#''all you did was handcuff me to a chair. that was barely anything''

[razzle-zazzle]

Man imagine while Gisu and Morris are out on a future Mission Dion gets a head injury and gets Amnesia. Then when they get back their like 😓 (prob future Au)

Mmm. It's a neat idea but I have. No thoughts for it.

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇’𝓈 𝒫𝑒𝓉 ༻

Au Professor Raphael

Summary: Your grade depends on your willingness. Professor Raphael misuses your body well, and you can’t help but to come undone under his touch. Does your grade even matter at this point?

Note: I saw this gif and went absolutely feral.

Age Gap - Professor/ Student relationship - Vaginal Penetration - Creampie - Handcuffs - Slight Voyeurism - Tav is 18

You told him you’d do anything to raise your grade, begged him not to flunk you because your parents would be so disappointed in you… Now, as you bounce up and down on your professor's lap in his car you wonder how they’d feel if they found out about this instead…

The thought of being caught has your tight young cunt gripping his cock like a vice. Your hands struggling to find their way into his lucious brown hair, but the cuffs he placed on your wrists bind them behind your back. You feel his lips kiss down your neck, nibbling softly against your skin, his glasses grazing you just as well and the sensation nearly makes you cum right there. His cock feels like it was made for you, each ridge and vein caresses your walls and drives you crazy.

“Professor!”

Raphael, your professor, loved to fill you up before school started, loved knowing your young cunt was carrying his seed throughout the day. He knew you’d struggle to keep it all inside you, your skirt doing little to conceal it if it were to find its way dribbling out of you.

The windows in his car fogged, “S’good! M-more!”, your ass jiggled each time it slapped his thighs. Raphael grabbed onto your waist and started moving you even faster.

You felt him grow and swell inside of you, knowing he was getting close to his limit. He was going to make you take it, was going to fill you with more than enough for your womb.

“Let’s hope that your little birth control pill is still working,” he chuckled darkly, “what a shame it would be to find yourself carrying your professor's bastard child.”

Your eyes widened, the thought hadn't occurred to you. You weren't even sure the pill would do much after how many times he’s cum in you this week already. You started to slow your hips, unsure of what to do. Did it even matter at this point?

Raphael tightened his grip on you, forcing your movements to stay steady, his own hips thrusting up into you at an unrelenting pace.

Your thoughts trailed off, biting your lip at the thought about just the other day…

He kept a nice little bullet attached to your clit, waiting for you to enter his class before he could start his little game. A game, that’s all this was to him…

Raphael would wait for the room to settle down, wait for him to turn his back on his class so he could write on his board, book in hand concealing the little remote in his hand. When the moment was right, your cruel professor would switch the bullet on medium speed. You’d never see the devilish smirk that danced across his face as you squealed in your seat, your body jolting up as you tried to contain yourself.

“Quiet now, it’s rude to disturb the class while I’m trying to teach.” Your cheeks burned as you fought the urge to squirm and grind against the chair. Raphael would look at you every few moments, making sure you were obeying his rules. You could barely focus as the pleasure built up inside you. Raising your hand, you’d ask to excuse yourself, but of course he’d never agree to it, “you’ll have to wait until after class.”

You wanted to scream at him, but the fear of failing his class kept you from speaking out, not only that but the other student’s that were watching. So you sat there, legs clenched together and toes curling into your shoes as you fought to control the sensations that would wrack your body.

With your head laying on the desk, your legs shaking, he’d turn it off, “See me after class Tav, your behavior has been unacceptable.” He’d tell you to see him after class, that he needs to discuss your poor behavior in class, that you distracted far too many other students.

When your professor, Raphael, asked you to stay after class, you knew you'd end up splayed out on his wooden desk, hands clenching the edges to hold on.

"I do remember you saying you’d be willing to do anything to raise your grade up, right?" his fingers trailing over your ass that peeked from your short skirt, “so start being an obedient little pup.” ~Whack, Raphael would smack your ass hard enough to leave his mark.

He’d flip up your skirt to reveal the full extent of your pink lace panties, before he slowly pulls them down to pool at your feet. His fingers teasing your core and you twitch in response. You’d whine, embarrassed that you’ve allowed this to happen with your own professor, but even more embarrassed that you’d look forward to him sliding his much older cock inside you.

"How about we change that test score of yours from the other day into an A, princess." he said as his finger found your clit, slowly rubbing circles over the sensitive bud.

“P-please, I need to pass.”

He’d remove his finger, and you always felt a bit disappointed, but his fingers always found their way to your mouth, “Open.”

Your eyes flicker to his, questioning his intentions, but the look he’d give you told you not to ask questions. His thick digits slid into your mouth, pushing the salty taste of your cunt against your tongue. The sound of his belt unclasping and his draws falling to the ground as he positioned himself behind you.

"Now let's see how much you want that A." he would say before he slams his cock deep inside your wet folds.

The feeling of your walls stretching and clenching around his girth was something you still weren't quite used to, but the feeling had your eyes rolling. You’d push back into him, words of encouragement slipping from your mouth, “please use me! Fill me! Do whatever you want to me, Raphael!”

He was older, probably not one that should be fucking such a young thing like yourself, but here you were. His thrusts would be slow and deep, filling you in the way you always needed. He was unlike the other guys you’ve been with. He knew how your body worked.

"You're such a good girl, taking my cock so well. Maybe I should keep you on the edge of failing until the school year ends.” He’d grip your chin and forced your head to the side so he could lock his lips with yours, his tongue demanding entrance.

His free hand traveled between your legs, finding the little toy that rested against your swollen clit.

"Don't you dare cum yet." He told you before pressing the button, forcing the vibrations to start up again.

You were in a state of pure bliss. You knew that you shouldn't be here, that you should’ve studied like any other student, but all you could think about was how much you needed your professor to ruin your cunt now. That this was the only way to pass.

"Such a needy little thing aren't you." he would tease.

"Please!" you'd beg, "please, I need it. I can't fail this class, Raphael."

He'd groan, his pace increasing.

"Please Professor, I need it."

He loved to hear you call him professor. It was so taboo, and the thrill of fucking a student was a fantasy he was happy to make come true.

"Oh god." you'd cry out as the orgasm built inside you.

"Don't."

His hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed.

"Cum."

His hand squeezed tighter, your eyes widening.

"Not."

The sound of the door opening, and a female student entering would have both of your heads snap in her direction.

"Until."

You'd try to close your legs, your face burning, but his cock never left your heat.

"I."

You were so ashamed.

"Give."

But he never stopped pounding into you.

"You."

He was determined to finish, and that was it.

"The."

The other student looked just as embarrassed as you.

"Authorization."

The door closed and you heard a little laugh, “what a slut!”

What a perfect time, Raphael told you, “Cum for me, my good little pup.”

Your eyes closed, and you'd bite your lip, moaning at his command. His cock hit that special spot, his fingers rubbing your clit to completion.

"Yes! Oh God, I'm cumming!"

"Good." he'd hiss, his seed painting your walls, a sight he wished he could see.

When the two of you finished, he cleaned the mess he made and help you get dressed, his lips brushing over yours as he whispered, "see you in class, tomorrow- on second thought, come early. I’d like you to meet me by my car."

Which is exactly what you did…

[ithebookhoarder]

Blind With Rage

Description: Whilst you've handled witness interviews alone before, as part of your work at Nelson and Murdock, you know that Matt's always close by and all-too ready to step in if you ever need him.

A/N: He protect. He attack. He is a snack 😅...

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, mentions of crime, swearing, Matt being a full-on protective baby XD

Masterlist

Being a lawyer, you were used to visiting clients in rough places. Prisons, holding cells in local stations, and even crime scenes - you’d been to them all. 

Even with a vigilante for a boyfriend, and rather unorthodox client base, there wasn’t much that could surprise you. Working at Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law, had pretty much ensured it. 

Still, this morning’s meeting had gone pear shaped and you’d barely seen it coming. 

You’d only been sat with a possible witness for you latest client’s case for about five minutes, before it had happened. Matt had been running late at the time and Foggy was out of the room, talking to officers in the corridor, leaving you alone with the man opposite you - which was totally fine. After all, you'd handled witness statements alone before and it wasn't like there wasn't a dozen officers in the building with you if anything did go wrong. 

Also, you only had a couple questions that needed to be asked before you could go back about your merry way and possibly swipe a quick lunch on your route back to the office. If anything, you were more concerned about your choice of sandwich than the petty thief sat on the other side of the table.

He'd so far been cooperative, corroborating your client’s story that he had been nowhere near the crime scene when the crime had occurred. Picked up by police after a failed pickpocketing, the man opposite had apparently been near the scene of the crime and confirmed your client was nowhere to be seen. In fact, he was pretty quick to tell you who was around when the crime had occurred and just who he thought might have done it.

"Thanks, Mr Jerome," you’d nodded, scribbling the last of your notes on the yellow legal pad in front of you. "You've been incredibly helpful. My client will really appreciate your testimony."

"Anytime, sugar."

Yep. That was it; That was the moment when things took a turn for the worst. 

You could see it now, playing back in your mind in slow motion… the way he’d followed the nickname with a rather crass compliment about how you were looking that day. 

His eyes then dropped, roaming up and down your body in a way that just made you feel dirty without even being touched. 

And when you’d told him to stop? That the meeting was done? He’d lunged. 

Of course, he hadn’t got very far - his handcuffs attached to the table made sure of that. Still, you'd be lying if you said you hadn't jumped at the sudden movement.

You flinched, opening your mouth to say something. However, you never got the chance as the door slammed open behind you with an almighty bang. It was then that you saw who was responsible for the sudden interruption as Matt Murdock came racing into the room so fast it made your head spin.

Wait, when had he got here?

You blinked, staring up at your partner with shock as he reached over and pulled your chair back with a harsh screech, cutting you off from protesting. You could see the fury rolling off of him in waves and for a moment you couldn't be sure it wasn't directed at you.

Thankfully, the source of his rage became clear as he positioned himself in front of you, his focus never leaving the man sat on the other side of the table. He had created a literal human-shield between you, a silent challenge against your would-be assailant.

Without a word, his hand reached backwards, hauling you to your feet and frogmarching you from the room. His grip was ironclad.

"Matt."

"Y/N, don't."

"Wait, Matt," you barked, "Let go of me, I had it under control-"

"-Of course you did, Sweetheart. Wait here," he ordered, his tone lethal as he addressed the police officer waiting for you both in the hall. It was clear you weren't going to be allowed anywhere near that room again and that he was holding this poor officer responsible for ensuring that was the case.

A sudden urge to argue roared up from inside of you, but you bit your tongue as Matt released you. You didn't need to ask if he was ok. It was clear he wasn't from the concerned pull of his brow. If you didn't know any better, you'd have said he was actually worried about you.

"I'll be back in a minute. Mr Jerome and I need to have a quick word - stay here with Foggy."

You weren't entirely sure if talking was actually Matt's plan, given the way his hands were clenched at his side. Still, no one made a move to stop him as he marched back into the room you'd just come from, slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the two-way glass rattle.

He'd always had a flair for the dramatic.

"Wow."

Wow indeed, you thought, staring across the room at Foggy. The fact the other lawyer looked like he was trying not to laugh made it clear what he thought about the entire exchange.

"Whatever sassy joke you're about to make, Nelson, just don't," you grumbled, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“I wasn't going to make a joke,” Foggy scoffed, his shit-eating grin only growing as Matt's furious voice echoed from the other side of the wall.

"-You feel like a tough guy, huh? Picking on other people? You utter piece of sh-"

The both of you winced at the sudden flurry of colourful expletives.

“I mean, I’m sure Matt would have thrown himself just as chivalrously in front of me if some sleazy douchebag made a gross comment about me.” 

You eyes were rolling before he even finished the sentence. “Foggy? Shut the hell up.”

[crazycurly-77]

The bet - Chapter 4

Gibbs and you stormed into the house at gunpoint with him yelling “NCIS! Federal Agents!” 

The surprise effect was yours. Warren sat on his couch watching TV and eating chips as the both of you walked in. Immediately he held his hands up in surrender and Gibbs handcuffed him, telling him his rights. 

You brought him to the NCIS headquarters and placed him directly into one of the interrogation rooms. Then you walked into the adjacent observation room and waited for Gibbs to begin. As was his habit he let the suspect wait and went for a fresh coffee. 

Meanwhile Tony and Tim came, stood beside you and waited, too.

“Hey, you got him! Good job. Hope the boss will grill him.” Tony greeted you. Tim was still halfway sleeping. 

“Yeah, but I'm curious about his motive.” you mused. Then the survey began as Gibbs entered the interrogation room. 

He sat down on the chair opposite from Warren with his notepad and the file in his hands and stared at him without saying a word. The suspect began slightly to squirm and became more and more nervous. 

After a while without any word and not making any move Gibbs asked him “why did you kill two navy soldiers and tried to kill an admiral?”

Warren looked up at him shocked “what, he's not dead?!” 

Gibbs only watched him and waited. Then he stood up, went around the table, bent down to him and said “No, he's alive. He's well and he will be happy to see you rot in Leavenworth.”

That freaked Warren out. He jumped up from his chair shouting “they deserved it! All of them!! Yes, I did it and I'm not finished!! Because of them my father nearly never was home! They have to pay for that!”

He tried to attack Gibbs, but Gibbs was faster and pinned him on the floor. Tony ran into the room to help him and handcuff Warren. 

As he was secured they got up and Gibbs spat “take him away.”

Tim came too and helped Tony take him to the brig. You stood there and watched the scene and were bare of words. You couldn't believe how someone can hate so much that he wants to destroy the life of foreign people. 

Suddenly you were spoken to “penny for your thoughts.” You winced and let the papers you were holding fall to the floor. Immediately you bent down to hastily pick them up and you were joined by Gibbs who was the one that scared you. 

“I didn't want to scare you, but you seemed lost in your thoughts.” he said with a slightly guilty tone as he helped you. “Yeah, yeah, I was lost in my thoughts.” you answered distractedly, collected the last documents and stood up. 

He stood too and gave you the rest of the papers. Leaning into you, he laid his hand on your shoulder, looked intensively at you and asked “what's up?” 

Still startled you only shook your head, but said nothing. He sighed, took your chin into his hand and turned your head to look up at him. Then he asked softly “Y/N, what's up?” 

You tried to think, but it simply was not possible. Feeling him so near once again and him being so soft and caring and without any inner walls adding to the observation of the perpetrator…it was too much to process. 

You stood there and looked into his wonderful blue eyes as he was looking into yours. 

“Tell me. I feel there is something wrong.” he whispered to you. You were lost. Lost in his deep blue eyes. But his closeness calmed you down and soothed you. How should you answer anything that doesn't sound stupid? You tried “I'm shocked.”

“About what?” 

“About Warren. How can someone be so full of hate that he destroys the life of so many innocent people? I don't understand,” you breathed. 

He laughed briefly “that's the abyss of the human being and it's good that you don't understand. Stay like that.”

The only thing you could do was nodding your consent which made him smile softly, whispering “that's good.”

You felt chosen that he let down all his defense walls when the two of you were alone. Standing there you stared into each other's eyes. Mesmerized, you both began to close the little gap that was between you. Slowly, but continuously each of you leaned to the other. Both your hearts were bumping madly and you were afraid that the other would step back. 

“In a few seconds I will finally know how it feels kissing him. Yes! Yes! Yes!” Was all you were able to think. You felt his breath on your lips and you closed your eyes awaiting to feel his lips on yours and then…he leaned back and cleared his throat. 

Irritated you opened your eyes to see what's the matter, but he only mumbled 

“You've got some lint there,” and stroke over your shoulder. 

You stared at him dumbfounded “what?”, but Gibbs just smiled sadly at you. Then he turned around and left the room, leaving you to stay there and not understanding anything.

(To be continued...1 more chapter to go)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story and the other stories I've written to date.

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27, @ladyzombiielove

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[mlm-writer]

Pins and Needles (Peter Parker x M!Reader)

Pairing: Peter Parker (A.G. ver.) x Virgin Cis Male Reader Rating: Explicit   Words: 1548 POV: Third Summary: Peter gets put in jail for crimes he did not commit. At least his cellmate is a nice dude. Note: For the prompt ‘virginity kink’.  See my kinktober 2022 masterlist here.   Tags: prison AU, virgin reader, the virginity kink is barely there I’m sorry, blowjob, frotting, hint of body worship, weirdly fluffy, Peter was a hoe in college (hinted) and facial

The uniform was a great fit for his well-built frame. It was all the positivity Peter could find in himself as he was guided through the long hallway in handcuffs. He had expected the other inmates to leer at him, but it was awfully quiet in this prison. Maybe the heavy metal doors were soundproof. 

When he and the guards arrived at the door with a white ‘420’ painted on it, Peter could not help but snicker a little. However, his smile vanished with the look one of the guards gave him. The black metal door opened with a heavy creak. Peter was met with the sight of a small cell consisting of two bunk beds, two chairs, a sink and a toilet. “Finally! I was getting lonely, boys!” A masculine voice called, before Peter saw a man jump from the top bed. He was handsome, Peter noted. There also was an aura of dominance around him, as if this prison was the hotel he owned. 

The handcuffs were unlocked and the guards left Peter alone with the stranger. “I would give you my real name, but then I’d have to kill you,” the man spoke cheerfully. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. He shifted on his feet, body trying to take up as little space as possible. “Oh don’t look like that, we will have a blast!” The man stepped closer and tapped the collar around Peter’s throat. “So… a mutant, huh?” 

Peter nodded nervously and hummed. “Yeah…” The man offered his hand and Peter slowly took it. “I’m Peter,” he offered, but he did not expect a name back. He noted that the man had no collar around his neck. 

“They call me ‘Pins’ around here. You’re so skinny, boy. From now on, if anyone asks, your name is ‘Needles’. As long as you stick with me, nothing will happen to you, all right?” Peter nodded as he shook the man’s hand. 

“Pins and Needles, huh?” Peter tried to joke, but it was obvious that was the gist. 

Pins made Peter hold the inside of his pocket most of the time. Peter followed his cellmate diligently, hung around with the other guys Pins associated himself with. They were a decent bunch, though they liked to mess with the guards from time to time. They were harmless pranks. Peter got to know them all by first name and what they were in for. However, getting information out of anyone about Pins was impossible. Even Pins avoided answering any question about himself directly. All Peter got to know was his favourite song, which was at least a decade or two old. 

It was another evening in their cell, the moonlight shining through a tiny window. Pins was humming his favourite song again. Peter was enjoying the background noise, when it suddenly stopped and Pins’ head appeared upside down as the man hung over the side of the top bunk. “Hey, Needles, can I ask you something?” He still sounded jolly, but Peter recognised the seriousness hidden in his voice. That same tone was there when Pins asked if anyone or anything was bothering him. It was that same tone when Pins asked if Peter slept like sleeping beauty. Peter nodded and sat up in his bed. “Would you kiss me if I asked you to?” Pins whispered.

Peter frowned. Pins had never asked him anything like that. “Uhm…” Peter started. He then crawled over to Pins and framed his face with his hands. The last time he did this, Peter was the one hanging upside down. He leaned in slowly, allowing Pins to push him away in case the man had been joking, but Pins stayed still. His lips were chapped, but warm against Peter’s. When they parted, Pins smoothly jumped off the bunk bed and kissed Peter again. 

Peter got so easily lost in Pins’ kisses. They were full of passion, as if Pins had been waiting for this. It was at this moment that Peter realised he had been waiting for this as well. He grabbed his cellmate by the neck and dragged him onto his bed. Their heated kisses were put on hold, when Peter pulled both the orange and white shirt over Pins’ head. Pins could not speak a word, before Peter was pulling him in for another kiss once more. Peter ran his hands over Pins’ chest, determined to remember what he felt like. When Pins pinned him down by his throat, just above his collar, Peter let out a very soft ‘oh fuck’.  

“Where is this going, Needles?”

“Well I have not been able to masturbate or have sex for the last few months, so feel free to… you know… do whatever.” 

Pins was awfully quiet and unmoving. Peter wondered if he had been too forward. His fears only seemed to be confirmed, when Pins let go of his neck. “Would you let me fuck you?” Peter hummed affirmatively. “Needles… I… must confess something.” Peter sat up and took Pins’ hands in his own. “I’ve actually never done anything like that. You know… have sex.” 

Peter blinked at his cellmate, who was avoiding eye contact. “Have you ever had a blowjob?” Pins made a sound that definitely meant ‘no’ and Peter’s mind was reeling. “Handjob?” Same sound. “Not even with a woman?” Same sound. Peter could not believe it. Pins, the baddest inmate he knew, was a total virgin. It was a strange thought, but at the same time, Peter not only wanted to be Pins’ first, he needed it. “Then… may I?” 

Pins seemed hesitant with his silence, but eventually, he guided their entwined hands to his crotch. Peter felt the bulge there. He explored its shape in the dim light of the moon, after Pins let go of his hand. It was a slippery slope from feeling Pins through his uniform pants to Peter being on top of the other man and rubbing their bare cocks together.

The scary criminal was no longer here. Peter muffled Pins’ sounds with feverish kisses that got them drunk on pleasure. “Needles, I’m gonna cum real soon if you don’t pause for a second,” Pins whined. Peter remembered how soon his first time was over and he wanted this to last at least a little longer, in case his innocence was proven tomorrow and he would never get this chance again. 

Peter climbed off his cellmate and completely rid himself of his uniform. He heard Pins doing the same. “Can you do something for me?” Peter asked, while he climbed back onto his thin mattress. Pins pulled him down onto his chest. It was weirdly intimate for the image Pins built around himself, but Peter liked the idea that he was the only one to see this side of him. 

“What do you want?” Pins whispered while his fingers traced lines across Peter’s skin. Peter snuggled into the other man’s chest. He smelled of the standard bland prison soap and a hint of just Pins. 

“Can you call me Peter? Just for tonight?” Peter did not get an answer for a moment. The fingers stilled on his bare shoulder. He was afraid he asked for too much. Then he felt Pins’ lips brush the shell of his ear. Warm breath hit his skin as the man whispered a name to him. Peter repeated it under his breath. It was beautiful. It belonged to the man he had fallen in love with. 

Peter shifted and kissed down Pins’ body. Peter had already seen it every time they took a shower, but now he also got to touch it. He slid off the bed and pulled Pins’ hips to the edge of the bed. When Peter reached the other man’s cock, he licked a long stripe up the length. Pins let out a delicious sigh. Peter savoured the taste of him, wettening his cock with his tongue, before taking it into his mouth. It had been some time since the last guy he fooled around with in college, but Pins seemed to enjoy the little graces of teeth. Pins had his hand in Peter’s hair. Peter relaxed and let Pins guide him. 

“Fuck, this feels so good… Peter,” Pins whispered through his teeth. Peter could hear his breathing and recognised the laboured breath of a man trying not to cum too soon all too well. He started stroking himself. It did not take long for Pins to pull Peter off his cock. Peter awaited the inevitable with his tongue out, stroking himself vigorously. Warm cum hit him in the face and Peter had to cover his mouth so the entire cell block would not hear him moan out Pins’ real name. 

When he finished covering his own hand in cum, Peter dropped his head onto Pins’ thigh. He sighed and kissed the skin, contented in his post-orgasmic bliss. A hand ran through his hair, massaging his scalp. “Did you cum?” 

Peter chuckled. “That’s so typical of you to ask,” he giggled as he closed his eyes. “But yeah, don’t worry. How are you? Don’t regret your first time?” Peter could feel Pins shift. Then warm lips kissed the top of his head. 

“You can be my first everything, Needles.” “I’ll hold you onto that, Pins.” 

[clown-friend-gt]

Up, Up, and Away: Chapter 3

Seeking Answers

1k words

Link to Masterpost

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It was easy enough to hide the change for the first few days. If Trevor stayed slightly hunched over, it was hard to tell he’d gained a few inches. It wasn’t like people paid him much mind anyways.

By the second week, though, he could tell people were beginning to notice a difference. He kept getting weird looks from other students when he passed by. There was only so much he could do to make himself look smaller when he’d grown over a foot in such a short period of time.

Maybe he should’ve been more grateful. He’d been 4’9” before all of this, of course he wanted to be taller. If it had been slower, or even if it had happened over the summer, maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal. Why’d it have to happen like this?

Robbie’s attitude was by far the worst part. Any time he got the chance, he’d place a hand on the back of Trevor’s neck and shove him downwards. It was like he felt the need to physically remind Trevor that he was supposed to be the small one. Or maybe he was just reminding himself.

Then there was the time he’d pinned Trevor against a locker, his mouth open to start mocking him. He shut it quickly and scowled when he realized that they were on eye level with each other. Trevor barely caught the look of alarm in his eye as he walked away.

Should he talk to someone about this? Maybe he could talk to that counselor from the Lively Institute. But was this even a superpowers thing? He’d never heard of a superhero with anything like this going on. But what else could it be?

It’d been a few weeks since he started growing when he finally made up his mind to talk to the counselor. He’d had to go shopping for new clothes for the second time in a month. His mom insisted it was fine, but he knew it put a strain on their budget. That was when he had to face the fact that what was happening to him was not normal.

He'd heard that in addition to sponsoring the superheroes of San Solaris, the Lively institute also helped out normal people with superpowers. Maybe they could help him with his problem. So, one day before class started, he sought out the counselor in his office, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe.

The man looked up from his computer as he walked in, shooting him a smile that felt a little plastic. He stood up to greet him. He had a badge that said, “Lively Institute: Kyle Roberts.”

He dressed a little more like a resource officer than a counselor. He wore a gray button-up, black slacks, and polished black shoes to match. If Trevor hadn’t read what it said, he might’ve mistaken the badge for that of a police officer. He wore a utility belt that included things like the futuristic handcuffs they used on supers, as well as a gun in its holster.

“Trevor Castillo?” he asked, pronouncing his last name wrong, like Cuh-still-oh. Trevor didn’t bother to correct him, instead nodding his head to show he was the right person.

“Hey, I don’t think we’ve met,” Mr. Roberts continued, sticking his hand out for Trevor to shake. He took it, and the man shook his hand firmly

“I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around, you’re so tall!” he finished with a chuckle.

“…Yeah,” Trevor replied awkwardly, letting his hand go. Mr. Roberts motioned for him to sit, so he did. Then Mr. Roberts sat down in his own chair.

“So, what brings you in here today?” He asked him.

“Well, um,” Trevor struggled to find the right words. “The reason you probably haven’t noticed me before is because I wasn’t always this tall. It’s a, uh, recent change.”

Mr. Roberts frowned in thought. “Your powers?” he asked.

“I think so?”

“Well,” Mr. Roberts began, “Thanks for telling us first. We always like to hear it from the students themselves when their powers come in, instead of finding it out the hard way.

“You have a lot of opportunity ahead of you,” he swiveled in his chair to reach for a pamphlet behind him. “The Lively Institute is committed to guiding the heroes of the future as they come into their own.”

“Right,” Trevor spoke up, interrupting his spiel. “I just wanted to know if there was any way to stop it?”

Mr. Roberts seemed a little thrown at being interrupted, but soon continued.

“That’s up to you. Our Future Heroes Training Program has a variety of experts to assist you in terms of control, technique, and more.”

Trevor was beginning to get a little impatient. He leaned forward as he spoke, causing Mr. Roberts to lean away slightly.

“What if I don’t want to be a superhero? Isn’t there like a cure or something?”

Mr. Roberts was clearly struggling now that they were going off-script.

“W-well,” he stammered. “Taking powers away is usually something done as—as a last resort, and never to non-criminals. I’d advise you to look into the program if you’re looking for answers about your powers.”

He slowly slid the brochure towards Trevor.

Trevor slumped in his seat. “So you can’t help me?”

“Um. There is a help hotline for supers who aren’t affiliated with the institute, but there’s little assistance we can offer.” Mr. Roberts handed him a card with a number written on it.

Trevor took it in two fingers, trying not to roll his eyes.

“Thanks,” he said flatly, then stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Wait,” Mr. Roberts spoke up as he reached the door. Trevor looked over his shoulder.

“If you end up calling that number, could you let them know I referred you?” he asked.

Trevor turned and stormed off, letting the door slam behind him as he left.

First/Last/Next

[drunkoffsmoke]

could I request a 2nd part to the prev riz ask where the reader wants to forgive riz for what he’s done? Thanks!

a/n: of course! this was a but difficult to write, but fun nonetheless! (also super sorry for taking so long to reply, i really hope i made it worth the wait...)

pairing: riz x short!male!bear!reader

fandom: beastars

genre: fluff, headcanons, making amends, yada-yada. you and riz are chill now.

p1 here.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

little story again

─────────────────────────────

You haven't seen Riz for awhile now. Ever since the truth has been found out, ever since Legoshi confronted him that night and blood was spilled, nobody really wanted to talk about the former Cherryton student. It's like he was a ghost now, one that needed to be forgotten. But you couldn't move on.

The news spoke of him, calling him a 'dangerous individual' and a 'heartless monster' for taking Tem's life for his selfish desires. Sure, he was selfish for wanting to continue the chain of 'predators feast upon prey' chain, but he didn't deserve half of the things said about him. You knew that very well.

You refused to visit Riz due to many reasons, one of them being the not-so-pleasant memories you had with him, in which he no longer smiled warmly, but with malicious intent. Yet one of the other students visited him, and said he was a changed bear. So, you clenched your jaws and gathered all of your courage and made your way towards the facility where your friend was held.

It took awhile to get you to talk to him, mainly because you didn't reserve a meeting with him. You waited, seated on a chair, anxiously tapping your claw against your lap. Countless questions swarmed your brain, questions only the future would be able to answer. Before you could get too lost, footsteps could be heard approaching, and you looked up to see one of the guards.

''Follow me.'' The tiger stated, and you wasted no time in getting up and trailing after the taller animal. Before you could enter the room where Riz was held, you were supposed to drop your phone and other metallic accessories in a small tray. You did as told, anxiety bubbling inside of you the longer you had to follow the guard.

You stopped in front of a metal door, which was guarded by two other animals─one of them a bull, and the other a lion. Or a maned lioness? Before they could unlock the door they had to give you the rules. ''No getting too close to the inmate. You are to not give him anything, no matter how small or harmless it is. You will be monitored and your conversation will be recorded. Is that clear?'' The lion's soothing voice caressed your ear, and you identified them as a lioness. You nodded, finding difficulty in speaking at the moment, and the bull turned to unlock the door.

You stepped inside, instantly greeted with a table and two chairs, positioned across each other, and you hesitantly took a seat. There was nothing that you could hear aside from the soft thumping of your heart, and the occasional chair creaking under your weight. You lightly flinched as the metallic door was opened once more, and you turned around to see Riz handcuffed, with a muzzle and the two guards holding him by his arms. They led him to the other chair, swiftly cuffing him to the table, before disappearing quickly and locking the door behind them.

You stared at Riz, and he stared at you. He had an apologetic smile on his face, which you could barely spot due to the restraints he had around his muzzle. He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss you,

And you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss him.

headcanon time !!

─────────────────────────────

He's changed. Drastically.

You've never seen him this calm, this at peace.

Riz spoke to you calmly, and even tried to wave, despite the handcuffs not really helping him.

He talked to you about the past, how he was feeling, and even apologized for the way he's treated you. He said that his time in jail has made him understand certain things that his past self couldn't have ever understand.

He wanted to start all over with you and treat you the way you should be treated.

You were hesitant, you didn't know whether you should or not.

But when you saw the tired look in his eyes, the guilt clawing at his throat whenever he spoke, you knew he truly changed.

And you accepted.

Nearly every week, when time allowed you, you'd visit Riz.

The guards have grown used to you, and they said they might remove his muzzle if he behaved nicely. Obviously they needed approval from their superior, but Riz's behavior was monitored 24/7, they knew he was no longer the beast that they brought in.

Unfortunately you never knew how long he would remain in prison, but you promised you'd wait for him.

Soon enough, due to his good behavior, he was allowed to receive gifts.

You bought him books, poetry, and even paper for him to continue his passion for origami.

He appreciated every single gift you brought him, and promised that he will do the same to you when he's out.

''But we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever,'' - Haruki Murakami

reblogs & likes r greatly appreciated !!

[ghosty-writing]

Death Note One-Shot(?)

A duel POV between Light and L, detailing their manipulative relationship with each other.

Word Count: 1,562

Rating: G

Warnings: Manipulation, Brief mentions of gore

– • –

It was almost laughably easy.

From the moment Light met Ryuga– Ryuzaki– no, L, he could tell the detective could be bought. Not with money or favours, no. That would be too obvious. L could be bought with love.

The first time, it had been an accident. While walking around the University campus, Light accidentally let his hand brush L’s. It was a split second of barely-there contact, but it was enough. L and Light were just about matched when it came to masking their emotions, but that made them excellent at reading each other. So when L’s cowed gait paused for a fraction of a millisecond and his voice cracked at that moment, Light knew what he needed to do.

He had to keep it slow. Working over L wasn’t like seducing Misa. Misa would do anything Light asked of her, no questions asked. Her devotion was undoubted. But L was not like that. His distrustful nature caused him to scrutinise every one of Light’s actions, innocuous or not. The looming “Kira percentage” hung over his head like a noose. But even a noose was made of rope.

And Light had the sharpest scissors around.

For this to work properly, Light kept their relationship platonic. But the promise of something more held thick in the air. He made that quite clear. The small graze of kneecaps while sitting close to one another, an occasional complement of his intellect, the very rare arm around his shoulder, all of which he knew made L weak. Everyone else may be fooled, but Light wasn’t. 

Soon, L became the primary instigator of their physical contact. He became increasingly touchy as time went on, actively reaching out for Light’s comfort. Friendly pats and shoves turned into a constant vice grip on Light’s sleeve, careful banter turned into intelligent conversation and debate. All according to plan.

After Light and Misa’s confinement, things had changed, though. While of course, he couldn’t remember the Death Note or his role as Kira, Light continued his objective. Something in him knew he needed to get closer. But L’s idea with the handcuffs only made it easier. Sometimes Light wondered if he did it on purpose. But it doesn't matter. It would all turn out the way he wanted in the end. 

While their relationship remained ambiguous for now, Light was sure that would change soon.

“Light,” L’s voice remained steady, as always, “Are you… ready for bed?” He clutched a laptop in that odd way of his, pinched between his forefingers and thumbs, which couldn’t have been easy with the device’s weight. 

“‘Bed?’ That’s a first for you, Ryuzaki.” He commented, spinning towards L in his chair. Light chuckled, “What’s going on?” ‘Ask about his feelings. Act concerned.’ That voice in the back of his head said.

L looked up at the ceiling, remaining in silence for several quiet seconds. He bit his bottom lip tentatively before speaking, “It is 1:42 AM, Light. All the rest of the Task Force have returned to their residences. Usually you insist upon us returning to our room by 10:00 PM– no later. You’ve indulged me tonight. I would like to return the favour, per se. You’re only human. You depend on sleep.”

A crease formed upon his hair-covered brow, tensing at the word human. He was obviously looking for a reaction from the man he presumed to be Kira. 

Light didn’t give him what he wanted. “Alright, you’ve convinced me.” He stood from his chair, powering down his computer. A few steps forward and he landed mere inches from L’s face. On purpose, of course. 

If L didn’t stand with such awful posture, the two would be about the same height, perhaps even taller. But like this, Light looked down at him, a gentle played smile on his face. He didn’t miss when L stared down at those lips.

“Well?” Light laughed when L remained transfixed, “Are we going to bed or not?” 

L stared a moment longer, “Yes, of course.” Unceremoniously, he whipped around and started out the door, dragging Light with him.

Hook, line, and sinker.

– • –

L is not a stupid man. Quite the contrary, in fact. He’s literally the smartest man in the world. L holds the position of the top three best detectives to have ever lived. He’s solved countless cases in mere weeks that officials couldn’t in years. 

But if he really is all that, why couldn’t he figure out Light Yagami?

The teenager, only two years his junior, could somehow manipulate him into whatever this was. L did not– could not make attachments. Anyone who got close to him more often than not suffered for it. He trained his mind out of feelings like love or care for another human being so long ago. But it all went down the drain when he met Light.

L had never been one to appreciate physical attractiveness or charm (most serial killers were extremely attractive and charming men, after all) until he first laid eyes upon the chief’s son in real life. Watching Light over cameras in his room was one thing, pure investigation– clinical. Then, on stage at the To-Oh University entrance ceremony, he set eyes upon that (for lack of a better term) god-like smile. L instantly understood why so many girls fell head-over-heels for him. 

If Light really did end up being Kira, L didn’t know what he’d do.

Then, when Light started to initiate closer contact, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, grabbing his hand over a table to show him something, L started to short-circuit. Completely blue-screen for a few seconds. 

L knew he was being played, to an extent. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew getting close to Light was a poor decision. As nice as the other man’s comfort felt, a more rational part of him vied to pull away and yell at him, scream “I know you’re Kira, Light! Quit the act already and tell me what you want!”

Of course, he couldn’t say that. It was much too direct and would probably only worsen his situation. So unfortunately, the less rational, more emotional part of L he thought had long been dead, resurrected and possessively wrapped his arms around Light like a child refusing to let go of a toy. But for now, he kept it under wraps. Out of sight, out of mind.

“You’ve acted odd today, Ryuzaki.” Light popped into the corner of his vision, emerging from their shared bathroom. The handcuff on his wrist pulled taut from their distance. 

L raised a brow, “Have I?” He typed away at his laptop, perched under the covers in their bed.

“Yes.” Crossing to the other side of the bed, Light methodically pulled the sheets down, folding them back without a crease in sight. L could not understand how he stayed so meticulous this sleep-deprived. “First, you hardly talk at the Task Force meeting, then you hardly eat all day, and now you’re the one insisting we head to bed. On a normal day, I have to drag you kicking and screaming to even get you out of the office.”

“Incorrect. I do not kick nor scream. I merely don’t function on the same amount of sleep as other people.” He did not look up when Light settled beside him, folding his hands behind his head. If he gazed upon those near-perfect cheekbones in the dim light of the lamp, L would simply never recover. He focused on the spreadsheet he was typing.

Light let out an exasperated sigh, nudging him with an elbow. “That’s not an answer to my question.” 

“You never asked one.”

“Well– It was implied.”

“Please learn to speak plainly, Light. You are well aware I am not adept at social cues.” Click clack click clack.

Light groaned, “You’re really insufferable, you know, right? I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He put a hand over L’s, putting an end to his work. “If you’re feeling sick, you should really rest. Kira will still be there in the morning.” 

“You sound quite certain about that,” L kept his focus on the computer, although he had stopped typing anything. Deflect. Deflect. “How will you know Kira will be there in the morning? It almost seems like you want me to be sick…” 

Light threw his hands in the air, the chain whooshing up in front of L’s face. “Alright, whatever– Be like that. God forbid I try to help once in a while, jeez.” And the wall went right back up, separating their minds once again. L usually had no trouble reading people– Matsuda called him a “human lie detector”– but Light was different. Light’s psyche was one he simply couldn’t crack, and for seemingly no reason. But for some reason, it felt like the other boy could stare right into L’s very soul. Sooner or later, he expected to be dead because of it. 

Visions of Light reaching into his chest and tearing out his heart danced through his mind. Honestly, if Light really did do it, L probably wouldn’t object. And that’s scary.

Light rolled over in bed, facing away from him. L continued to click clack away at his keyboard all the night, only pausing a few times to listen to Light breathe. 

And improvement from last night, at least.

– • –

Thanks so much for reading! Reblogs are greatly appreciated, as I’m just getting started posting my writing! I may write more of this AU(?) if this gets enough attention/I get motivated, so keep an eye out for that…

Love you all! <3

[forthewinn]

@trcstme

"They won't hurt me if they see value in me." Winn wished that sentence were true. More than that, he wished that they didn't see any value in him at all. He wished that he could be at home with Sarah, not trapped in this hell. Not spending days tied to a chair and nights locked in a cell.

He couldn't tell where he was, just that he was clearly in some base of operations. Parts of it reminded him of Castle, at least the parts of it he got to see. Kami had dragged him into a windowless room, clearly having been used before. Winn barely noticed as she pushed him forward, stumbling into the chair before she pulled him down and started on his restraints. Another parallel to his first capture, handcuffs and zip ties biting into his skin.

"One day, you are going to learn you can't escape me Agent Schott." Her voice was soft, even as she finished tightening the cuffs. "You should really just learn to accept that I'll always find you. And it's an honor really." It took him another moment to focus, to really try and get himself grounded in the moment. "The Ring has found you to be a valuable asset. After we were able to test our last project on you, we have decided that we once again need your mind." Winn tried to hide the fear that showed on his face at the thought of everything he lost after his most recent encounter with Kami. The memories that were taken, the pain that came with them erasing them. How he almost didn't get them back. "Oh don't worry, we aren't going to do that again. No, what we need is your knowledge. I understand you work closely with the FBI, CIA, and NSA. What we need from you is simply to get into their systems for us, we have a present to give them."

He felt his heart almost stop. At the thought of what they wanted him to do. They wanted his help on a cyber attack on government agencies. He knew that this would be the start. That if they could they would force him to hack over and over, to get into any system so they could take over. "N-no. I'm not going to get into anything for you." He finally met her eyes, bringing his chin up as he looked at Kami.

"I was hoping you would say that. I would love to persuade you."

The words seemed to live in his mind, ringing as they dragged him back to his cell. His body barely moved as they threw him onto the ground after yet another encounter with Kami. He didn't register the 'click' from the shackle that they locked around his ankle, keeping him far enough away from the door that Winn couldn't override any of their security systems.

And so it continued. Kami trying to break Winn, pulling out new ways to get inside his head. New ways to break him. A taser crackled as he was thrown into another flashback. Winn on his knees as Kami watched a taller man shove Winn's head underwater, just to bring him back up gasping for air. Part of him wondered if giving in would even change anything. It was pretty clear Kami was enjoying this, watching as every morning she opened his cell door and smiled at his broken figure. After a while, he figured out the pattern. Kami decided that she was going to re-create their previous encounters. The taser left burn marks, similar to the scars on his temples. A reminder of when he lost his memory. Bruises from the beating that mirrored their first encounter, Tobais trying to break Winn down.

Another day Kami came in. He didn't register the metal pipe that was in her hand, the one injury that Kami directly caused. "Do you remember what Tobias did with one of these?" She asked as she held it up, the light dancing on the metal. "Because I remember how you screamed." And then he felt it, the pain he wished he would never have to feel again. The metal connecting with his knee, not even trying to hold back the scream that the impact had caused. "It sounded just like that."

His entire body protested as Kami came in, Winn unable to move. He had given up on anyone finding him. He was pretty sure that he really did belong to Kami and The Ring. Winn groaned as she moved him, propping him up against the wall as she handed him a bottle of water. He could tell that it had already been opened, and maybe that should have worried him. But he knew they weren't going to kill him, Kami needed him. "Drink it." She ordered, setting down the box that she brought with her. He recognized the clothes he wore on his wedding night. The ones that he was wearing when she took him. On top of the clothes she placed a few photographs, Winn looking long enough to recognize that they were ones she had taken over the past few weeks. All of them from different points in their torture sessions. His head was feeling heavy, Winn looking up at Kami for a moment. "The drugs must be hitting you. Don't worry, it's just trazodone. You'll be asleep within the next 20 minutes. We've been compromised. But don't worry, I'll find you again."

[xarrixii]

Chapter_19 : "Trust Fall" ━━━━━━━━━━━━━

CW: mental health previous chapter | beginning | masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ▼

The barely audible plop from his left was what finally drove his eyes from the online textbook. That was a lie, the library’s chairs are really creaky. It sounded like the person had practically fallen straight through the chair.

“Hey. Uh⸺You know, I wasn’t really planning on, hmm.” Raiden waved from the floor. The chair’s base frame was still together, but everything else had fallen right through.

“Are you okay?” Harlow stifled a laugh as he took out one of his earbuds. “The librarians didn’t warn you about the chairs?”

“They did. I just, y’know, ignored ‘em.”

“You’re alright, though?”

“I’m great down here. It’s been like—” Raiden started counting on their fingers, “—a month since I’ve seen you. I’ve checked the library a lot. Especially on Wednesdays in the afternoon, but never after seven. New fact: local librarians do not have a sense of privacy.”

Harlow blinked a few times and turned off the computer. “They must be excited someone my age is asking for me. Nevermind them. Uh, so this⸺I didn’t actually plan anything for if…”

“I didn’t either. You study like, once a month?”

His alarm bells shot off and he stood up a little faster than he would have liked. “No. No, um, I’ve been busy with, with other things. I usually, it’s usually more often.”

It takes a second, but then Raiden’s dimples pop out. “I know a really good arcade downtown.”

Harlow still saw the calculation lit in their eyes.

“Sounds like fun.” He smiled back anyway.

…

“You want help?”

“That’d be nice, yeah.”

He started bending his head down and had to quickly hold out his hand.

“Was that a… bow?” Raiden took it pretty lazily, hopping to their feet.

“World’s greatest mysteries.”

Alph really did not want to ask, but after reckless consultation from their dad, it felt like the best course of action. “Do you hate me?”

Urban stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“Like, because,” Alph cleared their throat. “Sometimes, you’ll text me back instantly, as soon as you’re done with whatever you’re doing, and other times, it takes at least a week. I don’t see you at all, anywhere, and you just return like nothing happened. Like you need a break and you’re too afraid to, to say anything.”

He went quiet. Deadly still.

“Do, am, am I doing something wrong?” Alph cringes at their own voice cracking.

“It’s, uh, let’s go get that ice cream.”

Alph takes a deep breath. “I understand if you don’t feel ready to talk about it, but I don’t think I can continue just living with it, like it’s not something I don’t worry about.”

“It’s not, I don’t, you’re fine. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“If it’s not me, then what is it? I want to help.”

Urban looks around, turning to face Alph. “Not now.”

“Please. I know I’m being a dick, but if not now, then when are you going to let me in?”

He looks away. Starts backing up.

“Don’t run from this. If not now, when?”

His foot catches, plants itself back into the ground, but he doesn’t bring himself to look at Alph. “You know how proud you are of your father? The way he saves kids, helps them on their journey to getting ‘fixed,’ so that they aren’t some sort of, some sort of danger? The way you so, so proudly say you want to be just like him?

“You know, I know you do. You know the way he does it with a pair of hand, hand⸺”

“Kinetic handcuffs,” Alph finishes.

“⸺binders. Hand binders. That’s what they are, and all of you refuse to admit it. I’m pyrokinetic, Raiden. I’m one of those kids sent to the hellhole you keep saying helps kids. You have no fucking idea. You want to know where I disappear to for weeks? It’s a fucking rehab clinic, because that’s the only place they know where to shove everyone they don’t want. Shove their hands inside of some metal, don’t let them stretch once or twice a day, make them eat with their god damn mouths because they’re too afraid of what might come springing up from the hands once they’re free.

“We’re all monsters. That’s what it is, we’re monsters. And you praise everyone who does it to them, does it to me. But you are the only FUCKING person that I have, and I keep lying to myself to keep you here.” Tears spring up in his eyes, each word coming out with a choked sob. “What do you want from me? I couldn’t tell you because I was, I am so afraid you are going to leave, and I’ll be the one nobody wanted again! I’ll go and choke on some pills, I’ll never use fire again because every time I do, it is always, always a mistake. Because I am a mistake.”

Alph couldn’t move. They didn’t have anything to say.

“I wear long sleeves so you never see the cuff burns on my wrists. I’m homeschooled because I can’t be trusted not to harm everyone around me. I ripped the buttons off of every article of clothing I have, and I used my mouth to sew on little metallic catches I bent out of paperclips so I didn’t have to torture myself as much with my hands stuck together. I had to learn to sew with my mouth, because how else was I supposed to stitch my life back together? I learned to bow my head so other kids just like me could wring their stuck hands around it and could get off the god damn floor when they fell over! Nobody helped us but ourselves! I’m trusted with a needle, but god forbid they trust me with my hands.

“So yes, I’m fine. I am fine and it is definitely not you. I am a mistake.”

Alph’s breath catches in their throat, looking at the flame engulfing Urban’s hand with terrifying precision, watched it swing and follow his hand. Watched Urban’s evolving horror when he saw it himself. I’m sorry lodged with everything else they’d ever wanted to say.

“This was a mistake.” Urban ran off into the dark, leaving Alph to stand there in their own silence.

“Thanks,” Alph muttered to the person at the front desk, wringing the lanyard around their head. The first thing they saw was an empty cafeteria apart from one person who stopped eating upon sighting them.

Alph wrung their hands together nervously. A fire alarm got them away from this.

None of these kids had a fire alarm.

They hated that they hadn’t noticed sooner, hated that they’d immediately looked into it, hated that they knew Urban would turn himself in. They had to help a random kid with a door handle on the way down the hallway.

Alph pulled open the door after knocking and receiving a muffle back. Urban was on a cot biting—and bending—paperclips next to a pair of jeans that looked way too small for him. They’d spent a lot of time trying to think of what to say, and hadn’t really decided on anything yet.

“Hhh-eyh,” was the best Urban offered.

“I’m sorry.”

Urban took a moment to swallow. “Fuh wh-at?”

“I, I investigated you, for starters.” Alph shut the door behind them. “I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t even know if I had the right to show up here. I don’t think they ask permission. And I was a very, very inconsiderate asshole.”

Urban shrugs. “Yeuh neeh⸺ wun zec.” He sort of just drops the bent paperclip onto his bound hands, frowning. “You were never taught otherwise. I just, I blew up.”

“I should have known something was wrong. I just never knew you had a kinetic, and it never clicked.”

“Like I said, the system didn’t tell you what happens inside. They told you what you wanted to hear about it, and that was all the justification that you needed. You believed it because it’s what you wanted to, and you didn’t care to look deeper because you thought it would be just like the pretty picture they made. No one says anything because no one listens. And I didn’t like being confronted about not telling you earlier. Telling you everything you looked up to is a lie.”

“I’m such⸺”

“An ass. Don’t keep telling me.”

Alph bit their lip, fidgeting with the lanyard. “I don’t want it to be a lie. I thought it over, a bit, when I was looking for you in rehab records. I want to change something. Change this. I don’t think you’re a monster, or a mistake, and I don’t want other kids to think the same about themselves. I don’t want these silly handles on your doors that little kids can’t open or close without help.”

Urban clears his throat, “I don’t want to be called Harlow. I associate it with, with this, and not the things you associate me with. Or, at least, did. I’ll learn to let it go eventually, once I can associate it with something else.”

“Sounds good, great. I mean, I don’t mind. Uhm, I wanted to bring in a console, but then I figured you probably couldn’t really, uh, play super well.”

“I didn’t get better than you by never playing when my hands were tied. But I appreciate the insight. Could you, uh, rip out the button on that? Kid named Lukas really wanted, he wanted to spend less time every day fiddling with it.”

“If it helps, I thought it was just a fashion statement.”

There were hinges on the binders to allow at least some wrist-like movement Urban used to pick up a needle on the bed. Urban noticed Alph watching it and laughed a bit. “They added the hinges because they thought it would help with soup. Nobody complained, but it doesn’t help with holding spoons.”

It took Alph a minute to laugh about it with him.

next chapter

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ▲ missing a content warning? let me know

it's so crazy that i made fictional characters more considerate of each other than myself

this chapter makes so much more sense with prior context i promise

[super-ion]

Ion & Emily

The Honeymoon - part 2

(part 1, masterpost)

Cannonball sails across the room. It's almost beautiful until she slams through the drywall.

I wince. I know she's indestructible, but still… that doesn't look fun.

She steps out of the hole in the wall and rolls her shoulders. She looks pissed.

Holy shit. I love my wife. She is amazing.

That said, I thank my lucky stars that she retired from superhero stuff before she met me because she is abso-fucking-lutely terrifying right now.

Well, I guess that's mostly because she swore never to put the mask on again and somebody went and kidnapped me and forced her hand.

That particular somebody launches a stream of lightning at her. She manages to throw her arms up in time to absorb the bolt. I guess it grounds through her suit because she doesn't bat an eye.

I should probably pause and explain what's going on. So, a couple years ago, Emily's brother shows up on my doorstep asking for help. Newsflash, he's a superhero. He tells me Emily's in danger, and she and I were sort of dating at that point, so of course I'm helping him out. We get to the Tower and second newsflash, Emily's actually a retired superhero (which, in retrospect, I probably could have figured out on my own if I hadn't been panicking about her being in danger). Anyway, this hero Thundercloud has gone full villain, like A-list villain, like civilian casualties villain. The three of us take him down, hurray! At some point I guess he broke out and he's got an axe to grind. He tracked us down. In Paris. On. Our. Honeymoon.

Seriously, who the fuck does that?

I guess he decided to kidnap me because he thinks I'm a bigger threat? Because I'm technically a villain and she's a civilian? I don't know, whatever his logic, he just made a gigantic mistake. If there's one thing I know about Emily, it's if the people she loves are in danger, the gloves come off. She's got like two settings, mild mannered retired superhero and absolutely ready to fuck your shit up.

She bares her teeth and lets out a primal howl as she sprints towards Thundercloud.

It's the hottest thing I've ever seen.

Also!! Her costume! God damn!

It's like the sexy grown up version of the one she wore as a teenager. It's sleek, it's modern, and the black and pink hugs her curves and muscles perfectly.

She's so transcendent that I momentarily forget that I'm a supervillain. Can you blame me though? I'm literally living out one of my teenage fantasies here. Like… my inner fourteen year old is re-experiencing baby's first gender crisis.

An unmistakable whiff of sulfur tickles my nose, snapping me back to reality. Somebody crouches behind the chair I'm tied to and gets to work on the handcuffs. Of course they're low tech, anything with any kind of tech and I'd have been out in minutes.

"You like it?" Lady Lacuna says as she cuts through the first cuff. "Bit of a late wedding present."

My eyes slide back to Cannonball and the familiar logo, it's unmistakably my version of her logo.

"Oh shit," I said breathlessly. "You made her that?"

"Technically it was her idea," she replies. "I did make a couple design choices with you in mind though."

I swear, I owe this woman the biggest favor.

She finishes cutting and the second cuff falls off. My power floods back as whatever nullification crap was in them wears off. My head is still fuzzy from all the lightning bolts that are still flying around, but I can suddenly feel the hum of the power lines running through the building and the grittier digital signals in distant computers.

Lady L slaps a gauntlet into my hand. It's one of mine. I slip it onto my wrist and my awareness expands further.

I jump to my feet. I've got to help my wife. Lady L grabs my by the shoulder.

"Girl, no!" she hisses. "You don't have any of your gear. He's going to fucking fry you if you try to engage."

"But Em… uh… Cannonball?" I plead.

I look back to see Cannonball deliver a roundhouse kick to Thundercloud's head.

"She's got this," Emily says, watching Cannonball with an unreadable expression.

She's right. I don't have any of my gadgets or armor and my powers are pretty useless in a stand up fight.

There's an explosion as Thundercloud unleashes one of his finishing moves. I'm knocked back a few steps and I have to shield my eyes against the blinding light and the patter of rubble.

As I open my eyes, Cannonball is there. She's been thrown across the room again and has skidded to a halt at my feet. She's dirty and sweaty and her hair is singed, but she's just as beautiful as I've ever seen her.

She blinks up at me.

"Hey, gorgeous," she says, sending my heart aflutter.

"You… you look amazing," I stammer.

She glances down at her costume, which is holding up remarkably well considering the punishment she's been going through. She grimaces slightly before forcing a cockeyed smile.

"This old thing?" she asks as she drags herself to her feet. "Thought it might be good to dust it off and relive the glory days."

Before I can come back with anything, we hear a groan behind us and Lady L is staggering and clutching her head. I don't know if you've ever seen a head wound, but there's always like an alarming amount of blood.

An instant later, all the hair on my neck lifts up and I barely have enough time to dive out of the way of another lightning bolt.

It strikes Cannonball in the chest, knocking her back and she lets out a string of curses that I'm definitely not repeating. She looks at me, then at Lady L.

"Both of you get out of here," she says. "I've got this."

I give her a nod and she sprints towards Thundercloud again.

I don't have to be told twice, not with Lady L being injured. I grab her by the arm and drag her behind a desk.

"Let me see," I say and pull her hand away from her head.

"I'm fine," she says, slurring slightly.

She's… probably fine. The wound looks a lot worse than it is, but I'm pretty convinced she's got a concussion. She definitely needs medical attention.

"We gotta get out of here," I say. "Do you think you can manage a portal? Dr Hands has that townhouse in the city."

She blinks, trying to clear her head.

"Y-yeah," she says. "I think… yeah…"

She raises a hand and the fabric of reality rends open with an almost audible scream.

Without a second thought, I drag her through.

It closes right behind us and the silence falls like a wet blanket, the sounds of a super fight replaced with the night sounds of the city.

We're… not at Dr Hands' place. We're in a park somewhere. Still in Paris as far as I can tell. It's after midnight, so it's pretty deserted. That said, I'm really not a fan of the idea of dragging an obvious super who is very obviously injured through this place.

I can't even speak French. Like I tried downloading a dictionary into my brain and… well, it didn't go very well. I've mostly been relying on Emily to get around.

Jen. Focus.

The gauntlet Lady L gave me has connected to the internet, so that's good. Without a HUD, it takes me a minute to get oriented, but I manage to determine that she only missed our destination by a couple blocks, so that's good.

I get her arm over my shoulder and heft her up.

"Come on," I say. "It's not far."

She nods, but doesn't say anything. Actually she looks like she's going to be sick. That's probably not good.

We make it about a block and a half when she staggers and slumps in my arms.

"Hey, L! Hold it together just a little more. You're supposed to be rescuing me, remember?"

She huffs a laugh.

"No, I'm just backup. Your wife is doing all the work."

She turns and grips my collar. Her eyes are glazed, definitely a concussion.

"Never," she says deliberately. "Never, ever let her go. Never take her for granted."

So… I've heard their story, or at least Emily's side of it, but it hits a little differently when your wife's ex is staring you in the face and commanding you to cherish her.

I nod.

Oh my god, I think she's about to start crying. She lets go and staggers to a bench. I have to lunge to catch her before she smacks her head again.

"I fucked up," she blubbers. "I did it again, I fucked it all up."

"Um..."

What am I supposed to say to that? I'm sorry it didn't work out between you and my brother and also my brother-in-law who is also kind of your nemesis?

"I still love them," she says. "Dale and John were the best things to ever happen to me."

She takes a long ragged breath.

"I still love Emily," she wails.

Okay, so... you know that feeling when your best friend who's a supervillain admits she's still in love with your wife, but your wife used to be a superhero and had a nasty breakup about superhero stuff, but ended up falling in love and marrying a different supervillain?

Actually, that's really weirdly specific. You very probably don't know what that's like.

I rub her back gently. It seems like the right thing to do. But then she sniffs and she's blinking her tears away as she looks at me. Her lips part and there's something desperate in her face. She leans forward…

Is she…?

Oh shit, she is trying to kiss me.

Nope. Nope nope nope.

I gently take her shoulders and push her away.

"Sarah, buddy," I say as gently as I can manage. "I'm flattered, but we're not going to do that right now. Maybe you can buy me and Em breakfast and we can talk this over, but right now we're going to get you some medical attention."

[kharti]

[ My Eyes Only #9 ]

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Israel had barely heard a word anyone said all day. He made it through each meeting in a state of autopilot he didn’t know he had, repeating the same bullshit line of ‘I’ll look into that and send you the information when I have it.’

      ( Continue reading on AO3 or... )

Israel had barely heard a word anyone said all day. He made it through each meeting in a state of autopilot he didn’t know he had, repeating the same bullshit line of ‘I’ll look into that and send you the information when I have it.’

All he could actually do was stare at his desk and think about cleaning up Edward’s cum.

And how, secretly, he’d wanted to lick it up himself.

His depravity had been awakened so suddenly that he didn’t know what to do with himself. He imagined all the ways Edward could push him down and use him—and the fact that he wanted that, craved it, was a little intimidating.

How well did he really know Edward?

He looked up at his computer screen, where his private messages with the man sat open and void of any answers. It was just Edward’s professional headshot looking back at him with a relaxed smile and those dark eyes that set his blood on fire.

He knew what had been put on a resume, which had been curated to get hired. Resumes only told what a candidate wanted to share.

There was the company’s background check, and all he knew about that was there was no criminal record—that anyone knew about, anyway.

For all he knew, Edward was a complete fabrication. That was certainly more likely than the possibility that the man was the partner he’d always wanted and thought he’d never find.

Fucking hell. It had just been one time. One perfect time, but only one nonetheless.

He needed a lot more than that before he handed over the keys to his handcuffs. Or, at least, he tried to convince himself of that, because he didn’t want to believe he could be so easily won over.

Then, startling him with a physical jolt, his computer chimed and there was a new message on the screen.

Edward Teach: After your next meeting, could I borrow some of your time to discuss your calendar?

Israel’s fingers were moving before he could consider the implications of replying so quickly.

Israel Hands: Yes.

He groaned as he slumped back into his chair, one hand over his eyes as if he could hide from his embarrassment. His meeting had already ended, cut short by an excuse Israel made off the top of his head so he could instead sit and stew and wallow.

And now he had to wait seven minutes to discuss his ‘calendar’, which he already found himself hoping was a euphemism.

God, he was an idiot. The calendar was literally Edward’s job. It would be the worst thing to pick as code for sex, since that was the majority of their conversations.

Unless Edward planned to fuck him every time they talked about his calendar.

Which seemed excessive, and more than Israel could handle, but there was also the stray image of being drained of everything he had and still forced into a dry orgasm while Edward just smiled and talked about conflicting meetings and—

He reached out to type again before he lost his fucking mind.

Israel Hands: I’m free now.

There was almost no delay between when he hit enter and when the door opened.

“Thanks for yer time.” Edward’s voice was casual and unassuming, and Israel quietly watched him approach. “Just had a thought come to me.”

He couldn’t get a read on where this was going, so he forced himself to not think or feel anything yet.

Their eyes met, and he tried to find something there. Just a hint of what Edward wanted from him.

Before he could stop himself, his eyes flicked down to check for any sign of arousal against the long black skirt.

And then he felt his blood start to heat up just looking at the fabric that didn’t cling to Edward, but was still unendingly erotic. Edward stopped short of sitting down, and the skirt moved over his thighs and settled against them with gentle folds teasing at his form.

He forced himself to look at Edward’s face again, and swore he could feel it pinning him like an insect, analyzing him, seeing too much.

“Was thinkin’, might be good t’know yer personal calendar,” Edward said as he sat down.

Israel stiffened and tried to catch himself back up to the moment. “My personal calendar?”

“Yeah. So when y’have dinner plans, I can plan yer afternoon t’make sure nothin’ keeps y’too late.”

Dinner plans.

Israel clenched a fist against his own leg as he tried not to laugh, forcing the sarcasm as far away from himself as possible.

Yes, please make note of my sad fucking meals by myself.

Israel swallowed down the words to say instead, “That isn’t necessary.”

Edward shrugged. “It’s no problem. I’d be happy t’help make sure yer personal life doesn’t get eaten up by work.”

“That—”

Perhaps you could even assist in what wine to pair with the crushing sensation that waiters are pitying me for eating alone.

“It’s appreciated. But no.”

There was a quiet moment that followed, like Edward wanted to say more. Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking that this meant something that went beyond the duties of an executive assistant.

Israel broke the silence with a cautious, “Was that all?”

“Yeah.”

And that was it, then. Edward was just trying to excel at his job. Israel would almost be pleased at the initiative if it didn’t hurt so fucking much.

“Then—” Israel started.

“Do y’have dinner plans tonight?”

The question was stated so hastily that Israel wasn’t sure if it was still related to the job or—an invitation. “What?”

“Tonight.” Edward cleared his throat. “Do y’already have plans.”

Fuck. Wait. Was it possible that Edward was just using the calendar talk to—ask him on a date?

Israel’s throat went dry. “Is that why you wanted to see my personal calendar?”

“Nope.” Edward smiled. “Just thought I’d ask while we were on th’topic.”

Israel couldn’t remember the last time someone asked him on a date. Technically, Jack had tried several times, but his definition of a date was sloppy sex on a couch followed by a couple cans of beer.

This sounded like a proper dinner date. Sex might not even be involved at all.

He didn’t recognize his own voice as he replied, “I… don’t currently have dinner plans, no.”

And then Edward fucking winked, and Israel’s knees went weak.

“Mind if I change that?”

      ( next )

📚 view a list of all my current stories!

[stranger-dreams01]

Innocent until proven guilty

“No Sir.”

“Did your accomplice Edward Munson have anything to do with the murder of Chrissy Cunningham on March 21?”

“No Sir.”

“Are you in any way being coerced into giving these answers? Have you been threatened or promised anything in any way by another person in order to conceal the truth?”

“No Sir.”

(Y/N) clench your bottom jaw so harshly you’re sure your teeth will shatter as you stare into the eye of the new Sheriff, recognising him as the previous deputy, one of the deputies that showed up the day you were dragged from your home.

“See, we have reason to believe that you and Edward co-conspired to murder Miss Cunningham in cold blood as a part of this ritualistic cult you take part in.” He gestures towards the Hellfire logo on your chest from the borrowed shirt from Munson and it takes everything in you to bite back a sarcastic remark as you maintain the deathly eye contact, almost threatening him to look away first.

“I barely knew Chrissy, I just got back into town that day. I’m sure you remember why I was gone Sheriff? My father Mr Harrington is a good friend of yours as I remember. Eddie, not Edward, did not kill Chrissy. I did not kill Chrissy. Neither did we kill the others, we were too busy trying to hide from Jason Carver who was trying to kill us along with his loyal puppy dog friends on the Hawkins High basketball team.” You spit words like they’re laced with fire, leaning forward in the uncomfortable metal chair now, fists balled so tightly in your lap that she was sure your nails would draw blood from your palms in the confines of the handcuffs.

The sheriff remains unmoving in his chair, leaning back slightly with arms folded across his chest almost nonchalantly.

“Other murders? It’s interesting that you would bring them up. The second murder of Fred Bunson right outside the trailer park where Mr Munson lives and Chrissy Cunningham was murdered. Don’t you find that suspicious Miss Harrington? That there are two murders within walking distance of Mr Munson. One of which took place in his very home. Or the murder of Patrick McKinney at Lover’s Lake where you were also seen by officers and civilians with Mr Munson, Mr Harrington, Ms Wheeler and Ms Buckley.”

You already knew exactly how it sounded, if you hadn’t been there when Chrissy died you’d be sure that you wouldn’t believe what your saying either.

“You’re not listening to me. How could we have killed Fred if we were out by Lovers Lake in Rick’s house? We left the trailer park before the investigation even started. So why would we come back to kill someone with the police crawling all over the place? And with Patrick we were in the middle of the lake, unless Eddie is the second coming of Christ I don’t think he can walk on water. Now I’m done talking to you, so arrest me or let me go so I can go back to the hospital because my boyfriend was attacked. He isn’t a killer, he’s a victim.”

With a raised eyebrow the Sheriff finally shows a spark of surprise. “You have your fathers fire, I’ll give you that much (Y/N)”.

That was the last straw, you stand from her chair now, the metal of its legs screeching against the floor. “You call me a murderer but you turn a blind eye to what he did to me! We didn’t hurt anyone!”

*a snippet from my unfinished fic*

[after-witch]

Nowhere Near the Edge [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Title: Nowhere Near the Edge [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Synopsis: Follow up to 'I Never Could Tell You.' You've been kidnapped by a member of the Phantom Troupe, who makes you witness horrific torture and murder in a dingy, blood-soaked basement. And that's not even the worst part of it. 

Word count: 4306

Notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, descriptions of (non-reader) torture/gore/death, reader gets demeaned

It’s not that you don’t care about the people he’s torturing. You do, though they’re strangers. How can you not feel sorry for the people who beg for their lives, who beg for their families to be left alone, who pray for mercy with blood gurgling out of their mouths? 

It’s not that you don’t find it all horrifying, the way he orders you into the basement so that you can sit on a rusty folding chair and watch him “work.” His work consists of knives and hammers and pliers and all manner of terrible things. His work consists of blood and gore and wounds you didn’t realize that people could survive. But they do. Oh, they do. 

Of course it’s horrifying. Of course you feel a sickened type of pity for the people he’s--eventually, after much suffering and so much blood--killing. 

But…

You feel far more pity, far more frustration, far more stomach-twisting agony… for yourself.

Is it selfish to feel this way? Surely it is. But you think, after all that’s happened, after what your life has turned into, you are entitled to a little selfishness. It’s only right. It’s only fair. Your life has become a difficult, red-hot living hell that you barely managed to endure day in, day out. 

No, he hasn’t tortured you like he does the others he brings “home.” He hasn’t cut off your limbs or sewn your mouth shut or broken your hands. 

You thought he might, at first. You remember the first day he marched you into the basement. It wasn’t that long after he took you. A few days, maybe. Your eyes took in the table stained with old blood, the restraints, the sharp and nasty tools hanging up on the wall. There was an oppressive stinging stench of cleaning liquid, but it didn’t completely take away the lingering metallic odor of old blood and other vile liquids underneath. 

“Are you going to hurt me?” You’d asked. Your voice hadn’t been shaking, you didn’t have tears in your eyes. You asked it like you were asking him what you were going to eat for lunch. 

And maybe that’s why he had snorted, why you saw his eyes crinkle above his cowl the slightest bit. He had shaken his head and pointed to the chair. You sat, quiet, as you often were. And then he brought someone down the stairs, handcuffs keeping their arms pinned behind their back, and tortured them to death while you watched in silent shock and horror. 

“What did you think?” He asked afterward, blood on his face, his hands, his shirt. His voice had been high and teasing. An image came to your mind, an impression--that of a neighbor boy presenting a dead frog to a little girl, hoping she might shriek.

But you didn’t shriek. This was a shock, to be sure. You just watched another person die in horrible pain. There was real blood and real gore and real body parts in front of you. But what good would shrieking do? You never reacted like that, when you were scared or worried or horrified. You always managed to stay calm; to think things through, rational, weighty. That is the way your mind is always worked, and it hadn’t changed, despite the change in your circumstances. 

So, instead of crying, instead of calling him a monster, you simply pursed your lips and gave him an expression that the other students back at university often called “haughty.” Judgmental, snobbish. Like you were above it all. And you were, in a way. You refused to even dignify his question with an answer, consequences be damned. 

His eyes had widened, but he didn’t say anything, not directly. And you don’t think you imagined the way his eyes crinkled again, as if he was smiling underneath the now-bloodstained cowl. As if he liked what you said, even when he was trying to tease something else out of you.

That was the first time he made you watch someone die. It wasn’t the last. 

You wish you could say that you hate it when he brings you into the basement the most. That watching people die is the worst experience you have with the Phantom Troupe member who kidnapped you. That you simply wring your hands over having to watch people suffer over and over.

But it isn’t the thing you hate the most. Far from it. 

It’s what he does outside the confines of the basement that dig into you again and again, like the rusty hooks you’ve seen hanging up downstairs. Every little action is another shift, another press against your heart and soul, making you want to claw your way out of here in any way possible.

The problem is, it just isn’t fucking possible. You’ve had nothing but time to think of ways to escape. But it seems like every time you find a possible avenue to explore, he’s there to quash it, as if he can read your thoughts. It’s like he knows you almost as well as you know yourself. And you hate it.

He hasn’t hurt you. Not seriously. Some bruises on your arms from being dragged downstairs or sore muscles from standing in the same position for hours notwithstanding. Sometimes you think that you could handle it better if he was hurting you all the time. If he was threatening to break your fingers or tying you down and running a knife down your collarbone, maybe you could deal with it, compartmentalize it like you do the screams in the basement.

But what he does instead? It’s unbearable. It’s agonizing. It’s… 

A touch.

You feel his hand ghost along the small of your back and your breath hitches as your body jerks forward. And in that moment, you truly hate yourself for that sound, that soft, startled helpless little noise that he managed to get from you. 

“Scare you?” He asks, voice thick with amusement. If you could see his face, you imagine he’d be grinning. 

But you can’t see shit, because there’s still a thick blindfold wrapped around your eyes. You weren’t tied up--God, it would be so much easier on your mind if you were--but you kept your hands stiff at your sides all this time anyway, willing yourself to feel bound by something other than practical obedience to your captor’s whim. 

After he’d secured the blindfold with a tight knot some time ago, he’d simply whispered in your ear, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Keep it on for me. And don’t move.” 

Of course he was planning to sneak up on you.  You should have been prepared for it, but you were lost in thought. How long had he left you standing there, anyway? Ten minutes? Half an hour? Long enough that your feet had gone tired. But you didn’t move, even to ease that ache. Out of stubbornness. Out of the practical knowledge that when he told you to do something, you did it, because otherwise…

Goosebumps run up both your arms in the wake of his touch, of the startled biological response that you can’t help, no matter how much you try to prepare for him. 

Bastard. Fucker.  Your jaw clenches down and you resolve not to let him hear anymore unwilling sounds from your lips today. Not if you can help it. And you can help it, you think, tightening your fists. You can, you can, you can.

His hands rest against either of your sides, but this time you’re prepared. You stiffen underneath his touch, but you give him nothing more than that. Not even when his hands ghost up the delicate white fabric of the dress he put you in that morning. Not even when the feel of his fingers softly tracing the lace up your side reminds you of the utterly humiliating dress that you’re wearing. 

He makes you wear such stupid clothing. Soft things. Frilly things. Dresses, nightgowns, delicate fabrics and flowing skirts that are so far from the practical sweaters and tailored trousers in your carefully curated wardrobe at your apartment. 

This clothing makes you feel small and helpless and above all, stupid. It makes you feel like some wide-eyed doe, trapped in a horror movie. (You are, a part of you suggests. Isn’t that exactly what you are?)

Above all, it makes your cheeks burn. Especially in the aftermath of slipping on whatever dress he’s thrown at you and seeing his eyes rake you over, assessing. Especially when he smiles and coos at you. “Pretty.” 

He probably gets off on humiliating you, you reason. But even that knowledge, and the desire to prevent him from getting as much satisfaction as humanly possible in your situation, doesn't keep your cheeks from burning red hot every time. It doesn’t soothe your wounded pride or patch together the barely-hanging-on remnants of your dignity. 

“So quiet,” he murmurs, as he continues his touch. The warmth of his body feels oppressive against your back. You want to fight him. You want to turn around and do something, anything. Fight back! Scream at him! Scream at yourself, at the world. Let something out other than that low burning controlled irritation that slips out now and then. 

But you don’t.  You clench your fist tighter and you take slow, shallow breaths. 

It’s not in your nature to do otherwise. You know that. And besides…  you have to stay in control. Some control, any control. It’s all you have now. 

If you give that up, what do you have left? 

And that’s why, instead of thinking about the woman in the basement who died this morning cursing out the Phantom Troupe through blood-spattered breaths, you’re currently thinking about yourself. Your helplessness and your humiliation and your burning anger. At Feitan, at the Phantom Troupe, at Marie. At yourself. 

Is it wrong? Is it selfish? 

You don’t think it’s fair to make yourself decide the answer to those questions. Life is unfair enough, now. 

You feel Feitan moving, stepping around to your front now. His fingers ghost the straps of your dress and your shoulders tighten at the ticklish sensation. And then he reaches around and unties the blindfold, letting it fall to the floor unceremoniously.

You keep your eyes shut tight to avoid giving him the satisfaction of your full expression.

--

Feitan doesn’t believe in God. But if he did, he thinks he might just be willing to get on his knees and thank the Almighty Lord Above for giving him you. 

You’re a mess of contradictions. Stoic but afraid. Composed outwardly but so unsteady underneath.

Hard, prim, on the outside… but oh, you can be so much softer than you want to be on the inside. You hate it, and he loves it. There are such delightful prickles in his chest when he can tell that you hate everything he does to amplify that inner weakness of yours. 

He sees the way you snub your nose at the clothes he picks out, the way your lips curl in distaste, the way you try to tug down the short hems or shrink away from the flouncing skirts. The way your body takes a few moments to react to his orders, the way you keep your expressions neutral and composed as much as you can as you flitter about the house like a good little thing and do what he says.

Something in him curls up with such wicked content to see you, every single time. 

Not just because he likes the way you look in the clothing. Not just because he loves to see you so obedient for him. He does. But because more than that, he loves the way you look when you can’t do anything about it. When you frown and shove down irritation but you do what he says, because you know you must. When you stand so, so still as he touches you, lips ghosting over your jaw, hands groping your breasts, and he knows you want nothing more than to shove him away. 

There’s something else to it. He won’t voice it. Not to you, not to anyone else. But he wonders, he really does, if this is how Chrollo might react in the incredibly unlikely event that he would ever fall under the control of someone more powerful than himself. Would Chrollo have these little tics? These subtle tells that give away what you’re thinking to someone who has spent time studying you? 

Every reaction hat he can illicit from your body, your mouth, your very being is utterly thrilling. Like the strum of an fine instrument under his fingers. And you’re not even a nen user. Just someone who, in that ordinary world that Feitan has never truly lived in, would be considered strong and confident. 

Out there, anyway. In here, what else can  you be but his good little pet? 

Sit, stay, roll over. 

You hate it. But you do it anyway, because you are, above all, seeking to avoid pain. Isn’t everyone that comes into contact with him doing just that?  

He wonders if even if you have a limit. If there is something he could demand that you would finally deny, giving him free allowance to punish you properly. The thought makes him shudder with pleasure. He imagines your skin reddened under his fingers, the sting of his palm on your ass, maybe, or even thin stripes of blood from a whip…

He’s almost grateful for the cowl that hides the way his mouth curls up at the thought. 

Silly thing. Prideful thing. He’s having so much fun breaking it down, he can’t imagine why he should ever stop.

So he won’t. 

“Open your eyes,” he commands. 

And it takes a moment. He sees the thoughts in your head whirling, gears clicking. Your eyelashes stick to your skin for just a moment as you slowly release your clenched muscles and stare straight ahead, looking at him with the dullest expression you can manage  

All he has to do is glance down at your hands to see them clenched, the easiest sign of how perturbed you really are.

But you, precious you, see him looking and slowly, carefully release the tension in your fists, letting your hands lay limp at your sides. Do you think he’s fooled? Do you think he didn’t already enjoy the sight of your shaking fists? 

You’re lovely to him, and you probably don’t even know why.

“Stay still.”

His hands move to grip your jaw, firm but not squeezing. But you don’t push him away. You even keep your hands limp, probably through quite a considerable amount of effort. Your eyes flick to his face when he pulls down his cowl, and you look away just as quickly. He caught you, silly thing. 

He smiles. And your eyes narrow just the tiniest bit when he does, sending low pleasure down his stomach. Do you even know what you do to him? You must. At least in moments like this, when he’s content to give in this carnal desires.

He tilts your chin up with his fingers, moving your head from side to side, like he’s examining a prize horse up for sale at the market.

Your throat swallows and he watches the movement before leaning in and tracing one of the faint bruises his teeth left on your neck with his tongue. The skin underneath tenses, and he can feel the way your muscles tighten as his mouth makes contact.

Delicious.

You must want to get away so bad, he thinks. But you stay so perfectly still and let him do what he wants with you--because you must. 

What else is there for someone like you?

--

Every touch is sickening. You want to clench your fist so bad, but the knowledge that he’s seeing you do it keeps that urge at Bay. You want to deny him as much as you can. You want to keep even the smallest shred of your dignity intact for as long as possible. Just an ounce. Just an inch.

If you can.

And then his fingers are on your chin and it makes you wanna vomit. The soft gestures normally reserved for lovers are perverted and twisted.  You’re thankful, mildly, when his mouth goes for your throat and not your lips. You can’t stand it when he kisses you. Especially when he does it, on the occasional moment, gently--like he is your lover, like his something soft and sweet. Instead of who he is and what he is and what this all is.

Your throat swallows reflexively as he begins to kiss and suck at your neck. There’s residual soreness from the last time he decided to leave a wake of painful hickeys, but for now it’s merely an annoyance. Merely something that churns your stomach and makes bile rise to your throat. 

You feel like a doll. A dumb little doll in a frilly dress that can do nothing but stand and let some asshole do what he wants with you.

The feeling is only amplified when he pulls away, returning his hand to your chin and gently stroking it. Like you’re some prize. Like you’re his doll. 

“You have been good,” he says simply. 

You simply stare at him, dull as you can manage.

“Don’t you want something?” He offers. There’s the hint of a smirk on his face, a smug expression that you’re all too familiar with by this point. You ignore it as best you can. You ignore him as best you can.

But it doesn’t last.

The hand on your chin tightens. 

“Answer.” Just a hint of annoyance to his voice, the stretch of tension that tells you that you’ve reached the thinnest part of the tightrope. Better not press your luck.

You set your jaw low. But you do answer.

“Like what?”

His grip softens, and it makes your stomach drop when you recognize the move for what it is--training. Be good, and he’ll be good back.

That smirk returns and his voice is lower, taking on an almost huskier tone 

“A reward. For being so good for me.” 

And oh, there’s a snake inside you that wants to lash out with venom and tell Feitan where to stick his fucking reward.

There’s something else inside, too. A curdling feeling when you realize you have no idea that he might consider a “reward” for you. There are so many terrible possibilities that you wish you’d acted out, if only to avoid this very conversation.

“Cat got your tongue?” 

You shrug.

“I… can’t really think of anything.”

It’s not a lie. You don’t think about rewards or things that you want anymore. You just think about what you don’t want. You don’t want to be dressed up like a doll. You don’t want to be told what to do. You don’t want your life controlled by this piece of shit. 

You don’t get what you want, anymore. 

He flicks your forehead, and it’s such an odd, childish gesture that you can’t help the confusion that crosses your face. You regret it immediately, because he sees, and you’ve given him so much already today.

“Don’t worry,” he says, reassuring. “Thought of something for you already.” 

Your throat feels like it has something hard and sharp stuck in it when you swallow. You don’t really wanna hear the next words out of his mouth, but you don’t have a choice. 

He jerks his head towards the kitchen and walks away. Your limbs feel stiff as you follow, regret in every footstep. You should just tell him you don’t want a reward. But then he might use that as an incentive to punish you in some way. Which would be worse? Whatever he has planned, or whatever he might do if you stop obeying him.

In the end, you can’t choose, which is perhaps the hardest pill to swallow because it’s the truest action you can take. It’s not up to you anymore. It’s up to Feitan now.

In the center of the kitchen table is a cell phone. Your legs start to feel heavy and numb as you sit down, waiting for Feitan to do the same.

As he sits, he pushes the phone towards you.

“Go ahead. One number on it.”

The dryness in your mouth seems to come from nowhere, and you lick your lips, desperate for some relief. Who is he having you call? He said it was a reward, but… things are not so simple with Feitan. 

Never has the prospect of a phone call been both terrifying and hopeful at the same time. 

Slowly, with shaking fingers, you lift up the phone and open it up to the contacts list. There’s no name, just a number. You don’t know how long it takes you to press SEND, but you do, and press the phone to your ear.

Dread and elation mix terribly in your stomach as it rings, making you feel sick, making your heart pound.

“Hello?”

It’s Marie. 

Immediately, your eyes dart to Feitan. He’s watching you with an almost placid expression, like the type you usually strive to keep on your face. It’s unnerving. You’d rather he smile. You’d rather he gloat. Instead, he’s… watching. Observing. 

You’re torn between focusing on keeping your outward control intact and focusing on the voice coming from the speaker.

“Marie,” you say, and there’s so much in your voice that you can’t quite pinpoint. Worry. Bitterness. Regret. 

“I… I’m sorry,” she says, quickly, half-muttering through a choked voice. “Really. I didn’t mean--I didn’t want, I didn’t want you to--” her words cut off and you get the impression that she’s muffling sobs into her hands.

You feel terrible, because you have to bite back the urge to tell her that she’s not the one stuck watching people get tortured to death in some psychopath’s basement. … Well, probably. You certainly don’t know much of anything about the man who took Marie, but you get the feeling that if Marie had been forced to witness people getting killed on a regular basis, she would have been in far worse shape when you found her.

Instead, you drum your fingers on your arm.

“Marie. Calm down. You have to calm down if you want to talk.” 

You hear a loud sniffle on the other end. She clears her throat.

“O-Okay,” she says, softer, a little calmer. “How…. how are you?”

There’s a pause, and in the pause you can hear her telling herself that it was a stupid question. And it was.

“I’m… alive,” you say, and you can’t help the way your eyes glance at Feitan once more. Still nothing in his expression. It only makes the pit in your stomach harder.

“Has he hurt you?” Her voice is soft and strained and whispered. “What is he doing to you? God, I’m so sorry--”

“I’m fine,” you bite out, harsher than you meant to. You soften your tone for the next part. “Really. I’m… he’s…”

But you don’t finish, because you’re not stupid enough to talk bad about your kidnapper when he’s sitting right across from you. And when you’re only a few steps away from the staircase that leads into his literal torture basement. 

“You can tell her,” Feitan says, watching you from across the table. There it is, now, on his lips--the ghost of a smile. “Tell her everything. Why not?” 

Is it a command? You can’t exactly decide.

“What--what does he do to you?” There’s this empty sound in Marie’s voice that inspires both pity and ire. She’s sorrowful, but she isn’t you. You knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t out of place being under someone’s thumb, whether it was you pushing her to get back to school or the leader of the Phantom Troupe keeping her like some sort of caged bird. But you? The same could not be said about you.

You bite your lip. And then you tell her. Everything. You tell her about all the people you’ve watched die. You tell her about the clothes he makes you wear. You tell her about all the times he’s ordered you to sit still while he touches you, hands groping, pinching, taking whatever he wants. You tell her about everything, all while Feitan watches, chin in his hand, expression almost dreamy and faraway.

By the end, you feel some sort of cathartic release. You got it out to someone. Not to someone who can give you sage advice on how to handle it, but fuck did it feel good to give your thoughts a voice for once.

The same cannot be said about Marie, who began crying about halfway through and has yet to stop. It wouldn’t be out of place to call her borderline hysterical at this point, but she ignores your interjections, your attempts to make her relax.

There’s more sobbing, pitiful sounds, some high-pitched begging--”Please, Chrollo, make him let her go”--and then the line cuts dead.

There’s silence for a few moments. And in that silence, everything clicks. You’re being rewarded. Or so he says. You got some emotional release, however brief.

But for Marie, the phone call was meant as a punishment. Now she’s left to deal with the heavy regret of knowing exactly what her friend is going through. Or at least the surface parts of it. 

Your hands feel tingly as you slide the phone back in the center of the table. 

“Feel good to say it?” Feitan asks. And you get the sense he’s not teasing, from the way he’s still looking at you, chin cupped in his hand, eyes alert and focused on nothing but your expressions.

You think about it. Why not be honest? You have nothing else. 

“A little.” 

The chair scrapes against the floor as he stands, making his way over to you. There’s the innate instinct to set your expression into neutral, prepared for anything. For him to pull you up and drag you into the basement or his bedroom or who knows where.

Instead he reaches out and, gentle as anything, pats your head.

”Keep being a good girl, you get more nice rewards.”

Oh, the fucking bastard. Your head practically whips around as you shoot him the angriest glare you can manage, cheeks burning, mouth pursed, nostrils flaring in irritation. How dare he. How dare he treat you like some porcelain doll, some sweet pet, some thing to manipulate and manage--

He chuckles, throwing his head back a bit, and the genuine appearance of mirth on his face is both terrifying and annoying as hell. Hot humiliation flushes in your chest, sharp with irritation at yourself for losing so much control. You’ve given him too much. You’ve lost the day to him, giving him what he wants, what he’s been trying to tease out of you for hours. 

You hate him. 

There’s always tomorrow to try again. And the day after that. And the day after that. And the day after that…

[lokis-army-77]

Surprise for You (Pt. 2)

Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 2335

It's been six months since the reader has gotten her nipples pierced. Eddie can finally touch them all he wants.

Warning: 18+ Nipple piercings, dom!eddie, use of princess, sweetheart, titjob, tiny bit of choking, bondage (use of handcuffs), P in V, unprotected sex, spit as lube. The tiniest bit of mechanic!eddie

Part 1 Masterlist (Taglist linked here)

It had been six long months of religious cleaning and swatting away Eddie’s grabby hands from the piercings. As it came closer to time for them to be healed, I could see Eddie's restraint from touching and pulling at them wither, even though I was allowing him to be the sole person to clean them just to ease a tiny fraction of his want. 

After six months and one day, I determined they were fine, fully healed, and ready for whatever either of is desired. 

To make it a special occasion, one that we both were unlikely to forget, I went on a shopping trip to a body jewelry store to pick out the perfect thing. Eddie was fairly simple to entertain, like a baby or a raccoon, anything shiny caught his eye and his hands automatically gravitated toward it. The jewelry store had hundreds of pieces, but I knew as I saw the two gold bars capped off at the ends by two bright red rubies, that those were what I wanted. 

They were beautiful in their packaging, but even more beautiful as I replaced the original steel bare and ball jewelry I had in. The jewels glimmered in the dim light of Eddie’s bathroom as I twisted to look at them in the mirror. My hands slowly caressing the soft skin of my breasts, fingers delicately running over my nipples, causing them to perk up. A soft sigh released itself from my mouth at the feeling, a warm tingling sensation dropping to the bottom of my stomach. 

If just looking at myself in the mirror like this turned me on, I couldn’t imagine what it would do to Eddie when he comes home from work. It was almost four, he would be home soon from the shop. So, I quickly hid all the evidence that I had changed the piercings out, knowing he would come straight in, kiss me and then take a well-needed shower. 

Placing one of his worn-out Dio shirts on, I laid in bed, reading until he finally arrived. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He mumbled as he barged into the room, throwing his leather jacket over a chair and then turning to me smiling. “Missed you.” He kissed my forehead. 

“Missed you too. Hurry up in the shower okay?” I called after his quickly retreating form. 

While he was in the bathroom, I hurriedly took all my clothes off and laid comfortably in his bed, arms up, chest out to give him the best view when we walked back into the room. 

I could hear him banging around in the bathroom over the sound of the shower running, then the short sound of him yelling, “Fuck me,” in a dejected tone. I only laughed, realizing he had probably knocked over some of the soap bottles on the edge of the bathtub.

I didn’t have to wait long for him to shut the water off. He came sauntering back into the bedroom with a blue towel wrapped around his waist and water still dripping from the ends of his long hair. 

He stops halfway into the room, eyes wide and staring, drawn to the glittering jewelry. I smirk as a breath falls from his lips before he is swallowing heavily. My breathing, in turn, becomes labored as he openly goggles my body, my thighs press together tight when a sudden gush of arousal spreads through my lower body. 

“Shit.” His hands clenched at his sides over and over. “Those are new.” He observed, stepping closer to the bed. 

“They are,” I confirmed.

“When- when did you-?” 

“Today. It’s been six months. I would have thought you’d remember since you have been so impatient to get your hands on them.” I teased. 

“Fuck, Sweetheart. You mean I can?” He made a grabbing motion with his hands, I shook my head laughing. 

“Yes, you can.” I couldn’t help but keep giggling at the childish gesture. 

Eddie let out a strained growl before letting the towel wall to the floor and climbing on top of me in bed. 

“I’ve waited so fucking long to get my mouth on these.” He moaned, right hand tracing up my side and coming up to grope my breast. Squeezing it gently, watching the jewelry dance in the light, he moaned again, “The stones are my favorite color,” then descended upon my nipple with his mouth.

I couldn’t help but sigh, feeling the hot, wetness of his tongue playing with the piercing, lapping over my hardened nipple. It may have been hard for Eddie to keep from touching them, but it had been even harder for me to live without the pleasure of him playing with my nipples. 

What Eddie said when he first saw the piercings was right, they were way more sensitive than before. Eddie only had to graze the skin where the piercing was residing and I could feel a warmth beginning to build in my lower abdomen. 

While attending to the one nipple, Eddie’s other hand came up to play with the other, gently circling it with his thumb before pinging it between it and his pointer finger, giving it a small tug. 

“Ah-” The moan came out breathless and my hips bucked up to rub against him. “Feels good.” I tossed my head to the side. 

“Yeah, baby?” He asked, popping off in search of the other nipple to give it the same treatment. 

“Uhuh.” I nodded my head. 

My hands found their way into his damp hair, tangling themselves in it, pushing him further into my breast. Soft moans and gasps were leaving my lips almost constantly now as he sucked on my tit. 

“Please, Eddie.” My hips bucked up against him again, and he groaned when my pubic bone came into contact with his quickly hardening cock. His hips ground into me in response. 

“Before I fuck you, I wanna fuck those gorgeous tits of yours, Princess. You gonna be good for me and let me do that?” He’s slowly pulling away to set back on his knees. 

I nodded my head almost violently, swallowing thickly as the need to just feel him against me grew and grew. Eddie almost immediately grabbed my legs, pulling me down the mattress until I was lying flat. He called up my body, situating his legs on either side of my torso. 

“Want you to push those pretty tits together, okay?” He leaned down to give me a kiss, and I did as he asked. My hands cupped my breasts, squeezing them before pushing them together. 

Eddie smiled as he grabbed hold of his red, leaking cock, spitting on it and rubbing it in with his hand. “Fuck,” He shuddered. 

I watched in delight as he slowly the weeping head of his cock to the underside of my breast. As he pushed into the space between the soft mounds of flesh, I could feel just how scorching hot he was, I could feel how hard he was as his cocked throbbed against my skin. 

He pushed in slowly at first but then, once the head of his cock peeked out from the top of my breasts, he pulled back and started to slam his hips forward. Over and over again, he fucked himself into my breasts all the while eyes unwavering from their hold on the jewelry. 

“Shit, Princess, you feel so fucking good.” One of his hands came to rest on my neck, pushing down a little around my windpipe, just barely cutting off my airflow. 

I moaned deeply at the feeling. “Please, Eddie. Please fuck me.” I gasped out a breath. “Want you inside of me.” 

He continued to fuck himself into my chest, grasping at the sheets when his thrusts became jagged. “Fuck,” He groaned, stilling his movements before pulling away from my breasts and scooting his way back down my body. Slotting himself between my legs once again.

“Please, please, please,” I begged, bucking my hips up into him, desperate for any kind of touch. My cunt was hot and needy, arousal was already seeping through my folds and down onto the sheets. 

“Hold on a second baby,” Eddie grinned down at me as he reached for something on the headboard. “Let's put these on, hum?” He dangles his pair of handcuffs in front of my face. 

For the whole six months, I wouldn’t let Eddie be rough, not wanting to somehow jeopardize the healing process with excess jostling. That included the handcuffs since I would use my hands to hold my breasts in place while we fucked. But now, with them fully healed, he could do whatever he wanted. 

“Yes, please.” I bit my lip in anticipation. Writing under him in anticipation of the cold metal locking me to the headboard. 

Eddie, slowly lifted my arms one after the other, cuffing them, binding me to one spot, unable to move. With my arms up and out of the way, my breasts were perfectly pushed out on display. He took his time trailing open-mouth kisses down my body. Stopping for only a few seconds to suck upon each nipple again before pulling away. 

“Eddie,” I sighed, tugging at the handcuffs, feeling his fingers finally tenderly rubbing my aching clit. 

I watched through lidded eyes as he grabbed hold of his cock and pressed the head against my cunt. 

“Mmm,” we hummed in unison before he pushed himself fully inside of me. 

Eddie braced one hand beside my head and the other held tight to my left thigh, keeping it in place against his hip. 

“Shit,” he rasped, “God your so wet and so fucking tight.” He brought his head down to rest in the valley between my breasts as he started to rut against me. I could feel him deep within, prodding at my very being. 

“Faster, Eddie, faster,” I begged, pulling at the cuffs again. 

He picked himself up and looked into my eyes for only a moment. In that quick glance, I could see the dominance swirling around there. In an instant, he had the leg that was flush against him, hanging over his shoulder as he started to drive into my cunt. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” I cried out, hands trying to find purchase on the headboard. 

Eddie’s hand steadily made its way over my thing and up to my breast. The callouses on his fingers were comforting as he pinched and pulled at my right nipple. His deep thrusts helped to bounce the other, free, breast. 

“That’s it, Princess, squeeze me tight.” 

At his words I was hyper-aware of him inside of me, every drag of his cock against my spongy, soaked walls had my back arching off the bed and my whole body reeling under his expert touch. 

My legs wrapped around him, feet pushing into the flesh of his ass, trying to keep him deep within me. 

“Fuck, Eddie! Ah!” I cried when the tethers of the world holding me down started to fracture and break. My moans became wonton and the loud lewd squelching of Eddie’s cock pummeling into my cunt echoed in the tiny bedroom. 

“Gonna- ah! Gonna cum. Please, I’m go-gonna cum!” I was so close to tears with the intense rapture of desire and ecstasy flowing through me.

“Hold it for a little longer Princess,” Eddie cooed, fingers lithe over my breasts. “Twenty seconds, you can do it.” 

I couldn’t help but shake my head no. I felt so close to the edge as he counted down slowly. My cunt spasmed erratically, contracting around him. My moans turned into exalted screams of his name.  

By the time he had reached five, I was shaking uncontrollably, trying to hold everything in for the last few seconds. My hands tugged harshly at the handcuffs, so much so, that I would have pulled myself up the bed if it were not for Eddie holding me in place. 

At Eddie’s utterance of the number one, it was like a flood of euphoria washed over me. My eyes closed tightly and all my muscles went rigid. His hips sputtered and slowed as he spilled into me, slowly pulling out and dropping his head. 

I keened into Eddie as he placed short kisses all over my chest, tongue slipping out to lick at my clammy skin. Both of our breathing was labored as we lay there, melding into the other. 

“Eddie,” I whined. 

“Hum?” He hummed around my nipple, gently sucking again. 

“My hands.” I jiggled the cuffs.

“Oh, right.” He picked himself up, smirking at me as he grabbed the key from the nightstand and unlocked my hands from their confines. 

“Shit,” I hissed as I brought them down to my chest. The blood was flowing back and leaving my fingers tingly. 

“You okay?” Eddie asked, sitting up and taking one of my wrists in his hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss. “Maybe we should invest in some padded cuffs if you are gonna be pulling yourself up the bed like you were. You’re already starting to bruise.” He looked at me with his big puppy dog eyes. 

I shrugged, “Felt good at the time. The bruises will just be a reminder.” I rolled over on my side, snuggling into him. 

His other hand not holding my wrist nestled itself in my hair, massaging my scalp. “You know. I’ve been thinking.” 

“‘Bout what?” I hummed.

“Maybe I should get my nippled pierced too. So we can match.” 

I couldn’t help the giggle which flew out of me. “Really?” 

“Really. I think they are super hot on you, Sweetheart, why wouldn’t they be hot on me?”

I pulled my wrist away from him and trailed my fingernails up his chest and flicked his own nipple playfully. “Go for it hot stuff.” I laughed. “I’d love to see them. But that means a whole nother six months of waiting, think you can handle that?” 

“Definitely.” He chucked.

Eddie Taglist: @loveofmylife12@ellabellabus07@wickedwitchofwest@siriusstwelveyears@ameliakf13 @milly-louise @darkscrossfire @harrypotter-posts @dedeinspire @ccosmic-illusion @eddiesbirdie @castiels-gracex @luvwanda @whimsywisher @wool-hat7 @callsignthunder @corrodedhawkins

[hyunsuks-beanie]

This is All Yoon Jeonghan's Fault

Pairing: Jeonghan x idol! afab! reader

Content Warnings: Smut; jealous sex; hard dom Jeonghan; sadism; slight hints of masochism; fingering; cunnilingus; masturbation nipple play; bondage; use of neckties, handcuffs; whips and vibrators; edging; overstimulation; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!); use of pet names (Princess, Doll)

Word Count: 6658 words (the exact count matters, trust me)

Mellow speaks: Soooooo we're finally here and I'm screaming right now!!! This is my first ever actual collab and that too with my lovely Lemon!!! And I kid you not, this really is all Yoon Jeonghan's fault, because we're not holding back today. Also, I'm so pissed rb bc this was scheduled for 4 PM est but Dumblr ate my post up I hate it here.

Tagging: @sweethyuka @yedamology @enhacolor @axartia @hyunsuksmygod  @duolingofanaccount @zurimochi 

Oh and yeah, here's the reason why it's all Yoon Jeonghan's fault.

Go read the first half on (@shhhhhimthinking) Lemon's account first, because we wanna be menaces today *insert evil smirk*

off his pants.

“Explain yourself. Maybe if I like your excuse I’ll go easier on you.”

He trailed the cold metal of his belt buckle across your perked nipple and you shivered from the sensation.

You looked up at him with lustful eyes as you took in the man before you. You had never seen him like this before and seeing him like this now excited you to no end. Did you even want him to go easier?  No. You wanted everything he could give you. Jeonghan watched the way your beautiful eyes lit up with amusement as you seemed to be choosing your words carefully. You didn’t seem in the least bit remorseful, in fact you looked proud, almost a bit too much for his taste. 

“I wanted you to feel so jealous but not be able to do anything about it. I wanted you to want me so badly but not be able to do anything but sit in your chair just watching. I wanted to know that while he was dancing with me you were sitting there burning with desire. The desire to claim me back. I want you to want me.”

Jeonghan gazed at you as he took in all that you said. He leaned into you until his warm breath tickled your ear.

“Then you're not going to leave this bed until you are completely filled with me. Until I’ve made sure you know just how much I want you.”

He sat back up.

“No one can have what’s mine.” He said as he got off the bed and walked out of the room.

The cold air mixed with his worlds and danced across your skin sending shivers through your body. You wondered what he was doing but you didn’t have to guess for long as he walked back in with something red in his hand. You couldn’t get a clear view of it but as he walked closer it suddenly dawned on you.

“Where’d you get that?” You exclaimed. You wiggled in your restraints, trying to get a better view.

“When I couldn’t find you in your room I took something else instead.” He said casually as he laid it gently on the bed before taking off his vest and then his shirt. He picked up the switch and walked over to you with slow seductive steps. 

He held your prop above you as he let the cold tassel trail across your skin. 

“If you would’ve told me that you like things like this we could’ve gotten one sooner.” He said as he trailed the switch slowly over your clothed core that craved more attention all the way to your perked breasts.

You whimpered and squirmed as he tickled your skin with his teasing. He gave your sensitive nipple a light whip earning a breathy moan from you. But breathy wasn't the way he liked your moans, deciding to turn it into a louder whine as his lips soon got wrapped around the exact spot he had teased a moment ago, the warm feeling of his saliva on your bud making shivers run down your spine. 

Sucking on your breast just a little before pulling away, Jeonghan had wasted no time in making the leather further down your body, your right thigh being met with a delicious sound as a red mark bloomed in the whip's wake. He was barely doing anything, and yet, you couldn't help but find yourself on the edge already, wanting him to take you just then. 

And your desperation was not lost on your boyfriend as a lazy smirk had made his lips curl up, his fingers dancing along your bare torso while he decided to test you a little more. You deserved it after all, or so he told himself as he had said, "I hope you're enjoying the…..arrangement I've got in place for you." 

The words were hard enough to comprehend in your inebriated state, drunk on lust and begging to be ruined, but any hopes of coming up with a reply were crushed the second you felt a sharp tip coming in contact with your your clothed heat, a sweet pain that almost made you release into your panties. He had you under his spell, and despite having pretended to be the one in control earlier, you found yourself thanking him for being rude.

You were writhing under your bindings, silently pleading for him to give you more already, but no matter how hard you tried, you knew it was going to be useless until he wanted to give it to you. Jeonghan was going to tease you until you were crying, and he was going to make you whimper and beg. That was the thought you had in mind when you found yourself being pulled out of it at the sudden pressure being applied to your still sensitive core, the tie around your wrists coming undone to reveal soft red marks.

"Tsk," Jeonghan had mused, making you open your eyes only to see his hand right against your crotch, the wetness coating his digits through the lace of your underwear, "Need to use something more…..resistant, don'tcha think?" 

And with that, the feeling was gone, leaving you whining at the loss of contact when he pulled away from you entirely, chuckling just a little as he sauntered over to the wardrobe. 

You were losing it, but it still wasn't enough to make you not frown your brows as you watched him, taking his time opening the drawers and rummaging through them. "What's he doing?" you thought to yourself, but before you could put that thought into words, he was looking back at you, his smirk even more sinister as your eyes landed on the small, shiny black object he held in one hand, and the deep red object that dangled from the fingers of the other. 

The sight knocked the breath out of you, your toes curling and uncurling as he walked back over, turning the vibrator on. You wanted to ask him where he got all that stuff from, but yet again, your boyfriend beat you to it. 

"Been saving them for the right occasion," was all he said, reaching over to catch your wrists in another binding, this time much harder and more steadfast than the first.

As the black cuffs made their way to the bedpost with your hands in their clasp, you couldn't help but gaze up at his form, his chest peeking out from under the top two buttons that had been opened. The tugging on your wrists felt cold and foreign, the metal cutting into your skin as you found yourself struggling against it too. 

All this while the toy was lying next to your thigh, the vibrations coursing through it gave your leg a preview of what was to come. The wait, of course, wasn't too long, Jeonghan's hums dispersing the silence as he made quick work of your panties, your soaking pussy fully exposed to the cold air as you attempted to press your thighs together. 

But he wasn't having it, his hand pushing them apart once more as he smacked his lips, feeling his mouth water at the mere sight. "Delicious, he whispered, smirking as he watched you drip, "You just can't get enough of me, huh?" And he knew he wasn't wrong, because no matter how bold you tried to be, you were still putty in his hands. So he was going to use it to his advantage, wasting not one moment in shoving the vibrator deep through your folds, a loud moan slipping past your lips at the impact that had you reeling. 

It was all a blur of moans and whines for a few tense minutes after that, your body thrashing over the bedsheets as you called for him to let you  finish already, failing to make him relent in the slightest, all while his fingers added pressure where the toy couldn't, rubbing against your clit.

"Enjoying ourselves, are we?," he chuckled darkly, relishing in the way your walls clenched around the tip of the toy. 

Before you knew it, you were on edge, your body convulsing under the waves of pleasure that he was making you feel. As the vibrations traveled deep into your entire being, you could feel yourself giving in to the force of your impending orgasm. You were already sensitive from the teasing and the previous orgasm that came with it’s fare share of overstimulation earlier, so it wasn't a surprise that you soon were almost near the edge, ready to fall off.

And then, the pleasure was gone for the second time, leaving you groaning in agony as you flailed your legs and struggled against your cuffs, while sinister laughter filled the room. Your climax was receding away at an alarming rate, until it wasn't, ripples of sweet pain racking through your body as the tip was inside you once more, deeper than ever. 

Less than a minute was all it took for you to finally reach your high, your juices spilling out of you and almost making you lose consciousness from how amazing it felt. 

Your breathing heavy and your chest heaving, you opened your eyes after what felt like centuries, only to realize that your boyfriend wasn't next to you any longer. Instead, he was standing at the foot of the bed, naked to the bone as his hand pumped his member. 

"Gave me a good show," he smirked, the word "Sweetheart" rolling off his tongue in a way that made your skin crawl, but in a good way. "Guess you do deserve a prize." 

He reached over and unlocked your hands from the bed.

His words and actions caused you to let out a soft sigh, your lips curling into a gentle smile as your foggy mind believed his misleading words. But as he climbed onto the bed and hovered over your form, cuffing your hands to each other, you realized that wasn't what he had in mind.

The very next moment, he confirmed your suspicions, his balls hitting you right in the pelvis as he thrust his cock hilt-deep inside you. He was relentless from the get-go, his hips rocking against your own as he made your walls clench around his girth. "Tell. Me. Who. Got. You. This. Tight. Huh?," he asked with each thrust, taunting you while grunts and groans emanated from the depths of his chest. 

"You're. Fucking. Mine," he didn't stop, his moans mixing with yours as your body latched onto his for dear life. He had already driven you past the point of insanity, that had been his plan since the beginning. Before you could stop yourself, you were releasing your pent-up frustration all over his member, your constricted hands hooked around his neck and your nails dug into his back as you rode out your high.

You were spent already, but Jeonghan showed no signs of stopping or even wanting to stop, his groans only growing louder as he continued to pump in and out of you, chasing his own orgasm. He was feral in that moment, almost animalistic as he kept up the pace, never one to slow down. You were crying by now, tears streaming down your cheeks while he kept up his assault on your aching core, pinning you to the mattress. 

It was only a matter of minutes before you felt a familiar knot in the pit of your stomach and another wave of pleasure washing over your being. You found your toes curling, the lustrous sensation breaking through you in ripples and pulses causing your eyes to screw shut, the bedsheets getting soaked with you yet again. This time, it was enough to make Jeonghan cum too, his seed filling you up to the brim.

It had you moaning like nothing else, the thought of him breeding, the feeling of him overflowing in your pulsing core sending you into a frenzy. 

"That's right, take all of me, let me remind you who owns you," Jeonghan grunted as he continued to grind into you, meeting you halfway for the third time that night, which you were sure would also be your last. He was still going at full-speed, bent on completely obliterating your insides as he thrusted even harder, your sweet spot crying tears of joy and pain and threatening to come undone in a way it never had before, the knot in your stomach close to bursting to pieces. 

"Gonna nail it into your head," he grunted against your ear, biting down on your shell as his moves never stopped, "Gonna teach you never to mess with me again." You were in bliss by now, completely ignorant to everything else except the feeling of his dick filling your insides, showing you stars. Everything was a blur, from your sense of time to the knowledge of your whereabouts. It was only him, sending your mind dancing as he continued to hit that sweet spot inside you, over and over. 

It felt like an instant, and at the same time, it was an eternity, your insides twisting and churning as you found your release, this time harder than the previous three, the whole ordeal making your body shake and convulse. He wasn't done though, still keeping at ramming into your clit for heaven knows how long, till he reached his climax, his cum and yours now soiling the mattress, his seed firmly inside your hole as he collapsed on top of your chest in exhaustion.

Your chests pressed against each other as your hearts pounded to the very rhythm of your sinful night. You felt his breathing slowing against your hot skin, the feeling of sweat moistening your bodies. He propped himself up with one arm and used his other hand to caress your tired face. 

“Baby?” He called for you gently, the fire in his voice now washed away with the pent up frustration he had released. He was back to being the soft Jeonghan you knew and loved, showing you that one side of him that he reserves only for you. 

You were so spent, all you could do was hum a weak response. The aftershock of your orgasms sent a soft shiver through your body that drew Jeonghan's attention to your arms that were still bonded by the cuffs. When he slowly lifted himself and pulled out, you found yourself groaning not only at the sensation in your swollen pussy but also at the feeling of his precious cum seeping out of your body. 

He tenderly undid you cuffs from around your wrist, softly rubbing the red marks that were left. 

“Does it hurt baby?” He cooed at you as he slowly helped you sit up and put your back against the headboard, mindful of your pained expressions and your soft hisses. 

As he did, he watched with concern as your face scrunched at the feeling of your sore body moving.

“Was I too rough?” He asked, his voice now coated in panic as he held your hand and softly stroked the mark on your wrist.

You shook your head no, a smile blooming on your exhausted face. 

“You were everything I wanted and everything I didn’t know I needed.”

His face also relaxed as he saw your expression.

“Do you want to take a bath?” Jeonghan softly whispered to you as if he was afraid to startle you out of your calm.

“Yes please.” You said as excitedly as you could manage with your depleted energy. 

He quickly hopped up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom. You felt yourself drifting in and out of sleep for a few minutes while he got everything ready. Then you felt Jeonghan gently slide his arm under yours and you opened your eyes to see him smiling at you warmly. 

“Let’s get you in the bath.” He said affectionately as he helped you towards the bathroom.

You gingerly slid into the water that was the perfect temperature and smelled of your favorite soothing bath salts. 

He got up to leave and your face did its signature pout. "Won't you join me?," you asked, your voice hopeful as you thought about cuddling him in the bath. 

“I’m just going to go change the sheets.” He chuckled, giving a loving boop of your nose. “After all, we made quite the mess.”

His last comment left you blushing as you had no choice but to recount the night. He gave another chuckle at your cuteness before hurrying off to finish his task. You found yourself drifting off again, only barely registering his body when it slid into the water behind you. You instinctively leaned back into him and he took a washcloth to help you wash up. You felt him tenderly dabbing the marks that were left on your skin as he softly asked you once again if they hurt but all you could say was no. They didn’t hurt, not like that, they were simply temporary memories of a very eventful night. 

You took the moment to take a few healing breaths. You were too tired to speak anymore and he understood completely. You continued to relax as the sound of him softly humming set the mood for the rest of the night into a peaceful one.

After you were all soaked out, he helped you stand up before letting the water out and holding you against him while you both quickly rinsed off in the shower. Jeonghan wrapped a towel around you and led you back to your bed that now had fresh crisp sheets on them and your favorite bottle of lightly scented moisturizer that always helped you relax. 

He took the towel from around you softly laughing at the way you instantly began to shiver before helping you lotion your sore body. You could never be too sure he didn’t have ulterior motives but the way his hands caressed and massaged your tired skin was therapeutic and calming so you didn’t care to ask, instead you lost yourself in his gentle touch. When you couldn’t bear to stand anymore, you leaned against his chest and whimpered to let him know just how exhausted you were. 

“Alright alright.” He said with a chuckle. “I’m almost done love.” 

Jeonghan quickly finished, made sure you were both moisturized and then held up the covers for you as he guided you into bed. You let out a slightly dramatic sigh of relief at being able to finally rest your aching body and Jeonghan smiled at you fondly. He put the lotion back in the bathroom and turned off all the lights. When he came back you had the covers lifted and ready for him as your warm body and sugary smile welcomed him. He climbed in and snuggled into you, wrapping his arms around you and laying on your breast which he saw as his own personal pillow. You used delicate fingers to rub his back, wanting to give him back some love as you attempted to sooth the scratches that you left.

“Does it hurt?,” You softly asked him.

“No, not at all," came his reply, nonchalant as ever. “Anyway you know what they say… all is fun in sex and foreplay.”

His ridiculous comment pulled a full laugh from your lethargic body and he proudly laughed along with you.

“You’re such a doofus.” You said still laughing as you playfully slapped his arm. 

“I love you.” 

With your last sentence you felt yourself swiftly drifting away into dreamland.

“I love you more.” Jeonghan said, pulling you closer to him.

The distant hum of the washing machine and the whisper-like sounds of your and Jeonghan's gentle breaths were the ending melodies of your ever eventful night. Just like that, the two of you were lulled into your most rewarding slumber, peaceful dreams begetting content smiles as you two lovebirds snuggled even closer.