point, Wes seemed to remember he was there. 

“Fuck are you just sitting there for. Don’t you have a mess to clean up?”

Seven had enjoyed the brief respite—his arms were more than thankful. But yes, he did. 

“Yes sir,” he said, rising to his feet.

Wes was being so nice about this. Really, Seven was lucky. 

“Thank you, sir,” he added, quieter this time, before shuffling back to the kitchen. 

“Don’t think you’re off the hook for all this shit. I just want you out of my sight.”

Seven should’ve expected that. Of course it wouldn’t be enough. Cleaning the kitchen wouldn’t be enough—it was merely the first in a long line of steps to eventual repentance. He could only be grateful that Wes was giving him a chance. 

༻✦༺ 

I dont know, was he mean enough to him yet - i dont think he was. Might have to continue this and Make it Worse

Seven Taglist:

@oddsconvert @blood-is-compulsory @lonesome--hunter @silversanimewhump @whatwasmyprevioususername

@suspicious-whumping-egg @theonewithallthefixations @saltyemrys @writing-and-trying @veyroswin

@whumpdreamz @kitstorm @amazingmagda @honeycollectswhump @ijustwannareadsomestuff

@fleshand-blood @cryptobiolliegy @whump-in-the-closet @whumper-whimsy @electrons2006

@abmwrites @ichortwine @pumpkin-spice-whump @jumpywhumpywriter @angstandwhumplover

@morning-star-whump

[theghostinyourwalls]

Run From Me

Stu Macher/Ghostface x F!Reader

Tags: dubcon, noncon, role playing, knife play, threats, stalking, happy ending, smut, glove kink, mask kink, fingering, choking, breath play, power play, fear play, unprotected sex, creampie, inappropriate use of photography, established relationships.

“Hello?” You answered the ringing phone, politely.

“Hello,” An unfamiliar, deeper voice echoed your greeting.

“Yes?” You prompted.

“Who is this?” The man inquired.

“Hm, who are you trying to reach?” You replied with a question of your own.

“What number is this?” He seemed content to ask questions back, in no rush to get off the phone.

“Well, what number are you trying to reach?” You asked again, trying to be helpful.

“I don't know,” he answered, but he didn’t sound confused or unsure.

“Well, I think you have the wrong number,” You tried wrapping up the call.

“Do I?” Again he sounded sure of himself.

“It happens, take it easy,” You excused and hung up, returning to your calm night in. Your focus returned to the horror movie on the small screen in the living room. Jamie Lee Curtis was anxiously looking out her window when the loud startling ring of the phone came again.

“Uhm, hello?” You answered again.

“I’m sorry I guess I dialed the wrong number,” The same voice filtered through the telephone.

“So why’d you dial it again?” You huffed a laugh at the oddity.

“To apologize,” he answered smoothly.

“You’re forgiven, bye now,” You moved to hang the phone up, when he called out.

“Wait--Wait, don’t hang up.” There was an almost irresistible plea in his voice that kept you on the line. He sounded cute.

“What?” you indulged.

“I wanna talk to you for a second,” he simply answered.

“They’ve got 900 numbers for that, see ya.” You hung up once again, finding his simple request not as entertaining as you had hoped.

But then the phone rang once again, and you couldn't stop yourself from picking up.

“Hello?”

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” He played hurt, but the theatrics in his tone gave him away.

“Who is this?” you grew curious.

“You tell you your name, I’ll tell you mine.” he said it as though it was a scandalous proposition.

“Hah, I don't think so,” you shook your head, blushing. Were you just simply imagining him flirting with you or was that a line?

“What’s that noise?” he asked, he must have heard the screaming coming from Halloween.

“A scary movie.”

“You like scary movies?”

“Uh-huh,” You nodded enthusiastically.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“I don't know,” You shrugged.

“You have to have a favorite, what comes to mind?”

“Halloween, you know the one with the guy in the white mask who walks around and stalks babysitters? What’s yours?”

“Guess,” he insisted playfully.

“Um, Nightmare on Elm Street?”

“Is that the one where the guy had knives for fingers?”

“Yeah, Freddy Krueger, that’s right,” You nodded, impressed with his taste.

“I like that movie. It was scary,” he lowered his voice for effect.

“Well, the first one was but the rest sucked,” You gave your opinion.

“So, you got a boyfriend?” he asked, and then you became sure. He was definitely flirting.

“Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” you teased, trying to stop the grin from completely overtaking your face.

“Maybe,” he answered in a sing-song note before asking again, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” you lied, enjoying the stranger's attention.

“You never told me your name,” he pointed out.

“Why do you want to know my name?”

“Because I wanna know who I’m looking at,” his voice dropped once again and a chill ran up your spine.

“What did you say?” You felt out of balance, suddenly snapping your attention to the dark windows surrounding the living room. You couldn't see anything beyond what the dim pool lights illuminated.

“I said I wanna know who I’m talking to,” he corrected himself.

“That’s not what you said,” You shook your head, a little breathless as fight or flight began to kick in your brain.

“What do you think I said?”

“Um,” You tried to think back to mere seconds ago. Had you really misheard him?

“Hello?” he tried again.

“Look, I gotta go,” you apologized, now eager to get off the phone.

“Wait, I thought we were gonna go out?” He sounded overly hurt and upset.

“Oh, no, I don't think so,” you declined, hanging up as he called his last demand.

“Don’t hang up on me!”

You turned the volume up on the television to keep your mind from jumping at every creak. He was just some creep playing a prank, you figured. you weren't going to be intimidated by a loser with nothing better to do than call random numbers and try to scare them. The ringing came again and you had half a mind to tell him off. You were going to make him regret trying to make fun of you.

“I told you not to hang up on me,” the lighter tone had disappeared from the near growl of anger that rumbled through the speaker now.

“Listen, I am two seconds away from calling the cops, and I do have a boyfriend! He's big and strong and when he comes home he’s going to kick your ass!” you tried to scare the man on the phone.

“I’m getting scared. I’m shaking in my boots,” he mocked.

“What do you want?” you asked, turning around in your living room, looking out the window.

“To see what your insides look like,” The crude statement sent shivers down your spine.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“More of a game, really, can you handle that?”

“Please– No! I can’t--”

“Run, I’ll give you five seconds,”

You dropped the phone set at your feet. Your mind was moving faster than you could as you began locking the doors around the house. As you whipped around to the back door your racing heart dropped into your stomach. It was wide open. The man was already inside your house. You doubted you could outrun him if you shot out the door, and made the life dependent decision to hide in the house where you were more familiar than him and call the police. This was your one shot at survival. You turned and started to race to your room. As you passed by the kitchen you could hear the man laughing distantly over the phone, but it sounded off. It sounded as if it were two voices. One from over the phone and the other nearby. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the entryway closet door swing open, revealing a tall figure draped in black robes with a white mask that stretched into a scream.

Your lungs burned as you sprinted to your bedroom. His boots stomped right behind you as he closed in on you. As you reached the top of the stairs you noticed your bedroom door was closed. You knew it was going to take a couple more seconds to get it open and close it behind you, successfully locking yourself in. You just had to make it in time.

You grasped the cool metal of your door handle, but before you could turn it to push the door open, the masked intruder caught you. He grabbed your wrist, tearing it away from the door handle and pushed you up against the door. Air was forced out of your lungs as he crushed your body. His body firmly pressed against yours from behind until you couldn't move at all.

“Did you really think you could get away so easily?” He let out a soft hum as he drew a knife from his sleeve. “You should know, the only reason I didn't get you earlier was because I wanted to see you run from me. It just makes it all the more fun when I catch you.” He placed the knife to your throat.

“Please you don’t have to do this," you cried out a soft plea for mercy. “I’ll do anything you say please just don’t kill me,” you begged the masked man.

“Anything?” He asked and moved the blade away from your neck.

“Yes, please, just don’t hurt me.” your voice sounded shaky and more tears began trickling down your face.

“Now, now, that wasn’t part of the deal. I won't kill you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make you suffer.” He pulls back his hand, knife tight in his grip, and thrusts it violently into the door right above your shoulder. You yelped and tried to flinch away only to find that you couldn't. The knife caught on your sweater, trapping you to the door.

Now that you couldn't escape from him he eased off of you ever so slightly, but his touch never left your body. You could feel his hands reach the hem of your sweater. His leather gloves cold on your bare skin as he began trailing them up your stomach. Goosebumps flared across your torso underneath his gloved fingertips. You gasped as he reached higher, touching the underside of your breasts.

“No, no please, you don’t have to do this!” You whimpered. He ignored your pleas as he roughly groped your breasts with his large hands. As he massaged your breasts, his fingers found your nipples. He would switch from rolling them between his fingers to harshly pulling them, creating a pulsing, twisting mixture of pleasure and pain. Your traitorous body reacted, shivering and shaking as the ache in your core craved more from your attacker. You still tried your best to hide the arousal, biting your tongue to stop any noises from spilling from your lips. The thought of him knowing you felt pleasure from this was mortifying and you were already overboiling from embarrassment. One of his hands left your breast as he moved it up to your head. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you to look at him, and you knew he would know by the look on your face.

“Oh don’t look so concerned, we’re just getting started.” His hand that was squeezing your breast began to travel down your body. He slipped past the waistband of your skirt and into your panties. The sensation of his gloved fingers brushing against your clit sent a jolt of pleasure throughout your body making you jump involuntarily. Your face burned with shame as he continued to move his hand further, sliding his fingers in between your slick folds. He circled them around gathering your arousal and bringing them back up to your clit. The obscenely wet sound it made was humiliating. you tried to hide your face from him which earned you a harsh tug on your hair. As he yanked your head back, exposing your neck to him, you let out a pitiful moan.

“You don’t have to keep lying to yourself. We both know how much you like this. I’ve barely touched you, yet you’re already soaking my fingers.” He started moving his fingers, circling your sensitive clit. You jumped at the sensation, still trying to get your body free from his touch. “What’s the matter? Are you embarrassed? Ashamed that you’re so wet for some random freak? Or maybe it’s guilt? Are you thinking about your boyfriend?”

“No! Stop it!” A violent sob ripped out of your throat. Even though you were trying to resist him, your pussy throbbed for more. As if on cue, fingers began moving further towards your entrance. His two fingers slid in with little resistance as they were coated with your arousal. A gasp left your lips as you felt his fingers sinking deeper into your cunt. Your wall’s clenched down on him as he reached a certain spot, his palm replacing the pressure on your clit.

“Speaking of your poor boyfriend, isn’t he supposed to be coming home soon? You know any second he could walk up here and see his perfect little girlfriend cumming around my fingers. Wouldn’t that be something?” He thrusted his long and dexterous fingers in and out of your pussy, curling his fingers to rub against your velvet walls. You could feel the pressure of your impending climax building in your abdomen. “But, I’m thinking of something much better.” He pulled his hand from your panties and brought his slick fingers to your face, dragging them along your cheek before pressing them to your lips. You reluctantly opened your mouth out of fear of what he would do if you didn't obey him. “Be a good girl and lick them clean.” He shoved his fingers into your mouth and you tasted your arousal on his leather gloves.

As you licked and sucked on his fingers you heard him groan in approval. Pushing his erection into you, he slowly grinded into the curve of your ass. He pressed down on your tongue before removing his hand from your face and trailing it down your body. Once he reached your thighs he began moving back up, lifting up your skirt in the process. The thin lace caught his eye, making him chuckle under his breath.

“Awe, did you wear these just for him? That’s so cute.”

You yelped as he yanked them down to your knees, leaving you completely exposed. The cool air hitting your core made you shudder. Then there was the soft clink of his belt followed by a deep sigh. His hard length slapped against your ass before he positioned himself between your legs. He rocked his hips against you, his cock sliding through your slick folds. The head of his cock brushed against your clit making you whine. He continued to repeat the lewd action until his length was completely covered in your arousal.

“C’mon honey, we both know you want this just as much as I do. Just look how you're drenching my cock. All you have to do is tell me how badly you need me to fuck you.”

“Please, just make me cum. Use your fingers, your mouth, your cock I don’t care anymore. Just stop toying with me,” you moaned.

“Oh, but it's so fun,” he teased, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He pushed in slowly, still trying to push you past breaking point. The pain of his cock stretching you was oddly pleasurable. You took him inch by inch until he bottomed out. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix. The feeling of him that deep made your body feel weightless. Your thighs trembled at the sensation of being so full.

“Please, please fuck me. Make me scream,” you begged. With that he grabbed you firmly by the waist. His hips stirred as he began to slowly pull out of you before harshly slamming back into you.

“With a set of lungs like those, it would be a shame for me not to.” He kept the rhythm of his hips at a steady pace. Each thrust was harder than the last, pushing into you deeper and deeper. The blunt head of his cock rammed against your cervix, bruising it in the process. He never faltered keeping up his brutal pace. It was as if he was trying to split you open. The drag of his hard length in and out of you was animalistic. He enveloped all of your senses as you fully gave into the feel of him ravaging your body.

You didn’t notice his hand that had traveled up towards your neck until it was too late. He wrapped his large gloved hand around your throat. He rested it there, a reminder of the power he held over you. Slowly, as if to see if you would resist, he began to squeeze. It wasn’t a light squeeze, it was a possessive hold that he had on you. It made you lightheaded, but he never cut off your airflow. The lack of blood to your head heightened your sensitivity, making you distinctly aware of your throbbing clit. You tried to reach down to touch your neglected bundle of nerves, but your hand was smacked away.

“So desperate for release, but you don’t have any control here, do you sweetie?” He took his time sliding his free hand down to your core. He teasingly slapped your clit, making you cry out. “You look so pretty when you're in pain. It makes me wonder what you’d look like if I made you into a bloody mess.” His tone became darker, filled with a sick fascination. He groaned as you involuntarily clenched around him. You couldn’t lie to yourself, his perverted words only brought you closer to the edge. Finally, he brought his fingers to your needy clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud. Your stomach tightened as you felt your impending orgasm.

He was close too, you could tell by the way his cock twitched inside you. His breathing was heavy and every once in a while you could hear a small moan escape from him. He desperately rutted into you as your walls tightened around him. His cock pulsed deep inside of you as he reached his high. The sudden extra heat sent you over the edge as you came. Your pussy fluttered around his leaking cock, milking him dry. He released his hold on you allowing you to better catch your breath.

You whimpered as he pulled out of you. The sensation of his cum leaking out of your aching pussy and down your thighs made you shiver. You leaned against the door, both your mind and body exhausted.

As you began coming back to reality you noticed he wasn’t against you anymore. His touch was gone. you tried to get up and remove the knife from your sweater, but was gently pushed back against the door.

“I’m not done with you yet.” The wood floor creaked as he shuffled around behind you. Your body tensed as you anticipated his touch on your overstimulated body, but to your surprise he never made contact. You were going to try and free yourself again but froze as you heard the clicking of a camera lens. He was taking pictures of you. Then there was another click soon accompanied by more. Your face burned with shame as you squirmed, trying to at least save your dignity. He laughed at your pathetic attempt to cover yourself. “That’s cute, trying to hide.” he chuckled to himself.

He stood from where he was crouched behind you and pulled the knife out of the door, freeing you. He spun you around to face him and reached up to remove the mask hiding his identity, revealing your boyfriend, Stu Macher. His face had a warm glow from their intimate game as he grinned at you. He cupped your face and pulled you to look into his lovesick eyes. “Surprise, baby.”

[avocado-writing]

chapter 1: Times of Turmoil

a/n: a longer copia x reader fic I’m working on. reader is a revenant who works in the archives, a forgotten miracle raised by papa nihil. This fic is inspired by @writingjourney and the fic “I Knew Nothing But Shadows” (a truly remarkable story which has had me squealing at my phone) and the beautiful art of @wendi-g0 whose resurrected sibling of sin OC gave me the idea for the reader character! Please go and give them both some love! this fic is also on ao3.

words: 4.4k

rating: T for now, eventually E. this chapter contains graphic violence.

At night, when the world is quiet and still, you can still feel the moment of your death.

It plays before your tired eyes when sleep slips your grasp, a miserable reminder of your grisly fate. It had been a dark evening as you made your way back from the shops. When Sister Imperator had appeared in your dorm and asked for a volunteer, your hand was the first in the air despite not even knowing what the task was. You were young, new to the church, eager to please. Turns out someone needed to go into town to purchase some groceries for the siblings who ran the kitchen, a mistimed delivery meant they were short on ingredients for the next morning’s breakfast. Not exactly what you’d hoped - you’d been imagining yourself stepping up to a dark altar with a candle and a sexy habit - but still, you grabbed your coat and went.

You’d noticed someone was following you on the way back from the 24-hour supermarket. A feeling of fear run up your spine, a deer suddenly aware that it’s been stalked by a pack of wolves. Looking over your shoulder you’d seen a group of men, caps slung low on their heads, slowly closing the gap between you. You’d tried to run when you’d realised you were the subject of their hunt but it was too little, too late. 

The paper bag fell from your hands, groceries tumbling to the sidewalk in the quiet of the evening as they’d dragged you into an alleyway, kicking and screaming. At first you tried to fight them off, flailing and striking out, crying out for help… but you’d gone dead still when one of them revealed the knife. Silver, hungry, glinting in the dim orange streetlight.

“Devil-worshipping scum,” the leader had said, “this world is better off without you. Jesus, guide my hand.”

It sank into your belly as you screamed in fear, in pain, in the injustice of it all. You hadn’t done anything. Your only crime was being from that strange monastery on the hill. Warm crimson flowed across your body as you desperately fought against your attackers but there was no point. It went into your heart next, and you felt yourself fading... Then, finally, the tip caught one side of your neck, digging into your carotid artery and carving along the soft meat of your throat. You’d choked as blood bubbled up, your hands raising in a useless attempt to clamp the wound shut, fingers scrabbling at wrought flesh. Your last memory was their smiling, victorious, vicious faces down at you as your little life had been snuffed out.

And then nothing. Not that you can remember, anyway. Just a feeling of calmness, of rest.

Of Him bringing you home.

You’d been Papa Nihil’s final miracle. Proof that he still had power, the desperate act of an old man who knew that the time of his real importance was coming to an end. When he’d heard about your unfortunate demise it was just too tempting for him to ignore. So he’d gathered the siblings in the sanctuary and, in the light of a thousand black candles, asked that the Dark One deliver you back to your body. 

Apparently there had been a flash of lightning and every single one of those thousand little dancing flames went out at the same time, and you’d sat bolt upright from the altar. The congregation cheered so loud it was heard throughout the town. They’d danced and hollered, lifting you high into the air on their shoulders as the shudder of existence entered you again.

And so came the second part of your life.

You were celebrated for a while, true proof that the power of a Papa was His will done on earth. Miracolo, they called you. Miracle. The centre of every festival; in the front row of every Black Mass; asked for blessings by your fellow siblings. Not a figurehead but a mascot, for certain, and Nihil paraded you around every chance he got, like a prize pet that had a pedigree. 

The issue was that the longer and closer they looked the clearer it became that you’d come back… wrong.

When they touched you to receive a blessing, they recoiled. Your skin was cold, too cold to be a creature of thrumming blood. Your eyes were too sunken, too haunted, and they blinked far too little - meaning looking at you was a challenge. Your chest only rose and fell with a breath every once a minute, if that.

You were alive, yes, but you were certainly not human. And then there was the matter of that scar cut across your neck. Red raw and slick, always looking like it was weeping no matter how the doctors of the ministry tried to dress it. A constant reminder that Papa Nihil had done his best with you but that was not good enough to imitate real life.

So everyone just began to avoid you. You were once the centre of celebrations, but people acknowledged you less and less at each gathering, and eventually they totally forgot about you altogether. Your seat in the front pew was no longer reserved on Sunday so you just slipped into the back instead, with the older Siblings who barely seemed to register you were amongst them at all. And those who did? Well, they would avert their eyes when they saw you coming, cross the corridor so as to get away from you. 

Maybe it should have hurt, but how could you blame them? You were off-putting. You wouldn’t want to look at you either, and you hardly did - pointedly avoiding every mirror hung in the monastery, eventually memorising the way around your home that kept you clear of every reflective surface. Each time you caught sight of yourself it was another nail in the coffin of how unhuman you were.

Sister Imperator sat you down one day and, with the only time you had genuinely heard remorse in her voice, suggested that you might want to go and take the position down in the ministry’s archives. The last archivist had just passed into His arms, so the post was available. And perfect for someone nobody wants to be around, was the unspoken addition to that.

So you did. You took your things from your shared dorm room - trying to ignore the relief on the faces of your roommates - and hid in the basement with the books and the artefacts. 

Alone.

Papa’s little forgotten miracle. 

The hum of your coffee machine fills the air with noise and the smell of freshly ground beans. For not the first time, you marvel at the fact you were able to recover it before it went into the trash. It’s a nice one, expensive! And, yeah, it may not work one hundred percent of the time, but that doesn’t mean it’s broken. It’s just… quirky.

On cue, the machine screeches. The first time it did that it almost gave you a heart attack. Nowadays, you know you just have to slam it really, really hard with the meat of your palm a couple of times to get the nozzles to behave. Thump, thump, and finally an espresso begins to drip into the little glass you have ready.

Here goes another day.

You have a television down here, and though it only picks up a couple of channels, you like to have it on to fill your morning with some noise. The breakfast show presenter chats inanely to her boring guest - which you immediately tune out - and you make a mental list of everything that you need to get done today.

You’ve got to finish digitising those documents that were sent down to you last week. Every day you’ve been getting messages from Secondo asking when they will be done and you can tell he’s getting less and less patient. The words never come directly from his mouth, of course, he always sends a Sibling down with a note and a pained expression on their face. He’d never deign to come down here himself. 

“Why does he even need them?” you ask yourself. “I’m sure he doesn't know how to use a computer.”

In your lack of company over the years, you’ve found the most willing conversationalist to be yourself, so often make little remarks out loud. Also it helps to make sure that you talk as often as you can. When the knife hit your throat it did something to your vocal chords, so if you don’t keep them warm your voice can become strange and scratchy from misuse. It’s already daunting enough for the poor Siblings to come down and talk to the odd archivist, they don’t need you croaking at them like some monster from a 50s B-movie.

You down your coffee, letting its liquid heat run down your oesophagus and settle comfortably in your stomach. It’s the only way you feel warm any more. Even with the thick jumpers you wear over your habit your skin is always cold and clammy. Sometimes your fingers will brush someone else’s when you’re handing over a pile of books from the archive, and you can see them try to repress a shudder at the feeling.

It isn’t a nice way to be reacted to. Just sort of reminds you why they shoved you down here.

The little espresso cup is washed up immediately and put back next to its pair. You wonder why you have two of them when only one of them ever gets used. Decoration purposes, you suppose. It would just look sad if you only had one of everything, and Satan knows it’s sad enough down here as it is.

You head into the shower, ignoring the discoloured patch of wall where the mirror used to hang, and enjoy your usual luke-warm low-pressure morning wash. One of the good things about living down here, at least, is you no longer have to share amenities with other Siblings. It might be old and out of date but it is all yours. You wonder if they had this installed for the previous archivist, or the archivist before her, or before them. You haven’t found any architectural plans for the monastery that reveal that particular secret yet. It doesn’t really matter anyway. All you know is that you have your ensuite, your own small kitchen - with an oven! - and a comfortable enough cot to sleep on every night. There are a few pieces hanging on your walls, copies of old prints you found to be interesting, particularly beautifully penned bits of old prayer. 

One day it will belong to someone else, but for now, it is yours. Your own little sanctum in this cold world.

You dry and dress and head down the corridor to the archives. There are only three keys to this room, and one of them hangs around your neck, which makes you feel particularly important. One hangs in Sister Imperator’s office, and the final one…

Well, it belongs to whoever is Papa at the time, so you suppose Copia must have it.

Not that he’d come down here, of course. No. He is far too busy doing Papa things, whatever that involves. He can’t waste his time in the bowels of the monastery.

It is a shame, though. He’s always seemed… kind. You still go to Black Mass every Sunday because it is expected of you, but ever since Copia succeeded Terzo, you’ve actually been enjoying them a lot more. He seems to really care about what he preaches. His mismatched eyes are so full of life as he reads from his carefully-prepared sermons, and you find yourself smiling when he talks about how to find joy when worshipping in His name. It’s come to be the part of your week you find yourself looking forward to the most. Maybe it’s because of Copia, or maybe it’s because you get a couple of hours where you don’t have to deal with people sending you shitty emails just to follow up, as if you have a whole damned crew in the archive and not just you on your lonesome, running between the shelves like fucking Pac-Man.

You’re grinding your teeth.

“Don’t do that. It’s bad for you,” you say to yourself, sliding the brass key in the lock and opening the archives for the day.

This place is immense. People don’t perhaps realise how vast the archives are, but they take up most of the basement floor under the monastery. It is sort of thrilling to be in charge of something so large but it also means it’s exhausting to try and find anything. Up until you came along the previous archivist had been organising everything by paper. There are dozens of tomes worth of information, each with hundreds of pages about where to find each specific object down here. You’re slowly turning everything digital but it’s hard work. Your computer is worse than your coffee machine sometimes, screeching every time you turn it on and freezing for minutes at a time if you deign to switch a tab too quickly. Still, you work with what you have, because they haven’t okayed you getting a new one yet.

You sit down heavily at your desk and drag over the pile you’re working on for Secondo, start the fight to turn on your monitor, and get ready for another day of busy-work. For a moment you pause, your lungs seizing as you fall into a coughing fit, one which has your eyes watering and clutching for the box of tissues you keep on-hand. Annoying, they seem to be getting worse lately. You’d go see the Ministry doctors if you thought they could do anything to help, but any of your ailments are usually chalked up to “well you’re kinda dead”. You just sort of just ignore things until they go away, and today is no different. 

The first couple of hours pass without incident. Your keyboard is old and loud, so the only sound echoing around the archive is the heavy clack clack clack of your typing. You’re considering going to make yourself another coffee when you hear a scratching noise coming from some shelves behind you. 

You spin round. If your heart could beat more than a couple of times a minute, it would be racing. Eyes racing left and right you scan the scene. Your mind slingshots itself to the worst possibilities: someone’s broken in. They’re coming to finish the job. Down here, nobody will hear you scream, and this time they won’t bother about bringing you back. Maybe nobody will even find your corpse, not immediately, you’ll just be lost in the archives, bloody and broken…

“Stop catastrophizing,” you mutter, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing yourself to calm down. Realistically, nobody has walked through that door all morning, and it’s the only way in here. Well, there is a back door too, but it’s bolted with crates of old paintings stacked up in front of it - a fire hazard for sure, but definitely not going to open without you hearing it.

Maybe it’s one of the Ghouls. Sometimes they find their way down here and in order to mess with your stuff; you’re pretty sure it’s some kind of game to them. You chased one of them out of here less than a fortnight ago, broom in your hands, swatting at them as they run around with some sort of chalice in their grip. It had taken you all afternoon to return it to its place on the designated shelf and you do not want a repeat of the situation.

You grab the broom (you have a vacuum to deal with the dust, it truly is just for removing unwanted guests) and head into the labyrinth of shelves.

“Dewdrop, I swear on His name, if I find you down here again—!” you shout, thwacking the bristles against a stack of crates as if trying to shoo a raccoon. The noise stops for a moment before picking back up. You frown. It’s coming from a box you use for old papers, things you no longer need to archive but haven’t got round to throwing away yet - and if a Ghoul can fit in a two-foot box you’ll eat your sweater.

You lean your make-do weapon against a shelf and carefully grab the lid of the box, lifting it and peering down into its contents. You’re met with a tiny little face. Pink twitching nose, huge eyes, grey fur. Small claws that were being used to rip your out of date documents into shreds. The rat squeaks and grabs onto the edge of the box, lifting itself up to inspect you.

“Oh!” you gasp, enchanted. This isn’t a wild rat, the colouring is all off - besides, it looks too well taken care of. It’s probably a pet! That should mean that it’s friendly. You pick up the whole box and return to your desk, gently setting your guest down as you search for one of the little seed-and-nut mixes you keep in your drawer for stamina when you hit that mid-afternoon sugar crash. It sniffs the air curiously as you open the bag and greedily snatches the proffered peanut. 

“You’re a hungry little guy, huh? Probably didn’t find much to eat down here…” you hum, scratching the top of his head - because he is obviously a boy - with the tip of your finger. He begins to boggle in delight and you have to hold back a squeak of joy. This rat is Cute with a capital C.

For a moment, visions dance across your brain: getting a cage in your room next door; filling it with tunnels and hammocks and pipes, all things for him to explore; getting him a mischief to hang out with; carrying them to work every day in the hood of your favourite pull-over…

Maybe not being so alone all the time. Maybe finally having someone to talk to, even if it is a pet. Or five.

You’re getting ahead of yourself, and your sense of reality pumps the brakes hard on this imagined scenario. If he’s a pet, realistically, he belongs to someone in the Ministry, and you can’t just keep him for yourself. That would be kidnap. And, as much as one is encouraged to sin here, you think it might be a step too far even for the Dark One. With a sigh you wiggle the mouse on your computer, wait for it to boot up, and click on your email app.

From: archivist@theministry.com

To: all

Subject: lost pet

Good morning everyone,

A pet rat has made his way into the archives. If he is yours please come and collect him.

Best wishes,

The archivist

With a sigh you force yourself to click the ‘send’ button. You wonder how many Ministry members will get a jumpscare when they see it pop up in their inbox, forced to remember once again that you actually exist down here.

“If nobody comes to collect you, you’re going to live with me, alright?” you tell the rat as you pass him a raisin. The rat seems ambivalent about your words, probably because he is a rat, but enthusiastic about the snack. You try and force yourself to get back to your work for Secondo, but it’s really hard when you have such an adorable new coworker. You spend the next hour watching him run around your deck and steal more of your trail mix, bursting with joy when he scurries up your arm and plonks himself down on your shoulder. Eventually he just falls asleep there and when you feel his little body rise and fall as he dreams, you think you might just explode.

Then there is a gentle knock at the door.

You almost fall off your seat in shock, having been far too focussed on your new friend to remember that there was a world outside of this desk. It’s probably one of Secondo’s staff, sent down yet again to bother you. You try and keep the sigh out of your voice when you call out.

“Come in!”

A leather glove holds the archive door as it pushes open. That’s… unfamiliar. You trace your eyes up the sleeve, along the chasuble, to the neck and white face paint…

“Hi, hello. Sorry, you are the archivist?”

It’s Papa Emeritus IV. Of course it is. You’re glad you’re wearing a jumper with a high enough collar to cover that horrid scar across your neck.

“Oh, fuck me,” mutter. Papa furrows his brow.

“Eh, what was that?” he asks, confused. You quickly clear your throat and stand up, not sure if you should bow, or kneel, or show some other display of respect. In fact your body just freezes and instead you stand there, staring at him, a deer in the headlights.

A moment passes as neither of you speak and you wish that the ground would open up and swallow you whole, Satan welcoming you once again into His arms and fucking keeping you there this time, just to get away from the horrid awkwardness of this encounter. But then the rat on your shoulder stirs and his gaze is drawn there, and his body visibly relaxes.

“Oh! Beelzebub, there you are. I’ve been looking for you for three days, piccole pesti.”

The rat squeaks as if he knows he is being addressed.  It is enough to bring you back to the moment and you quickly adjust your posture, making sure you’re standing straight and proper in front of your Papa. You manage a smile even though you’re shaking in his presence.

“Sorry, your Dark Holiness, I wasn’t expecting to see you down here. I haven’t had a Papa visit me since…” you quickly count the years and then give up with a “...ever, I think. Welcome to the archives.”

Papa hits you with a genuine smile at your warmness that almost knocks you clean off your feet. He looks around the room, taking it in for the first time.

“This is where you work? It’s very big. Do you… do you have other members of staff?” he asks, eyes searching for company. You shake your head.

“No, Papa, it’s just me.”

“You must be very busy, eh?”

“Oh, I am, but it keeps me out of trouble!” you try to laugh and you’re worried he hears how forced it sounds, but the chuckle he gives you back seems sincere. 

“Well, I’d like to thank you for all you do. I’m sure this Ministry would be a mess without you keeping on top of these things.”

Something in your chest stirs, and you think it’s your heart. You’re not sure of the last time anyone actually thanked you for your work. And, indeed, you probably have earned it - you can only imagine what a dump this place would be if you weren’t organising every item that came down here, cataloguing it, putting it in its proper place.

“Thank you, Papa. I appreciate you saying that,” you say, your voice a little thick with emotion from the honesty. Are the tips of his ears going pink? No, it must just be a trick of the darkness down here. The rat squeaks on your shoulder and you’re ricocheted back into the moment.

“Sorry, he probably wants to go home, right?” you ask. Papa rolls his eyes at the creature good-naturedly.

“Oh, he never wants to go home. This one is always trying to escape his brothers, giving his poor papa a heart attack.”

The fact he just referred to himself as a rat dad is not lost on you, and once again, your heart thumps in your chest. You’re not used to it. It’s making you feel a bit dizzy.

“Do you have many rats?”

“Just three at the moment. This is Beelzebub, and there is also Astaroth and, eh, Macaroni,” he confesses. The grin which passes your face threatens to rip your cheeks open. “Macaroni is from a previous mischief, I got the others so he wouldn’t be lonely.”

“And you fell into the perpetual rat problem?” you ask with a laugh. His eyes light up.

“Sì, yes! You know it. Do you have any?”

“Not at the moment. I did in my childhood. People always think you’re strange when you have rats, they don’t know that they can be just as affectionate as other animals. Little bodies, big personalities!”

“Exactly!” Papa agrees, clapping his hands together in delight at your words. Something passes between the two of you, something sweet and electric. You hold each other’s gaze for a long moment, and you’re overcome with the desire to ask him to stay with you, sit down and share a coffee as you discuss this shared interest. 

But that wouldn’t be proper. Your computer pings, and you drag your eyes away from Papa’s beautiful mismatched ones to check your notifications. It’s from Secondo. He’s clearly fucking worked out how to bother you digitally now, too. You groan.

“Ah, I am sorry. You must have work, no?” Papa asks. NO, you want to scream, I WILL THROW THIS COMPUTER OUT THE NEAREST WINDOW IF YOU WILL STAY DOWN HERE WITH ME FOR JUST TEN MORE MINUTES.

You don’t scream that. Instead, you nod.

“My apologies, Papa. If I don’t finish this, Papa Secondo will…”

You trail off. It’s enough for him to understand what you mean. He gives you a sad smile.

“I will stop distracting you, then, and get this one back to his cage.”

You carefully scoop the rat off of your shoulder and deposit him into Papa’s outstretched hands. Your little finger grazes his as you do, and you’re delighted at how warm you find him to be even through the gloves. The two of you lock eyes again. Neither of you want to look away.

“Goodbye, Papa,” you force yourself to say.

“Goodbye, Miracolo,” he replies. It’s a name you haven’t heard yourself called for many, many years. Not in sincerity, anyway, always with the twinge of an insult behind it. Mockery. But there is no such unkindness from Papa’s lips. You think he means it. 

He gives you one last smile as Beelzebub skitters up his sleeve to sit on his shoulder, and he closes the archive doors behind him. You are left in the quiet once again.

It hurts you to know that you’ll probably never see him again.

tags (lmk if you want to be added): @belilwen @circle--of--confusion

[severedfromthesource]

Bite Back

Pt 1/3

Next part

Original concept from @delicious-beats. Contains F resus, M rescuer, LUCAS thumper, automated CPR, mouth to intubation tube, depictions of gore, trying to resuscitate a zombie

Blackened veins ran in a spiderweb from the holes in Luffy’s shoulder. She shouldn’t have even been out, Elijah had told her again and again, the fucking news had told her, the trucks with megaphones and military personnel blaring up and down her street for the past ten hours had told her. But she needed to know he was okay. She was always trying to look out for him. He’d never hated her selflessness more than right now. 

Her skin was bloodless, her usual dark brown hue sapped until she was completely ashen, the circular row of splotchy red teeth marks and black fissures of veins the only real color left to her body. Her heart was beating arrhythmic on the monitors as the ambulance tried to find a path forward through the streets choked with people fleeing. Her head rolled back on her neck and she looked up with bleary eyes towards him. 

“Eli,” she choked out, her throat tight to the point of almost closing up. 

They’d dealt with bite victims all day. They’d lost all of them, and then had to cut it and run when the old woman or the jogger or, worst, the fucking ten year old who had been playing soccer, reared back up and tried to take a bite out of them. Elijah cradled her head, his mind racing. The symptoms presented differently with everyone they’d encountered. One spewed blood, one just bottomed out and died, but so far complete cardiac arrest had occurred within the first twenty minutes of contact. His eyes darted to his watch. It had been fifteen since she’d screamed over the phone and he had raced to come find her.

He pressed a square of gauze against the wound, his breath shaking. “Okay,” he said, “Okay, Lu? I need you to look at me, focus on me, hey-“ He held her face with one hand and snapped his fingers near her ear with the other. It lolled like a doll with loose joints. “We’ve got a couple minutes before… b-before the first real symptoms kick in, the really bad ones. But I’m gonna get you to the hospital, alright?” He added in an aside to his partner in the front, “How long you think until we get there?” 

“Fuck man,” Jonas spat, “Every street is clogged, the military is setting up choke points on every major road. They’re not gonna let us even through if she’s infected.” 

“I didn’t fucking ask about the stupid fucking military, I asked how long until we get there,” Elijah replied in a tone that warned the other man he would not be accepting any other outcome but Luffy making it to the front doors of Saint Edward’s.

“Twenty minutes, if I can find a decent backstreet. Probably forty if I can’t.”

He nearly sobbed. The air left his body in a rush with a stricken noise he couldn’t hold back. Luffy’s hand reached out and grabbed at his shirt. 

“Eli,” she sputtered again, but there were tears in her voice this time. “I don’t … I d-don’t wanna die…”

Twenty minutes. Probably over that, but he couldn’t think about that. His eyes snapped to his watch again. Three minutes left. He could keep her heart going. If she wasn’t really dead then she couldn’t be undead. He would keep her alive, and they would cure her, and she would live. There was no other option. Not for him.

Spittle dried white at the corner of her lips as he stared down into her face, those lips he had kissed until they were swollen now trembling and pale. He smoothed hair back from her forehead and leaned in close. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he promised in a low voice, cupping her head with both hands. “You’re gonna be alright. You trust me?” She nodded, even as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and slid into the pillow beneath her. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. We take care of each other, right? It’s what we do.” 

Two minutes. Elijah kissed her sweaty forehead and drew back, collecting everything he’d need for an arrest as the ambulance swayed and bounced over uneven terrain. He snatched out epinephrine, pulled out the AED, strapped her to the gurney, all with an efficiency he didn’t even know he was capable of. Already her heart was beginning to skip, throwing out PVCs on the monitor as her jagged heart rate either spiked above the line or dipped far below it. He eyed the restraints they had on hand, the brace boards for trauma victims and cuffs meant for psych patients. As he drew the LUCAS out, he tested the straps on the sides of the large, crescent moon shaped piece of equipment. There was no telling if they’d hold if she tried to take a swipe at him, but maybe. 

Twenty seconds. Elijah gripped the neckline of Luffy’s shirt and tore it down the middle, sweat beginning to drip down the back of his neck and back. She was hardly moving, her bare chest glistening with sweat. Her nipples had lost their color too, and her breasts swayed jerkily with every short, halting breath she managed in. Her eyes were drooping closed. Her jaw twitched open a little and slackened back as she took one more shallow sip of air. Then it left her lungs in a quiet sigh as her chest deflated for the final time. There was one more quick flutter on the monitors, her heart clawing for the last few quivering beats it could manage. Then it stopped. 

Elijah clamped down on the welling nausea to tap the timer on his digital watch. Jonas cursed up front as the EKG hummed a flatline. Wasting no time, he slid the curved backboard under her limp body, lifting the LUCAS and clicking it into place above her. The thing settled between her breasts, the flexible rubber plunger flush against her sternum. One of her arms hung limp off the side of the gurney and he took it by the wrist, fixing it in the straps on one side of the machine, then the other. Her fingers curled against the motor case. Elijah jabbed at the controls and turned it on. 

The machine jabbed the plunger down into her chest with all the force of a trained EMT. It cratered into her heart, the force displacing through the rest of her body so her belly rolled out, her shoulders rippling with the force of a robot that didn’t care if it felt her ribs pulp under its hands. It had never held her. It had never known the warmth of her. The thing pistoned and made a noise far too loud for the cramped space. Zip, zip, zip, zip, zip.

Luffy’s eyes were half mast and empty, lips parted. Elijah checked the timer. A little over a minute had passed since the start of the arrest. Maybe there was still time for intubation. He snatched the laryngoscope and tilted her head back by the jaw, sliding the metal blade past her bloodless lips and over her tongue. The curved blade made an easy track down her throat, bulging it slightly as he maneuvered an intubation tube down the tunnel of her trachea. He slid it home with one hand, the other resting at the pulse point in her neck to feel the blood being forced to circulate. He knew he couldn’t look at her face. He had to focus on her tongue, her mouth, her teeth, the hard bone of her jaw under his fingers. If he looked at her face, he would lose any shred of sanity he had left. But his eyes slid anyway. They moved down to her eyes- only they weren’t half lidded anymore. 

They bore into him, the pupils grey discs in the center of her dark eyes. The whites of her eyes were shot through with red veins. Her jaw clicked as it moved around the intubation tube, her lips peeling back, exposing her teeth.

“Fuck!” Elijah exclaimed and jerked back, his back hitting the wall of the ambulance. 

“What, what?” Jonas shouted from the front seat.

Luffy’s body moved, her arms tugging at the restraints, her legs shifting underneath her. They curled up and kicked out, but the belts around her waist held her down. Her back arched against the LUCAS even as it slammed down against her sternum. Elijah heard something shift sickeningly under the skin. A guttural growl rose up from the tube and she thrashed, shaking her head, rolling back as her teeth gnashed against the tube poking from her mouth. She gargled and sputtered and he realized with a jolt that she was tearing up her throat with her bucking and shaking. 

“Luffy,” he breathed. “Lu… Lu, stop, stop it-“ He lurched forward, grabbing her jaw, but she snapped her head to the side and clicked her teeth within a hairs breadth of his hand. "Fuck, fuck!"

"Eli! What the hell-"

"Focus on the road!" As he snapped this at Jonas, Luffy burbled a mouthful of blood from around the tube in her throat. He managed to throw his arms in front of his face just in time before it might have splattered in his eyes or mouth. The last thing poor Jonas needed was another flesh crazed cannibal in his ambulance. Elijah had already decided he was saving the woman he loved, and he was going to keep that promise; he just needed to stay warm and breathing to do it.

He lunged for her again, clapping his hands on both sides of her head, just out of reach over her bared teeth. "This is definitely not how you're supposed to intubate someone," he panted, already out of breath, "But I know very well you're not breathing for yourself right now." As if in agreement, Luffy gurgled with a throat full of blood, already darkened by the virus until it was almost black. He wrapped his lips around the opening of the tube and forced a breath into it. Might as well, things definitely couldn't get any worse. His eyes flicked to her chest as the LUCAS did its thing, bowing her ribs in against her spine with ruthless efficacy, and blew another breath into her oxygen starved lungs, even as she fought against it. Six minutes in arrest.

Her arms strained against the bindings and he heard the velcro straps start to go, but she was just mindless and angry enough she didn't seem to understand what was keeping her stuck. She twisted her wrists and struggled until the skin was bruised and raw, but the straps held. They'd hold until they couldn't anymore. He considered a neck brace to try and hold her still enough to attach an ambu bag and actually intube her properly, but if he lessened his hold on her for even a moment, she'd snap and flounder, teeth chomping as they lunged for his flesh. The LUCAS had to be good enough. It was all he had. He stood there, bowed over her, filling her lungs. Each breath forced her chest to rise before it was again crushed under the LUCAS as it beat her heart over and over again. Every time he gave her oxygen, she made a wretched wheezing noise and used the breath as fuel to snarl wordlessly at him. Her legs kicked out, banging against the walls of the truck, scattering supplies tucked into corners. Her body tried to roll up and fight the machine as it relentlessly battered her dead heart.

"Please, stay still, Lu." He stroked his thumb against her cheek, trying to suppress the sobs he felt building behind his eyes. Every time the LUCAS pounded against her sternum, it forced what little air was left in her lungs out, often in a grunt or a a hollow rasp in the back of her poor, abused throat. “I got you, baby. I’m not giving up, not until I get you back.”

She snarled again, but the thumper kept cutting into her displeased noises. “Haaar-huk, graa-ack, huk-“

Ten minutes in arrest. Elijah looped his arm under her chin, pinning her in his bicep to keep her head still, and punched the pause button on the LUCAS. He slipped two fingers under his headlock to feel for her pulse, but the monitor returned to a flatline the moment the automatic compressions stopped. She was still dead even as she squirmed under the restraints.

“Come on, fucks sake, Lu. Give me something,” he muttered, slapping the resume button to once more fill the ambulance with the rhythmic zip, zip, zip noise. Her breasts bounced with the force, her hardened nipples drawing lines back and forth in the air. He breathed once more into the intubation tube. The machine forced the breath back out as soon as he’d given it. She didn’t stop her struggles, trying to fight the thing assaulting her motionless heart. He had to wonder if she felt it pushing stale blood through the chambers and ventricles. He could only imagine how much it must hurt to be conscious during CPR. Her ribcage had probably already been rendered into pudding by now. He could see the bruise where the plunger knocked again and again into her. “I’m sorry,” he found himself whispering.

Thirteen minutes in arrest.

He didn’t know how much more he could take. Seeing Luffy’s face contorted, empty even as it moved and made noise, was starting to break Elijah. Or at the very least break some vital piece of him. He ran his thumbs over her temples as tears silently slipped down the bridge of his nose and patted wetly on her face. She didn’t even flinch. There was nothing left of her in those diseased eyes. He held her still enough in another headlock to check her pupil reactivity, but they were fixed and blown wide with dilation. He didn’t know if that meant the virus was doing its job, or if she was beyond saving. Luffy rattled the gurney as she kicked again, thrashing her body as much as she could while being pinned down by the machine punching into her sternum over and over. Sixteen minutes. Sixteen minutes and absolutely zero electrical activity: her heart hadn’t even quivered. It simply lay silent and still while the rest of her kept moving.

Elijah sank into a crouch, holding onto the edge of her bed to keep himself from collapsing utterly. He heard Jonas radioing into the hospital, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the pitiful gasps and grunts Luffy made as the thumper pinned her beneath it. “Stay still, please God just stay still,” he begged her and felt tears spilling over. He couldn’t hold it back any longer. All he could do was sit there and shake with silent sobs. He couldn’t even focus enough to breathe for her. “Baby,” he rasped in a hoarse whisper, “Please… Jesus Christ, please…. Come back…”

“Eli,” Jonas called again for what had been the third time, but was the first time Elijah had heard him. “They say they’ve got some kind of antidote, they’ve tried it on a few of the infected.”

Elijah wiped tears and snot off in his upper arm. “Any results?” he asked, warbling. The greater part of him wanted to tell Jonas not to bother, that it was too late. That she was gone. The most an antidote would do would maybe put her down peacefully so she could rest easy. But there was that little kernel, that one errant thought that said maybe, maybe she could come back.

“A couple people have come back. Not totally, they think it might be brain damage from the time they spent without circulation. But they stop trying to rip people’s faces off.”

They’d been her life support since the moment she turned. Her heart had barely even been given a chance to stop in her chest. The LUCAS had good rates of spontaneous return of circulation; if anyone could come back, Luffy had been given the best chance.

“They know we’re coming?”

“They’re gonna meet us the second we pull in.”

He stared down into the silver discs of her eyes. She was still in there, somewhere. She had to be. “Hold on, Lu. I’m gonna get you back.”

[jasontoddscrowbars]

Part 43 of the war of tire skids?

Tim, fresh out of the shower and glowing, took his seat in Jason’s lap and reclined back to enjoy the rest of his evening.

Life was good.

He gave a big exhale to let loose and, for once in his life, worked towards having a good nights sle-

Tim started as it hit him. It hit him smack dab in the middle of his face. He instantly grabbed it tearing it down because he didn’t know what it was but in this household it was probably nothing good. Cloth gathered in his fingers as he pulled it to his lap. As his head fell to catch a glimpse at it, his eyes narrowed. Jason felt Tim’s chest rising, his breath quickening, his ticking time bomb ever nearing.

Tim: why the actual FUCK was poop stained underwear thrown at my face?!

The room was silent. It started with Damian. He pointed at Dick. Dick was already pointing at Jon before Damian’s hand could fully rise as he had predicted the betrayal. Jon, having heard his movement, had flashed his accusing finger out at Jason. Jason, who loved to instigate and would jump at a chance to embarrass his old man, jabbed a finger at Bruce. Bruce widened his eyes, his hand sideways as he was blaming Kon. Kon, eating it up, was waving both fingers over his dad’s head. Clark, the only honest and trustworthy worthy man in the room, was timidly gesturing his fat finger down in a little wave to Oliver the pig.

Tim’s eyes widened.

Tim: Damian! Your pig threw underwear at me!

Damian, ducking down as he glared at Clark in shock: tsk! As if! He’s far better mannered than these idiots!

That is true, Tim realized. Then if the pig didn’t do it, who would? Clark wasn’t one too lie. It was suspicious, but he also wasn’t one to be childish and throw nasty ass undies. He was covering for someone. Either his children…

Tim: Bruce! How could you.

Bruce, choking: you think I’d touch those things! I don’t even go near my own laundry!

True, true. Sometimes Alfred had to wipe that man’s ass because he’s so fragile. It’s a good thing Talia raised Damian.

Tim pinched the band of the underwear out exposing the tire skid in the whities. Everyone scrunched their faces in disgust but he was searching for who had a different type of uncomfortable.

Jon shifted into Damian.

Tim: Jon!

Damian: no.

Tim: it was!

Damian: ew, no, I’d dump him.

Tim: so then Kon!

Kon: bro, you’re better than this.

Tim screamed, flung the underwear out into the middle of the air. Everyone ran, shoved each other aside as they tried to avoid it. It was a war, a free for all. Clark sacrificed Jon as his shoved him down into the couch which knocked Damian over the arm. Bruce hopped over the edge, found Dick in the way struggling to get around the pig and kicked him so he folded in half over it allowing him to jump over them. Jason snatched Tim’s waist as he threw his arm over the couch and tucked and rolled saving Tim from a similar fate to what he’s already experienced. Kon leaned against the wall as he videotaped the glorious wonder live.

Then it landed.

**:aaaaaeeeghhhhhhh!

Later

Clark slipped into bed as he pulled the covers back. Bruce lowered his tablet as he faced forward while Clark laid down.

They sat in silence a moment.

Bruce: are we ever going to tell him?

Clark: that it was my underwear I was trying to get back from the dog and I pulled to hard flinging it in his face?

Clark:

Clark: no. No we are not.

Tim fell from a duct in the ceiling making Clark scream. He latched to Clark rolling him off of the bed as he tried attacking him with a pair of Dicks nasty socks. As Clark was screeching, Bruce returned to his tablet.

Clark reached his hand up, it grasped to the bed.

Clark: Bruce! Help.

Bruce had a quick flashback to Dick snatching his ankle, effectively tripping him allowing the pair of underwear to fall on his head.

Bruce: nah. I don’t think I will. In fact.

Bruce reached to his left across the bed, opened a drawer pulling out a little kryptonite ring. He then stretched the other way across the bed and slipped the ring onto Clark’s middle finger. Clark cried as he fell limp. Detecting it, Tim shot up snatching his arm tearing him back down.

Bruce: do me proud Timmy boy.

Clark: ahhh- eeekkk- ah, isshh in mah mawth! I cahn taeth dick! Ith fawl.

Bruce: that’s what she said.

The next day dick was grounded for betraying Bruce, and Damian left a piece of pig poop in Clark’s shoe for betraying his pig when he’d covered for him. The video went viral and everyone was put to shame, Kon was never seen again.

[hellsburners]

time's wasting, tick-tocking, lip locking

summary: spider-man meets an unlikely friend(or foe) to help him retrieve an important package. pairing: tasm!peter parker x male reader word count: 1.8k warnings: fluff, suggestive stuff, black cat reader, light smut, they're not friends sorta enemies if you think about it. a/n: a request from an anon! btw you could end it to a certain part if you just want the banter and the fluff but yall this is a hellsburners production we're serving smut here

masterlist | more peter parker

The air was quite chilly atop this building, the spandex not warming his body. Spider-man rubbed his gloved hands together for some heat, his legs bent over the ledge of the building, his eyes scanning the dock below. Twenty-four men loading wooden crates into shipping containers with the words Roxxon Energy Corp.

He swung down behind a shipping crate, crawling to the top unbeknownst to the men. His webs thwip across the snowy dock, disarming three men. Their bodies bonded together, and their mouths shut. He swings again, landing next to four other men, their rifles pointing at him.

Peter webs for two opposite poles and slingshots himself to the men, kicking one over while disarming the others; more men come rushing with baseball bats and crowbars. They try to hit Peter, his senses blazing from each attack; he ducks and avoids each blow, pulling on a few webs to tie them up.

Five more men come from inside the shipping container, loaded with pistols and rifles, but before they can come out, a small silver ball rolls from the top of the container, falling down and releasing white smoke.

Peter could hear the men choke and cough as a figure came down and took them individually. He did the same, taking the moment when the men were disarmed to land a few kicks and punches, leaving them unconscious.

He runs to the shipping container as the smoke wears off. The crates were ripped open with bear-like claw marks, the contents of the boxes now gone. He hears footsteps from his far left, the shadowy figure creeping against the moonlight. Peter webs his way to run after it. The cold slowed him down, his feet much heavier and his hands numb.

He shoots a web that lands on the figure's back. He turns to a man wearing a black coat with white fur on the hood and its sleeves. He sees your face, black-masked, dark hair with streaks of silver, a black satchel wrapped around your shoulder. The Black Cat.

You gave him a wink before falling back on the ledge of the building. Peter jumps, finding you at the bottom, waiting for him. He webs down slowly, landing on his feet. Your back against a wall, your clawed fingers wrapped around the clear vial with silvery-purple liquid.

"Need this?" you said, vapor appearing from your lips. "Nice to see you again, Spider."

"I would say the same, but I don't share the sentiment," he said, walking towards you. "Can we skip the small talk and give me that vial?"

"Ooh, you know it's not that easy," you said, putting the vial back in your bag. "Besides, don't you miss me?" you pout.

"I—no!" Peter said, his voice erratic. "Shame," you smirked, dropping another smoke bomb before disappearing from his sight.

"Hey!" he screamed. You were ahead a few blocks. He swung across a few other buildings and tried to chase you down. You grappled down a busy street, your coat blending in with civilians in their winter clothes. "Fuck," he sighed. "Lucky me, I've been trying to test these out," he said, taking his phone out to see the red dot on the city map, a tracker placed on your back when he ran after you.

He traced you down, riding a black car heading out of the city. Peter reloaded his web-shooters and braced for the trip. He swung from building to building until he landed on a truck heading in the same direction. His joints started to stiffen, his nape cold and aching.

You entered a safe house on the city's outskirts, a brutalist bare building with a white car parked outside. Peter found you dealing with—Richard Fisk, the Kingpin's son, calls himself The Rose. You hand him the bag of vials. You await payment before his men point their guns at you. Peter knows you. This isn't something you could run away from easily. Fisk turns away and leaves in his white car, leaving you with six men with loaded guns.

Peter jumps down to your aid, unarming two men before landing a solid blow on the others. You take this moment to kick the other man right across his face. He saw you move with grace and agility, your gymnast background aiding your fight.

The men all ended up unconscious on the pavement. Blood drips down your lips, and no one gets away with scamming you. "So, was it worth it?" Spider-man said.

"Don't piss me off," you said, rubbing the back of your hand against your bloodied lip. "This never happens."

"Well, it just did," he said. "That vial could've helped me to take them down, but now they have it!"

"I'm not a hero, Spider," you snickered. "I don't do this for good. I do this so I can live," you walked towards the door, the metal ice cold. You try to slide the entrance to the side, but the gate does not budge. You snarled, trying to pull it back. "Shit, I think it's stuck."

"What?" Peter said. "Let me see," he tried to do the same, but the door still didn't budge despite his strength. "Fuck, they must've closed us off—the snow isn't helping either." Peter punched the door in anger, leaving a giant dent.

"There must be another exit—or a window," you said. The room slowly turned colder. You tried to wrap your fur coat around your body, your breath leaving hot vapor. Loud bangs from Peter's fists filled the room, but the door never moved.

"I checked before coming in. There isn't one," Peter took off his mark, panting while vapor left his lips. You looked at him. He was older since you last met, the circles under his eyes darker, his face riddled with stubble, his hair longer and messier. The cold fogged your goggles up, so you took them off and left them on a table nearby.

The two of you rummaged all over the safe house, looking for materials to use or food and other things. Peter found an old lab coat to wrap himself with, and you found a box of canned tuna, some old crackers—and one sleeping bag.

Peter tried his cell, but there was no signal. "We're going to be here for a while," you said. "Shouldn't we bundle up and stay warm, like old times."

"Not happening," Peter said, shivering under his breath.

"Your loss," you ripped a claw on the box of biscuits and took a bite. "Ugh, it's stale."

Hours passed with Peter running around the safe house, looking for an exit. On the other hand, you lay on the sleeping bag with your hands behind your head. You took a file from your pocket and filed your claws into peak sharpness. Peter sighed under his breath every time he passed by you. "You're a pain in the ass, Cat."

"From what I remember, you gave me a pain in the ass, Spider," you chuckled. "Kidding, it wasn't all pain."

"I'm fucking freezing," Peter said, rubbing his body to make some heat.

"I told you we should bundle up," you said. "Plus, it's getting late, and I'm sleepy."

Peter rolled his eyes and joined you in the sleeping bag. The two of you were wrapped like a burrito, his face too close to yours. His brown eyes stared intently, his long lashes batting at you. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. His eyes widened, and a soft moan left his lips. "Wrap your arms around me, too," you said. His large arms snaked around you, creating heat.

"Wood sage and Sea salt?" you whispered, smelling his neck. He chuckled and nodded. "I missed you, Spider. Honestly,"

"I missed you too," he said, his voice stern. "Where did you go, Cat?"

"Tried to live a normal life, it didn't end well for me," your gaze trailed away from his eyes, your hand finding his soft brown hair. "I guess this is me forever, running and stealing."

"It doesn't have to be like that. You could work with me, and we could be good," Peter said, his palms rubbing your lower back. "Live with me."

"I'll think about it," you said, your hands falling to his cheeks. It was warm against his cold skin. You inched closer, pressing your lips to his. You closed your eyes and delved deeper into the kiss. His hand snaked underneath your clothes, cold fingertips against your bare skin. You wrapped your thigh around his, his knee hitting your center. The two of you moaned from the kiss, hands searching each other's bodies.

You straddled Peter's waist rubbing your ass on his growing erection. His hands wrapped around your ass, pulling you closer. He whimpers on your lips, shaking from the pleasure and the cold. "Cat—" he moaned. You pepper his neck with kisses, licking and sucking, leaving red marks.

He pulls you back to the kiss, his arms hugging you tighter as his sex rubs on your ass. He rubs against you, moaning and whimpering while you moan from his tight embrace. He grips your waist, fingers digging into your skin. "Fuck—Spider, you good?" you gasped.

"I missed you, and I need you," he said. "Please be with me. I'll take care of you, protect you," his eyes stared at yours. "You won't run ever again."

"I'll think about it," you said again, an ache forming in your chest. Knowing it will never be normal with him.

"Fuck–I'm close," he moaned.

You pulled him in for a last kiss for a long while. Peter finishes under his suit, his face red and his hair drenched in sweat. You later passed out on the sleeping bag, your arms draped around each other, Peter's lips pressing on your forehead as you succumbed to the night.

Peter woke up to a banging on the door. "We know you're in there, Cat! Give us the real vial, or we'll kill you!" a bunch of men surrounded the lot, hands on their guns. He saw that you were gone, a hole formed on the ceiling, sunlight peering in, a black satchel on the spot where you slept. Inside were the vials and a note.

Sorry, I couldn't stay for breakfast. I had to go real quick. I left the vials for you. Do whatever is right. You always do the right thing. And you'll probably not see me again but don't miss me too much. I know I will.

Xoxo, Cat.

[kikyoupdates]

Crushed Velvet ⭑˚🥀⭑ 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

Your parents are thrilled to have secured an engagement for you with the royal family. Your suitor, the crown prince, has agreed to be wed to you. It seems as though your entire future has been assured, so why is it that from this moment onward, your life starts to fall apart at the seams?

previous | story masterlist | next

There were three knights surrounding you, each of them with their swords drawn. You clutched at your injured arm, blood dripping down your skin. You didn’t understand what was happening. Why would knights be attacking you? None of this made any sense. You were dreaming this, surely. No, it had to be dream.

You weren’t actually about to be killed, were you?

The wound stung, and you felt dizzy already from the blood loss, but your adrenaline was slowly numbing the pain. You tried to get hold of yourself. Panicking wouldn’t do you any good. Think, you needed to think. You’d told them your name, and what relationship you held to the Crown Prince, but it hadn’t deterred them one bit. They clearly knew who you were. This wasn’t an accidental attack. They knew full well what they were doing.

I came out here to talk to Annalisa, and…

Right. Annalisa Tybalt. She’d called you out here, and rather than showing up herself, you’d been ambushed by several armed men looking to hack you to pieces. You weren’t so naïve as to think that this was a coincidence. That bitch was trying to have you killed.

Realization dawned on you, followed shortly by a wave of anger. But knowing that still didn’t make a difference. The fact of the matter was that you were out here all alone, already injured, and no one had the slightest clue.

You fumbled over your own feet, chest heaving, then proceeded to cry out at the top of your lungs.

“Help! Someone please help me! I’m being attacked!”

The knights reacted by swinging their blades again, but you had already taken off, ducking past a hedge and forcing your way further into the gardens. You couldn’t turn back towards the palace, because two of them were blocking your way, but you just prayed that someone would hear you screaming bloody murder.

You ran as fast as you could, ankles practically creaking from the discomfort of your heeled shoes. The knights were of comparatively larger stature than you, and it didn’t take them very long to catch up. You gritted your teeth, biting back a sob and reaching down to tear off one of your shoes and throw it towards the knights. It managed to hit one of them, but it barely broke up his pace. You were getting further and further from the palace. The farther away you were, the less likely it was that someone would hear you.

“Please!” you screamed again. “Anyone, please! I’m going to be killed—!”

You were kicked in the back of your knee, and you fell to the ground with a broken gasp. One of the men was pinning you down in hardly a second. He laced his fingers around your throat and used his other hand to point his blade right in front of your eyes.

“Enough of that,” he glared. “No more screaming.” His grip tightened, and you choked, all the air becoming trapped in your throat.

Tears rolled down your cheeks. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t breathe. The throbbing pain in your arm was slowly becoming more prominent. You were seriously going to die here? Like this? Just because you’d had the misfortune of getting engaged to Xeno?

“Hurry up and kill her,” one of the others said. “Get the job done so we can leave before anyone comes out here.”

“Relax, no one’s going to come. They’re all inside dancing and getting drunk. Don’t we also deserve to have some fun as well?” The man squeezing your throat chuckled lowly, his knee nudging the inside of your thigh. Without warning, he stabbed his sword through the palm of your hand, impaling it to the ground. You tried to scream, but without the lack of airflow, all you managed was a pathetic, broken wheeze. The man took his hand off the hilt of his sword and pulled at the base of your dress, lifting it up so that your undergarments were exposed.

You sobbed, gasping for every breath of air that you could manage. The man leaned closer, grinning as he prepared to defile you, but one of his allies thankfully intervened.

“Stop wasting time,” he sighed. “At least kill her first. Her body will still be warm for a while. We can take her somewhere we won’t be caught.”

“That’s disgusting. Do you fuck corpses?”

“I have once or twice.”

“Well, I don’t. She needs to be alive. There’s no point in doing it if she isn’t.”

The nonchalance with which they were discussing such a vile thing was almost as terrifying as the topic itself. You would sooner die than be defiled at the hands of murderers. This was unforgivable. Annalisa, she… she’d really ordered this. She was actually cruel enough to put someone through something so horribly painful and bleak.

You were really going to be killed just because she hadn’t gotten her way.

The lack of air was starting to get to you, and no matter how desperately you struggled and flailed, your vision was gradually fading to black. You wheezed, cheeks stained with tears, praying that Annalisa would at least get what she deserved and no one would ever have to suffer like this because of her again.

You didn’t want to die, but you knew it was out of your hands. Warmth filled your head, a haze that made you feel dizzy and unstable, and your eyelids slowly fell to a close.

But then there was screaming. For a moment, you thought you might be the one screaming, but the voice was distinctly deep and much more masculine. You realized all of a sudden that you could breathe again, and your throat wasn’t being strangled anymore.

You gasped for breath, eyes blowing back open. It took a few moments for your blurry vision to clear. You were still fallen to the ground, and that sword was still impaled in your hand, but the man was no longer hovering over you and pinning you down. You frantically looked around, only to find a long trail of crimson etched upon the grass.

The man from earlier had been cut down into two pieces. His severed head was staring at you, eyes glued open and expression frozen in inexplicable surprise. You almost screamed, but you were too faint to manage any noise. The other two men had their swords outstretched, and they were glaring down at you with unbridled hatred. Or rather, they were glaring at someone just beside you.

“Lady [Name]!” a familiar voice called out. “Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

It was Keith. His mint-green eyes were frantic and heavy with concern, and there was a splashing of blood across the front of his white uniform. You blinked slowly, looking from him to the dead man lying on the ground across from you.

“I-I’m—”

One of the men lunged forward, but Keith intercepted him with his blade. You winced from the searing pain in both your arm and hand, and the reverberating sound of clashing metal. The second man tried to strike at the same time, but Keith forced the other back and swiveled in place, deflecting the incoming blow.

“We waited too long, and now a goddamn knight is here,” one of the men muttered. “Hurry up and kill him then get the woman!”

In terms of numbers, they had the advantage, but if Keith had any worries about winning, he certainly didn’t let them show. He was graceful and agile, parrying them with practiced ease. Even though your assaulters seemed more forceful with their attacks, Keith clearly surpassed them through sheer talent and skill.

All you could do was stare up at him helplessly, unable to move due to the sword impaling you against the ground. A few seconds later, one of them fumbled an attack, and Keith’s blade plunged straight into the man’s throat.

He fell to the ground, choking on his own blood.

Keith was quick to corner the last of them, lopping his hand off in one clean slash. The man screamed and crumbled to his knees, and Keith kicked the sword out of his grip and pressed the tip of his own blade against the man’s forehead.

“It is your loss,” Keith declared. “Are there any more of you here? Answer me right this second.”

The man didn’t say anything, so Keith stabbed him in the shoulder.

“Fuck!”

“I asked you a question. Are there any more of you?”

“Like I’d tell you shit…!”

Keith lowered his sword, stared at the man in silence for a moment, then kicked him square in the stomach. The man groaned, dry-heaving onto the grass. Keith grabbed him by the roots of his hair and pressed his head down into the dirt.

“You have no way out of this,” he said calmly. “Once I turn you into the royal family, you will be tortured and interrogated for days on end. You tried to have Lady [Name], the Prince’s fiancée, killed off. Attacking someone of her stature is treason to the highest degree. You can either answer me now and spare yourself some needless pain, or you can resist and have it torn out of you by force. The choice is ultimately yours.”

The man still didn’t say anything, but he managed to chuckle despite his predicament and the blood pooling in his mouth. Keith gave him a disgusted look and dragged him across the ground. He threw him onto his back and stepped down on his throat, restricting his ability to breathe. Then, he looked down at you with a sympathetic expression.

“My lady, I must apologize in advance,” he mumbled. “This will hurt quite a bit.”

You didn’t realize what he was talking about until he’d ripped the blade out of your hand in one fell swoop. You screamed again, vision nearly turning white. You could feel all the blood spewing out of you like a waterfall. It was possible you’d die just from how much blood you’d already lost.

“Here,” he gestured, quickly pulling you towards him and tearing off a long strip of your dress to fasten around your bloodied hand. He used another piece of fabric to wrap tightly around the deep gash on you arm.

You whimpered, tears streaming without abandon. You were alive, just barely. The man fallen to the ground was missing an entire hand, and no longer fit to do battle. Keith was completely uninjured, but his handsome face was drenched in dark blood. To some, he may have resembled a demon, or a murderer, so horrifically stained in red essence, but to you, he was your savior.

“Everything is going to be okay now,” Keith reassured. “It must have been horrible. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Lady [Name]. I thought I heard screaming coming from the gardens while I was patrolling on the other side of the gate, but… I should have reacted sooner. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I’d been here on time.”

You shook your head. “No, t-thank you so much. You saved… my l-life. Thank you. Thank you…”

He flashed you a gentle smile. Then he turned back towards the remaining attacker, eyes cold as ice. “You’re coming with us,” he glared. “You will confess your sins and explain exactly what this attack of yours was supposed to accomplish.”

The man laughed, his skin turning pale from the loss of blood. “Ha-ha… we were supposed to kill the woman, of course. What a stupid question.”

“But why? What would a group of knights gain from doing such a thing?”

“I think I know,” you swallowed, tugging on Keith’s sleeve. “I was lured out here… by Annalisa Tybalt. The Prince’s former candidate for marriage. I was told she wanted to speak to me privately… but it was an ambush. She wanted to have me killed off so that she could marry Prince Xeno herself.”

“Is this true? Answer us.”

“Hm… I wonder.”

The man grinned, his teeth a faint shade of yellow. You gripped down on Keith’s arm, stifling the urge to scream again. It was fine. You were still alive, and Annalisa would have to pay for her crimes, one way or another.

“Get on your feet,” Keith ordered, pulling the man up by his injured arm. “Walk straight ahead. And no funny business. You don’t have your weapon anymore. You’re half-dead already.”

You walked on Keith’s other side, too afraid to go near one of the men who’d been so close to killing you. He didn’t protest, although he staggered while walking. His eyes were lidded and it looked as though he was struggling to even stay conscious. If you didn’t hurry, he would die before he could even be interrogated properly.

Suddenly, he was laughing again. It was a manic, broken laugh, and you wondered if he’d altogether gone mad.

“As if I’d allow myself to be done in by a goddamn Aeolian,” he sneered. He lurched forward, briefly disrupting Keith’s balance, and dug into one of his pockets to pull something out. Keith’s eyes widened, and he hurried to raise his sword, but the attack had already landed.

The man wheezed, blood spewing from his lips. There was now a small dagger lodged right in his chest. He fumbled in place for a few seconds, but his knees quickly gave out from under him. As he fell to the ground, you could’ve sworn he was chuckling again.

You drew in a shaky breath. “Is… is he…?”

“He’s dead,” Keith grimaced. “Fuck. He would have rather killed himself than give up any information.”

“But, that means—”

“It’s not ideal, but the fact remains that you were attacked.” He wrapped an arm around you and helped steady you against his chest. “We don’t have time to dwell on this. Let’s go inside and tell them exactly what you told me. That you were lured out here by that Annalisa woman. That it was all a set-up. We need to hurry and get you treated before you lose too much blood.”

“O-Okay. Thank you so much, Keith.” You wrapped your arms around him, shuddering softly. “I was so scared… I really thought I was going to die. Thank you for this. I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.”

He smiled and gently patted your hair. “It’s no problem at all. I’m a knight. Protecting people is what I do. Those three were clearly exceptions. I’d never seen them around before, either. I wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t even knights at all.”

You sniffled and nodded your head. Every now and then, you would stumble from your missing shoe, but Keith held you close and helped lead you forward. He pushed open the heavy doors, guided you through the winding hallways, and eventually, you were back in that overcrowded, blindingly-bright ballroom.

Everyone was still drinking, laughing, and overall having a good time. None of them could ever have imagined what horrors had taken place just outside. With the exception of one person, of course. And to think that she’d stuffing her face with cake while you were being stabbed. That bitch.

You didn’t say anything. You kept close to Keith’s side, where you knew you were safe. Even if you’d made it back into the palace, where no one would dare to commit a crime right under the King and Queen’s noses, your arms were still shaking from earlier, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to let go. Some people were oblivious, too drunk and happy to take note of the two bloody people wading across the dancefloor, but eventually, they started to take notice.

And slowly but surely, silence swept across the entire room.

“I-I need to speak to the King and Queen,” you trembled. “Keith, please stay with me. You won’t leave me, will you?”

“Of course not, my lady. I’ll be right here for you.”

Everyone was looking now, their expressions painted in total disbelief. They couldn’t seem to understand if they were actually seeing correctly, or if they’d just downed too many glasses of wine. By the time you’d made it up towards the throne, all of the nobles were whispering amongst themselves, wondering what on earth could have possibly happened.

“[Name]!” Xeno cried out, running down the steps to get to you. He stared at you, saw the way your dress was torn and how dirt and dry leaves were clinging to you. His eyes fell to the flimsy pieces of fabric that had been used to bandage your injuries, and the blood that was slowly seeping through. “What in the hell happened?” he choked out. “You—he—this man! Did he hurt you?!”

You furiously shook your head. “This man saved my life. I was attacked in the gardens outside, by three knights. They nearly killed me.”

“Knights? What on earth… why would they—”

“I was lured outside,” you declared. “Annalisa Tybalt said she wanted to speak with me in the gardens. When I got out there, she was nowhere to be found. Instead, three men attacked me and tried to have me killed.”

Now that you had made an accusation, the ballroom was in visible disarray. People couldn’t believe what they were hearing, and for good reason. This was not only an attempted assassination of the Prince’s arranged consort, but also the Kingdom of Aeolia’s future Queen.

Amidst the chatter and disbelief, you could hear two people shouting out as they pushed their way through the crowd.

“My sweet girl!” your mother cried out, rushing towards you and pulling you into her arms. “Oh, what on earth has happened? How could anyone do such a terrible thing?!”

Your father was right with her, whimpering and holding you in his arms, but without realizing it, you pushed them away.

They stared at you, looking both shocked and hurt, as you opted to instead curl back up against Keith’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” you gritted out. “It feels… safer this way.”

Keith wrapped his arms around you again and patted your back in reassurance. However, your comfort was short-lived. Hardly a few moments later, Xeno had pulled you from Keith’s grasp. He pressed your body against his, squeezing you so tight that it was almost painful.

“Do not touch her,” he glared. “She is my fiancée. You are never to touch her again.”

“I-I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

You shuddered, already craving the safety of his arms again. “He was protecting me, Xeno.”

“And I can easily do the same. You are safe here now. The perpetrator will regret having ever done anything so foolish, I can promise you that.”

After a few moments of silence, King William stepped forward. He didn’t look like his usual self. Unlike the gentle expression he normally wore, his brows were knight together and both his neck and jaw were completely rigid.

“No one is to leave from this room,” he declared. “A serious crime has taken place here tonight. Someone attempted to murder my son’s future wife, on the palace grounds, no less. I cannot even begin to express my distaste for whoever has schemed up such a nasty plot. The punishment for such a crime is execution.”

He then gestured towards you.

“[Name]. You may say your piece.”

You nodded weakly, waiting for Xeno to release you from his arms. He did not, however, thus you resigned yourself to speak from your current position.

“I was set up,” you said, loud enough that everyone could hear. “One of the attendees for this evening, Annalisa Tybalt, conveyed a message to me that she wished to speak privately in the gardens outside. When I arrived there, I was attacked by three men, with the intention of murder. Thankfully, this young knight heard me screaming and was able to come to my rescue, but if not for him, I would have long been dead by now.”

More hushed chatter and audible sounds of disbelief. William raised his fist in the air as a means to silence the hall.

“Everyone, be quiet. Annalisa Tybalt. In light of these accusations, I must ask you to step forward and address them yourself. No one is allowed to leave this room until we have ascertained that the rest of our grounds are safe and all of the threats have been dealt with.”

You held your breath, waiting for the person you resented more than anyone else in the world. A part of you wondered if she’d already left, the second she summoned you outside. But no, that would be far too suspicious of her. At least if she’d stayed inside, she would have some sort of alibi. For your sake, you hoped that she was stupid enough to have left.

But of course, things never went that well for you.

There she was, in all her sinister glory. She had made her way up the front and stepped apart from the rest of the crowd. Her expression was seamless. She didn’t look guilty at all, or afraid, even. It was so perfect that you knew the second you looked into her eyes that she was the one behind this.

“Your Majesty,” she bowed, gripping at the sides of her dress as she did. When she raised her head, she was staring directly at you. “I of course understand why a matter like this must be dealt with as swiftly as possible. Let me begin by offering my heartfelt sympathies for poor [Name] and everything she’s endured tonight.”

This bitch—

“However,” she went on, “I must respectfully rebuke her accusations. I have been here all evening, and not once did I go to speak with [Name] and ask her to have a private conversation with me in the gardens. I believe that all those who were with me tonight can vouch for what I am saying.”

You gritted your teeth. “You didn’t invite me out yourself. You sent one of the servants to relay your message for you.”

“A servant?” she scoffed. “That sounds rather convenient. What did this alleged servant look like?”

“He looked like…” You began describing the servant who’d spoken to you earlier, but found it somewhat difficult to convey his appearance in full. “I know what he looked like! He was one of the servants gathered here to serve us tonight, and I am certain I could identify him.”

King William nodded and snapped his fingers. “Very well. Servants! Hyatt, go and gather the rest of the servants. Some of them may still be in the kitchen bringing up the rest of the food. My son is the only one allowed to leave this room. If anyone else moves, I will consider this a refusal to cooperate, and therefore, a crime.”

Hyatt quickly agreed, gave you an apologetic look as he passed you by, and left the room to inform the servants and other retainers what had occurred.

A few minutes later, a large group of them had been assembled. They all stood shoulder-to-shoulder and arranged themselves into a line. Xeno helped you down the stairs and stayed by your side as you examined each and every one of them.

You then fell silent, a sickening feeling twisting around in your gut.

“He’s not… here.”

“I beg your pardon?” William frowned.

“The man who spoke to me,” you reluctantly acknowledged. “He isn’t among any of these servants. I knew exactly who I saw, and it was none of them. I will not put the blame of any innocent people purely to make my point. He must have left the party right after he conveyed his message.”

Annalisa let out an obnoxious sigh. “Your Majesty, forgive my rudeness, but thus far, [Name] has failed to offer any concrete evidence that I arranged to have her attacked. The man she allegedly spoke to is conveniently not around, and her entire accusation makes very little sense. These men that hurt you, did they say that I was the one who put them up to it?”

“They clearly said that they were carrying out a job,” you glared. “Someone had hired them. I was unable to get any other information from them.”

“I kept one of them alive for interrogation, but he committed suicide,” Keith said. “I did not realize he was concealing another weapon in one of his pockets. He stabbed himself through the heart to avoid being taken alive.”

“There is no evidence,” Annalisa repeated. “[Name],” she said, her voice assuming a fake, mockingly sweet tone, “I understand it must have been hard. I’m sure you were afraid. But this is a very serious accusation. I pity you, I really do, but to me it honestly seems as though you are just looking for someone to blame.”

“My daughter would never lie,” your father snapped. “She could have easily pretended to identity one of the servants, but she is too honest to ever do something like that, even if it serves to her advantage. I do not see why my daughter would concoct a lie about being lured out into the gardens. If not to meet with someone, why was she out there in the first place?”

“I don’t know. I can’t possibly pretend to know what goes on in your daughter’s head.”

Xeno inhaled. “You filthy bitch—”

“Enough,” William silenced. “There is little information to go on, but [Name]’s allegations will be examined to the best of our ability. We will start by looking for the servant she described. Annalisa, I understand you may have your reservations about the whole thing, but in light of what has happened tonight, we will need to look into your family.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “I have nothing to hide.”

“Very well, then. We will examine the assassins’ bodies first and foremost. Once my knights report that there are no other suspicious figures in the area, everyone will be escorted home. Please continue to stay put for now.”

Keith furrowed his brows. “Your Majesty, will that be alright? Those men, they were dressed as knights themselves. While I highly doubt they were legitimate, it’s possible that there may be others disguised as knights still waiting to strike.”

“I think it should be fine,” you said. “So long as the knights are able to identify one another, we should know which ones can be trusted or not. After all, I don’t think those guys were from here. Remember what one of them said? He didn’t want to be done in by an… Aeolian citizen…”

The blood loss seemed to have finally hit you for real. Your vision blurred and your legs went completely numb. If not for Xeno who was close by and managed to catch you in time, you would fallen on your face in front of everyone.

“T-Thanks,” you mumbled, eyes struggling to focus.

Xeno squeezed your waist. “You’ve lost too much blood. Father! Getting [Name] medical care takes precedence above all else. Allow her to be escorted to safety before the rest of these people leave.”  

There was more talk in the background, but the voices were starting to blur together. Your parents had come rushing over again, crowding you with their disheveled, teary expressions. You could feel your head growing heavier and heavier. Out of the corner of your eye, you stole one last glance towards Annalisa.

She was smiling.

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Cumslut Evan, edging or multiple orgasms (wich ever you prefer), like lets get them filthy 😏

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Pretty Little Plaything

"I was thinking maybe we could go for a hike tomorrow? It's been a while and the weather is supposed to be really nice" Tommy suggested as he looked over at Buck and sat on the edge of the bed. He ran his hand up the side of Buck's inner thigh before gripping Buck's cock, letting his thumb run over the slick slit of his cock head.

Buck moaned, his head resting against the headboard while his hands were secured to the bedposts on both sides. "Please" he whimpered when Tommy kept stroking his cock with a closed fist, tight and hard.

"No problem, baby. It'll be a nice little date! I do love you in your slutty little hike shorts" Tommy chuckled, speeding up his movements just a tad.

Tugging on the ropes holding his hands to the side, Buck groaned and rocked his hips. "Oh fuck, Tommy, fuck, please" he panted. Everyone muscle in his body tensed up, he was so fucking close he just needed a little more to get him over the edge.

"Not yet," Tommy said amused as he took his hand off Buck and watched as his cock twitched miserably, precum leaking for his tip.

"No! No, no, Tommy, no" Buck sobbed, squirming and twisting hopelessly trying to get some friction on his cock. "I can't! Tommy, need to cum, please, it hurts, want to cum now!" he pleaded.

Tommy just hummed as he moved a little closer, rubbing a hand over the bulge in his jeans. "Oh come on now, a big strong man like you can take a little more" he gave one of Buck's nipples a little flick before he used both hands to push up Buck's blindfold.

Whimpering and leaning into Tommy's touch, Buck hoped he looked just as pitiful as he felt and that Tommy would give him some mercy. "Please, Tommy" he sniffled, jutting out his bottom lip slightly.

"You think you're ready?" Tommy asked giving him a little kiss, wrapping his fingers loosely around Buck's cock. "Think you've earned it?"

Quickly nodding, Buck sniffled again and whimpered, thrusting up into Tommy's grip. He wasn't sure just how long Tommy had been playing with him but it felt like hours at this point and he wasn't sure how much more he could handle.

Moving his fist up and down around Buck's cock, Tommy tightened his grip, looking him in the eyes. Buck's breath was coming out in choked huffs as one by one every muscle started to tighten up again.

Tommy moved his hand faster and faster, taking in the delicious sight of his boy. "Don't stop, please, fuck" Buck gasped as he felt his climax nearing again. "Ahh, Tommy," he grunted as he tensed, arching up while he threw his head back, feeling like his breath was taken from him as he finally got to cum.

Watching as Buck spurted cum all over his chest, Tommy kept his hand on Buck. "Oh my god" Buck whimpered as he relaxed and fell back on the bed, his chest heaving up and down as he panted.

Smirking, Tommy started moving his hand up and down Buck's cock again. "That looked like it felt really good, baby. Let's do it again," he rubbed his fist over Buck's cock head.

"Fuck!" Buck tried to twist away but Tommy quickly used his free hand to hold him in place. "Too much" he whimpered loudly, kicking his legs as Tommy kept stroking him.

"You've been begging for an hour straight to cum and now you don't want to anymore? What if I'm not done playing with my pretty little plaything hmm?" Tommy asked as he let go of Buck's cock so he could give it a little slap.

Buck screamed and let out a little sob. "Fuck! Daddy, please!" he begged as he tried to curl up. "Oh, now he remembers" he tutted and gave Buck's cock another slap.

"Nooo" Buck cried as Tommy forced him to lay back on his back. Tensing up as Tommy reached out towards him once more, he watched as Tommy used his fingers to gather some of the cum on his chest.

Opening his mouth, he couldn't help the little moan that escaped him as his lips closed around Tommy's fingers and he tasted himself.

"Such a little cumslut" Tommy moved his fingers in and out of Buck's mouth.

Moaning louder, Buck glanced at Tommy's crotch before looking hopefully up at Tommy.

Letting out a little laugh, Tommy pulled his fingers out with a wet pop. "Not until you've cum again," he said with a smirk and wrapped his fingers around Buck's spent cock and Buck's whimpers and cries filled the bedroom once more.