#at least she wore a mask all the time at work

[wandaslittlebird]

Confessing

Stepmom!Wanda x Pervy!GP!Reader

After months of spying on your stepmother, you’re finally caught and made to confess far more than you’d expected.

CW: Reader is displeased with her anatomy, non-consensual spying, underwear stealing and other nefarious acts, mentions of masturbation, stepmom/stepdaughter, intense questioning, dacryphilia (kinda), humiliation, spanking, mommy kink, accidental orgasm

Word Count: 4k

A/N: It’s finally complete! There’s going to be an alternative version of this fic with a non g!p reader soon! Wanda’s also a lot meaner in that one, so get excited if that’s your thing.

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, still mostly naked from the long shower you’d just taken. You stood up on your tippy toes in order to highlight the main attraction: your new lacy thong underwear.

You’d stolen them from your stepmother Wanda's wardrobe earlier while she was busy making dinner. When you’d found them, you just knew you had to have them. It was the first time you’d ever stolen her panties to wear, and the act both scared and aroused you.

It was kind of her fault, really, that you had to steal her panties to wear. At least, that’s how you justified it to yourself. She always bought you the plainest and ugly boxer briefs.

“Pretty girls with penises can’t wear little panties like that,” she had told you when you asked to buy some panties. “You gotta wear some with a little more fabric to keep those princess parts all tucked into place.”

She was right, of course. Your “extra appendage” made even boyshorts unwearable. Perhaps you could make it work if you were a bit smaller. Alas, you’d been cursed to have a bigger dick than even most men had.

But you hated your boxers, regardless. Sure they kept your anatomy secure, but they never came in pink, or lace, or had any fun bows on the waistband. Even your favorite pair were just navy with blue dog silhouettes on them.

These panties, however, were so much better. They hugged your hips perfectly, creating a beautiful V shape that accentuated your shape. Sure there was still a bulge between your legs, but you thought it was made much less unsightly by the black lace it prodded. There was, of course, the issue of keeping it inside the panties. There was so little fabric it was bound to pop out at some point.

But for right now, you twisted happily on your toes, feeling sexy and pretty, just like Wanda was when she wore her pretty panties.

“Honey! Dinner’s ready!” You heard Wanda’s voice from the dining room.

You frowned, not ready to get dressed quite yet. Nonetheless, you shouted from the bathroom, “I’ll be down in a second!” before slipping on your plaid pajama pants and an old band t-shirt. It’s fine. You’d be nice and quick with dinner, then you could slip away to the privacy of your room for the rest of night. You had a better mirror in there anyway: a full body one that would solve this tip toe problem. Maybe you could even put on a bit of a fashion show for yourself, trying on all of your favorite bras and deciding which one made for the best set.

You took a deep breath, trying to mask your excitement. It was going to be a perfect night. All you had to do was make it through dinner first.

You walked nervously down the stairs into the dining room where you found Wanda dishing out pasta onto each of your plates. She offered you a gentle smile upon arrival. “Oh good, you made it. I was worried for a second there you’d make me eat alone. Just pasta tonight, nothing fancy. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, uh, it’s no problem at all,’” you stammered. “Anything you make will surely be delicious.” You tried to offer her the same smile she’d offered you, but it came out awkward and uneven. It was clear you were nervous. You cursed yourself for your inability to hide your feelings from her.

She tilted her head in slight confusion. “Are you feeling alright? You look a little flushed.”

“I… uh… yeah I’m fine. I must’ve just taken a really hot shower,” you attempted to explain. She clearly wasn’t buying it. You shrank back in your chair a little bit, shifting uncomfortably as your dick threatened to escape its flimsy confines. The sensation only caused you to blush harder.

“Are you sure?” she asked, unconvinced. “Let me feel your head.” She leaned over the table, giving you a clear view down the front of her shirt. Fuck. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath her blouse. You inhaled shakily, shifting even more obviously as you felt yourself grow hard. You took in a sharp breath as you felt your dick pop out of the leg hole of the underwear.

She touched your head innocently with the back of her hand. Her brows furrowed in confusion as your uncomfortable wiggling became more pronounced. “Darling, you seem terribly restless. What’s going on?” She was starting to catch on, at least, to the fact you were keeping something from her. Though she couldn’t pinpoint what it was, she was certain she could get it out of you. You were never very good at keeping secrets, especially not from her.

You scooted your chair backwards, determined to escape this situation as quickly as possible. “I… uh… Actually I am feeling a bit poorly. I better go up to my room.” You made a move to try and get up, but she grabbed your wrist before you could escape.

You turned to face her and you were met with a glare that nearly made you crumble. She looked at you like she was looking into your soul, like she was some sort of omnipotent goddess that already knew every secret you’d ever tried to keep. “Honey,” she said, voice even and emotionless, “I think we need to have a talk.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you collapsed back down into your seat. “I’m sorry, mommy,” you whispered tearfully. How could she possibly know? Did she see something by accident?

She smiled knowingly. She had you now. That poor little head of yours couldn’t come up with a lie right now no matter how hard you tried. She circled the table and squatted down next to your chair, squeezing your hand and soothingly rubbing your temple with her thumb. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s not mad. I just need you to tell me what happened, okay? It’s okay, you can tell mommy.”

You swallowed. So she didn’t know. If you played your cards right, you could still make it out of this. Subconsciously, you crossed your legs, squeezing them tightly together, trying to hide yourself from her. It was a painfully obvious move, but her soft voice and her hand on your head were making it so very hard to think clearly.

Wanda smirked and ran her hand up the side of your hip. Whatever you were hiding was somewhere in here. Surely it wasn’t just a boner that’d gotten you this worked up. She’d caught you with several in the past, but she’d never said anything. Maybe you blushed or scratched your arm, but you’d never been like this.

Her hand slid over the fabric of your baggy pajama pants. Oddly enough, she couldn’t feel the bulky fabric of your boxers under the pants. Your secret wasn’t just that you weren’t wearing underwear, was it? No. As her hand got further up your waist, she felt them. They weren’t boxers, but there was something there.

“Honey,” she said calmly. “What are you wearing under your pajamas?”

Your mouth went dry and you froze, unsure how to answer her question. You decided it was best to play dumb. “W-what do you mean? Underwear.”

“Oh come on now darling,” she said, voice soft but slightly perturbed. “You know what I’m talking about. Are you wearing your boxers right now?”

Your eyes darted around the room, avoiding her gaze at all cost. She wasn’t going to check if you lied, was she? You hesitantly nodded.

“Are you sure?” She asked, unconvinced. “Do you mind if I lift up your shirt so I can make sure?”

Your hands flew to your waist, pinning your shirt to your body. “I… uh… I don’t feel comfortable showing you my underwear.”

She pursed her lips, annoyed with your evasiveness. She had started to believe that her soft mommy act wasn’t going to cut it, if she really wanted you to confess. “Darling, I’ve seen you in your boxers countless times before. Why are you getting so bashful all the sudden?”

You curled up tighter. You knew she was on to you by this point, but the humiliation of revealing yourself was too much. “I just… I don’t wanna show you, okay?” Your bottom lip quivered, tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

Wanda stood up, pushing your chair back until it hit the wall. You gasped, looking up at her, frightened as she loomed over you menacingly. “Alright, darling. If you can’t be a good girl and tell mommy what’s going on, I’m going to have to pull you over my lap, push your pants down to your ankles, and spank you in whatever underwear you’re wearing, okay? So I’ll ask you one more time. Are. You. Wearing. Your. Boxers. Right. Now?”

Your eyes went wide. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Your entire body started to shake as you stared up at her, frozen. Her gaze was harsh now, face unmoving as she waited on an answer.

Finally the dam broke. A cry ripped from your throat and tears poured down your face. You crumbled to pieces underneath her. “No! I’m not wearing my underwear, I’m wearing yours! I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have done it. And I know I shouldn’t have lied! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You sobbed.

She shrunk back down, squatting again on the floor in front of you. She could hardly hide the pleasure she got from watching you shake and sob underneath her. She took your hand in hers, wiping away your tears. “See, baby? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You melted into her hand. You were truly hers now. No more lying, no more games. No more thoughts in your precious little head aside from “do exactly what mommy tells you to do”. Any resistance you had had melted away.

“Can you tell mommy why you were wearing her panties, sweetheart?” She asked softly.

“I wanted to be pretty,” you cried weakly. “All I ever get to wear are gross, ugly boxers but I just wanted to be pretty like you.”

Wanda nodded in understanding. “You wanted to wear pretty panties like mommy, huh?”

You nodded. Your head was so jumbled it felt like the confessions were spilling out of you. “I see you through the door sometimes, when you’re getting dressed. You look so pretty with your matching bras and panties. And I just… I wanted to look like that too,” you confessed.

“You see me through the door?” She asked, noting how you had said ‘see’ rather than ‘watch’. “Do you spy on mommy while she’s naked? Do you watch me when I change my clothes?”

Your head lulled to the side. “No! …yes… sometimes.” You confessed, getting quieter with each statement.

She raised her eyebrows, surprised and amused by your unswerving honesty. She’d known, of course, about your little habits. You weren’t as sneaky as you thought. However, having you blubbering under her, confessing every little thing you’d ever done, brought her immense satisfaction.

She ran her hand up your upper thigh again, lightly tracing shapes with her fingers. “How long have you been spying on mommy, huh?”

You sighed, feeling yourself grow hard in your pants. Her touch was so memorizing you nearly forgot to answer the question. She pulled her hand away, grabbing your face and raising her eyebrows expectantly. You snapped out of your haze. “I don’t know! I don’t know how it started! Please! I promise I’m not a naughty girl!”

Her hand moved up to your hair, gently wiping it from her face. Her rapid switching from gentle to harsh was making your head spin. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Mommy’s not mad. You’re doing a very good job being honest with me.” She leaned forward, so close you could feel her breath against your ear. “How does it make you feel, watching me in my room like that? Watching me change my clothes and seeing my pretty lingerie?”

“G-good,” you answered hazily. “I just… I like to see, sometimes.”

She was slowly climbing up your body, almost in your lap now. “You just like to see sometimes, hmm?” She repeated. “Is that all?”

“Sometimes I-I like to… um… to-touch my… in the hallway while I watch,” you confessed, too scared and hazy to lie to her anymore.

A faint smile grew on her lips. She could hardly believe how vulnerable she’d made you. She’d never quite seen you like this before. “That’s quite naughty of you, darling. You can’t just touch yourself in the hallway like that. Someone could catch you, you know.”

“Dad almost… one time he saw… but he didn’t know what I was doing and I pretended I was waiting on you.”

She sat on your knees, rubbing soothing circles on your collarbones and shoulders. “Dad almost caught you, huh? And what were you doing, exactly?”

“Just… rubbing… on the outside. I didn’t have my h-hands in my pants or anything,” you stammered.

She leaned forward again, moving her hands down to your hips. “That was a very very naughty thing to do, little girl. I better not catch you rubbing yourself in the hallway again.”

You shook your head. “It will never happen again! I promise!”

She grabbed your face again, significantly softer now that she’d already broken you. She simply lifted your chin to look her in the eyes. “No more lying, darling. I want to know the truth. Are you going to stop spying on me?”

You nodded frantically, determined to never find yourself in this situation again. “Never! I swear!”

“Good girl,” she cooed. She gently rubbed your cheek with her thumb. “And no more stealing my underwear, agreed?”

You nodded again, driven to yet another confession you hadn’t planned on making. “No more! And no more stealing the dirty ones either. I won’t even snoop again! I promise!”

“Oh?” Wanda purred, “So you’ve been stealing my dirty panties too? Not just the clean ones?” Once again, she had been noticing her panties in your laundry instead of hers for months now. She was under no illusion that they were ending up there accidentally.

“This… this was the first time I stole any clean ones! I’ve never worn them before either!” You defended.

She hummed softly, pretending to ponder your confession. “Hmm. And what, exactly, do you do with my dirty panties?”

“I just… smell,” you confessed. “Some I use them to… t-touch myself with.”

“You use them when you touch yourself?” She asked, her voice still gentle and sweet. She ran her hands through your hair with an air of possession.

You nodded. “One time I had… I had a taste. But just one time!”

She chuckled smugly. “Oh?” She smirked down at you. “You took a taste, huh? Just once?”

You nodded. You were so terribly embarrassed. You wanted to throw yourself into her and beg her for forgiveness, but you doubted it would help.

“And how did I taste, darling?” She asked.

You moaned a little at the memory, hips bucking up as you felt yourself grow harder. “Really g-good. I’d never… finished that much before.”

“Aww,” she chuckled again. “Did you cum really hard when you tasted mommy?”

You nodded. Her hands traced light patterns on your hips, making their way to your stomach. “Just from a little taste?” She asked again, egging you on for more details.

“I didn’t even have to… touch myself. It just… happened all on its own,” you said. The tip of your cock was pressing hard against the fabric of your pajama pants now. The outline was painfully clear now that your underwear was no longer covering it. Wanda looked down at your lap and smirked smugly.

“It looks like maybe you enjoyed it, huh? Cumming from mommy’s taste alone?” She lightly traced the waistband of your pants, getting close but not quite touching the bulge in the fabric.

You whimpered and bucked your hips up, trying to get her hand closer to where you needed it. “Y-yeah. I didn’t know it could… happen like that. I thought you had to… touch it.”

Wanda hummed, pondering your words. “Most little princesses do. But you're a very special little princess, aren’t you?”

You nodded, still sniffling. The whole ordeal had you beyond embarrassed, yet you noticed that your arousal persisted through the embarrassment. Perhaps it was even worsened by it.

“Can-can I go to my room?” You stuttered suddenly. You had to get out of here, to somewhere more private before your humiliation and arousal bubbled over.

“Aww, sweetheart,” she cooed with fake sympathy. “Did you really think after all of this I would just let you go to your room?”

Your eyes went wide with terror. You weren’t sure how much more of this you could take before disaster struck. “B-but you said you weren’t mad!”

“I’m not mad, honey,” she reassured. “But what you did was very very naughty, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, another wave of tears threatening to fall.

“And when little girls do naughty things they have to be punished, don’t they?” She said, affectionately combing through your hair.

You nodded again, whimpering under her gentle touch. “But you’ll go easy on me, right? Because I was a good girl and I was honest and I told you everything?”

She chuckled. Your description wasn’t exactly accurate, but she couldn’t help but take at least a little pity on you. You had confessed in the end, even if it took a little pushing. “Of course, baby,” she soothed. “Now go upstairs and wait for mommy. I want you over the end of the bed in nothing but mommy’s panties, okay?”

You nodded frantically, running up the stairs and assuming the position as soon as she got off your lap.

She chuckled, amused by your eager obedience, and boxed up the pasta she’d made so she could easily heat it back up after this was over.

It only took her about five minutes for her to finally come upstairs, but to you, bent naked over the edge of the bed, it felt like hours.

You had to fight to keep your head down on the mattress when you heard her open the bedroom door. You whined as you watched her pull the wooden hairbrush from her nightstand. “No mommy! Please not the hairbrush! Please I was so honest and-and I answered all of your questions-“

She cut you off by rubbing gentle circles on the swell of your ass. “Shshsh,” she soothed. “Mommy’s only doing this because she loves you, okay? I have to remind my sweet girl what happens when she’s naughty so she’ll remember to be a good girl, right?”

You whimpered and squirmed under her, trying to be patient and still but also desperate to get away from the hairbrush. The thin fabric of the underwear offered you little to no protection, and your now hard dick was no longer restrained by the fabric.

“I want you to count for me, okay?” She instructed. “If you can keep count like a good girl, we’ll only do 15, but if I have to count for you, I’m gonna have to do 25, okay?”

You nodded, determined to be good and keep count. However, you weren’t traditionally known for keeping a clear head during your punishment. “Can-can I hold onto a pillow, please?”

She couldn’t see your face, but the tears in your voice made it hard for her to deny you anything. “Of course, baby,” she said, pulling a pillow from the headboard and tucking it into your arms. She kissed the side of your teary face. “Mommy loves you very much, princess. It’ll be over soon.”

She tapped your ass twice with the hairbrush before placing the first smack firmly on your left cheek. You cried out, wailing more with overwhelming embarrassment than pain.

“One!”

She hit you again with perfect precision in almost the exact same spot.

“T-two”

She switched sides, smacking you again on the other cheek.

“Three!”

You made it to seven before you inevitably lost count. She waited for a moment after the strike before she decided your wailing was not going to give way to a number, and she officially started counting herself.

By ten, you had resorted to begging. You knew better than to flail and kick your legs, she’d have you pinned over her lap with a far worse punishment in store, but you were allowed to cry and plead all you wanted. “Please mommy! Please, I'll be good. I learned my lesson mommy please no more!”

You sounded so pathetic she was almost tempted to have mercy on you. You weren’t even halfway through your punishment now that she’d pushed it to 25. But she would stick to her word. That was, after all, what was most important when it came to discipline.

It wasn’t even so much the pain, you were trying to escape, but something far more alarming that boiled in your lower belly. Having her, a commanding force over you, was awakening something in you. The humiliation of a confession matched with wearing her underwear and being spanked like a child over her bed had a coil building in your lower stomach.

By 15 spanks, you realized it was inevitable. You were pleading with her more quietly now. Your hips bucked against the bed in what she thought was an attempt to get away, but by the 20th spank the coil snapped. In a humiliating display of desperation, you came, spilling your seed on the sheets.

She stopped spanking you, taking a second to realize what just happened. “Did you just…?”

You wailed into the pillow, burying your face into it until it nearly suffocated you. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry mommy I didn’t mean to! I’ll clean it up! I promise! Please no more spankings mommy! Please, I'll be a good girl!”

She rubbed soothing circles on your lower back, genuinely trying to calm you enough to talk. As much as she wanted to stay true to her word and finish your punishment, making sure you didn’t suffocate yourself was a higher priority.

“It’s okay honey. You’re okay. Accidents happen,” she comforted. She was more amused than anything by the situation. However, she feared if she busted out in laughter, you’d keel over right then and there.

“No it’s not!” You sobbed. “I just came on your bed while I was getting punished for being naughty and dirty already!”

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy understands. You didn’t mean to make a mess of mommy’s bed, did you?” She asked in her most soothing voice, one she might use if she were talking to a small child.

You shook your head into the pillow. “I really really didn’t mean to. Please don’t punish me!”

Wanda cooed, rubbing your heaving back. “You’re not in trouble, baby. You’re never gonna be in trouble for something you did by accident. You just made a little mess, darling. No need for tears.”

She sat down next to you on the bed, dragging you onto her lap. She could almost laugh at how pathetic you looked, all snotty and sobbing, still mostly naked as she sat you up on her lap. Despite it all, she thought you looked absolutely darling.

“Are you a little embarrassed, princess?” She asked as you refused to let go of the pillow you had practically burrowed into.

You nodded, remaining completely unwilling to look at her. She grabbed a sheet off the bed and wrapped it around you, hoping being less naked would lure you out of hiding. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, baby,” she reassured. “Mommy understands. You're not in trouble, sweet girl.” She rubbed your back through the sheet, rocking you in her lap.

After a few moments of silence she kissed your head and said “I’m gonna put you on the couch while I clean up your little mess and then you can sleep in mommy’s room tonight. Does that sound good, princess? Do you wanna stay with mommy tonight?”

Finally, you discarded your pillow, allowing her to see your teary face. You nodded. “I wanna stay in mommy's room.”

She smiled, kissing you once on the forehead. “I’d love that, darling. You can keep me nice and warm all night long.”

[miistersunshin3]

Star Struck ☆

Sal Fisher x meangirl!reader

a/n : Hihi my first work on this acc!! Thank you for the motivation and inspo @baxndaid ╰(*´︶`*)╯ If you like my work feel free to send me requests!!

- Life at Nockfell High is like a game and you don’t play to lose, in your first year you and your friends have already made an image of yourself: you are known as the popular kids or rather the mean girls.

- It was quite easy to archive this image of yours, you have quite the nice figure; shiny hair which always looks perfect and your most envious trait: a gorgeous face with a pearly white smile.

- So with all these traits that made you the person you are, you were quickly proclaimed to be the Queen bee of Nockfell high.

- It seemed like every girl wanted to be you and every guy wanted to be with you!

- except for one specific group… your friends call them the freaks, the group consisting of Larry Johnson, Ashley Campbell and Todd Morrison.

- You’d often make fun of them for various things, like their lack of style or music taste as you would say. So no wonder they didn’t quite like you.

…………………………………………………………………………….

- So one day while walking up to your locker which was right next to Larry’s your surprised to see a new kid, Larry called him Sally face.

- He seemed to have blue hair which was tied in pigtails and wore a mask that covers his whole face, you didn’t pay any mind to him except for when one of your friends spoke:

“Ugh great, the one time we get a new kid in school and he immediately needs to make friends with the freaks”

“Well would you rather him make friends with us? I wouldn’t, look at him” your other friend speaks.

“Yeah you’re right, are you some kind of creep? You look weird with that mask” the first one asks him in a sarcastic tone.

“Well at least none of us have to take two hours before school to get ready to have friends” Ashley says in a snarky tone.

“Oh shut it Campbell, some of us actually care about looking presentable, unlike you..” you say with a smile while walking away with your friends chuckling.

- Well yeah.. let’s just say Sal didn’t really find you all that amusing to be around.

- But at lunch times he just couldn’t help starting at you: the way your hair sits oh so perfectly on your head, the way the color your wearing makes your best features stand out beautifully and the way when your laughing the people are able to see your charming smile (even if it sometimes was him and his friends you were laughing about)

- And the poor boy thought you wouldn’t notice him staring, but you noticed it all and lowkey (highkey) found it cute and kind of pathetic how mesmerized he looked.

…………………………………………………………………………….

- One afternoon when the whole gang was hanging out in Larry’s room, Ashley asked Sal if he found anyone in school cute.

- And well….i hate to break it to you Ash (*´ー｀*)

“Cmon Sally tell usss, we deserve to know” she says in a slightly demanding tone.

“Yeah dude we won’t judge” Larry chimed in.

And then the dam broke..

“…you can’t be serious right now Sal” Ash says in disbelief.

“Dude like for real are you okay? Really? Her? She torments you like every day.. and her friends are massive assholes” Larry adds.

Sal just shrugs, all of the sudden finding the carpet very interesting.

…………………………………………………………………………….

- When they got back to school the next week of course you hadn’t decided to stop what you were so passionate about doing; pulling on his backpack to make him stumble back and then adding a snarky comment like “Watch your feet Sally face” while chuckling, flicking his head or pulling on one of his pigtails to set him off guard or just generally making fun of his prosthetic with your friends.

- To be completely honest even if it’s a cliche, you just wanted a reaction out of him because you just found it to amusing when he’d get all stuttery after you’d say something to him, even though he wouldn’t react like that if it was someone else saying that to him.

- But what would happen on Thursday, he could have only dreamt of..

Once again Travis was being his usual self when finding Sally and Larry in the hall during one of the breaks. “Why do you even come to school, nobody wants to see that freakshow of a ‘face’. You’re a waste of space Fisher, always will be” he spat at him.

You on the other hand were just in the bathroom, near where they were standing, overhearing everything. For some reason you felt angry, at Travis that is… why did you feel like this?

You decide to say something too, in your typical fashion.

Walking past them you purposely bump into Travis, stop walking and snarl out

“Watch out Phelps, you’re standing in my way. Oh and by the way.. only I get to say stuff like that, you understand?”

As you continue to walk past them you look back only to see Sal looking at you as well, you turn back around, after sending him a quick teasing smile and a small wink that is. (^_−)−☆

You may have not seen it but after you turn around Sal is beet red under his prosthetic, I guess it does come in handy sometimes…

…………………………………………………………………………….

A/N : I hope you guys liked it! Like I said feel free to send me requests (^^)v

Reader and Sal:

[hellfire--cult]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader {Dark}

Part 2: Run, Rabbit, Run {Steddie x Reader}

WC: 13.1 k

⚠️ +18 MDNI, Slightly dark fic due to wickedness of characters, chasing kink, mentions of bones breaking, tendons splitting, dark woods, blood, knife play, explicit sexual scenes, many forms of Paraphilia described inside the story, owning kink, breeding kink, obsession.

Plot: Once a year, the Haunting Ground event takes place, where the prize is a White Rabbit. This year, the head of The Black Dragons decides to finally join the trial, and claim what is rightfully his. No matter who he has to take down for it.

Author's note: Well shit, I just... wanted to write something out of my comfort zone, and well... this happened. If I missed any warnings please say so, but I hope you enjoy this, and if you don't like any of the warnings above, please, don't read. There isn't any gore at all, js. Also, I didn't proofread this. Please SEE THIS ART of how Eddie ACTUALLY looks in this story. Can't thank Corpse enough for it!

You can always support me by hitting the reblog button with tags, and I always enjoy reading your comments!

BUNNY, BUNNY, BUNNY

The rules are simple:

1- You must keep running, only hide when threatened.

2- You can hurt your opponent, make them unable to keep moving, but you cannot kill them.

3- No water and no food will be provided.

4- No weapons except makeshift ones you may create with natural materials you find.

5- The chase ends once everyone has tapped out of it or one person was chosen.

6- Medical care will take out injured opponents, as well as waiting outside every exit in the woods.

He looked all around him in the big wide center of the room, a ball room. There was a big buffet, serving various kinds of foods to fill a whole army, as well as drinks, non alcoholic, were being served around. He scanned all around him, looking at the various masks everyone wore.

A wolf.

A fox.

A blank face.

A goat.

A clown.

There were many varieties, many kinds but mostly were in animal masks. Coming to this kind of event was not something he ever thought of doing, at least not by his own accord. But here he was, in a demon mask, a black skull that covered half of his face, with its black horns going up. He stood out, definitely stood out, and he noticed by all the faces turning towards him. 

He was recognizable, his dark hair tied in a bun, his lips under the top sharp teeth of the skull mask, his eyes showing in the holes of the eye sockets, and then, unlike anyone else in the room, he was only wearing a blazer over his torso, leaving his skin exposed. People looked at him as if he were insane for doing this stunt, others thought he was cocky for trying to think he had a chance dressed like that, but others were simply scared of him.

Tonight, his name was Demon.

He glanced around once more to see the many different people he clearly recognized. Sons of rich families, looking for some fun, for some sense of victory that they can just get with daddy’s money. He also recognized the rings of various people that were only hired to enter this competition and win the prize for their boss. And then, there was him. The only Mafia Boss entering the competition, and that’s why everyone was looking at him.

Mafia bosses don’t often do the dirty work unless it’s a very important client, business or victim. In this case, there was a treasure he wanted, something he had been intrigued by ever since it was mentioned to him, and all he had to do was step over everyone else that was standing in this room with him. 

There might be forty people, all waiting for the presentation to finally start. He knew the time to go out was coming close, so they should do it any time soon. A man stood next to him, and he immediately recognized his voice. Carver Jr. Son of the CEO of Kirasoft. Inc. 

“I am telling you, this year she is getting caught, man.” He hears him say to the other guy next to him, who he didn’t recognize, but probably from the same rich kind of family.

“Can’t believe it’s been the same White Rabbit for three years… How did she manage to do it?”

The lights dimmed and he looked up at the ceiling, knowing there was a specific light that was above him, making him visible even in the dim room. He smirked and looked back down towards the stairs that lead down to the ballroom. He sees the man, the man who hosts this event, the man who gets the money of every single person that pays to participate. 

“Welcome to the annual Haunting Ground night.” Claps were heard around Demon, but his hands were kept inside his front pockets as he waited for the man to continue his stupid speech. “Every year we host this marvelous game, in which there is a prize to be won, a marvelous prize.”

The snicker in the man’s face made Demon’s blood boil, as his hands fisted in his pockets. The need to murder him, the need to see his flesh gush out as he talked was increasing, each second it passed. He looked around again, seeing all the women, the men, the people with masks, smiling with confidence towards the stage. 

“Hearing the rules for a third time is quite annoying.” Demon hears a woman talk next to him to another contestant. She had a deer mask on, her whole face covered so he didn’t know who she was, but it didn’t matter, none of the people inside the room mattered, the only one that did was the person in all white that was going to appear at the top of the stairs. 

And no one, absolutely no one, was getting her except him.

“The rules, you all know about them, but I want to remind you about the emergency beeper you all will have in your pocket. If endangered, if in extreme pain, or you just want to tap out of the contest, you press it, and the emergency team will know your location and come get you.” The man says and Demon only rolled his eyes to the sky, knowing he won’t be using it, but actually making other people use it.

The fact that he couldn’t bring any weapons irked him. He always thought things like this would end in blood baths, but they were being pretty humane about this. Yet, he wanted to murder every single person in this room at the moment, because how dare they even try to steal her away from him? Not that he didn’t kill a few past contestants from the past two years. He heard from the men that participated, that some had grabbed the White Rabbit, just by an inch, but a scratch here and there was done to her skin.

Of course he wasn’t going to let them go unharmed for that.

“If you endanger someone to the point of killing them, you will be disqualified and brought to authorities.” Demon scoffed at that. He has the police wrapped around his finger, and there is nothing anyone can do about it, but he will keep his hands to himself, as much as he can, just so he wouldn’t be disqualified from this. 

He could hear the whispers surrounding him, and also knew that they were about him. He was the most dangerous person amongst the people, and if anyone had a gram of brain cells, they would let him get the prize. But of course, he knows many will try to defeat him, try to throw him to the ground, hurt him, because there are also people from families he had destroyed during the years, just like his uncle did in the past. 

Being the nephew of one of the biggest Mafia bosses didn’t mean anything, you weren’t automatically feared or respected just for being a direct link, a family member. You were respected when you were entrusted with the men, the organization and the operations at such a young age, and even more so, when you are not merciful at all, except when needed to. 

Demon never hurt women or children, and the only time he had to kill a woman was because she had backstabbed his uncle, almost to the point of killing him. She was his right hand, but all this time, even if killing for him, she was planning on taking over him, completely over stepping on Demon. He found her taking out her gun when they were in a transaction between crews, and got her in time before she could actually take it out. His uncle fought that she was protecting him, but Demon saw how she was looking at the back of his uncle’s head, right as she got her hand inside her coat. 

She was operating for the other crew they were doing a transaction with.

So of course, Demon immediately took care of it, eliminating her in front of her brother, the other boss that was sitting in front of his uncle, just so that he knows they are not to mess with. And Demon did all that, at the mere age of 17. Now, at 28 years old, he was a man to be feared, respected by many, and to never try to backstab him, in any sort of form or way. 

But three years ago, he got fixated on something, on someone, when he visited the house of the Red Flies, the second most known Mafia family in the eastern states. He knew he was obsessed, he knew that he shouldn’t even try to get her, but he was immediately swept by her presence, by her voice, by her eyes, in a way no one had made him feel before. This only happened when he locked eyes with her, a small smile appearing on her face, and he knew, he immediately knew, that she was meant to be his.

She was going to be his, no matter the cost.

“Everyone, I present to you, the White Rabbit.” 

And there she was, at the top of the staircase, with a spotlight over her head, the white rabbit mask covering half her face, with the ears going up to the ceiling. She was wearing a white short dress that stuck to the body but was loose at the end. Her lips were drawn into a thin line, as everyone was clapping at her, in awe, with desire in their eyes as well as ambition and greediness. 

The reason why everyone wanted the White Rabbit was simple. They were from a high, a very high association, be it a company or a mafia gang, but they wanted out of that. The White Rabbit holds the power of bribery towards bosses, as well as threats and blackmail. More likely daughters and sons that want to destroy their own lineage. 

Many people here knew who the White Rabbit was, but just by name, even if three years had passed. She was never caught, and she never gave herself to anyone because that can also be done. The White Rabbit can willingly choose who to go with if they so desire. And that’s why Demon was with a smile to his face, his jacket still open as he looked at the White Rabbit. She was scanning the room, looking at all the contestants and then, her eyes landed on a torso, her eyes hazing over as she kept staring at his chest.

You see, Demon also possessed that knowledge, and of course, he studied her, knowing more than her name. Over the last three years he had sent his own men to participate in the trial, but with no intention of winning but just to see what the participants did and how she moved in the woods. 

Demon knew her name, how she looked like, the sound of her voice, who her father was, and also, he knows the things she likes, the things she desires, the things that make her tremble, and that’s why he is exposing his torso, and as she kept her eyes on him, a small grin appearing on her face, her tongue licking her bottom lip even slightly as her eyes clouded with pure lust, her mouth watering just at the pure sight of his tattooed chest and even more when he suddenly takes his tongue out, running his tongue piercing all over his top lip.

Stigmatophilia: Sexual Arousal for body modifications, such as piercings or tattoos.

“Always looking like a diamond in the rough.” He heard Carver say, almost a mumble, and Demon’s blood was boiling already. How dare he look at her? How dare he even think he has a chance? How dare he touch or imagine touching something that was his? How fucking dare he even comment on his prize? 

“We all know how this goes. The White Rabbit will have an upper hand of five minutes to infiltrate the woods. Do not, by any means, hurt the White Rabbit. If the White Rabbit is caught, the decision to go with that person for a limited time, or to be completely owned, is up to them.” Demon smirked at those words. There is a contract the White Rabbit has to sign before submitting themselves as the prey. If they decide they want to do a temporary ownership of their body, then the contract is not signed by the captor. But if they do decide for a complete ownership of body and soul, the contract will be signed by both parties, kind of like a marital contract.

This was all in the Mafia organization of course, it’s not legal, but it is something to be respected in between the groups and companies. Demon does not like this idea, because no person should be owned, no person should be held like an animal, no person should be treated like an object. But in the White Rabbit’s eyes, he saw that longing, he saw the need of belonging to someone, of being owned. 

And he was more than happy to oblige.

“Do you think this year is the year? Will she get caught?” He heard the woman next to him, and for the first time in the night, he finally talked, with a gruff voice coming out of his lips.

“She will.”

The people around him all turned with widened eyes, shocked faces behind their masks, as whispers erupted all around them. He was still locking eyes with the White Rabbit, whose smile was still on her lips, almost a snicker, a wicked grin, and he couldn’t wait to start running, he couldn’t wait to start chasing, his body was already trembling at the need of wanting to earn his prize.

“No more food, no more water. The trial starts now… Rabbit… Run.” The host finally said and Demon saw how the light over her head turned off, and in two seconds it lit up again, only for her to be gone. “Get ready and line up to the edge of the woods.”

At his queue everyone started heading out of the ballroom, but Demon just walked, calmly, hands still in his blazer pockets, heading towards the big doors and finally being hit with the wind of the night, the sound of the leaves ruffling all around and the trees merging up in front of him, a sea of trunks and bushes that he will have to run through. 

He stood next to Carver, who was already in a stance of pounce, waiting for the sound of the gun so they could all start running. Demon slowly took off his blazer, throwing it in the ground, revealing his completely tattooed torso, with many ink designs such as dragons, or skulls, or demons, and they go all over his arms and back as well. There are some patches of untouched skin, but overall, he is completely covered in them. 

The many people that stood next to him on each side were looking at him, gulping, except for Carver who simply rolled his eyes at him. Demon looked up at the full moon that was going to help him look through the deep woods, the light that he knew how to follow to keep a steady pace, and the shadows that would help him knock down any person that might come in his way. 

After a minute, he saw the man, the host, walking up on the balcony of the building, his silhouette shining with the moonlight as he raised the flare gun up. Demon took a deep breath in from his nose, getting his hair up in a low ponytail, calmly, as his chest rose and fell with his breaths. His eyes gazed back to the woods, a small grin appearing on his face as he fixed the rings that were on his right hand.

BANG.

His fist immediately collided with Carver’s Jaw, sending him backwards, and the only thing that could be heard was the crack of teeth and a gurgled grunt as he fell to the floor. He quickly turned to grab onto the ponytail of the woman that had screamed at the vicious act, the woman with the deer mask on, pulling her back towards his chest. He wrapped his right hand over the woman’s neck and her hands immediately flew to his forearm, trying to break free.

“Let ME GO!” She yelled with a choke and he scoffed with a roll of his eyes when he raised his left hand up, pressing it at the back of her hand to bend it forward and then with his right arm he started pressing onto the sides of her neck to start cutting her blood flow towards her brain. 

Her body started to go limp and when he felt her arms fall from him, he instantly let go of her, letting her fall to the ground, completely unconscious. He doesn’t hurt women. It will take more time if he does this trick every single time, but even if they try to go after him, he won’t hurt them. Many had already taken off, but some, a very few, stayed to look at what he’s done. 

One by one, they started backing up back into the house as they saw Carver’s mouth going slack as he tried to talk, making Demon turn to throw a wicked grin his way. The blonde man took the beeper out of his pocket and groaned as he pressed the button to finally call assistance. Once Demon heard the beep, he took off running into the woods. 

His blood was pumping with adrenaline, his breathing steady as he rushed by the trees, jumping over boulders, hearing some screams and passing by some men injuring one another. When he arrived at a cleared up area, he stopped running at the sound of some bushes rustling, right next to him, the crack of a twig catching his attention. 

He instantly jumped forward when he saw the bushes finally moving and a man, a bigger man than he is, jumped out of them and onto him, but missed thanks to Demon's premeditated step. The big man steadied himself, wearing a bear mask as he glared at him, a sly smirk on his lips. 

“Well, well, well… Didn’t think the Boss of the Black Dragon would be in a thing like this. Don’t you have many women to choose from?” The Bear chuckled at his words but Demon only grimaced at them. He thinks The White Rabbit can be compared to any woman? To any person? 

“If you want all your limbs in the same place, you would close that mouth of yours.” Demon threatens but Bear only belly laughs at him, shaking his head.

“It’s just you. You know, your uncle really fucked me over with my company.” At those words, Demon could only roll his eyes, not wanting to waste another second in this mindless conversation.

“You probably didn’t pay up in time, or, if I remember correctly, didn’t you kill your wife?” He remembers the deal. This man, and his wife, were going to share half and half of the credit The Black Dragon crew was giving them. The wife asked for a divorce, which would have made the contract void, and the money had to be returned in its entirety to the organization. She had her half untouched, he didn’t. She was going to be free, he wasn’t. 

So in his anger, he killed her, making it seem like suicide to the legal eye, but to the organizations he was seen as a murderer. Now, seeing him in this trial, wanting to get the White Rabbit, Demon felt his blood burning up in anger, because he wasn’t going to let a man like him get her… He wasn’t going to let a man like him get any other woman or person.

“She killed herself. I made that very clear.” The Bear’s face fell, as he clenched his fists next to his hips. Demon knew what was going to happen, so he fixed the bloody rings on his right hand again, his smile spreading knowing it was Carver’s blood. 

“You won’t get her.” Demon says in a dead tone, which the bigger man only chuckled at, unamused, and he took a step forward, and Demon only cracked his neck once. 

“We’ll see about that.” And the first fist was thrown by The Bear, only to be dodged easily by Demon, moving aside. He raised his leg up and immediately hit the bigger man at the right shin with his combat boot. The Bear groaned loudly, turning his whole body to tackle Demon into the ground, his upper body slamming with Demon’s torso, sending him to the floor with the big man on top of him.

He cursed under his breath as the air in his lungs got knocked out slightly thanks to the impact, feeling a sharp sting on his shoulder, making his eyes go wide and groan in pain, looking at the side. The Bear cheated, a small swiss knife now was on Demon’s shoulder, pressed by the man that was on top of him. 

“I see you’re still playing fucking dirty.” Demon almost but snarls at the man on top of him who only laughed out loud and shook his head at the words.

“You don’t get anything in life if you don’t do it my way. My wife knew that, yet, she decided she wanted to fuck me over.” He was laughing, and Demon’s veins were popping out from the anger, from the rage, from the images of this man’s hands over your body, tracing his knife on your skin until he could bury it into the deepest of your gut if you made a wrong move.

His left hand was free to roam, and he grabbed onto a small boulder that was on the floor, immediately clenching his fingers around it to throw his arm up, swinging it towards the man’s head, making him yell in pain as the rock busted his ear and ripped open the skin on his temple. He fell to the side, holding his side of the head in pain while Demon sat up in one quick movement, taking the swiss knife out of his shoulder and throwing it away. Wasting no time, he lunged himself over the other man’s figure.

He was now on top, having won the wrestling match, or the kid fight he just had, and the man below him yelled for mercy, which made Demon only grin wider and wider, knowing that he was a step closer to his prize. In one swift move he pressed his knee against the man’s thigh, while his hand grabbed onto his calf, pulling it upwards, and he just needed one snap, he can at least make it quick for the guy below him.

SNAP. CRACK.

“MY FUCKING LEG!” The Bear yelled below him, only for Demon to scoff at his cries. He stood up and walked off the wailing man who was already taking out his beeper to call for medical care. Demon grabbed onto the beeper, a glare in his eyes as he looked at the man below him.

“After this, you better hide… Because I will kill you.” He threw the beeper far away from The Bear. He would have to crawl with his broken leg to get it, making that task torturous to say the least. 

“P-Please, spare me– This is just a game–” Demon pressed his foot onto the man’s broken leg, and another yell of pain could be heard through the open field. 

“No. You should have noticed that this is not a game to me, and you should have known that messing with me today would be a very bad choice.” He let go of the man, stepping away. The Bear’s face was stained from the tears of pain he was induced to, but Demon could care less. 

The black haired man immediately took off again, running through the bushes as he heard a few screams and yells of victory. His mentality started spiraling as he felt himself growing impatient by how long this was going to take. If he had to take out every single contestant he was going to end up doing a massacre and that was against the rules.

Because he would kill for The White Rabbit.

He was hearing many beeping sounds around him, some grunts and people that were writhing on the ground in pain as he walked by. So many were with broken bones, some had scratches all over their bodies and that’s when he remembered the wound on his shoulder. He looked at it as he walked, moving his shoulder in circles to see if it caused any damage. He scoffed and chuckled as he noticed he could still move his arm freely even if the wound was open. 

The bastard couldn’t even aim a knife right. He didn’t really deserve to live, not if he is going to threaten death right in the face and expect to come out alive from it. That’s what Demon was. Death. Crossing him meant bargaining with life, and backstabbing him with treason meant instant death. He didn’t do most of the dirty work, only when it’s necessary and when he would get pleasure from it, and that man he just fought, he wasn’t going to be killed by a stranger in his organization. Demon was going to cut his head off himself.

He stopped walking when he heard a rustle, but it wasn’t on any of his sides. He turned his body, scanning all over when he heard it again. He smirked as he put his hands in the front of his pockets, his heart beating into his chest from the adrenaline and from the excitement of getting closer and closer to his objective.

“You should come down from the trees.”

A small giggle could be heard from his back as he slowly turned to finally see the person he wanted most climbing down from a tree. Her white dress flowed with some white shorts underneath, but the white was now smudged with some dirt, and some blood as well. Her white ears moved as she tilted her head at him, scanning him all over, her body rocking on the balls of her feet.

“Your ears are very perceptive.” 

 “You’re just too loud.” He says in a low voice, watching the White Rabbit start moving, circling him, with her hands behind her back, swaying her head from side to side as if humming a song. His head followed her, seeing her bare feet covered in mud as the leaves crunched under them. 

“Hmm… Someone got you.” She says, pointing at the wound on his shoulder, in which he simply shrugs as if to show her that he wasn’t fazed by it.

“By playing dirty.” She hummed again as she looked down at the floor, still circling all around him as if inspecting him, scanning him, and her mouth watered at every single patch of skin she saw inked. She was already imagining what his legs looked like, and she was already trembling with the idea of using her nails to give him new scars.

“Are you here to get me?” She asks him, finally stopping right in front of him, just a few feet away, her hands still behind her back with a grin on her face. He took his hands out of his front pockets, letting them hang on his sides.

“To claim you.” She tilted her head at his voice, her smile widening, creepily so, as her eyes glistened with sudden excitement and adrenaline and Demon knew what was coming, because he had studied the White Rabbit after all.

“You’ll have to catch me first.” And she turned on her heel, and sprinted off into the darkness of the woods, and Demon’s teeth showed as his wicked grin grew, and grew.

Autassassinophilia: Sexual arousal when being in a dangerous situation, such as being chased, or wanted for murder.

His feet started working, running forward to where The White Rabbit went, listening to far cries that were deep into the woods, and he wondered just how many other people were left, not that it mattered, because he already won. He knew he already won when he decided to sign up for this trial. He knew he had won the moment he stepped into the ballroom. He knew he had won when she had smiled at him, right at the top of the marbled stairs.

He stopped running when he came into an empty spot, surrounded by trees, looking all around him. His eyes twitched as he tried to listen to the sounds, knowing now that it was just him and her. He was preying on her as much as she was preying on him. He knew she was circling him, his little rabbit, trying to be sneaky, but a twig was heard from his left side and his feet immediately moved to that sound.

Long strides were taken thanks to his long legs, his belt clinking as he ran, going past the trees once again. He ran in between trunks, jumping over the fallen logs, but his eyes sparkled when he heard a giggle from behind him, making him stop in his tracks, turning around rapidly to see her retreating figure, running away from him. A smirk appeared on his lips. She had run past him and he didn’t notice.

He started running after her, deciding to swerve left, going deep into the woods again, no longer following behind her. She kept running, her breathing completely accelerated, her belly turning with anticipation, with adrenaline, with arousal, with desire. Oh, she wanted him. She had waited, and waited. But his footsteps were no longer heard behind her, making the White Rabbit stop, turning around to try to listen to her surroundings.

He wasn’t following her, did she run too fast? Did he lose sight of her? But she was sure she was hearing him behind her, not even five seconds ago. She took one step, then another, passing by a tree but she stopped her movements again, her eyes widening, goosebumps emerging on her skin as she slowly turned her head to see the figure that was just behind the tree, waiting for her.

“Caught you.” 

Demon immediately pounced on her, grabbing onto her shoulders and tackling her to the ground, a crazed smile on his face as she struggled to get free, but it was already done. He was on top of her, his calves over her thighs to pin her down while his hands were on her biceps now, digging deeply, pushing her onto the ground. She was panting heavily as she opened her eyes to finally see the man that was on top of her.

“Dirty.” She spats and he scoffs, licking inside his bottom lip as she relaxes under his hold. A small smile appeared on her lips, the moonlight shining through the woods, just enough for him to see her. He took one hand away from her bicep, getting hold of the bottom of her mask, pulling it up to finally reveal that beautiful face he got mesmerized with three years ago, at a simple meeting. That face that told him, we’re equal. That face that told him, I will serve you if given the chance. That face that he wanted to see, everyday, at every hour, for as long as he lives. That face that claimed him that same night, with a smile, with the stares, with the intense stare in the eyes.

You.

“Hello, Bunny.” That was your nickname in your father’s organization. Bunny. Too pure, too innocent, too charming, yet, you were the complete opposite. You were nasty, you were evil, you were vengeful, you were a freak. A complete and utter freak. And he was the same, he was your exact same, and you were expectant of him. You were waiting for him to appear. You were in this trial behind your father’s back for three years, because you wanted him. You wanted the man that had whispered in your ear ‘You’ll be mine.’ three years ago. You wanted the man that’s been said to have killed and destroyed many organizations and the members inside of them. You wanted the man that you knew could own you, yet, wouldn’t cage you.

Your fingertips from your free hand raised up, finally touching the teeth of the black demon mask he was wearing, first grazing it, gently, as if taking in this moment with him, this moment where everything will change, this moment where your life will finally become yours, and his. You gripped onto the mask and finally lifted it up, and he helped by bending down slightly so you could rip it off his face, throwing the plastic far away from you both.

“Munson.” A smile appeared on your face as you saw him, your cheeks flushing at his sight, as if you were a bitch in heat in front of her master, and you weren’t far from it. You knew Eddie owned you that same night you met him, and he also knew you were meant to be his. 

“What are those?” He asked, placing a hand on your waist where a stain was on your dress, a shiver running down your spine as a soft moan escaped your throat, knowing his hand was covered in ink and touching you.

“I might have snapped a few tendons here and there… Putting the competition away for you…” Your eyes were already looking up at him with desire, with the need of being alone with him, of him claiming you, completely. He smirked down towards you, leaning down to talk closely onto your face.

“What’s your choice, Bunny?” He softly asks, his eyes hinting of desperation, but also insecurity of some sort, but he didn’t have to worry. He shouldn’t, because you are his, you’ve always been his.

“I’ll stay with you, forever, if you’ll have me.” His eyes widened slightly with emotion, his gut turning at your words and his hand flew to grab onto your jaw, harshly, to pull you towards his lips, into a messy yet wanton kiss. A kiss that he had been craving for far too long. You moaned onto his lips, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he finally let your thighs go, his calves resting on the floor now. 

His teeth caught onto your bottom lip, and you could already feel the iron taste filling your mouth, knowing he was piercing your skin, but that only made your thighs clench with eachother even more, wetness pooled inside your shorts as his actions showed you that he studied you, that he knew you, and he knew what you were into. He pulled away from you, licking his lips from your blood as he looked down, seeing your bottom lip with your red tint, blood coming out from the inside of it. 

“You’re mine. I’m going to protect you Bunny, I’m not letting anyone take you away from me, and if they dare come close… I’ll kill them, you say the word… And I’ll kill everyone you tell me to.” A soft smile spread on your face as you looked at him, crazed and wild eyes staring at each other as your grip on his shoulders tightened, and a firework was shot into the sky, but you two didn’t move. Just stared into each other's eyes. 

You’re free.

Your hands gripped on your last bag with the remaining clothes you had. A smile on your face the whole time the elevator dinged closer and closer to Eddie’s penthouse, one of the many properties he possesses. You hadn’t changed, still wearing the white stained dress over your body, but the people that organized this trial had already sent your prepared luggage to Eddie’s, meaning that the only thing left to deliver was you.

The ding didn’t even startle you as the doors opened, and a big double door greeted you a few steps away from the metal confinement. You stepped towards it, and grabbed onto the handle, finding the door open. A smile appeared on your face as you opened it, walking in to take in the immense decorated space in modern yet vintage looking furniture. You put your bag down, closing the door behind you as you stepped inside the apartment, seeing that it had stairs going up to a second floor. 

You were looking around, knowing that he should be here somewhere. After he had caught you, you were brought into the office to sign off the permanent contract to him, with a smile to your face all the while. The host was simply looking at you as if you were insane, because being owned by the Black Dragon association was not something many desired, much less, being owned by the boss of it.

Eddie was sent home so you could gather your bags, and those bags you saw at the very corner of the living room. You heard something in the kitchen, making you tilt your head slightly at the sound, like a rattle, so you followed it, walking into the dimmed light kitchen, modern, with the cupboards and utilities in black, against the white marble counters, but your eyes centered on the person that was pouring two glasses of wine, in the middle of the room.

“Hello again darling.” He put the wine bottle on the counter and his eyes finally looked up to lock with yours. He was still shirtless, still with the same bloody clothes, the wound in his shoulder already stitched and bandaged, and your mouth salivated with the need of pressing your tongue onto his skin. His hair was down, eyes a deep brown that only made you move by instinct, slowly approaching him with your hands behind your back.

Like a small bunny.

“This house is a little big for you.” You say as you stand next to him, grabbing onto the wine glass and taking a small sip from it, the burning of the alcohol soothing your throat and calming your nerves. Nerves that were there because you waited so long to be with him, alone, like this. Completely owned by him, his property, his partner. 

“Glad that you are filling it with me now.” He says in a low tone, which sends shivers down your spine, because for some reason you knew that the night was going to be long, and that by the end of it, you won’t be able to walk. Hopefully.

“So, you’ve been studying me over the last three years, huh.” You say with a smile, not looking at him, still with the glass of wine on your lips, and the alcohol was slightly stinging the wound he provoked on you in the woods. 

“And you’ve been waiting for me for three years.” He retorted, his eyes slowly turning black from how his pupils began to dilate the more his eyes roamed your body. He took a large chug from his wine glass, putting the crystal on the counter again while you giggled at his words, making all of his blood go south immediately. 

“Took you long enough.” You replied to him and his hand twitched on the counter as he stared down at you. Your giggle stopped but that wicked smile was still on your lips, setting your glass down as you finally turned your head to look at him. “I’ve been studying you too.”

“And how so?” He asks, the need to grab you, the need to get hold of you, pin you down, making you shut up, beginning to gnaw in the deep of his gut. You shrug at him, not even sparing him another word and his eyes twitched, his fire igniting as his right hand rises up, tracing your cheek softly in which you melted at, pressing your face against it. 

Your eyes suddenly widened when his hand enveloped your throat, in one swift movement, and pressure was applied, cutting your blood flow and oxygen at the same time. A choked moan escaped your lips as he looked down at you, a smile appearing in his lips, knowing very well that you were drenched by now, clenching onto nothing as he applied more pressure on you.

Asphyxiophilia: Sexual Arousal when being choked, often cutting the oxygen circulation.

“Now, let’s get one thing straight Bunny.” His left hand, which was still on the counter, found the knife he had already prepared for this moment, the knife that would start it all. “I own you. I make the rules and you just follow them. There’s nothing else you have to do.” 

You nodded, choking on your voice as your eyes started rolling to the back of your head, your hands gripping his wrist and he finally let go of some of the pressure to let oxygen flow in your body again. You choked a sigh of relief, your breathing already jagged by how much air entered all at once in your lungs again, yet his hand was still on your throat, his tattooed hand. 

His left hand raised up, pressing the tip of his blade onto your cheek, the smile still on his face as he looked at you. You smiled through your dizziness at him, and oh you were so beautiful. He guided his knife down, slowly, gliding it over your body, until he reached the hem of your dress. Your eyes widened as you felt the sharp tip of the knife over your shorts, your clit twitching at the sharpness of it. That sent an adrenaline shock through your body that almost made you squirm, but you knew that if you moved he might hurt you there.

He appreciated you staying still, and you were just too perfect for him. He twisted the knife so the blade would be facing upwards, and he slowly punctured the tip of the knife inside your shorts, but not through your soaked underwear. He smirked at you one last time and that’s when you heard the intense ripping sound, a gasp escaping your lips, the blade stretching the dress off your body as it ripped it in half, going all the way to your collarbone. 

His eyes scanned your frame, a white bra on your body as well as the matching thong that he could see from the slit of your shorts. The both of you had dirt all over yourselves, but that only enticed him to take you even more. To finally own you completely. He motioned towards your hands with the knife, which were still wrapped around his wrist. You gave a sigh as you dropped your hands to your sides, making the dress finally fall off from your shoulders, as if it were a coat. 

He slowly let go of your neck, letting the knife rest on top of the counter again, your breathing heavy and with the imprints of his fingers already on your neck, and tears were threatening to fall down from your eyes as you looked at him, but they weren’t enough. They weren’t enough for him, and he wanted more, he wanted to see you completely ruined by him. 

“On your knees.” You shivered at his command, wanting to be a brat, deny him, but this is what you’ve always wanted, to belong to him. For him to use you as he pleases, for him to drag you around like a plaything, but yet, to protect you like a partner, like an equal. You slowly got down on your knees, looking up at him through your lashes and he pressed his fingers under your chin to keep you up. “Will you do everything as I say?”

“Yes, yes, I will.” You were desperate now, not being able to handle anymore teasing from him. 

“Open your mouth, stick your tongue out.” He commanded this time, and you did as told, opening your pretty mouth from him, your pink tongue sticking out and he grinned at the view. He gathered his saliva inside his mouth, to then lean in and drop his spit into your mouth and tongue. He immediately closed your mouth with force. “Swallow.”

You didn’t. You closed your eyes at the taste of him in your tongue, just for a second and his eyes widened, lust covering his features as he saw you moaning with his spit in your mouth. You then swallowed, and opened your eyes again, sticking your tongue out for him, as if asking for more. He straightened up, his belt coming undone, the leather slipping off from his pants. You bit your bottom lip in anticipation, knowing exactly what he was going to do with it later on.

“What do you want me to do now?” You ask him and he simply smirks down at you, wicked eyes crossing his features as he unbuttoned his pants, dragging the zipper down.

“You just stay there, look pretty, while I fuck that bratty mouth of yours.” A gasp was heard from you but it was an excited one, your eyes immediately darting towards the bulge that was inside his pants as he finally pulled them down, along with his boxers. His cock springing up to hit against his pelvis, right in between the V shape that you want to trace your tongue on. “Spit.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice, you lunged forward as he grabbed onto his shaft, pulling it down for you to spit on it, and his hand started going up and down on himself, slowly, and your lips turned into a pout as you stared. It wasn’t fair, you wanted to do that. You raised your hand up only to be stopped by a sting, a sharp sting and a smack. His other hand was still holding the folded belt, and he used it to hit your hand away, making your eyes sting with tears as you put your hand back down, rubbing it softly with your other one, looking up at him with a frown in your face.

“Wh–”

“Don’t fucking touch me. I said, STAY THERE.” He almost growls at you, sending another shiver down your spine, but you straightened up, looking up at him, waiting for his instructions as he still stroked himself with your spit, making you gulp with need, seeing how large he was, your body moving forward, wanting to give it at least a small kiss to the head, only for another sharp sting hitting you, this time, it was a slap by his big hand, not that hard, but not gentle either, making you turn your head away with a whimper.

He waited for you to turn back at him, to see your reaction, to see what you are thinking because even if he studied you, he still has some self control and empathy in himself, and much more when it comes to you. He doesn’t want to hurt you in ways that you do not enjoy, but as you slowly turn to look back at him, your cheek stinging, with a smile to your face and hazy looking eyes as if in a trance, he couldn’t help but smile down at you.

“Can I beg?” You ask, and it was an honest question, a question of boundaries, a question to get to know him even more, to know what you can and can’t do, and he was appreciative of that.

“Yes. Beg for my cock, I want to hear how much you want it Bunny, how much you’ve been wanting it for these past three years.” And your breathing hitched at that, an excited smile appearing in your lips as you looked up at him, your brain completely drained from conscious thought as your desire poured out of your lips.

“Please Eddie, I want your big cock in my mouth, please… I want to taste you, have your cum dripping in my throat, been wanting it for so long, please– Don’t keep me waiting baby, please…” Your sultry voice filled his ears, a shiver running down his spine as his dick twitched in his pants, asking for attention, but there was a reason for you wanting to beg, because you studied him too… You know what he likes.

Narratophilia:  Sexual arousal to obscene words.

“Then open your fucking mouth, and you’ll take what I give you.” You didn’t waste a second, your nails digging in your knees as you opened your mouth again, sticking your tongue out for him. With one hand he guided his cock, and with the other he pressed it at the back of your head, pulling you forward towards it. 

He first taunts you, pulling your head back for you to kitten lick the tip, to then pull you forward again to take it into your mouth only to repeat the motion again. A soft whimper vibrated in your throat, which made Eddie’s hold grow tighter on your scalp, and he finally thrust himself inside of your mouth, halfway in and started going in a slow pace first so your mouth would get coated in your saliva. He knew he would hurt you if he made you deepthroat at once, and he didn’t want to destroy your vocal chords, at least not yet.

You closed your eyes as you hollow your cheeks to finally start sucking on him, letting him bob your head back and forth at his own pace, but you relished in the taste of him, a moan escaping your throat in delight as your spit helped your movements be smoother each thrust he did into you. He was holding back his groans at your sight, finally having you at his mercy, on your knees. His self control slowly slipping away as he tilts his head back, closing his eyes at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his cock, loving the way he could feel you moaning against him.

Your pussy clenched at nothing, and you wanted to touch yourself, relieve some of the tension building inside of you, but you knew better than that, so you kept your hands at your knees, fingernails scratching your skin. His hand finally let go of his cock, guiding it towards the back of your head, finally joining his other one, gripping onto your hair. He stopped you from bobbing your head, only for him to start thrusting himself inside of your mouth, inside and out, still in a slow pace.

Your eyes opened to look up at him and his eyes beamed at how you were looking at him. Pleading for more. So that, he did. He thrusted deeper this time, a gulp being heard from you, a gargle, but not a gag, not quite yet. His pace quickened, a groan finally coming to his throat as your eyes started tearing up the deeper he went in. This is what you wanted, to be used by him, and your wetness sipping through your underwear and shorts even was an indication of that.

“What a fucking slut, not even gagging.” He chuckled only to stop when even if you had a mouth full of him, he could still see the cocky turn up of the corner of your lips while staring up at him. His nose flared and he suddenly slammed himself inside your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. A tear slid down your cheek and you finally gagged at him, but because it was a surprise to you more than anything. He pulled back only to slam himself back in, your gags and gurgles filling the room as your mascara started running down your face.

He pulled back just for a second for you to take a deep breath through your nose, and he trembled slightly with a moan caught in his throat as he saw your face. His hands gripping your hair even tighter, not being able to contain himself as he started thrusting himself into your mouth, quick, but not deep like before, yet your spit mixed with his precum started slipping from the sides of your mouth. 

He couldn’t help but wanting you to keep crying, to keep tearing up, so he slammed himself again against your mouth, hitting your throat again, and you breathed through your nose in order not to gag, but your eyes widened when you realized that he was staying there. You whimpered against him, as more tears slipped through your eyes as you tried to keep your breathing under control, but he was groaning in pleasure at the sight. 

You started gagging, your body lurching forward a couple of times and that was Eddie’s queue to finally pull away from you, taking his cock out of your mouth.

“Ung–” You were panting, trying to move your throat a bit to numb the sudden beating it received, but Eddie simply pulled you up from your hair, making you gasp as you stood on your two feet again, your knees screaming in pain from being against the hard floor for too long. His face was inches from yours and your eyes saw what he was looking at. You couldn’t help the smirk that came to your face as you felt his dick twitch against your hip as he inspected your cheeks, your tears.

Dacryphilia: Sexual arousal to seeing the partner crying or shedding tears.

His lips immediately connected to yours, a rough, deep kiss, full of lust and desperation. Your mouth opened for him, once again, and his tongue invaded it in a second. You clenched again when you felt his tongue piercing all around your cavity, on your tongue, clinking against your teeth. He moaned into your mouth when he felt the mix of his taste, your spit, as well as the saltiness of your tears. 

He pulled away from you, pulling his boxers and pants up but not buttoning himself up as you stared at him, completely dazed for his next move. He couldn’t help himself and he leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, in which you sighed dreamily at, knowing you were being a good girl. His good girl.

“Let's go upstairs. I have to ruin you.” You trembled at his words, excited for that to happen, excited to be ruined by him, excited to be yourself with him. He turned you around, and he grabbed his belt from the counter with one hand, the other being pressed against the small of your back, guiding you towards the stairs. You went up, your pussy clenching at each step taken as the adrenaline pumped in your veins. He was right behind you, now finally walking you towards his room.

He opened the door for you, and you walked in to take it all in. Realization hit you. This wasn’t just any of Eddie’s properties, this was his house, the one he considered home, the one that was all him and not something designed by someone else. His guitars were on display on one wall, a few paintings and limited vinyl editions of what you believed were his favorite bands, the big king sized bed in the middle of the room with dark comforters, and the big window on its side, a few feet away with long black draped curtains. 

You were now part of his home.

A sudden feeling filled you as you turned around with excitement to wrap your arms around his shoulders, the action completely startling him as he looked down at you. Your lips immediately found his, as you took in the feeling that he owned you, but in the most caring way possible, and like you stated before, you knew he wasn’t going to cage you up, not that you minded if it was done by him.

His lips moved with yours as he slowly guided you towards the bed, his hands going to your back to finally unclasp your bra. The back of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you pulled away from him, taking your bra off completely. He looked down at your bare breasts, wanting to dive into them, take them into his mouth, but he made a promise to you first. He raised a hand, slapping one of your tits with it, making you gasp with a moan.

“Get on the fucking bed, and raise your hands over your head.” You smiled at him as you sat down on the bed, pushing yourself backwards into the middle of it as he kept his eyes on you, slowly walking towards the side of the bed as you laid down, throwing your arms up, almost touching his black headboard. From the corner of it, he opened a small wooden door, at the very top, and he started pulling a black rope from it, your eyes widening at it, while a small smirk spread on your cheeks.

“The headboard seems new.” You managed to say in a hoarse voice, and he chuckled at that, grabbing onto your right wrist, pulling you towards the bracelet of the rope, wrapping it tightly around your skin. 

“Custom made. Received it a couple of days ago.” For some reason, he didn’t want to lie to you about that, nor tease you, because he wanted you to know that he prepared himself for you and just you. This bed was made for you, and that made you moan with need, your thighs rubbing together at his confession. He circled the bed, going to the other top corner of his headboard to pull the same rope out, grabbing your left wrist and pulling you towards him again, and you felt the tug onto your right hand, not letting it move further. 

“How thoughtful of you Eds.” You smiled at him when you noticed he wasn’t tightening the bracelets too hard on your skin. You have noticed that he was thoughtful of you, careful to some degree with you, yet, rough. His hand went down again, slapping at your left breast now, your back slightly arching at the feeling, with a moan trapped in your throat.

“Are you going to stop talking?” You giggled and licked your lips, wanting once again to go against him, but you knew better. You liked being dominated, you really did, and you knew that your other side was something you couldn’t do with Eddie. He sighed at your giggling, heading towards his dresser where he left his belt at the top of it. You bit your lip as your eyes glistened with anticipation.

“You’re gonna punish me? Don’t you want to fuck me? Take me? Breed me? Why are you taking so long Eddie?” You lifted your legs up, bending at your knees, spreading them open for him and he almost dropped the belt to the ground at your words, groaning as you used his kink against him. He put his knee on the edge of the bed and you smiled at him, a wicked smile.

“I told you to shut the fuck up.” 

SMACK.

You gasped loudly as your body jolted upwards from the mixed sensations that just went through your whole body, like an electric shock. He swung his belt towards your clothed cunt, smacking it, sending a sharp yet burning pain through your whole body, and your clit throbbed with the need of more friction, even if painful, it still felt so good after being neglected for a long while.

Eddie was smirking as he looked at you, squirming under him, his cock wanting to explode out of the confines of his boxers again, the zipper that was already down from his pants digging into the bulge as it twitched on him. He raised his belt again, smacking you on your left inner thigh, making you jolt again and your legs spread even more. You were perfect for him, simply perfect, moaning thanks to what he was doing, tears starting to form in your eyes again… You were his.

Sexual sadism: Sexual arousal on causing pain, non life-threatening.

“Eddie– Eddie please–” You were begging again, but that earned you another bruising smack to your other inner thigh, your back arching at the pain, yet pleasure that shot through your body as the ropes on the headboard clinked at the movement of your arms.

“Are you that desperate for my cock?” He says as he looks down at you, and you nodded desperately, a tear sliding down from the corner of your eye, and honestly, Eddie was too. He waited too long for this, and even though he wanted to do so many more things to you, he knew he had time, that you both had time.

“Yes, please, fill me up– I need your cock inside of me, waited too long for you baby, don’t tease me anymore, don’t tease us any longer…” You begged but this time it was a genuine one, a very truthful one that Eddie couldn’t deny. He put the belt to the side, almost throwing it, and he grabbed the hem of your ripped shorts and underwear, ripping it off from you in one move, helping him with the movement of your legs. 

He looked down at your wet pussy, and you already made a complete mess of yourself. The shorts were drenched as well as your tongue, and he couldn’t help but think again that he was blessed with you by some god. You were his equal, completely unhinged, crazy, and you two were desperate for one another. 

His cock would have to wait, because he couldn’t help himself as he saw you like this, at his mercy, legs spread and inner thighs red from his ministrations. He held you at the back of your knees, your eyes widening when he bent them forward, towards your chest, and your hips raised up, your cunt facing the ceiling. He smirked at it, leaning down to take a long swipe against your wet folds, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You wanted to arch your back, but you couldn’t as his grip was tight on the back of your thighs, making your back arch downwards. A moan escaped your lips as he kept swiping his tongue on you, licking on your wetness, tasting you, and groaning at how sweet you were, relishing in the fact that he could have you like this any time he wants from now on. Your hands made the ropes clink again, as you tried to guide them to his head, to hold onto him, and you whined at the restraints.

“Eddie– Eds–” You moaned his name and his hand raised up to smack your lifted ass as it left your thigh to do so. You gasped at the feeling, keeping your knees to your chest in order not to go against him. He flicked his tongue on your clit, and your moans finally started coming out of your mouth, one after the other. He was almost eating you up, like a starved man. 

And he couldn’t get enough. He could do this all day, he could stay buried in your pussy if he could because you just tasted so good, so much better than what he anticipated, than what he had imagined. All these years of waiting paid off, because it tasted as if you were waiting for him, it tasted like you were made for him, to his taste, that someone made his favorite flavor, and it had always been you.

His tongue finally dipped inside you, and he moaned against your cunt as he felt your walls clenching around him, the ropes clinking as you thrashed your arms from the sensation, his nose bumping on your clit as he moved his head up and down, his tongue flicking inside of you, and he really was devouring you. 

Thanks to all the edging, the teasing, and how you had been wet from the very moment you saw him in the ballroom, the coil in your belly started to form rapidly. Your moans escalated in sound, and your eyes closed at how good his tongue was flicking at your walls, trying to reach that place that would make you see stars. He took his mouth off you with a gasp, getting air back in his lungs and you almost cried at the loss, only to feel one strong and large finger enter you, and curling in a come hither motion. 

“Oh, FUCK!” Your head went back into the pillows as a moan escaped from your lips, loud, the spongy part of yourself being rubbed onto over and over again. He smirked at the sight, his panting from desire being heard along your moans.

“Are you enjoying yourself little Bunny?” He asks and you nod your head desperately, tears prickling in your eyes as you feel the burning at your hip from the position and your wrists tugged onto the ropes again.

“Yes, yes, yes! Please– Please keep going!” And he was going to. He wasn’t going to edge you, not this time, because you’ve been such a good girl, even if a little bratty, you were a good girl for him. He pushed another finger inside of you, your eyes widening as both of them started rubbing you, repeatedly, your belly screaming for release. Your chest was heaving up and down as your panting increased and his movements became fast, the squelching of your cunt being heard across the room.

“Come on, cum for me. Fucking look at me while you cum.” And that you did, staring up at him with your mouth open, moans coming out as your belly finally exploded, your vision going white as you tried to keep your eyes open for him, but you knew the tears were blocking your vision. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers and you heard him curse at the feeling as he tried to keep the fast pace on you. Your legs trembled around him as his name spilled out of your lips.

“Eddie! Oh my god, SHIT!” You kept riding your orgasm against his fingers, your walls clenching and unclenching until it finally stopped, your body jolting once, then twice as Eddie slowed down his fingers on you, and once he saw you relaxing onto the bed again he pulled them out of you.

He was breathing heavily, looking down at you as he made your lower body hit the bed again, a sigh of relief mixing with your panting as you finally felt some of the burning on your hip go away. He looked at his fingers, licking your juices off of them, and through your half lidded eyes you could see him, making your pussy clench again. You wanted to laugh at how needy you were, how desperately you wanted him. 

He wasn’t going to last long, not with you having sucked his dick, and he almost busted through his boxers while eating you out. He got off the bed, not even bothering to wipe his mouth from your slick and his spit, wanting to keep your taste on his mouth for a little longer. He walked over to one side to let your left wrist go, and he rubbed the red mark that appeared on your skin. You smiled up at him and nodded, as if telling him it was okay. He then walked to the other side to let go of your other hand, followed by him ripping himself off his pants and underwear. 

You wanted to have him in your mouth again, seeing his pink tip leaking precum was enough to make you want to open your mouth and stick out your tongue, buit he had other plans for you. He got on the bed again, but before getting in between your legs, he got his hands underneath your ass and waist, turning you over and onto your stomach, a gasp coming out of your lips. 

He positioned himself behind you, lifting your hips with his fingertips digging on the flesh of your skin, marking you up. When you left your upper body on the mattress, he groaned and grabbed onto his belt again that was on the edge of the bed, almost falling over, and made a snapping sound with it before landing it against your right cheek, making you jolt up and almost squirm away from the sting. 

“In all fours, or I’ll strap you to this fucking bed without touching you again.” That made your trembling hands press against the mattress to prop yourself up instantly. You stuck your ass at him, wiggling your hips slightly, earning yourself another smack from his belt on your other cheek, a squeal escaping your lips now. Another smack on the same place, and now a moan was heard in the room as the burning increased in that area. 

“Eddie…” You whimpered and he put the belt down, grabbing your ass with one hand, and his cock with the other to finally guide it to your waiting entrance. You moaned with need when he pressed the tip against your clit and you knew what you had to do now. “Please, I need your cock, don’t tease me anymore–”

He plunged himself inside of you, a choked gasp trapping itself in your throat at the sudden massive stretch with no mercy, your eyes widening at the feeling as they immediately prickled with tears from the sting. He was halfway in, and started invading your hole, a little slow, but not quite. He groaned with a smile to his face as he felt your tight walls engulfing him.

“Yeah, this pussy was made for me… So perfect.” You whined at that, almost a whimper as he finally bottomed out and you felt him almost at your throat. He was too deep inside of you, the stretch almost painful, but it couldn’t compare to how much pleasure it gave you. You needed him to move despite the burning sensation, because your belly was screaming for him, your mind and sould needed him.

“Eds, move, please move–” You didn’t have to beg anymore. He pulled back and slammed himself back in, making the fat of your ass jiggle at his movement, and a loud moan was out of your mouth in a second. He repeated the motion until he started going at a brutal pace, and the slamming of the headboard filled the room in between your breaths and the moans. Your arms were trembling as your body went back and forth against him, his hands now at your hips, his fingers digging into your skin.

You could hear the squelching of your pussy as he moved, wet from your climax and getting even wetter at finally having him, at finally feeling him inside of you, and the realization that you get to have him from this day on whenever you want. He was moaning, without shame at all because you were too warm, too beautiful, too pretty right now. His hands went towards your asscheeks, spreading them open to see your small hole, and a grin formed in his face between his jagged breaths.

“Next time– I’ll prep you, and I’ll fuck this little hole of yours. Would you like that, my sweet Bunny?” My. My. My. You were cock drunk now, not being able to think about anything else but him, and the way he was claiming you over and over again at every slam of skin against each other. 

“Yes! Yes! I’ll take anything from you–Fuck!” He wanted to laugh at that, as he smacked your ass with his hand, against the already bruising mark that was there. You groaned at that and he pressed his hips against you, harshly and deep and you choked on your own sounds at that. You were certain that if you pressed your hand against your belly, you would be able to feel the tip of his cock inside of you.

He reached out to grab hold of the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair to finally clench at your scalp, making you yelp. He pulled you upwards, your back hitting his chest as you ached it for him to keep thrusting in and out of you but he stood still. His mouth was on your ear as he breathed against it, whispering softly.

“You are so fucking perfect for me.” You smiled at that, your bodies sticking against each other's sweat. You licked your lips as you turned your head to look at him.

“I studied you too, you know…” You confessed to him, and he raised an eyebrow at you. You grabbed onto his hand that was in your waist, pulling it up towards your mouth. You put his index and ring fingers inside, sucking on them and you felt his hips start to move inside of you, at the same rhythm of your lips. You pulled them out to graze your tongue towards the belly of his palm where you suddenly bit at the flesh, harshly, marking him. His dick twitched inside of you as he moaned against your ear a smile appearing on your lips as they still latched on his skin, blood filling your mouth.

Odaxelagnia: Sexual arousal to biting or being bitten.

“You fucking slut.” He ripped his hand away from you, and despite the pain, he gripped onto your hips again, setting a brutal pace against you, your back arching against him, ass sticking out as your head rested against his shoulder. His mouth immediately found your shoulder, biting onto your skin until his teeth went through, your eyes widening at the burning and pain, but it sent an electric shock towards your belly which began its tightening again. 

“Only for you– God, just for you–!” He licked the blood that oozed out of the inflicted wound, and his other hand went towards your clit as his hips slammed against your ass, his dick hitting that perfect spongy part of yourself that made you moan almost in screams as he hit it repeatedly and without missing. His fingers started circling against your nub and your pussy clenched around him, earning a moan from his part.

“You have to come with me, I’m going to fill you up so fucking good.” He says into your ear and it comes unexpectedly, your eyes widening as his words triggered your orgasm way harsher than before, his fingers flicking on your clit rapidly as your juices gushed around him, making a mess out of your legs and his, and the comforter below you two. He cursed under his breath as his movements started faltering, stuttering.

“Eddie– Fuck, please, PLEASE–” You were still riding your orgasm out when you felt that warmth finally fill your belly, coating all of your walls as he spent his seed inside of you. He moaned loudly against your shoulder, as he kept pumping himself inside of you, your pussy clenching him to milk every single drop until you finally came down from your high and his hips stopped moving completely.

You were both breathing heavily as you tried to get some oxygen in your lungs. The room smelled like sex, your sweat, your juices, his cologne, and it was such an amazing smell to you. He groaned when he finally pulled out of you and his hand raised up to grab onto your chin, turning your head to look at him. His lips found yours again, this time, a tender kiss, a kiss of belonging, a kiss that sealed this bond between you both.

Your new home.

“You really are on the pill then.” Eddie says as he lays in his bed, a new comforter over his legs as his back is pressed against his headboard. You were naked with a towel on your hand as you dried your hair with it, walking towards him after a nice shower you both took together.

“Of course.” He groaned at that with his arms crossed over his chest, looking away. He knew it was too soon to have a kid with you, but he really wanted to claim you in every way possible, and having a family with you, was another way of doing so. You smiled at him, throwing the towel to the floor, as you got inside the bed with him. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close to him and you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Why did you decide to enter the trial?” He asks you and you hum at that question.

“My father has been trying to marry me off for the past three years… Sadly, all of my bachelors went missing, or were killed in action.” You say with a smirk to your face, and Eddie’s grin widened at that. He can still remember the screams of the men that tried to marry you, claiming you like he did. 

“I wonder what happened.” He says as if he were playing dumb. You giggled at that and nodded.

“Hmm… You didn’t know about my last bachelor, did you?” He blinked at that, and looked at you as you stared forward, a glint in your eyes that were filled with mischief, but also lust. “Right before entering the trial, my father told me I was to be set up with a new bachelor, and to be honest, he is a pretty, a very pretty boy.” You licked your lips at those words, Eddie’s attention already drawn to you as you spoke.

“Who was it sweetheart?” You turned to look at him, a wicked smile on your face.

“Harrington Jr.” Eddie’s eyes sparkled at that. The son of the Harrington Emporium. You licked your lips at him as he hummed at you, his eyes suddenly turning lustful as he looked down at you.

“Mmm… He is a pretty boy.” You turned your body to be closer to his ear as you talked in a sultry tone.

“Can I have him Eddie? Please?” He chuckled at that, but a new obsession was growing in his head, storming his mind. “I’ll share him, I promise…”

“We can plan on him being the next White Rabbit.” He says and your chest was filled with excitement as your hand reached for his cheek to make him turn to you, licking your lips as you talked.

“I’m the hunter next year.”

“He’s all yours.”

Bunny, Bunny, Bunny, you're so funny with your twitching nose.

Second part maybe? Do you guys want Stevie?

REBLOGS MAKE ME REALLY HAPPY YOU KNOW.

A/N: Yeah, kinda came out of my shell with this one, I hope you all like it, and if you don't well, you do you booboo. TO ALL MY FRIENDS THAT WAITED FOR THIS, HERE YOU GO, I LOVE YOU, MWAH.

[writeroutoftime]

pawns in your game

pairing: cassian x fem!reader

summary: when you get injured working a job with rhys, your mate - worried for your safety - loses it and finally lets go of his pent up anger

warnings: angst, injury towards reader, cass getting angry at rhys and also rhys kinda being a dick (look I have a lot of thoughts of conversations that never happened in acosf lol - I just hope this isn't horribly ooc)

words: 1.3k

a/n: first cassian fic! honestly, I know I said I'm in love with rhys, but it's the same for cass and az - so this one is for my fellow cassian people! wasn't sure how to wrap this up, so I left it open for a part 2. let me know if anyone is interested and/or has any ideas? but either way, please enjoy!! (also, if you could let me know what you think because I'm so nervous about posting this!)

tagging @captainsophiestark as requested! (hope you're having a lovely day!)

oOoOo

"Cassian, I need you to visit Windhaven and deal with Devlon. I'm getting reports of unrest, and I want this handled before it becomes a problem." Rhys commanded, not looking up from the papers on his desk.

Standing at attention, Cass nodded his head once, sharply. "Of course. I will go and pack, so that y/n and I may leave before the sun sets." He moved to exit the room, holding his hand out for you, but was quickly stopped before either of you got too far.

"Actually, y/n, I need you to accompany me." Rhys interrupted, directing his attention to you.

Your jaw dropped, caught off guard, and you hurried to school your features. It was not that you had to be paired with Cassian for all missions, but it had been that way for at least a century now since your mating ceremony. It served as peace of mind to you and Cass, and usually meant your missions were more successful compared to when you were separated. Surely, Rhys understood that.

"We will be leaving for the Spring Court in the morning, and I need my most trusted courtier with me."

Shock ran through your body, but you nodded your head regardless. It must be a serious matter, for you had not visited the Spring Court in many months. However, you instantly felt a sharp tug of your mating bond followed by waves of anger that poured off of Cassian.

"Spring Court?" he ground out, fists clenched at his side. "Why must you travel to the Spring Court? I thought we put that behind us?"

"Because I have official business to conduct with Tamlin that supersedes our personal desires. And I need the Night Court's courtier present for." Rhys snapped back.

You sent a soothing message down the bond, trying to calm Cass' anger you felt growing with each second that passed. "Cass, it's alright. Both of us will be fine."

"No. Rhys, you know what happened the last time any of us stepped foot there. You really want to risk it? Can't you send anyone else to go? Lucien, Mor, Feyre?"

Now it was Rhys' turn to growl. "Watch it, Cassian. I've told y/n she will accompany to Spring and that's enough."

"But can't you just-"

"I said that's enough!" Rhys shouted, his eyes darkened dangerously as the thread of his patience snapped. "I am your High Lord, and you will not push back against what I command."

A tension so thick that it threatened to choke you immediately filled the room. You kept your eyes locked on the ground, but you didn't have to look to know Cass wore a mask of despair on his face. It had been decades since Rhys had lost his temper like that.

Cassian merely bowed his head in mock respect before dragging you from the room. He did not speak for the next hour, only doing so to whisper his love and goodbye to you, before flying to Windhaven, not saying another word to Rhys.

oOoOo

The next day found yourself in the ruins of the Spring Court. What once was a beautiful court that thrived for all its citizens now lay dilapidated and lonely, a reflection of the court's high lord's own feelings. It had rattled your nerves to set foot on Tamlin's territory considering the rocky history between the Spring and Night courts, but you would not leave Rhys' side.

Now, you were utterly exhausted from mediating with two, stubborn males all day; only for no new development to transpire, meaning you simply wasted a day away from your own court and your mate. Your only relief came from the swift exit Rhys insisted on, making sure you would arrive home before the sun set.

Yet, the tension from the previous day lingered as you and Rhys traveled to the border to be able to winnow out. But as you both walked in silence, you couldn't help but feel uneasy. Like someone, or something was watching you. Before you could communicate any of this to Rhys, you caught a solider out of the corner of your eye with an arrow notched and aimed at your high lord.

"Look out!" you shouted. With such little warning, you knew Rhys wouldn't be able to deflect the arrow on his own. And with a rush of adrenaline, you pushed your body to reach Rhys.

Mere seconds before the arrow could lodge itself in its initial target, your body collided with Rhys', knocking him out of the way and safely to the ground. Instead, the arrow lodged itself deep in your shoulder, burning like a thousand fires. You let out a guttural scream, immediately dropping to the ground. 

Being part of the Inner Circle - the Court of Dreams - meant you were no stranger to pain, but this was unlike anything you ever thought existed. Very briefly, you recognized that Rhys had neutralized the threat and now hovered over your body. 

His face was contorted in pain and tears clouded his eyes. He moved to pull the arrow from your body, but halted the moment he touched it. Your scream reverberated in the stone courtyard. 

"y/n, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." he cried, never seeing you like this. Quickly, Rhys gathered you in his arms and winnowed back to Velaris and directly into the med wing. He prayed Madja could mend the wounds, and he blanched at the thought of Cassian discovering the events that had played out. 

oOoOo

Meanwhile, in the Windhaven camp, Cassian was meeting with a handful of males, attempting to negotiate peace. His focus wavered, however, as a blinding wave of agony struck his heart through his bond. He froze on the spot, his heart stopped pumping blood. While on a mission, the two of you had agreed to keep the bond closed - for safety reasons. The fact that he could feel this immense pain, meant something very wrong had occurred. 

"I-I have to go." Cassian mumbled, not bothering to offer any more explanation to the Illyrians - consequences be damned.

Immediately, he took to the skies and started the flight back to Velaris. The already long flight felt like it took an eternity. The wind strung at Cassian's cheeks as he soared, but the pain didn't register like the way the bond sung in pain.

Finally, Cass could see River House in his site, and when he finally entered the house, he was met with the site of his family huddled together in the sitting room. All eyes turned his way, a mixture of pity and concern as they looked at him. 

"What happened? Where is y/n?" he demanded, fully stepping into his role as Lord of Bloodshed, eyes darkened and wings drawn out menacingly.

Before anyone could answer, another scream could be heard from the halls. Cassian's knees buckled, and he would have fallen to the floor if Azriel hadn't been standing by. Rhys blocked his path, unable to meet his brother's eye.

"She was attacked, brother. We were ambushed while visiting the Spring Court." Rhys whispered.

"And they attacked her?" Cass questioned, though he knew deep down that wasn't the case. When Rhys, or anyone else for that matter, refused to speak, Cassian growled. "What happened?"

Unable to speak, Rhysand gently scraped against Cassian's mental shields and projected to him the whole truth of what had happened at the Spring Court; the ambush, you pushing yourself into harm's way for the sake of Rhys, and the pain you felt from the moment the arrow struck your body.

As Rhys withdrew himself from his brother's mind, Cass drew, deep rugged breaths. The silence in the room was so thick it felt suffocating, but no one dared to move or speak first. However, instead of speaking, Cass pushed past everyone and demanded his way into your room to be by your side.

One look at your crumpled form, sent Cassian to his knees by your bedside. He reached out, hesitantly, to grasp your hand in his and allowed the tears to fall. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." he mumbled.

Madja made herself known from the corner, approaching Cass the way one would a frightened animal. "The arrow she was shot with was laced with a terrible poison - much worse than faebane. I've done my best, but some of the poison already made it to her system."

"When will she wake up?" Cass asked, not allowing the possibility of you never waking to cross his lips.

The healer sighed deeply, looking over the famed general, now brought to his knees at the sight of his mate fighting for her life. "Only the Cauldron and Mother know. It will be up to y/n to bring herself back from the brink." Madja spoke slowly.

With a final, soothing touch to Cass's shoulder, Madja made her exit. Now off to deliver the same news to the rest of your waiting family.

"Please don't leave me. Y-you can't leave me." Cass whispered, clutching your hand. "I'm here with you every step of the way." he vowed.

oOoOo

And that was how it continued for the next four days as your body continued to try and heal itself from the inside out. Cass refused to move from the chair he had dragged to sit by your bed. Unwilling to leave your side for even a moment.

The rest of his family took turns sitting with you and Cass, bringing him meals, forcing him to at least take a bite. He knew that everyone else was suffering as well from your situation, but it felt like his heart was being torn apart, bit by bit, with each hour that passed and you still remained asleep.

He wasn't stupid. He knew the longer you went without improvement, the less likely it became you would heal. Cass heard the hushed conversations Mor and Azriel held outside your door, discussing what to do should the worst happen, Cauldron forbid.

It was on that fourth day that Cassian reached a tipping point. He heard the door creak open behind him, imagining it was Amren who would be sitting with him, based on the previous days' schedule.

What Cass had not anticipated was to see his High Lord approach the bed and pull a chair up on the opposite side of your bed. It was obvious to see the prominent dark circles that overtook Rhys's normally bright face, and the way his body and seemingly sunk into itself. But Cass could not bring himself to care for his brother's guilt or be the first to utter a word.

With a wave of his hand, Rhys summoned a tray of food for Cassian, and only sighed when he rejected the peace offering. Finally, Rhys found a sliver of courage and was the first to break the silence.

"Madja has yet to make headway on identifying the poison y/n was hit with, but she is not giving up. None of us are." he offered, unsure of how to breach the subject.

Rhysand could only imagine what Cassian was experiencing. The pain of losing Feyre had been so immense, but in a twisted sense, at least it had been quick. A blink of an eye and she was gone. Rhys didn't think he would have been strong enough to sit vigil, feeling her fade through the bond with each passing minute.

"Stop looking at me like she's already gone." Cass growled, eyes darkening towards Rhys.

"Brother, I only want to help her, and to support you."

"I think you've done quite enough. It's your fault she's even in this position to begin with." he spat, enjoying the way that Rhys flinched at his words.

"Now that's not fair, Cassian." Rhys tried to counter. "I never asked her to that for me."

Cass could only scoff at the High Lord's response. "Of course, you didn't have to ask. You're the fucking High Lord, of course she was going to risk her life for you. Isn't that we all do here?"

"All of you, y/n including, knew what you were getting into, what the dangers were, when you swore allegiance to my court. You don't get to throw that back on me. You think this doesn't hurt me just as it hurts you?"

"No, it fucking doesn't!" Cassian screamed, his blood boiling at this point. "Because you use us like your puppets to protect you and your mate-"

"Careful how you continue, Cassian." Rhysand warned, not caring for slander against his mate, even in Cass's state of grief.

"Ever since this "death bargain" you and Feyre struck, it's like the rest of us don't matter. All we do is making sure your asses aren't killed because Cauldron forbid the saviors of Prythian are stolen from us." Cassian blazed on. "Yes, you've lost your mate before, Rhys, but she came back to you, and you to her.

"Who will remake y/n if she can't fight this? You and your High Lady are so far up on your pedestal that you don't know what it's like for the rest of us. Yes, we understood what our duties would entail, but that doesn't mean we have to continue to stand for this." Cassian spat, finally allowing years of pent-up fear and anger to spill over.

With one last, murderous, glare, Cassian turned his back on Rhysand, letting his words ring out for all in the House to hear. His wings stretched out behind him, hiding both you and he from Rhys, the Night Court, and the rest of the world. If it was to only be the two of you against everyone else from that point on, so be it.

part 2

oOoOo

a/n: part 2?

[garciaasfluffypen]

the suit stays on (we're feral for you)

pairing: jemily x reader word count: 2.5k warnings: SEXUAL CONTENT. MINORS DNI. (we’re operating under the assumption that y’all have fucked or at least seen each other in various states of undress prior to being in an established polycule), toy usage, fingering (reader recieving), female terms of endearment -- "our girl", mentions of mental abuse/belittling in previous relationships request from this ask a/n: i have no clue if this stayed on prompt or not but its here and its all i could think about while i was at work today

gods, you looked good in a suit. 

you adjusted the jacket that tara had helped you pick out for the upteenth time, smoothing invisible wrinkles off the dark maroon fabric as you made your way to the door of the bedroom. well, technically it had become your shared office, but you knew your favorite women barely looked into the closet in this room unless there was a gala they had to go to. it was the perfect hiding spot. you ran into their bedroom real fast, hearing emily humming to herself in the bathroom as you went over to the bag you had brought over to grab your black pumps. you rarely wore them, but you figured since rossi was paying for emily to treat you and jj to an anniversary celebration it was only fair that you pulled them out. 

while it wasn’t jj and emily’s anniversary (considering they had been together for years and married before you came along) it had been five months to the day that they had asked you to officially join them, to be more than just a friend and a confidant. to be their girlfriend. sure, it had scared you, but now it was second nature. you had fit into their relationship like a hand sliding into a glove. it was so easy for you to find your place with them. they made sure you felt comfortable from the beginning- separating work from pleasure, each taking you out on separate date nights at least once every other week and a trio date twice a week. making sure to remind you every day that you were loved and appreciated. to let you know it was okay to not mask your stims or feelings- they were always making sure you felt safe. none of your previous exes did that, always belittling you when you would stim in public or forget to take your medication. but with emily and jj? it was easy. 

loving them was easy.

your feet slid into the pumps with ease, welcoming the extra few inches they added to your height. with a smile, you went over to the front door to scan the checklist jj had put up for you, reading it over. keys, check. wallet, check. badge, not necessarily needed but you had it in your wallet just in case. meds, which were only a morning thing, not including your magnesium that you took at six pm each day. you didn’t need to take them unless you forgot them, but jj and emily had been good at making sure you had taken them whenever you were over. the adhd brain fog you got when you don’t take your meds was rough, you’d hate for it to show up in front of them. 

“baby are you--” jj stopped in her tracks as she looked you up and down, her jaw dropping slightly. 

“do i look okay? i don’t, i knew the suit was a bad idea, i’ll go--”

jj grabbed your hand, turning you to face her. “absolutely not. you look….” 

“beautiful.” emily joined you two by the front door, slipping an arm around your waist and placing a kiss on your cheek. “the word she’s looking for is beautiful.” 

emily had put on a pair of slacks and a fancy blouse, one that she had most likely gotten from her mother at some point. you didn’t know much about ambassador prentiss, but you knew she almost always sent emily stuff that she barely wore. most of those clothing items hung in the guest room closet. jj wore a baby blue sleeveless top with black jeans, her hair falling down behind her in those beach waves that you loved and adored. you had no idea what they had planned for tonight, but all you knew was that they looked hot and you were in fact, very in love with your girlfriends. even if you couldn’t find the words to say it to them yet. 

“where’d you get the suit?” 

“uh, tara took me shopping the other day. when she heard about the date.” you swallowed nervously. “i hope thats okay.” 

jj stepped closer. “you should buy more suits. i can’t even put into words how hot you look right now.” 

you blushed. “are you sure i’m not overdressed?” you moved to take the jacket off. 

“absolutely not.” emily gave you a stern look. “the suit stays on.” 

“you’re not overdressed at all, lovey.” jj squeezed your hand. “you look amazing.”

“are you sure?”

“i promise.” she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “we got reservations at fiola, that italian place you wanted to try. you’re perfectly dressed.” 

the glint in emily’s eyes pointed to other undertones, but you kept your mouth shut. better to not start anything in case you were reading the situation wrong. you let them lead you to the car, making sure you were buckled in before heading out. jj leaned forward to rest her hand at the crook of your elbow, keeping light conversation with you so you didn’t get lost in your thoughts. the two women knew that you didn’t do the best with plans you didn’t know everything about, so they made sure to keep you in the loop as much as they could. granted, they didn’t even know the restaurant they were going to until this morning, but they told you what they were doing as they were doing it. it was a nice change, especially since in the past you would have to deal with your exes just scooping you up and taking you places without asking for your input. 

you enjoyed the meal, despite feeling out of place. rossi had made sure to get you a secluded corner booth, far away from everyone so you could make the most of your night together. after dinner, emily and jj took you for a walk through the georgetown waterfront park while you awed at the sights. they knew you would love it, since you always found beauty in small things like this. it was rare that you let your guard down like this, but they knew you trusted them enough to do so. even if these nights were far and few between, seeing you be your true self was something they adored deeply. to end the night, the three of you got ice cream at a little local shop before heading back to the apartment. 

minutes within getting inside, you kicked your heels off and went to take your jacket off, only to be stopped by a set of hands. emily walked in front of you, silently telling you to let her take care of it. jj had momentarily disappeared, and you searched for her as emily took your jacket off with care. it was folded neatly on the back of the couch before she ran her hands lightly over your arms again, stopping to hold your hands. you searched her eyes, attempting to figure out what your women had planned for you.

“how are you feeling, y/n?” her voice was low and husky. “are you up for more? if you’re not, you can tell us.”

“can we do whatever it is with jj?” 

“of course, lovey. she should be in the bedroom, do you care to join us?”  

you silently nodded, letting emily guide you to the bedroom. as she opened the door, you saw your favorite candles lit on either side table, with jj leaning up against the wall as she waited. her eyes practically lit up as she saw you and emily walk in, stepping over to you. 

“if you’d rather just curl up in bed, say the word and we can do that, okay?” jj gave you a smile. 

“okay. but what are we…”

your voice trailed off as you started to notice that jj had changed into a satin robe, one that she only took out for special occasions. you remembered buying it with her years ago, when penelope had invited you to girls night as a way to introduce you to emily before she had gotten with jj. before you had been asked to join the BAU, even. your hand ghosted over the satin fabric, subconsciously finding the string and fidgeting with it. your head fell to jj’s shoulder, slowly shuffling closer to her. 

“we couldn’t help but wish we could have you all night,” jj started. “you’re just so hot and all we could think about was you. we're feral for you." jj paused, looking at you. "is this okay?”

you nod. “more than okay.” 

“you’re in control, tonight is about you. you want us to stop, you tell us.” 

a noise fell from your lips. “mm”

“i need words, y/n.” 

“yes.” 

within seconds, jj’s hands started exploring your body, waiting for you to initiate a kiss. you leaned in, your hands wrapping around jj’s midsection and pulling her close to you as possible. emily came up behind you, her hands moving around your waist and starting to kiss your neck. your head fell back, giving both women full access to you. slowly but surely you feel yourself being taken to the bed, emily sitting down behind you and letting you lean against her knees. jj slowly started to undress you, taking her time and practically worshiping your body. emily placed kisses down your back, her hands exploring your upper body. they were taking care of you, taking their time and letting you know how much you truly meant to them. your hands found their way to the tie on jj’s robe again, un-tying it and pushing the fabric off her shoulders. with a swift movement, jj moved you so you were on the bed, emily shuffling to give jj room to adjust everything before continuing. you grabbed at emily, pulling her close and giving her a kiss while starting to unbutton her blouse, being sure to be careful. even if she didn’t care about it, it felt expensive and not worth ruining. 

emily helped you push her blouse off her shoulders before laying down next to you, the red of her victoria’s secret bra a stark contrast from her porcelain skin. you found your way to her breasts, kneading one with one hand while you pestered kisses all over the other one. emily’s hand made it's way into your hair, the other gripping the side of your arm lightly. moans fell from emily as you switched breasts, repeating the same process. as you did so, your free hand went down to your center, which was hot with need as your girlfriends took care of you. she slowly pushed you back onto the bed, pushing the hair out of your face and trailing her hand down to your jaw, turning your face to look at her. emily shifted so she could turn your head and envelop you in a kiss. as you kissed, her hand went to replace the one hovering over your center, easily slipping two fingers in with a smirk on your face as you moaned out. your head fell into the crook of emily’s neck, biting and nipping at the skin in an attempt to leave a semblance of a mark. 

“emmy… emmy please.” 

emily’s free hand grabbed your hip, holding you in place as you tried to move your hips. she was teasing the hell out of you, knowing you all too well. you mewed out as emily’s fingers slowed, the high you were chasing fading away. a pout flew over your features as you clawed at emily’s shoulders, silently pleading with her to continue. you finally regained movement of your hips as emily’s hand loosened, letting you find that high again at your own pace. noises fell from your lips as fireworks exploded all around you, the skin of emily’s shoulder becoming victim to yet another set of bite marks as you worked through your high. 

a blush crept up on your cheeks as you remembered jj had been there the whole time, now noticing the baby blue strap now situated over her hips. jj placed a hand on emily’s back and stood next to her, looking over to you to ensure you wanted to continue. you nodded, pulling jj closer so you could grab the strap. jj lightly moved your head to the strap, holding her hand at the back of your head while emily positioned herself behind you, her hands going to knead your breasts as you sucked jj off. 

“do you need more, y/n?” you nodded. “words.”

“yes. more.” 

 “so beautiful,” she placed a kiss on your cheek, then your neck. “our girl.” 

“what does our girl need?” emily looked at you.

“more, please.” 

you clawed at jj who pushed you down on the bed, hovering over your entrance as you nodded again as a signal for her to continue. slowly she pushed the strap into you, her hands going to hold you in place as she bottomed out. a moan of pleasure left your lips as she sat there for a second, waiting for you to adjust before she started pumping in and out. your hand reached for emily and went straight to her center, finding her clit and starting to rub. 

“look at you, taking me so well. laying there and taking me like a good girl should.” jj pressed into your hips. “getting emmy off while i fuck you so good, huh?” 

your free hand gripped at the sheets. “oh, oh fu--”

“yeah? jayje is so good to you, huh?” you nodded. “tell me, use your words.”

“so good, jay, so-- fuck-!” 

emily came to a climax first, with you following closely behind. jj smirked as the two of you rode your climaxes out together, both of you moaning out in tandem. as your high faded away, leaving you breathless on the bed, jj’s hips starting to stutter as her own climax hit her. emily slowly pushed your hand away from her and watched you through hooded eyes as you whined at the sudden emptiness you felt below. jj fell on the bed next to you, pulling you as close to you as she could before emily joined the two of you. 

“was that okay, y/n?” 

you covered your eyes and let out a breathy laugh. “how are you so good at that?” 

“at what?” jj smirked. 

“oh shut up,” you playfully nudged her shoulder. “you know what i’m talking about.” 

“what can i say, the best of me comes out when i’m with you. the both of you.” 

you couldn’t help but blush. “really?”

“really. we wouldn’t have asked you to be ours if we didn’t both adore the hell out of you.” 

emily wrapped her arm around your midsection. “you mean the world to us, y/n. truly. we’d do anything for you.” 

it felt as if your heart grew three sizes in that moment. you snuggled further into emily and pulled jj close, inhaling the subtle scent of sea salt from her shampoo. you closed your eyes and let the two women draw patterns over your skin, relishing in the moment before ultimately one of them got up to get a washcloth. your eyes started to slowly shut, the warmth of your girlfriends bodies engulfing you in a hug. 

you could get used to this. 

and maybe… maybe you were almost ready to say those three words.  almost.

[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 35

A/N: The center photo is indicative of the reader's gown only. Not her appearance which isn't defined.

Part 35: Dance with the Devil

Series Masterlist

Words: 5.2k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mafia, reference to violence and violent acts, intimidation, dark seduction. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

"You are almost ready," Yelena said with a smile, just after the stylists left. "Now the jewelry."

You paused, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your gown was an exclusive creation by a top designer, a beautiful sleeveless, a-line creation in layers of tulle, sequins, and matte satin. Shades of pale blue and gold transformed you, enhanced by the ornate way your hair was done, the subtelty of your carefully applied makeup. Beneath you wore the most elegant little gold heels that were surprising comfortable despite their minimal style. The stockings were sheer, hugging your upper thighs just below the skimpy ice-blue panties you wore.

The mention of jewelry brought up an unhappy memory and you knew Yelena recalled it too when your gaze met hers. How your husband's ex-mistress smuggled her necklace in for you to wear on another special occasion had never been solved.Had it been Neal? Hansen? A reminder from the not-too-distant past that your enemies could reach you at any time. A reminder to be vigilant. 

"What jewelry?" you asked carefully.

Yelena smiled. "I picked it up myself," she told you, lifting a delicate strand of diamonds set in gold from a black velvet box on the bed. 

When she draped it around your throat, you smiled at the way it completed your look. There were matching earrings, diamond studs each with a teardrop diamond dangling and catching the light. The set was exquisite. 

"Harry Winston," your friend told you, admiring how they looked on you.

"Nice of them to loan these for the ball," you told her, grateful you got to wear them. 

Yelena reached for the golden mask on the bed, holding it to you. "No loan. Steve bought them."

What?

"These must have cost a fortune," you mused. They probably cost more than everything else you owned combined. "Glad you're going with us. I'd hate to get mugged for these."

Yelena grinned. "Security is going to be tight already with so many important people there. The mayor will be there. One of the state senators."

You scoffed. "Why am I going? I'm no one special."

"But you are," Yelena told you. 'The fact that everyone wants you has been a powerful motivator in this game of chess. Your husband is completely devoted to you. Barnes would love to get his hands on you."

"Barnes would ring my neck the first chance he got," you pointed out.

Yelena's expression was difficult to read. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Hansen would for sure kill me," you said, putting your mask in place carefully. The soft mask of golden sequins fit over your eyes. 

Yelena's gaze dropped at the mention of the name and you were ashamed. You needed to work harder not to bring that up to her. And you needed a subject change. Fast.

"Who's going to be here with Nat tonight?" You weren't surprised Nat didn't want to go. She'd been through so much between the horrific end of her abusive marriage and all trauma of years being left to the sadistic nature of Banner. You wanted to make sure she was well looked after while you and Steve were gone.

"Clint is staying here of course," Yelena said quietly. "Dyson will be here too. He's arranged for extra security for the house tonight."

You nodded your approval. "What about Scott?"

"He's coming with us," Yelena explained. 

You smiled. Scott going had little to do with keeping you and Steve safe and everything to do with spending time with Yelena. You were pretty sure Yelena was aware of Scott's infatuation with her. Would she ever return his affections? You didn't know. Considering her tragic history, you weren't sure she could feel the same way towards him or anyone. But in the time you'd known Scott, you learned he was a good man who always had your back and never once questioned your authority. You trusted him with your life. You trusted him with Yelena too.

But would she ever give him - or anyone - a chance after all she'd been through?

You blew out an exhale, preparing yourself for the night ahead. "I guess we should let Steve know I'm ready."

"He knows," a deep voice caught you and Yelena both off guard. 

Your husband strolled into the bedroom and Yelena stepped back to allow him a clear path to you. He looked breathtakingly handsome in the classic black tuxedo he wore, tailored perfectly to fit his tall, broad-shouldered physique. His tawny hair was perfectly styled, diamond cufflinks winking in the light. His tie was shades of gold and blue to match your gown, a subtle touch but one you appreciated.

Steve moved to stand behind you in the mirror of your vanity, bending to fit his handsome face in the reflection with yours. 

"You look so beautiful," he said with something like reverence in his voice. "I can't wait to show you off."

"I'll be downstairs," Yelena said, making her way out to give you some privacy. "We worked very hard on her, boss. Don't mess her up."

Steve smiled at what he took as a playful warning, his large hands smoothing over your bare shoulders. Slowly, you removed the mask, placing it in your lap with your hands. His watchful gaze didn't miss the slight tremble of their movements.

"Everything is going to be fine," he explained. "I've been to this event before. All the rich, politic elite of Boston come out to dance and drink the night away and wallow in excess. It's probably Tony's favorite night of the year."

You could see it. And you were excited to go to the annual masquerade ball, as Steve's wife and not his trophy, and to enjoy a fabulous night on the town. You felt like Cinderella, going to the ball in the gown that truly looked as if magic had created it.

But you couldn't fight back an impending sense of dread. It had been so quiet in the weeks of your recovery and Steve's. Life went on. You were included in all the family's business meetings. The family business had recovered and was branching out, deals with three of the other four families made things even better. 

Not that you agreed with all of it. You weren't crazy about the loan sharking or protection deals the family made. The casinos and restaurants didn't bother you as much. And at least the family wasn't making any money off drugs or trafficking. Some of the stories about the business and how other families operated you heard now were just horrific. You made up your mind early that no matter what, you'd never allow the family to make money off the misfortunes of women and children. Never.

It had been very quiet where the Barnes family was concerned. Too quiet.

"I'll  be the envy of every man there tonight," he murmured, pressing a kiss into your neck. The soft brush of his beard made you shiver. A sensual smiled curved Steve's lips. "Are you ready?"

You nodded. You trusted your husband. You were going to do your best to have a wonderful night, just like he intended.

And still that little kernel of dread lingered.

You felt like you were in an old Hollywood movie to walk down the staircase on your husband's arm with the gown flowing softly with your movements. Honestly, you were grateful for Steve's help in keeping you balanced, relieved when you made it to the bottom of the stairs.

Dyson, Yelena, Scott, Clint and Nat were a small crowd, watching in admiration as you approached. Nat's smile was all you needed to feel like a princess. Her lovely green eyes lit up as her gaze swept over you. 

"You look perfect," she exclaimed, carefully hugging you. "I knew that gown was the one."

Nat had been the one to find it when the two of you went out shopping for it. And you were all too happy to give her the credit. You knew very little about fashion. You would learn. Until you did, it was nice to have the advice of someone who already understood it.

As Nat stepped back, you forced yourself to smile. She still looked so small, so frail. She had yet to gain weight and regain her amazing figure. Your sister-in-law seemed fragile, even with the protection and love of the man she'd always wanted. Even with the full support and love of her brother. It worried you.

Dyson looked worried too, but as you did, he put on a quick smile. "You two had best get going. The line at dropoff takes forever."

"True enough," Steve said, nodding to Yelena and Scott.

You stopped to hug Dyson. "Keep her safe for me," you whispered.

"You know I will," he muttered.

Steve whisked you away to the sleek black limousine waiting in the driveway. Its glossy, jet-black exterior reflected the fading sunlight with a mirror-like finish. The long, streamlined body stretched gracefully, its tinted windows offering privacy and adding to its air of mystery. Scott climbed in behind the wheel and Yelena rode shotgun as Steve got you into the back seat, helping you keep your gown away from the doors. Once you were settled, you studied your husband. Something was missing.

"Did you bring a mask?" you asked him. 

Steve smiled, pulling a small black mass from inside his tuxedo coat. No sequins, just a matte black mask he could wear. But he wasn't interested in the mask as he fidgeted with it. He was too busy staring at you.

"Are you excited?" he asked.

You couldn't help the smile the question brought on. "Yes."

Steve looked pleased. "As time goes on and things settle down, we'll get out more. Do more things like this. You look like a princess tonight."

Tears pricked at the backs of your eyes at his heartfelt words. He meant them. He was taking you out to a society function, dressed you up like you were going to the fucking Oscars. A night out like nothing you'd ever experienced before. You'd been excited since he told you he got the tickets a few weeks ago.

"There are going to be a lot of people there, sweetheart," Steve explained quietly. "I'm sure Belova went over everything with you. But I need you to listen. You are going to be with me at all times. If you're not with me, you'll be with Belova and Lang. No wandering off to talk to people or sightsee. Okay?"

You nodded. Yelena had covered the plans thoroughly while she helped you get ready for the evening. 

"If I have to talk business for a moment, Belova will be with you. You have to go to the ladies' room, Belova will be with you," he continued. "Take it easy on the drinks. You're not used to alcohol and I need you vigilant tonight. We're going to have a wonderful time but..."

"I understand," you told him. "Besides, I don't want to miss any part of tonight because I'm drinking. It's my first masquerade ball. I'd like to enjoy every minute of it."

The smile Steve flashed you had your heart fluttering in your chest.

"There will be dancing, right?" you asked.

"Of course," he told you. 

"You'll dance with me?" Would Steve dance with you to a beautiful ballad or classic song?

Reaching over, he tipped up your chin with his fingers, his touch careful. "There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you when you smile at me like that. I love you."

"I love you, too." 

His lips were a teasing brush against your own but in seconds it deepened, filled with longing and need. 

The sharp wrap on the dark glass that separated the two of you in the back seat of the limo from Scott and Yelena up front scared you. Then the glass slid down just a couple of inches. 

"Later," Yelena admonished. "I worked too hard on her for this party, boss."

You froze thinking that was going to piss your husband off but he laughed. "Okay, sorry," he called back to her.

It made you happy. Ever since everything happened that day between your family and Barnes', your husband and your best friend got along a lot better. Steve was kinder to her, treated her with the same respect as he would any of the men in his employ. That being the case, Yelena felt comfortable enough to tease him about things like tonight. She worked hard on carefully picking her moments with him to tease. She did even better at being thoughtful when offering criticism or advice. The fact that they were getting along better just made your life easier.

"That's supposed to be privacy glass," he said, still grinning.

"Or she's just that good at her job." Honestly, she was.

"After the ball," Steve said once the privacy glass has slid back up, "I want you out of that dress. Especially if you want to keep it."

The sly warning had you grinning. "I would like to keep it. It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen."

"Noted," your husband said. "I'll do my best to contain myself until you get the gown to safety."

The heated looks he cut you the entire way into Boston made you wonder if he'd be able to. You couldn't wait to find out.

Once you reached the venue, you saw there was indeed an endless line of limos in the que leading up to the door. It moved surprisingly fast. Within ten minutes, Scott pulled up to the door and Yelena darted out to open the door for you. Before you could reach for her hand, Steve was there, helping you out of the back of the car with ease and ushering you up the carpeted stairs with Yelena behind you. The decorations and festive lighting dazzled you as you moved along on Steve's arm. The way the soft light reflected off the gown you wore made you feel like you were in a fairytale. 

Steve stopped and greeted more than a few gentlemen on the way into the venue. One man you recognized as a senator and the easy way the two men spoke had you curious. Did the senator know who Steve was? Were they old friends? For a moment, the two of them seemed to forget all going on around them. Just as quickly, the senator's gaze fell on you and the handsome older man smiled. 

"Is this your new bride?" the senator asked.

"She is," Steve replied, introducing you with obvious pride. You meant to shake the man's hand. He kissed the back of yours in an old fashioned gesture. You found him completely charming. 

"Have you been to the masquerade before?" the senator asked.

You shook your head. "This is my first one."

The man smiled. "I hope you enjoy tonight. If I get the chance, I'll introduce you to my wife. It's one of her favorite nights of the year."

"I'd like that," you told him. "It was nice to meet you."

Was it your imagination that Steve watched you with such wonder? Once his conversation with the senator ended, he led you further into the venue where the main ballroom was all prepared, looking like a view from a movie set. 

Clusters of elegant tables arranged in a wide horseshoe shape framed the dance floor, each adorned with lavish centerpieces sparkling beneath the soft glow of the majestic chandelier overhead. The chandelier's light cascaded down like a shimmering waterfall, casting a warm, golden hue over the room, making every surface gleam. A full bar stood ready, offering the finest drinks, while an orchestra played a symphony of enchanting melodies, weaving through the air like a spell. The room was a sea of Boston's political powerhouses, movie stars, and the wealthy elite, all dressed in exquisite gowns and tailored suits, their masks concealing only their identities—not their status. As you paused to take it all in, your husband's familiar warmth pressed against your back, grounding you in the moment as the dazzling scene unfolded before your eyes.

"What do you think?" Steve's whisper at your ear made you shiver.

"I love this," you told him with enthusiasm. "Thank you for bringing me tonight."

"You don't have to thank me." Your husband took your hand, looking like a tawny-haired prince in his tuxedo and black mask, and led you to the dance floor. Your surprise must have shown on your face because he laughed as he swept you into his arms at the edge of the dancing crowd and led you in an easy waltz.

Steve was a wonderful dancer much to your surprise. He led you with an easy grace that you delighted in and found easy to keep up with given your own love of dance. You knew you had to be staring at him but he kept you close, enjoying your surprise.

"When did you learn to dance like this?" you had to ask after he twirled you around gracefully. 

"It's not so hard," he said, his attention solely on you. "Not nearly as hard as your type of dancing."

Ballet was discipline but dancing a perfect waltz wasn't easy either. You were impressed. 

"Is this why you got us all dressed up?" you teased. "So you could show off your dancing skills?"

Steve chuckled. "Is there something wrong with wanting to have a magical night with your wife?"

You were delighted. But you knew it wasn't the only reason Steve brought you here. And now that you were involved in the family business, you weren't offended by the other reason the two of you were there.

Not long before he married you, Steve had acquired a prized property on the outskirts of Boston. He'd been so involved with marrying you and taking over the families he'd neglected it for a time. Now his attention was back on it, plans were being made to develop it. Together, you'd decided on an exclusive resort with fine dining, glitzy nightclubs, and a casino for the wealthy. It was a massive investment and to make it work, certain permits would need to be acquired. The senator and a few key businessmen there tonight could make or break the project that would expand your family's wealth. 

It was a very important night for Steve.

He'd be spending some time talking to these gentlemen tonight which is why Yelena and Scott were there, to keep you safe. You really didn't mind. You felt like Cinderella at the ball in the beautiful gown that flowed and captured the light with your movements as you danced with your husband among the wealthy citizens of the city. As the two of you moved through the dance, you caught a glimpse of Yelena, dressed in her dark suit and standing next to Scott, blending into the background. Your best friend's gaze never left you. Scott's never left her. You smiled, enjoying the beauty of the moment, dancing with your husband at your very first masquerade ball.

When the dance came to an end, it took you a moment to realize it. One of the musicians announced the band would take a short break and be back in just a few minutes. Steve's hand at your lower back urged you to turn. The senator making his way towards you with a lovely older lady at his side. 

The senator's wife was polished from head to toe. Her gown was bright pink layers of satin that matched her lipstick. Otherwise her white hair and face gave her a cold countenance, like she was an ice queen dressed for her best guess at spring. Her eyes were dark, small and mean as her gaze swept over you. The senator assured you that you and his wife would have plenty to talk about. As the woman stood there studying you with pursed lips, you decided talking to her probably wasn't the best idea.

Steve's gaze met yours and he nodded as he let the senator lead him away, leaving you with the judgy woman before you.

"This must be a special night for you," she said tartly.

Straightening your spine, you smiled. "Why is that?"

The woman's white brows rose slightly but a smile played about her lips. "You don't belong here."

"Excuse me?" You kept your smile in place.

"My father was a direct descendent from The Mayflower," she informed you. "We're practically royalty here. We built our fortune through hard work and our good name. You, on the other hand, come from poverty and crime. You father crawled out the shadows and robbed good people blind. That's why you have the money to play dress up and act like you belong here. We all know your husband fancies himself some sort of underworld prince. But he doesn't belong here either."

Oh, no, she didn't just put you and your husband down. Lifting your chin, you looked her in the eye.

"Your ancestors came over on a ship over four hundred years ago and nobody cares anymore," you told her. "You can pretend to be royalty, and tell yourself you made your money working hard and protecting your good name. But the sad truth is, your family made your money the same way mine did. In fact, your family probably paid mine to keep from getting your hands dirty or to protect your interests. And my husband is the king of Boston's underworld and so was my father before him. You may be someone in society right now, but your husband is currently anelected official. If you were smart, you'd spending a little more time being respectful."

Gracefully as you could manage, you turned your back to the rude woman and marched off. Yeah, maybe you hurt your husband's chances of getting the permits you needed for the project development once she talked to her husband. But you weren't about to put up with someone like that. 

You looked all around for Yelena. You were dying to tell her about the conversation you'd just had. But you weren't watching where you were going and you collided with someone hard.

And whoever he was, he caught you in his arms, sweeping you out onto the dance floor as another waltz began. He was as tall as your husband and the scent of his expensive cologne was familiar. You realized who held you a beat before he spoke, a low purr by your ear.

"Did you miss me, beautiful?"

Barnes.

Easing back, you glanced up at your uninvited dancing partner, wearing an aura of allure and danger with ease. Barnes' chiseled jawline was partially obscured by the intricately designed black mask he wore, adorned with silver accents catching the light. Those steely-blue eyes were shadowed but still piercing, glinting with a cold intensity as his gaze met yours.

His tuxedo was entirely black and tailored to perfection, hugging his muscular frame effortlessly. His attire seemed to absorb the light, creating a sense that he came from the shadows. Even his shirt was dark onyx, subtle embroidery only revealing itself when he moved. And he felt strong as he held you, solid and healed.

Stop staring at the man and answer.

"I haven't thought about you at all," you told him, trying to sound nonchalant but not quite hitting that note.

As much as you hated to admit it, Barnes was undeniably handsome. From the way his hair was slicked back with precision to the confident smirk curling his lips, the man was... magnetic. But there was a sinister edge beneath the polished surface. There always had been. Barnes' posture was too poised, his movements too calculated. Every inch of him whispered danger, a wolf in the presence of unsuspecting lambs.

Pulling you close to him, Barnes chuckled. "I don't believe that. I think you I live rent free in that beautiful head of yours."

"Maybe," you said, feeling his smile widen. "I do think about how I wished we'd used more poison."

Now he laughed, a deep rich sound. "I don't doubt that."

"What do you want?" You looked anywhere but at him. Still, you were so focused on the predator that held you, you weren't really seeing your surroundings. The music, the lights, everything else seemed to fade into the background.

"What do you think I want?" Barnes asked.

As Barnes swept you around the floor, your mind scrambled for a comeback. "Your hands around my throat," you said, going with honesty. "And me dead?"

Leaning in, he ran his nose gently up the column of your neck, making you shiver. "Oh, I did. I really did. And I could have made that happen."

You were dangerously close to having him think he had the upper hand here. "No, you couldn't."

Again, he chuckled. "You've got it all figured out, don't you?" Releasing you only long enough to spin you in the dance, he pulled you back into him tightly. "You made peace with your husband. You're now involved in the family business. I would call Steve a pussy for even thinking about that if it were any other woman. But you're not just any woman. But you're special."

You missed a step in your alarm. How the hell did Barnes know you were in the all the family business meetings now? And that you and Steve had made peace? The questions triggered your anxiety, reminding you of the days early in your marriage when Neal had been Barnes' rat and you were always looking over your shoulder. Was someone else talking to Barnes?

"A long time ago, your mother seduced my father," Barnes whispered. "She tore my family apart. And when you came along and you weren't the poor disfigured little girl we were told you were, I assumed you were a little whore like your mother. You look almost exactly like her. Has anyone told you that?"

You didn't answer, trying hard to put a little space between the two of you. Where was Steve? It wouldn't be too conspicuous if he broke in on the dance. If Yelena or Scott came to save you, it could create a scene and unwanted attention. 

"I even thought maybe, horrible thought I know," Barnes went on, "that you might be my half-sister. But it didn't take me long to realize that wasn't true either. Besides, that devious little mind in there, hidden behind all that beauty? You didn't get that from your mother. Or my father."

"What's it to you?" you snapped at him, trying to pull off pissed even though you held anger and fear in equal measure. "I'm Steve's wife. He's your boss. You'd do well to remember that."

Barnes was unfazed. "You're Steve's wife. For now. But he can't handle you." Barnes leaned closer, his gaze locking with yours. "You should belong to someone stronger."

Now you really were getting pissed. "I don't need you or any man, including my husband, to tell me who I am and what I should be doing," you said.

"You may be right," he purred. "But it's that attitude, that fire. It got me thinking... I had the wrong idea about you from the beginning. Yeah, all the bitterness from the past clouded my judgment for a while. I wanted you dead and buried next to your loser husband." When you tried to pull free of him, he tightened his grip. His grin widened. "Now I realize you're exactly what I need."

"For what?" You didn't know how much of your glare he got from behind your mask.

"To finally take my rightful place," he said as if it were gospel. "The position occupied by your current husband."

Current husband? Who the fuck did he think he was?

"Our children will be kings and queens," Barnes went on. "That dynasty would rule Boston for decades."

"My children with Steve will rule Boston," you told him angrily. "And when we're done with you, no one will even remember the Barnes family."

"One day," he said with meaning, leaning closer, "you'll be mine."

Despite yourself, you shivered. Barnes caught it.

"You want me too," he whispered. "I'll make you admit it."

As the song neared its end, you were prepared to do whatever you had to do to get away from the bastard, the man who'd done so much damage to your family. As the last strains of the symphony ended, Barnes released you to bow. You did curtsy to him, then you straightened.

"I will never be yours." You meant it with every fibre of your being. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find my husband."

Barnes' grin didn't fade. "Better find a way to keep him safe."

You spun on your heel, marching off the dance floor. You needed air, and a moment to calm down. You were blinking back tears, you were that angry. You felt someone on your heels as you made you way out of the main event room out ornate glass doors left open. It was chilly out there but you welcomed it, fighting back anger.

"Are you okay?" Yelena asked, her hand at your back as you gripped the railing and hung on. 

"No, I'm not... o-fucking-kay," you said, trying to regain your composure. "He came out of nowhere."

"He did," Yelena said. "He got to you so quickly after you talked to the senator's wife."

"Where's Steve?" you asked.

"Talking very intently to the senator," she replied. "It appears to be going well."

You had to wonder if that would still be true once the senator's wife caught a moment to tell her husband and your little "talk."

But you had bigger problems right now. Barnes.

"Barnes is all healed up," you told her. Looking beyond her, you saw Scott by the entranceway back into the ball. "And he's got big plans."

"He wants you," Yelena said it. "That much was obvious. It gives me some idea of his plans."

You nodded. "Don't say anything to Steve or Scott right now. I just want to find a glass of champagne to take the edge off and get through the rest of the ball."

With any luck, you could maybe enjoy one more magical dance with Steve before the evening ended.

You couldn't, however, complain. You wanted to be in on the family business and this was part of it. Barnes, unfortunately, was also part of it.  And he'd just announced his intentions to you and you realized now it was the pit that had been in your stomach the entire evening. 

Barnes would keep tearing your life apart until he was stopped. Somehow between his drastic plans and the animosity between you and your husband, you'd found your way to a happy marriage. A path to be queen in this world. And you'd be damned if you let Barnes threaten that future.

"You're going to tell Steve, right?" 

"I am." You didn't miss the concern in Yelena's voice. "I'm telling all of you. But not here."

Nodding her agreement, Yelena watched as you straightened, steeled yourself to return to the event. 

"Let's find you a glass of champagne, boss," she said with a wink.

Boss? Now that put the smile back on your face. 

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[cherry-pop-elf]

Chronic Tonic

Wolverine x Reader x Deadpool

Authors note: I’m taking advantage of all this hype to bring awareness to chronic pain, because we know this bitches have it. ((Written by someone who suffers from it

Warnings: Canon typical violence (so it’s gonna get gorey), disabilities, domestic fluff, pain, blood, gore, Logan and Wade loving each other in their own way, Blind Al being iconic and a worried mom, DogPool being a angel, and heavy talk about disabilities and disability awareness

“Honey, mind coming to help me with the dishes?” You would hear Al call for you. You swore you were the only person she treated you with that Black Mama Magic with. As if you could complain. Suppose having company helps soften you up.

You had recently properly moved into the apartment. A bit cramped now, but given how often Wade and Logan went off to do super hero work it didn’t really matter. You knew deep down Al was happy to have you move in. Even if she doesn’t show it. Same for Mary Puppins, who loved to show she loved your attention.

“Sure thing Miss Althea!” You called back, as you would return Mary to her little dog bed. She gave a whine of protest, only to hush up when you tucked her in with one of Wade’s hoodies. Smelled like her daddy’s, so she was contented to nap time.

“You don’t have to keep calling me Althea-“ She would laugh, as you would enter the kitchen. Quick to already start drying them off, or working on the plates Althea didn’t quick get clean enough. She had a dish washer, but being able to do normal things can be soothing. You knew she was a little worried about her boys. She had her ways of showing it.

“Well I wanna, so-“ That had her laugh at your smart off tone. Was like Wade was in the apartment still. Had her sigh, as you two held your routine perfectly. You often helped her, but in the ways that soothed her. Such as not immediately dropping everything whenever she called for you, or babied her when she was struggling with something. Actually treated her as what she was. A person, who needed different types of help. Simple as that.

“I don’t know if it’s the damn arthritis’s, or just that mama sense I got, but I feel it in my bones. That nerve ache that something bass gonna happen. Maybe we should get the towels out of the laundry-“ Althea would tell you, as you frowned. Wade and Logan were practically immortal. They had to be fine, right?

That’s when the stench of blood smacked you in the face.

It hit you long before they reached the door. Nearly dropped the bowl in your hand, as it just filled your lungs. That intense iron. Althea gave a ‘I knew it-!’ Huff, as she was already walking to grab the needed towels. While you yourself were wondering how she didn’t even so much twitch a nose at it. Maybe the cocaine finally wore it down.

“Get the door for them! And a mop!” Althea called to you, as you brought your shirt to cover your mouth. It was just a suffocating stench. Was like walking into a morgue, where all the war time soldiers came to rot. Wonder how bad it must be for Logan with his heighten sense. Then again, he’s probs used to it by now.

When you opened the door you nearly threw up. The smell was so bad, had you gagging. Now you understood why Althea always left febreez and a face mask next to the door. You strapped that shit on like it was a gun to your belt. You were gonna need it, especially with how banged up they were.

Wade wasn’t even in one piece. His upper torso was tossed over Logan’s shoulder, as he would drag the lower half by the ankle with him. The sight of dangling organs made you feel faint. The internal parts being on the outside was rather distracting from the fact Logan was literally missing half his face. Was like some terminator shit.

“We’re back~!” Wade would sing, as Logan would toss the broken bundle of body parts onto the couch. He himself just sat in an arm chair. That was sweet, you had to admit. Letting Wade have the couch. Least that’s what would cross your mind when you weren’t trying to keep from vomiting.

“Don’t go puking on me. I don’t need eyes to know they be fucked up. Come on, let Mama show you how it’s done. Come on-“ Al would grab your arm, as she would use the side of the couch to help find her way around. Logan tried to be sneaky, and used his foot to push the coffee table away for her. So she didn’t trip. You noticed that. That didn’t sneak by you.

“Yeah, this is why I hate Magicians. Like come on man. Not even a cool spell like Sectumsempra. Just a damn ax. Lame to the L TO THE A TO THE M E-!” Wade you whine, as Al would try and figure out what needed to be done today. As if she wanted to deal with baby legs again.

“Not your PotterHead bullshit again, you fucking nerd-“ Logan would complain, before DogPool would jump into his lap. With a rag in her mouth. Wanting to help him out. The gesture was appreciated, as he rewarded her a ruffle to her fluffy head.

“Alright, here’s how you put a body together. If I can do it you can do it. Not like you can fuck up. Just gotta get it good enough, and that damn healing factor does the rest. Don’t faint on me, baby.” Al would comfort you, before she would guide your hands to the torso.

Was quite the adventure, but it was going to be a needed skill after all. It’s important to make sure they heal up as fast as possible. You never know when you’ll be ambushed, or some other wild plot point that makes you stressed. Not to mention that being a throuple meant getting used to this.

With taking a breather at the butchered surgery, you would stand up to look at Logan. Most of his face had actually healed over already. Well, the muscle anyway. He may not have been as bad off as Wade but you wanted to make sure he was doing ok all the same.

“Don’t give me those doe eyes. I’ll be fine, kid. Nothing we can’t handle. We’re gonna be fine. You did your job. Go wash up. Don’t want to know what the hell you’ll catch.” He tried to act like this wasn’t something painful, but you knew. You knew he’s hurting badly. It’s just easier to pretend than to just make everyone uncomfortable.

You would give a little huff, but toon the advice. A shower was certainly needed. Was a well earned reward. Helped take a lot of pressure off of Al’s shoulders. She could focus on cleaning around the home now, since you did the hardest part. Now was just time to clean, and hopefully help the boys clean up to.

Looks like it wasn’t needed, as you returned. There to see that Logan had come to help clean Wade up on his own. Despite the aches, he was doing his best to help clean up Wade. Taking away all the ruined clothes, and using the cloth that DogPool gave him. Just making sure the stitch work was taken care of.

“Careful with the claws, peanut. Daddy’s sore.” Wade would laugh, but you could hear the dryness. A dryness of exhaustion. You may not understand what it’s like to be in pain twenty four seven but it’s not that hard to understand it’s taxing.

“There’s still a needle and thread here, bub. I’ll finish off your lips next.” He would warn him, but that tired tone was also shared. There wasn’t really that normal bite to it. It was like the two of them were on autopilot. That it was easier to let a routine speak over an isolating silence. It’s easier to pretend everything’s normal than to let the pain sink in. To be deep in your bones, make you spasm, and remind you that sometimes being alive isn’t the best gift humanity can have.

“Come on, you to buddy.” You would soon grab a damp cloth from the kitchen. You took your turn on the couch. Just gentle dabs at Logan’s cheek, in some kind of means to help Logan. You can’t take away the pain, but maybe showing you cared could help? That you’ll never be exhausted of them complaining. Being in pain twenty four seven would wear anyone down. It’s not fair to let them pretend it isn’t.

“Daw, kitties getting pampered.” Wade would lazily say. As if he was in so much pain it was triggering a high. Was that something possible? To reach a pain level you get a buzz and can’t really comprehend your surroundings? Yeah. Yeah you can.

“Ignore him. Wades being Wade.” Logan grumbled, but didn’t fight your attempts to help. Even if the cold cloth did nothing, the fact you were willing to try can be enough sometimes. Not everything can be cured. Doesn’t mean people can’t try and help dull it.

That seemed to be the last anyone said, for a while. Never thought the Merc With The Mouth would ever be quiet. Guess sometimes your body just can’t process things. That so much goes on all at once that your brain just can’t keep up. Sometimes you just gotta autopilot. To feel your body throb, beg, cry, spasm, ache, bones crack, muscles tear, brain buzz, nerves burn, just feel every fiber of your being set a blaze. Sometimes you just have to ride it out, until you can come back from autopilot.

You didn’t pressure them at all. You let them do their autopilot. Didn’t interrupt them at all. Just let them do what helped them best. You just made sure to help in your own way. Such as reducing their need to move more than they should. Grabbing them new clothes, washing their bodies by hand, getting them something to drink, just whatever they needed to got it. You were able bodied, and knew they already felt shit enough not being able to get up to do it themselves. You didn’t hold it over their heads. They had enough of a rough day.

“Thanks peanut.” Wade would smile at you, as you would plant a kiss to the top of his head. A gruff was given from Logan, his own means of thank you, so you kissed his head as well. He deserved to get affection all the same. Just because Wade was more open to his emotions didn’t mean Logan gets left out from the smooches.

“They ain’t gonna leave the couch for a while. I know that feeling-“ Al would say, as she had blankets for them. So you took them from her, and helped them get as comfortable as their aches allowed them to. So much ache that even Logan couldn’t complain at Wade’s overly touchy affection. He was just to damn tired.

“Better get used to this. Happens once a month I swear.” Al huffed, as you gave a sound of agreement. Given she wouldn’t be able to see you nod your head. Just hurt your heart to see it all, but that’s just how the cookie crumbles. Sometimes people are born with it, like Logan, some just get it from Mother Nature saying you had to be special like Wade. Couldn’t imagine the mental barrier they had. Then again, not like they had a choice.

Least DogPool was there to help. Having jumped up on the couch, and snuggling between them. Doing her little pat to the blanket, and curling up between her daddies. Doing her best to help them. Warmed your heart. You made sure she had a plushie while she was there. She wouldn’t leave their side easy after all.

“Not bad for your first run around. Didn’t say that bullshit of ‘wow you are so strong-‘ and that useless crap everyone says-“ Al would ramble to you, as she returned to the dishes. Back to her routine. Like nothing had even happened.

“I mean, why would I? It’s a given, and it’s not like it’s doing much.” You muttered, as you tried to do the routine as well. To try and wash, and clean, like nothing weird had happened. That wasn’t your normal, though. But you’ll learn to have that normal.

They deserved to feel normal.

[owlcomics101]

Zombie Task force 141 x immune!Reader head cannons

Warnings: possible gore (We are talking about zombies here), corpses, Language (Cussing), sfw (I am a minor), fluff, Reader is gender neutral.

Context/backstory: The zombie apocalypse started few months ago. You were just a citizen, but not just any citizen, you were one of the very few who were immune to the Virus. You were being hunted by people who wanted to you use to find the cure to the virus, but that meant the cost of your life. There had to be a better way to get the cure. Right? Lasswell later found you, she was one of the very few soldiers left unaffected in the British military. Lasswell needed your help. The whole task force was infected but by some miracle they can still work. They just need someone to keep them grounded. Someone human who could take few bite or scratches. But you had no military experience, you only somewhat knew how to use a pistol and a knife thanks to the apocalypse. You were currently being escorted to an old run down base by two masked soldiers who were infected as well. You could tell by how they made groans and gurgling sounds and couldn’t take their eyes off you . You could’ve sworn you saw drool drip down from their masks. You could already see the silhouette of the task force. They have been waiting for you.

Soap: Soap was the most unstable of the group. As much as he didn’t want to bite or hurt you there has been a few close calls. Especially if you drew blood. You always kept your skin covered as much as you could around Soap. You would borrow any of the team’s old oversized uniforms and covered your arms, legs, and neck with it. Soap couldn’t help but be a bit possessive of you. Wither it be because of his urges to eat you or that you’re the only human who ever treated him and the others like people and not monsters. Whenever you were close to other zombie soldiers, Soap would tightly hold your hand the whole time. Price constantly has to remind Soap that you’re capable of taking care of yourself and to stop acting like your body guard 24/7 but he just can’t help himself. Enjoy an over protective, walking Scottish Corpse looming over you.

Ghost: Ghost was the first one of the team to be infected when the virus first broke out. He attempted to cut his jaw off to prevent himself from biting anyone before he turned but it was already too late. Soap found Ghost gurgling and groaning as he was feasting off the remains of another soldier. To Soap’s horror and relief that he also found Ghost…crying? Ghost was still conscious, somewhat at least. The team took him back to get studied and maybe even cured but that wasn’t the case. Ghost had starved himself for weeks, refusing to eat another human being again but when Soap came to check on him. Ghost lost it and bit into Soap. When you first arrived Ghost did his best to distance himself from you. He was already a distant person to begin with but he also didn’t want to hurt you like he did to Soap, despite Soap already have forgiven him multiple times. But you just kept getting closer, somehow breaking down his walls with your affection and that sweet smile of yours. That Damm smile.

Gaz: The last to be infected. He couldn’t bear to leave his team behind, even if they were zombies. Gaz stayed with them as long as he could. Trying to keep the team sane and stop them from eating everything like you are now, but one mission Gaz got bit by an enemy soldier and it was all over. Gaz is the least decomposed compared to the others, he looked the most human. Which meant he’d accompany you when going into places with People. Gaz is a bit more in control than Soap or Ghost but sometimes his mouth can’t help but water being surrounded by people. He wore a balaclava mask to somewhat muffle his senses, but thankfully you were always there to keep him grounded. Gaz tends to silently scowl or snarl when someone gets too close to you. It felt like instinct to him to keep everyone and thing away from you. Even himself sometimes, but it’s hard to when you’re always holding his hand or leaning on him.

Price: The most in control. Price sacrificed himself to save Gaz from a horde of zombies which explained his more mauled looking state compared to the others. He’s the one that bandages you up when you get wounded because the others would either go berserk or drool all over you. He acts the most human and even still smokes from his cigars which looks hilarious because when he exhales, the smoke will leave out of every cut or hole in his body. How can he smoke with rotting lungs? We’ll never know. Despite having the most self control, Price can slip up sometimes but it’s very, very rare. One time he was bandaging your bloody wrist up when you look over and see him licking and sucking the blood off your wrist.

Y/N: “Uh, captain?”

Price: “Mmm?”

Y/N: “Your doing the-uh…thing again.”

Price: wha-….Ah fucking hell….

[jkslipppiercing]

Bumblebee 04 | jjk

• summary: Jeon Jungkook was your high school bully. What are you gonna do when your parents are forcing you to marry him as the country's most well-known CEO?

• pairing: ceo!jk x reader, high school bully!jk, dom!jk.

• genre: enemies to lovers, slowburn, high school bully to lover, arranged marriage, CEO/billionare romance, marriage of convenience.

• warnings: choking, humiliating (kinda idk), close proximity, cursing, miscommunication.

• WC: 2.1K aprox. (she's a little baby)

• taglist form

• index

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A single tear runs down your cheek.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You've never cried over a guy. Is that going to change now?

Possibly.

Jungkook has already left for work at about 9:00, leaving you to your thoughts. He said you're due to show up at his office at 12:00, considering him being free for the day. He claims he needs to use his rare vacant hours to talk you over the basic dos and don’ts of working for him.

You agreed, acting like you've met him two days ago over a work interview.

“Y/N, I went to a gentlemen’s club yesterday.”

You run his words on repeat in your mind, like a jammed tape that's just running through your head. His voice refuses to back down, growing louder at your conscience. He's basically screaming the sentence at you now, overwhelming you.

“A strip club.”

Shit.

Another tear escapes.

In all honesty, you have no idea how to feel. One minute you’re fuming at how he didn’t care enough to show up to dinner yesterday, and the other you’re miserable; because you don’t want to be mad at him.

Every time your feelings are brought to the matter, you spiral. You truly don’t know how to feel. You want to understand him, but you’d be tossing your pride in the trash for you to forgive him for what he did. It was a mistake, you know how badly he knows he’s fucked up, but you still haven’t heard an apology. All it takes is one fucking apology, just good enough to show he cares.

You blocked your feelings out and wore a cold mask, in disguise of your true emotions. You expected him to be mad at that reaction, because you basically gave him nothing to work with, but he reciprocated it. He’s playing your game. Now, you’re going to play his.

You look at your reflection, wiping away at the stray tears of utter confusion. You plaster a satisfied smile as you appreciate the effort you put into the outfit you’re wearing.

You’re wearing a mini-dress.

In basic work attire ethics, wearing a mini-dress to work is inappropriate. It’s the epitome of unprofessionalism, and you’re wearing it purely to provoke Jungkook. He said you’re going to start working for him, but the poor man doesn’t know how you operate.

He’s giving you the secretary job only to show you who holds the true power, thinking it’s him who does.

He’s so gullible to think you can simply agree to work for him.

Soon, when you’re married to Mr. Jeon and you’re officially declared as his wife, you’re also officially a partner of the company. The company of which HG and Jeon Agencies will merge to form. So, in actuality, you're soon due to be working with him.

If you wore a mini dress to work as Jungkook’s future wife, who will dare to speak a word about it?

An off-shoulder, tight black mini dress- at that.

•••

You strut through the company like it’s your own, endless gaping faces staring your way.

Your head is held high, your hips swaying with every step in such an authoritative manner. It’s impressive- to say the least- the amount of confidence you’re radiating through every stride.

As you enter the elevator, you catch a rather cute employee- the quirky type with glasses- staring at youwith her jaw to the floor. You make sure to send her a rather flirty wink just before the elevator doors close and you’re taken up to Mr. Jeon’s office. You catch a glimpse of her swooning over the action with rosy cheeks, a victorious smile pulling the corners of your lips up.

A couple of minutes later, you’re in front of the secretary’s desk, Yoona staring up at you in bewilderment.

You smile at her half-heartedly, getting straight to the point; “Is Mr. Jeon alone in his office? Does he have anyone scheduled to meet him anytime soon?” Your voice drips in professionalism, cutting straight to the point.

Yoona takes quite a bit of time before she stutters a semi-coherent answer. “U-uh n-no. He’s alone.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement as your don’t waste your time any more, heading for Jungkook’s office door.

You don’t knock. Why would you?

Holy heavens.

Jungkook is leaning back on his desk as if awaiting your arrival. He has a glass of what seems to be whiskey in his hand. The tie around his neck loosened as his suit’s blazer was forgotten on the couch.

He has 2 leather chairs on either side in front of his desk and a wide couch in the center, in addition to an aesthetic coffee table; seemingly creating a lounge in the middle of his office.

He has a couple buttons of his shirt undone, as the sleeves of it are rolled up on his forearms. His hair tousled like he’d run his hand through it a million times, which he does before he smirks. He tucks one of his hands in his trousers’ pocket, using the second to bring the glass up to his lips. He smirks through it at you, all the while maintaining eye contact between you two. His watch glints in the sun, grabbing your attention.

You've always had a thing for men and watches, and goddamn is it a weakness.

The sun rays shine through the tall floor to ceiling glass windows, illuminating his figure and complimenting its height and the lean muscle that hides beneath the sheer material of the shirt.

The sight knocks the breath right out of your lungs and skyrockets your heartbeat to over one hundred and ten per minute.

Whoa.

His eyes rack over your body, starting from your toes and making their way up to your head. He takes his time taking you in, a glint of lust- maybe even hunger- swirling in his chocolate eyes. He takes another sip of whiskey.

“Mr. Jeon.”

“Mrs. Jeon.”

The name escapes his lips in an amused manner.

What?

Last time you checked, you were still Ms. Y/L/N.

“Excuse you?” You raise a brow as you approach him. You place your purse on the couch, joining his blazer as you strut towards him, your head held high.

“You better get used to being addressed by that, Y/N.” He stays leaned back on the desk, speaking as if he has not a care in the world. “You are my future wife, after all.” He smirks.

God damn that smirk of his.

Oh how much you want to kiss it off his face.

You continue your stride toward him, betraying no emotion when your face stays neutral.

You stop right in front of him, only to take the glass from between his fingers and cradle it in yours. “I can still say no, you know.”

You shrug casually, bringing the glass up to your lips to take a tantalizingly slow sip. You make sure to drink from the side he had drunk from, licking your lips after you let the sensation of the alcohol burn your throat.

His expression stays unreadable, so you make sure he understands what you mean: “To the marriage. I still have an option.”

As you go to set the glass back on the desk where he’s leaned on, you almost stumble causing him to hold you by your hips. You straighten, your nose touching his in the process.

He leans in further, his lips brushing against yours as he looks into your eyes. It feels like he’s staring deeper into your soul, and the thought scares you.

What if he finds things better left untouched?

What if he reads in between the lines of your emotions?

“What makes you think I’d let you?” He whispers to you, eliciting goosebumps on your skin. His hands are still glued to your waist the same way they always are, driving you absolutely mad in every way possible.

“This isn’t very professional now, is it, Mr. Jeon?” You place your hands on his chest as you push him away, solely to put distance between the both of you. A rosy blush kisses your cheeks as his hands find their home on your waist again, only for him to pull you closer.

His tone turns cold, speaking as if he hates the thoughts of you running through his head.

“You think you’re slick, huh?” He chuckles, but it comes out rather evil than lighthearted. You almost flinch.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” He stares deep into your eyes again, making your head swim. Your mind is too lost in his eyes to register the position you’re in. You don’t know what to do.

“Showing up to work in a mini-dress, Y/N?” His hand snakes up to rest on your jaw, but it’s a threat. It feels like a threat. You fail to move.

“That’s not very good now, is it?” He smiles, but it’s void of emotion. It’s scary. “Trying to provoke me?” His body is flush against yours now, with him no longer leaning against the desk, but handling your body in a way that makes it impossible for you to move; you don't even know if you want to. He’s taller than you- by far- his frame all too consuming the entirety of your thinking by towering over you.

His hand moves from your jaw to your neck, resting there. You struggle to appear unaffected, knowing very well how miserably you seem to be failing. The way he's looking at you almost seems like he's belittling you, making you doubt yourself every time you look at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You breathe out a response, surprising yourself. Why does he have such a great effect on you?

“Playing dumb now, are we?” He coos, mocking you in the way he smiles. His dimple laughs at you.

The hand on your neck flexes, barely cutting off your air suply.

You stay rooted to your spot. Your mind is going in so many different directions that it makes it harder to stay focused. Not that you are- by any means- focused. Your breaths are turning more shallow by the minute, but you love it.

You trust Jungkook, and he knows you do.

You'd trust him with your life, no matter how mad you are at him.

He's sure of it.

“Hm?” His tone grows irritated at your lack of response, so you simply shake your head no- as much as his grip allows you to- at least.

“I already taught you how to use your words, Y/N.” You can’t breathe. Your heart beats in your throat and you just can’t- breathe.

But still, you push through. “Why would I want to provoke you?” You ask instead.

“Don’t you feel betrayed?” Jungkook looks at you now. Fully looks at you. No playfulness, no amusement whatsoever. His hand falls from your neck, coming to rest at your waist.

The question catches you off guard. Where did this suddenly come from?

“Aren’t you hurt?” His eyes turn to ones so deep in feeling, it sets you off. Is he talking about the prior night?

“About?” You mask the emotions struggling to stay veiled by trying to sound as calm as possible.

Don’t show weakness. Your mind screams at you, a desperate attempt to keep you collected.

Of course you feel betrayed. Of course, you feel hurt. How dare he ask when it’s him that’s causing you to feel this way in the first place. All you crave in this particular moment is to unleash. Unleash the anger you’ve been trying so hard to bottle in. Although you crave that from deep within your bones, you stay cool- calm.

All the haze from the earlier teasing dissipates into thin air, and you take the time to properly look at the man before you.

Jungkook looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. He has dark purplish eye bags under his currently heavy lidded eyes; the most beautiful ones you’ve ever been graced to see. Even in the exhaustion clearly evident in them, his eyes hold infinite depths of beauty. They captivate your whole being, leaving you intoxicated by their effect.

“I’m tired, Y/N.” He looks like he’s seconds away from collapsing. He’s angry again, his face fully expressing anger and frustration. But you have the right to be angry, too. Doesn't he think so?

You don’t give a shit if it means you’re being petty. You deserve an apology.

Your eyes squint in defiance at him, and you see his muscles tense further as a response to the action.

“You humiliated me.” You scoff, staring at him in disbelief. “You think you deserve the right to be fucking angry, Mr. Jeon?” You jab a finger to his chest.

The formality aims straight for his heart, while the coldness laced in your velvety voice stabs at it further. He stays silent, looks at the floor as his hands fall from your waist, only to hang helplessly on either side of his body. He clenches them into fists, only to unclench them right after. He repeats the action, in hopes of focusing on it instead of you. He doesn’t want to talk about it. About this. He’s thought about it too much, where it’s gotten him to a dead end. He doesn’t know how to feel. He doesn’t understand what he feels towards you; it’s a feeling that catches him off-guard.

A feeling he isn’t familiar with. A feeling nobody taught him how to deal with.

You jab a finger to his chest again, “Pick me up at 9, we’re going to the club you suggested the other day.”

Your tone comes out void of emotion- another stab to the heart. His eyes don’t betray the floor he appears to be so fascinated in.

You step away from him, turning away. Just like that, you’ve left the office, leaving Jungkook to drown in the confusion that’s slowly eating away at his mind- little by little, piece by piece.

Little did you know, Jungkook was angry at himself.

next

@hoseokteardrop @nays2112 @jksoftii @yu-justme @meadow-in-spring@bunnykoos @looneybleus @fushigurosdarling @alpha-mommy69 @nochuel @junecat18 @xjiminsthighsx @tanniesdoll @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @whoa-jo @ahgasegotarmy116 @jksusawife @frgetmenotz @baechugff @partyparty-yah @army130613210521 @drugerlime

[semicolonsspace]

Him (your favorite) (Stiles//Dylan O'Brien)

No use of names. Just pet names and Y/n.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Roleplay, unprotected sex, edging, begging, praise kink, degradation kink, Bondage (use of handcuffs), breeding kink, stretch kink(?), mommy kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, subspace.

"Honey, I'm home," he yells as he shuts the door. He would always do this, he would always say it's 'hilarious'. Y/n found it humorous so soon after they made it a thing she started doing it as well. But except she put her spin onto it, talking like a 1940s housewife that just got back running errands.

Y/n rounds the corner to the front door. She was wearing his favorite, his T-shirt and shorts— or at least he thought she was wearing some; She wasn't. She was doing errands around the house in his shirt—Which mostly consisted of organizing the new room they had just renovated— more like Y/n renovated because she wanted it to be perfect!

"Hello, dear," she says in her housewife's voice. He laughs at her and pulls her in by the hips to kiss her. His hands snaked under the shirt she wore and slapped her ass when he realized she was only wearing underwear and his shirt. "You tryna kill me today?" He asks in a guttural groan. Her forehead rested on his as she smiled lovingly at her boyfriend of two wonderful years. "Not currently."

He gave her a playful shrewd look. "I think I'm already dead, then," he hums suggestively as he pulls hair out of her face, then resting his hand to cup it. His soft touch sent a chill down her spine as she stared up at him with lust that was masked by playfulness. "Oh, yeah?" She starts as she bats her eyelashes. "Well, I guess I might have to resurrect you."

He looked intrigued by her choice of words, choosing a decision for himself he indulged her humorous antics. "How so?"

"By laying you on my sacrificial altar bed and extracting your life force fluids," she jokingly purrs at him. That seemed good enough for him because he slung her body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. As he walked he shreaded his layers then threw her on their bed.

Y/n scolded him for being so careless, as she almost hit her head on the metal bed frame. She pulls him down, and pulls his shirt off effortlessly—as she had done it so many times before due to the numerous times of "catching up sex" they had due to his work. She pins his pale buffed arms to the mattress while speaking. "Now, baby. Don't you remember how I said 'I' have to extract some fluids?"

He looks up at her and smirks. He decided to indulge her roleplay and started improvising lines. "Please, don't hurt me— I'll be good— you said you needed fluids, take my spit anything but my blood!" He whined with feigning horror. But she knew he was aroused, she could feel it— feel his 7-inch cock pressing— begging to be drained by her— and if he was lucky he could have her cunt to grip her tight.

Y/n chuckles darkly, something he thought was too authentic to be in their present roleplay. "I never specified which fluid I needed, dummy."

His eyes widened when he 'realized' what she meant. "By all means, go ahead— just don't kill me— please—" he begged once more. Y/n plants a soft kiss on his pointed elf-like nose as if saying 'good.'

That led to having him cuffed to the bed for hours. Her hand wrapped around his cock— jerking it just to stop before he would release. She wanted him to explode when he did so. And she wanted it to be inside of her. She wanted to feel the familiarity of the thick warm liquid rife her up just for it to enter her cervix. She was on the pill, plus she had a few boxes of plan B she liked to keep a stack of.

"Mama! Please! Just let me cum! I'll be good!" He screams, fake tears streaming from his eyes. Some of them were genuine tears from how delicious the pleasure was.

"Will you be my little ingredient holder?" She tilted her head as she spoke, speaking in the most condescending tone she could muster. "I need lots of human sperm to make my potions, would you like that? For me to milk you dry every day?"

He lets out a guttural groan that she didn't think was part of the roleplay. This was purely him. He was enjoying every bit of this, lapping up all the attention his girlfriend gave her.

The last statement was proved by his hips thrusting into her hips in an attempt to chase his orgasm. She stops and rubs his stomach. "How many times was that? 6 times? 6 potential orgasms just for me to stop... That makes me powerful don't you think? To have the ability to stop you from doing something your body chases? It's okay though, you'll get it soon."

Then her cunt was hovering over his red cock that was tortured for the last 2 hours. He nodded eagerly as he babbled how much he needed her to finish him off— to give her the "ingredient" she needed. She sat on him, wincing at how big he was, Every time she had him in her at first she would always be shocked by how much he stretched her fluttering walls.

"Going to be the best ingredient ever— make the strongest potion," she praises, continuing their little roleplay. He didn't seem to be acting anymore due to the immense pleasure, mostly just him begging for mercy for her to finish him off finally.

"For fucks sake— please just ride me, mama— need it," he whines, actual tears falling down his face. He was ruined— disheveled. And she felt glorious; she had done that. She had made him feel so divine just for her to deny his unholy release six whole times.

Y/n clicks her tongue and slaps his chest slightly, before reaching back and squeezing his balls. By his reaction she knew it was painful from how much he groaned— a different type of groan— he needed that release and she was just toying with him— She had been toying with him this whole time. "Next time you won't finish. I may need the ingredient but I can always use other fluids," she warns darkly.

He seemed to get that she was still roleplaying and nodded, breathing a sorry that was soon sucked in as she started hopping on him, his dick curve hitting her spot every time she sheathed onto him.

Her hands rested on his pecs before finding his nipples and tugging on them harshly. "Pretty boy looks so good fucked out for me," she whispers into his ear, her one hand caressing his sweaty hair. "Only for you." His eyes flutter, his mouth staying open. She kissed him— now instead of hopping, she was rocking into him, which seemed more sensual to them as they moaned in sync, telling each other they loved each other, completely forgetting about the roleplay. Now it was just the couple of two years that have lived with each other for eleven months.

Y/n reaches for the cuffs and he shakes his head while begging a no. "Keep them on, please," he moans.

Her mouth forms a smile before opening from the pleasure. She gets an idea so they both have what they want. "Wanna feel you touch me," she says uncuffing one singular cuff. His hand immediately finds her hip while his hips thrust into her—seeming like he was trying to gain control.

"Fucking being a brat for not letting me cum, baby," he groans as he pinches her nipple. She smiles at him before kissing his neck. "Good," she whispers, before unlatching the other cuff. Then she was flipped on her stomach, her ass in the air, her face buried in the mattresses as he plunged his abused cock into her. "Oh, you feel so good—way better than your hand, that's for damn sure," he murmurs breathily. Y/n was clawing at the mattress, bratty almost pornographic moans being muffled into the light grey satin sheets.

She lifts her head finally, positioning her body to arch, her elbows propping her up as he continued to rail her pussy into oblivion. "Cum in me— wanna feel you-"

He cuts her off before she continues with a humorous moaning chuckle. "Trust me, I'm gonna fucking milk every fuckin' drop inside this pussy, gonna stuff it full so you can carry my baby," he growls, making his thrust harder to punch— not kiss— her cervix. She squeals as a sudden wave of intense pleasure knocks her out. Her vision faded black and he coaxed her, his thrust becoming sloppy before he stilled in her. He doubles over from the climax, whispering praises into her ear. "S'good, I love you so much, honey," was all she could make out.

She thought he was the one who was going to be exhausted but he kept going, his cock continuing to piston inside of her for round two. She was more than okay with it, letting him use her just how he wanted; he deserved it.

By the time he stuffs her brim full with a second orgasm, she is on her back. The cum oozed out of her cunt as he pestered wet-sloppy and open-mouth kisses all over her neck and chest. She was bound to have marks all over her in the morning. "Look at that, baby," he says as he plays with his release around the hole. He was still inside, his finger lapping up the release and stuffing it back into her.

"Fuck, don't do that, or we're doing a round three," y/n squeals. He smiles cheekily at her and stuffs his finger into her again.

His cock and his finger were both inside, stretching her to limits she never thought she would be able to with him. Then he starts thrusting slowly, his vacant hand holding her ankle in the air so he can have maximum access to his favorite toy.

"We need to get those ankle holders like hospitals have so I can fuck you better," he says between grunts. "Or a fuck machine so I can get payback."

At the mention of the machine, she screams, especially because he removes his finger and presses it onto her stomach. "Scream for me again, baby: tell the whole fuckin' neighborhood I'm breeding my little whore again."

And she did, she couldn't take his rough thrust with his hand pushing on her stomach, it made her tighter— sensitive. But she could not bring herself to stop such amazing pleasure.

His stamina never seemed to shock Y/n. It did at first, having to beg her to eat her out. She let him, barely saying no simply because it was a win-win. He would always say "I get pleasure from eating my girl out, I don't need anything else." Which she loved, it almost became a love language for him to do so. While she answer emails for her stay-at-home job—when he was home that is— he would rarely pass an opportunity to either 1: eat her out or two: fuck her while she worked— and trust the universe, he made sure she would take it while working whatever she did on her computer.

He soon got tired of the position and pulled her by her thighs, manhandling her and flipping her back on her stomach. Y/n pushed herself down the bed, her feet touching the ground in front of him. He pushed himself back in, his hands grabbing her hips so he could pull her back onto him repeatedly. His thrust was a little harder, exactly how she wanted right now, making loud pleasured moans to leave her lips— along with many praise for him for how good he made her feel.

She then pushes herself off, causing them both to stand, he gets the hint and pulls her close, grabbing by the throat to choke her. Her vision fades a bit, from the pleasure of his cock hitting her cervix and his slender hand stifling air from her throat. "I love you, honey. 'Missed you at work; 'Could only think of my beautiful girl all alone at home," he says between moans. "My good fucking girl," he growls as he moves her hair from her face just to return to her throat. His thrust never faltered either, his words, and admiration, all pushing her over the edge so hard she went limp. "Did I fuck you too dumb, baby? Awe, my poor baby." He then pushes her face back into the mattress, spreading her cheeks to gain better access to his cock moving into her pussy repeatedly. "Take me so well," he groans, massaging the fatty flesh of her rump.

Y/n was too far into subspace to talk. She could barely even comprehend his dirty words, plus the painful pleasure she had from overstimulation of her recent orgasm was going straight to her head.

He continues to fuck her, eventually picking her back up and carrying her to the bathroom—while fucking her. Her arms wrap around his shoulder lazily, his hands steadily gripping her ass to push her onto his cock repeatedly. He lays her down in the huge circle bathtub, turning the water on and continuing his work to chase his own orgasm. "Baby, fucking love you and your pussy, both of my girls make me so happy," he then doubles over, his face going for her neck, stifled whimpers escaping his mouth traveling from her neck to her ears.

Y/n holds him, her hands rubbing his back as he finishes for the third time inside of her. "I love you too, dear," she whispers. He whimpers causing her to chuckle. "Too sensitive?" She asks, feeling his dick twitch inside of her. He nods into her and she splashes water onto his body. "You wanna take a nap in the bathtub?"

He moves his face to look at her with a dumbfounded expression. "Honey, as much as I love being in your embrace, I don't want to risk you drowning."

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 17

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: Ready for some feels? ❤️‍🩹

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,500 Tags/Warnings: Angst, injuries, hurt/comfort and feels, tinge of spice.~

Part 17: “The Real Deal”

The first time Dean was awake for longer than a few minutes, he asked about you.

Sam wasn’t surprised. He was frankly relieved that he had an answer for his brother.

“She has carbon monoxide poisoning,” he said. Dean’s brows furrowed, but before he could start worrying too badly, Sam cut in again. “She’s okay. They’ve got her on 100% oxygen. Eileen and Andréa are with her right now.”

Dean nodded on a breath of relief, despite coughing himself. He still wore an oxygen mask, but he knew his exposure hadn’t been as bad as yours.

“CO poisoning’s no joke. Don’t let her take off that damn mask for anything until they clear her,” he said.

Sam raised a placating hand. “Don’t worry. She knows she’s got to stay put this time.”

Dean shook his head. You were so damn stubborn. He still couldn’t believe you’d dragged yourself out of bed within minutes of waking up, just to see him.

…Well, he could believe it, but he didn’t have to like it.

“Okay, do you need anything before Eileen and I run home to get you guys some stuff?” Sam asked.

He’d already drawn up a list for both you and Dean of things you two would need for the next couple of days in the hospital. Dean’s stay would likely be longer than yours.

“Nah, I’m good, man,” Dean replied.

He was still trying to find a comfortable position in bed. His back couldn’t fully touch the mattress, so he had to lie on one side or the other. Truth be told, it sucked. His head swam with the effects of the painkillers and antibiotics they were pumping him with, along with his head injury.

While his body wanted to keep sleeping, Dean wanted to see you. He wanted to make sure you were all right. He wanted to know what happened before the fire, and how you’d found out about Nick being Azazel’s son.

And he wanted to get you both home.

He wasn’t sure if he was going to get to do any of those things, any time soon.  

Sam saw his discomfort and frowned in sympathy. He went over to help Dean shift onto his other side. Dean shot him a look of annoyance, but Sam was firm.

“Let me help, or I’m calling Nurse Jeff,” he warned.

Dean's lips pursed. Jeff was nice and all, but Dean could concede this time. At least when it was his brother helping him, he didn’t feel like a complete invalid.  

“Andréa’s gonna stay with her?” Dean asked, while Sam helped him ease over and nodded at his question.

“Yeah. Ellen and Jo are on the way too. They’ll keep you company.”

Dean wanted to quip that he didn’t need a babysitter, but he held it in. It would be nice to see Ellen. He remembered seeing his father, briefly, before he fell back asleep. Sam told him John had gone back to the precinct to work out their protective detail, once you and Dean were eventually discharged from the hospital.

Over the last few hours, the rest of his team from Firehouse 25 had come in to see him in small groups, including Benny, Gordon, and Jack, Meg and Chuck, and Bobby himself, with his gruff worrying. Dean knew the Chief felt responsible anytime his firefighters got hurt, but Dean also knew the only one to blame was himself.

Still, he didn’t regret breaking ranks to go and find you. He’d never regret that choice.

Sam’s hand on his shoulder grounded Dean back into reality.

“Okay, I’ll be back,” said Sam.

Dean nodded, with a hint of a smile. “All right, Sasquatch. Get goin’ then.”   

Sam’s face betrayed his dry amusement…and a hint of fondness. He squeezed the shoulder he held, and hesitated, almost like he was steadying himself before he left his brother alone.

“Hey,” Dean said. He gave his little brother a true smile, if one edged with tiredness. “I’m okay. I don’t break easy.”

After a moment, Sam nodded. His lips flickered at a smile.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, clearing his throat. Before they both might’ve succumbed to a dreaded “chick flick moment,” as Dean called them, there was a knock at the door. Ellen’s head soon peeked through into the hospital room. She smiled as soon as her gaze landed on Sam and Dean.

“There’s my boys,” she said. Sam welcomed her in, along with Jo, before he slipped out. The Harvelles brought food, of course, for you and Dean. And Ellen had bought some flowers.

Dean took off his oxygen mask and teased her a little. “Ooh, for me? You shouldn’t have.”

Ellen shook her head at his familiar antics. Jo came up on his other side of his bed and gave him a softer smile than usual. He tried to return it.

“These are for your girl,” said Ellen. “How’s she doin’? Have you been able to see her?”

Dean’s good humor dimmed. “She’s got carbon monoxide poisoning from the fire, but Sam tells me she’s resting. I haven’t been able to get over there yet.”

Ellen frowned, but she nodded and rubbed his arm. “Okay, well you just stay here and rest. I’ll go over and bring these to her, make sure she’s doing all right. Then I’ll come back and give you a full report. How’s that?”

Dean met her gaze with relief and gratefulness in his. “Thanks, Ellen.”

She nodded, giving him a motherly pat on the cheek. Maybe her brown eyes welled up with tears she would refuse to shed. And maybe Dean pretended he didn’t see them, knowing how she’d hate for him to call her out.  

“You two are gonna be just fine,” she said. Dean agreed with a nod and a smile. She left soon after with the flowers, discreetly wiping at her face.

When the door shut behind her, Jo took a seat beside his bed. She was looking around at the wires, the monitors, the minor burns and scrapes on his face, while trying not to look at the gauze spanning his upper back.

“How’re you really feeling?” she asked eventually, when she was able to meet his gaze.

Dean chuckled a little. “Like shit.”

She laughed too, though it soon ended in tears. She bit her lip against it, with her eyes squeezing shut.

Dean faltered. “Hey, none a’ that.”

It was an effort, but he reached for her shoulder. She clasped his hand there, then she held it between both of hers. Dean squeezed her hands.

“I’m okay. Scouts honor,” he said. He wished he didn’t have to keep telling people that, but here they were.

When she drew his hand against her cheek though, Dean internally sighed. He had to pull away.

Jo felt the loss of his hand, and of him. She looked up at him with sad blue eyes. Dean couldn’t answer her. Or at least, he couldn’t give her the one she wanted.

She ducked her head and tried not to cry harder.

“Jo,” Dean sighed. “Listen to me.”

She wiped at her face and managed to look up at him again. He was direct, but still gentle as he could be.

“You know I love you like family,” he said, “but you also know…I can’t be that guy for you.”

Her brows furrowed as she shook her head. “We had something, Dean.”

“We did,” he acknowledged. He could admit that much, even as he blew out a breath. “I fucked it up.”

At that, Jo’s face shifted towards resignation. “I did my fair share.”

“You were worried about me on the job, that’s all.”

“But you also didn’t fight for me. The second it got hard, you left and called it quits.”

“I know,” Dean admitted. He thought hard, and he nodded. He was a different man when he and Jo began. He hadn’t totally figured out what it was he wanted. He’d just known, instinctively, that it was different with her. He’d wanted to try to be more for her.

But, he’d let Ellen’s warnings and his own fears take over. He knew he’d been a coward, and at the time, he’d convinced himself that Jo was better off without that in her life. He knew now how that had just been a nice justification for breaking her heart.

“I know,” he repeated. “I guess I wasn’t ready for the real deal…but you’re the first one who made me want to try.”

Jo heaved a tremulous sigh, laced with tears that she brushed away from her face. She had already known it, deep down, but now she supposed she had closure. She knew now that he loved you, for real.

“And she’s the one who made it stick,” Jo supplied.

“Yeah,” Dean said. The truth was in his eyes. She’s the one.

After a moment, in which Jo locked away the rest of her heartbreak and denied herself a flash of jealousy, she wiped her face dry and looked up at Dean.  

“Then you rest up,” she said, with a small smile and red-rimmed eyes. “And whatever happens next, you better fight for her.”

Dean smiled back. He gestured at his prone form with a hand.

“And what do you think I’m doing here?”

“Looks to me like you’re sitting on your ass,” she quipped.

Dean laughed so hard he started coughing. Jo shook her head and helped him put his oxygen mask back on.

“God, you’re a mess,” she said.

Dean gave her a mock incredulous look. “Hey, no sympathy for the injured here?”

“If it was sympathy you wanted, you should’ve kept the mask on.”

Hours later, Sam and Eileen came back freshly showered and with plenty of clothes and necessities for you and Dean. And when his hospital room door opened, Dean fought through the haze of the drugs and his swimming head to wake up. He smiled at Eileen, who stepped through the door first. But then his eyes widened.

Sam carefully guided you in a wheelchair, with your oxygen tank rolling in next to you. You held the mask to your face, but Dean still spotted the edge of your smile.

Your eyes shone bright with unshed tears the closer you came. He had to clear his throat himself before he reached for your hand at the same time you held out for his.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey, yourself,” Dean replied. He brought your hand to his lips and held it there. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

“I’m okay, thanks to you,” you said, smiling, even though your voice shook. Tears slipped down your cheeks. Your lips trembled, and your face ducked down. “I’m so…so sorry.”

Dean frowned and squeezed your hand. “Don’t you do that. This isn’t on you.”

You shook your head, like you didn’t believe him. Or you didn’t want to believe.

He wasn’t having that.

“Hey, look at me,” he demanded. He tugged on your hand, until finally you did as he said. Your eyes were red and spilling over with tears. It made his heart clench, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Sam holding Eileen close. Both of them were getting emotional, though Sam was trying not to. 

Jo stood with her mother in the corner. While Ellen dabbed at her eyes, Jo had to avert her gaze. That part, Dean didn't notice, because his lips pressed together as he returned his attention back to you.

“You don’t gotta worry about me,” he said. “I’ll shake this in a few weeks. Tops.”

You nodded, but your denial was still obvious as your shoulders trembled. He could see there was no reasoning with you on this one, so he just tugged you closer—as close as you could get without leaving your wheelchair or taking off your oxygen mask.

He managed to reach for your face, soothing his thumb across your tear-stained cheek. You covered his hand and kept him there, for as long as he was able.

You were discharged from the hospital a couple of days later. It was a few more before Dean was able to join you. He wasn’t happy to learn that his head injury would put him out of commission for at least one to three months.

You wished he would be more fair to himself. He’d suffered a subdural hematoma after he was struck by the beam. The doctor officially labelled it a TBI, or a concussion, and he was already dealing with headaches and bouts of vertigo.

Not to mention the large second-degree burn that was only just starting to heal across his upper back. The doctor also warned that he might suffer some mood swings, due to the head injury.

Meanwhile, you were starting to recover from your cuts and yellowing bruises. Though the carbon monoxide had been driven out of your system, you still had your own headaches, nausea, and a lingering cough.

You both were a bit of a mess. Sam and Eileen had incredible patience, and you were so grateful for their help in those first days back home in Sam and Dean’s apartment. However, you couldn’t shake off your nature to help as much as you could in taking care of Dean while Sam and Eileen were back at work.

You knew your boyfriend wasn’t used to being catered to. He didn’t like being, what he deemed in his mind, “useless.” In your mind, that was just too damn bad. He was going to be cared for whether he liked it or not.

So you helped Dean adjust where he lied in bed for the third time this morning, arranging the pillows just so. All while you ignored his crabby mood.

“How’s that?” you asked, fluffing one more pillow between the small of his back and the headboard. You’d managed to find a way for him to sit up without his upper back touching the bedframe.

“Fine,” he said grumpily. He was channel surfing on the TV above his dresser. “And it was fine half an hour ago.” 

His mood was always dour after a shower; it meant you had to help him stand, and make sure he didn’t kill himself by slipping and falling. You sighed and brushed your fingers through his wet hair, mindful of the shaved and bandaged portion on the back of his head. He sure was an awful patient. 

“You used to like it when I joined you in the shower,” you tried to tease gently. He shot you a glance.

“Yeah, that was before I could barely piss standing up,” he replied. You rubbed his arm.

“Come on, babe. Don’t be like this. You’ll be healed up in a couple of months, and we can put this behind us,” you said. If he really wanted you not to feel guilty about his current state, then he was doing a bang-up job.

Dean turned to you then, and you understood the look on his face. Will it really be over?

You couldn’t fault him for it because you didn’t know the answer either. You both knew that Savage & Co. burning down was likely just another battle with Azazel, not the end of the war. 

And that was when John and Cas arrived for a visit, with the doorbell interrupting the silence. It was the first time they’d come together, and that told you one thing: this was more than a familial check-in.

You welcomed them into the apartment and made some coffee for everyone. Cas helped you get the mugs ready in the kitchen. Meanwhile, it gave John a moment with his son.

John dragged a desk chair over and sat by Dean’s side of the bed.

“How’s your head?” John asked.

Dean nodded, though his face said he wished people would stop asking him that.

“On the mend,” he replied instead.

John nodded in return. The space between them was awkward and quiet, except for the drone of the TV. Both men had their protective walls and their thoughts, but neither one was able to lower their guard.

When you and Cas came into the room with fresh coffee, it was a silent relief all around. You sat beside Dean in bed and handed him a mug of decaf. You might’ve claimed it was the real stuff, but Dean’s nose knew the difference; he didn’t play when it came to his coffee. Yet another reason why he hated being on these antibiotics. 

“So, let’s start from the beginning,” John said. He lowered his mug into his lap and looked straight at you. “What happened before the fire? Start from the very top of the day.”

You took in a deep breath and glanced at both Cas and Dean. Cas seemed encouraging, while Dean looked just as grave and interested as his father. 

You explained everything from the moment Marv came to give you his report, intended for Nick. You were going to just leave it with his assistant, but his office door had been open a crack, and you’d heard the voices within. You’d been curious enough to approach the door and listen in.

You recounted what you’d heard between Nick and the other man.

“We’re working together on this,” said Nick. “Keep an eye on the cop. Wait for an opportunity.”

“Together, huh? Azazel has his orders. You trying to take his place?” the other man replied. His voice was thin and nasal. You saw his profile, however. His eyes were dangerous.

Your eyes widened at the implications of his words though. Azazel?!

“Dad agrees with me. The guy’s not getting the hint, so we’ll need to remind him who really makes the rules,” Nick said.

Your eyes widened. Holy shit…Nick’s father is Azazel.

You clasped a hand over your mouth before the gasp could escape. A sharp breath still echoed through the hall. The men’s heads began to turn, but you did as well—away from the door and booking it down the hall as quietly and quickly as you could.

You remembered going back to your office, just to find Nick Savage waiting for you.

Dean’s grip on the bedsheets tightened when you told that part of the story. You tried to spare the details, but there were some things you couldn’t avoid…

A strong hand grabbed you and hefted you up. You felt a trickle of wetness rolling down the side of your face as you stared up into his. It must’ve been blood, but all you could focus on was the satisfaction in Nick’s eyes. Finally, they seemed to say.

But then he paused. Confusion was written across his face.

“Do you smell smoke?” he asked. You both saw it climbing under the door of your office.

It was a distraction that broke you out of your frozen fear.

On pure instinct, you jabbed at Nick’s ribs with your taser.

“After I…managed to get out of my office, that’s when I saw the smoke,” you said. Your voice became a tad more unsteady as the memories flit through your mind.

“It was chaos. People were getting trampled trying to get down the stairs…and when we saw the fire coming from below too, I barely made it out of the stairwell.”

You raised a slightly trembling hand to your mouth, but a warm hand slipped into yours, taking it from you. You met Dean’s furrowed brows and softened eyes.

“Come ‘ere,” he said quietly. You let him pull you towards him, against his side, and you blinked past the sting of tears.

“The rest you guys know,” you continued. “I couldn’t get out. Dean and his guys came and found me. He got hurt trying to get us out of there.”

Dean’s hand rubbed up and down your arm in comfort. He pressed a kiss to your forehead while you wiped at the few tears that managed to escape.

“Did you see Nick at all after what happened in the office?” John asked.

You shook your head. “No. I hope he burned to a damn crisp.”

“He’s officially missing, but his body hasn’t yet been identified from the remains at the building site,” said Cas.

That sobered you. You knew there were many people who hadn’t made it out of the building in time. You just couldn’t fathom the kind of person who would intentionally set that fire, damn the costs.

“What about the other man he was talking to?” John asked. You shook your head, but you provided a detailed description of him, from what you could remember: tall and lean, graying short hair, a nasal sounding voice.

“Any other details you can remember? Anything at all. Could be something you saw or heard, or even smelled,” John pressed.

Your lips pursed. The stress alone of reliving all of this was giving you a headache, not to mention making your chest feel tight. Your reply was a bit more clipped than you intended.

“What, other than the part where I was fighting for my life?” you said. “I think I gave a pretty good statement of the events, Detective.”

John paused. His mouth firmed, but he watched you with more sympathetic eyes. Dean saw that his father was trying to ease up. He rubbed your back in comfort again.

“All right, it’s okay,” said Dean. “You did good.”

You glanced at him and took a small, steadying breath. You relaxed a bit and met John’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you said, with sincerity. “If I remember something else, I’ll let you know.”

John nodded.

“That’s all right. We’ve got enough to arrest Nick Savage on assault charges, once we find him.” He shared a brief look with Cas. “In the meantime, we’ve got a couple of guys stationed outside the apartment building here. They’ll keep an eye on things.”

You and Dean nodded; it was a relief, but also disconcerting to know the police were watching you. A chime on your phone soon distracted you though. You reached over for where it lay on your nightstand and read the reminder notification. You turned to Dean.

“Ready for your pain meds?” you asked him. You saw the answer in the tightness around his tired eyes. You rubbed a soothing hand on his thigh. “You should eat something first though. Want some of the soup Eileen made?”

Dean shrugged, making an unenthusiastic sound. Your head tilted as you considered him. Then, an idea struck you.

“Ooh, I could make you a grilled cheese on the side,” you offered in a tempting tone. Your leading smile was just enough to get Dean to smile back, if more reserved.

“Hmm?” you prompted. “Come on, three different cheeses on some buttery bread…”

His smile became more genuine. “Okay, sounds good.”

You nodded and pat his thigh once more. You looked up at the detectives.

“You guys want lunch?” you asked. John started to shake his head, but Dean cut in.

“Trust me, you want to get in on this,” he said. The promise of your cooking managed to cut through some of the haze of his pain and discomfort.

Cas conceded first, with a nod. Though he got up from where he’d been sitting at the end of the bed.

“I’ll help,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. He soon followed you downstairs into the kitchen.

Again, it left father and son glancing at one another in silence. John was leaning elbows on his knees, hands folded. His lips drew upwards as he looked up at his eldest.

“Want some advice from an old man?” he asked.

“What’s that?” Dean replied.

John nodded, quirking a smile. “Hold onto that girl.”

A couple of weeks later, however, tensions were still running high. Dean was frustrated with his own inability, worsening with each bout of vertigo, and every time the pain in his skull necessitated a pill to cope with it. Part of it was also that he needed so much of your help when Sam was at work.

Every time Dean saw you cooking, cleaning, changing his bandages, reminding him to take his meds, helping him get around when he was feeling off…

He was grateful, more than you knew. He just couldn’t feel right about letting you do it all when he saw how tired you were. You were still healing up too. And he could only imagine how stressed you were after everything you’d been through in the past few weeks. Hell, in the past few months.

He felt guilty, and useless, and angry at how you’d gotten caught up in all this, and at Nick Savage and Azazel and everything in between.

So Dean now stewed in all of this while he sat watching mindless reruns of some dumbass show about fake ghost hunters, even though he was trying not to think of anything at all. Somehow he had nothing to do but think, even though the meds he was taking often made him want to crawl into bed and sleep.

You appeared from down the hall, looking and smelling like your nice floral soap after a shower, wearing nothing more than one of his old shirts. Your thighs were bare. Your hair was twisted up on top of your head, just asking to be taken down with a practiced hand. 

Dean liked the look of you.

Not that I can do anything about it, came a dull reminder.

You came around the couch with a roll of gauze and a medicated cream for his burns.

“Okay, Dean. Let’s go ahead and change the bandages,” you said, nodding at his back.

He was reluctant to move. He was finally somewhat comfortable sitting in the corner of the couch with a shit ton of pillows propped against his lower back. And he hadn’t told you this, but a headache had been building for the last hour. He’d been trying to wean himself off the pain meds.

“It can wait until Sam gets home,” he said. “Why don’t you relax? Take a nap or something.”

You frowned at him, tilting your head. “Sam works late every night. Doesn’t it make more sense to get it over with now?”

“You see it would, if you hadn’t already done it yesterday,” Dean replied, with a dry edge to his tone.

You arched a brow at him. You'd re-bandaged the burn across his back yesterday morning. It was now late afternoon.

“The doctor said once a day,” you said. “You want to get an infection?”

The back of Dean’s head pulsed with pain. He gritted his teeth in trying to ignore it.

“You want to get off my back? Literally?” he snarked.

You frowned at him and set down the medical supplies. Your hands went to your hips as you looked down at him.

“I don’t appreciate the attitude,” you said. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“I get that, but you don’t have to take care of me right now,” he said. “You can just let me watch this shitty-ass show in peace.”

Your brows knitted together. Both of you were stubborn, if in different flavors. You tried to come at it with a gentler approach, drawing near him to set a hand on his shoulder.

“I know it’s unpleasant, but you can’t change your bandages by yourself,” you said. Your thumb swept along his neck. You really hated seeing him in so much discomfort. “Don’t you want to get it over with so you can relax for the rest of the day?”

A sharper pain pulsed behind his eyes for a moment, making Dean take in a deeper breath through his nose. He could later admit, he lost patience with you (and his temper).

He turned off the TV and tossed down the remote.

“What is this compulsive need you have to control everything? Do everything?” he snapped. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t need you to wipe my ass! Just give it a goddamn rest!”

Irritation was hot under his skin…until he actually looked up at your face. The open-mouthed look of shock, and hurt, your eyes welling up with tears as your hand fell away from his shoulder…

That’s when Dean knew this concussion was fucking with him.

There was no way he could be this much of an asshole, could he?

“Shit. Baby,” he tried, but you shook your head at him, making a negative sound when he reached for you. You walked away from him.

“Hold on!” said Dean. His first attempt to get off the couch was unsuccessful, and it made his head swim.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. He grimaced in annoyance, but he used the couch and the coffee table as leverage and pushed through onto his feet.

Once he knew he was steady, he thought he heard you in the kitchen. He found you there, trying to hide your face behind the open door of the pantry while you cried. It broke his heart, really.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you. His hand rested on your back, prompting you to look up at him with red, watery eyes.

“What now?” you asked. “Want to yell at me some more?”

Dean’s sad frown deepened as he tugged you closer, guiding you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. I don’t know where the hell that came from.” 

Maybe the knife stabbing through the back of your head, 'cause you're too stubborn to take all your damn meds, came the dry edge of his conscience.

You held onto him as tightly as you dared while you pressed your tear-stained face into his chest.

“That wasn’t you, Dean,” you said. “I get that you’re in pain, and that you're frustrated, but you don’t have to white-knuckle it. Or take it out on me, for that matter.”

“…I know,” he agreed, laying a kiss on your forehead. “If it happens again, I give you full permission to slap me. Concussion be damned.”

You snorted at that, despite a couple more tears slipping down your cheeks. You wiped them away.

“I know I was being a bit pushy,” you said, with a sigh. “But Sam does work late. I’d feel like shit just lying around here waiting for him to help you. And I’m the reason this all happened anyway, so I might as well—”

“Wait. Stop,” Dean said. He pulled away so he could grasp your arms and look down at you. His brows furrowed, and his jaw worked. “What did you just say?”

You looked up at him, and he saw the vulnerability in your eyes. Your lips pressed together, and you averted your gaze.

“No,” he said, curling his fingers under your chin and lifting your face back up to his. He didn’t like what he saw.

“Okay. Sit with me,” he said. He guided you to the dining table, where he pulled out both chairs. After you sat, he raised a waiting finger to you, just so he could grab his prescription from the kitchen counter and down what should've been his morning dose of pain medication with some water. Then he returned to the table and sat across from you.

By the time he got you to look at him again, your eyes were already filled with tears. He took your hands in both of his.

“What happened to me wasn’t your fault,” Dean said at last. He’d said it before, but apparently it hadn’t gotten through your head.

“You disobeyed a direct order to find me,” you argued. 

“I would’ve gotten called to that fire no matter what,” Dean countered. Still, that didn’t seem to sway you.

“You don’t know what it was like,” you said. You squeezed his hands, and your voice shook. “When I saw you in the ICU…”

All those wires, the newly wrapped burns, the oxygen mask, his skin pale and clammy, and his eyes closed…

“Before you got to me, of course I was scared. For a minute there, I thought I was going to die,” you managed to say. His hold tightened on yours. “But in that room, it was…it was different. It was you, but it was also my grandfather all over again. And I was so damn afraid.”

After that confession, you crumbled once again.

Dean slid his chair forward and held you close. His fingers swept through your hair after taking down your haphazard bun. He managed to pull you into his lap and he shushed you gently.

He glanced up heavenward and actually asked George for the right thing to say to you right now, because he had no damn clue.

After a moment, he released a humorless chuckle.

“You wanna know fear?” he said. “When my dad told me what you’d found out about Nick. And when I got the call that the building was on fire, somehow, I knew you were still in there.”

His fingers brushed along the shallow cut above your brow that was still healing.

“You had to deal with that bastard by yourself. That alone pretty much kills me,” Dean admitted. “And if I hadn’t gotten to you when I did…I’ll never regret that. Ever. I’ll take the whole damn building on top of me if that’s what it takes.”

You leaned back and shook your head at him, but he took your chin between his fingers and stilled you.   

“But I told you,” Dean said firmly. “I’m not leaving you.”

Your eyes met his before you let out a shaky breath. Maybe this time you would believe him.

He leaned down and kissed you soundly, so you’d get the idea. Your hand reached up to caress his cheek, and you moaned when his tongue caressed yours. His hand tightened on your hip.

“Dean.” Your warning was gentle. The doctor hadn’t cleared this yet for him, and he knew it.

“Just a little bit,” he said, smiling against your lips. His hand slipped under your (his) shirt and teased the edge of your panties.

You sighed with conflicting need when you felt the pads of his fingers stroke you through the fabric. It also stroked your arousal back to life.

“Okay, bedroom,” you caved. “But go easy. I’m serious, Dean.”

He smirked and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“Oh, I’ll definitely be easy.”

AN: Lol trust Dean to push his limits there. 😅 We also got some closure on the Jo & Dean arc, some supportive Sam and Eileen, and some major feels.

In Part 18, Sam and John work together to try and pin down Nick and Daniel/Azazel, Law & Order style...

Next Time:

The charges included four counts of murder in the first degree: the murders-for-hire, enacted by Alastair Rolston.

Followed by attempted murder in the first degree, ten counts of murder in the second degree (those who had lost their lives in the most recent building fire), conspiracy to commit murder, arson, and if that weren’t enough, a charge each of attempted sexual assault and sexual harassment.

When the last two charges were read out loud in the courtroom, Nick looked visibly angry.

Sam glanced over at the defendant with thinly veiled satisfaction. Some days, it was difficult for him to come to work.

Today was not that day.

“All right, that is a laundry list of potential misdeeds,” Judge Deveraux remarked. He looked up at Nick Savage. “How does the defendant plead?”

At the prodding of his lawyer, Amelia Richardson, Nick spoke up.

“Not guilty,” he said. Though he rolled his eyes, as if this was a waste of his time.

“What’s the deal here, Mr. Winchester?” Judge Devereaux asked.

“The primary charges are murder-for-hire, your Honor,” Sam replied.

Keep Reading: PART 18

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

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[itsrainingbubbles]

I want Luffy to be able to crochet

Winters were cold on the mountain and sweaters only lasted asl a few weeks before they tore them while running around, sparring, and hunting

And Makino loves her boys but she only had so much free time to keep fixing them and making new ones when the sweaters were past repair

Luffy in particular wore out sweaters the fastest, and after seeing Makino scramble to make him yet another new sweater after his was torn to shreds by a bear he decided he wanted to give Makino a break and make his own sweaters

So Luffy learned how to crochet that winter, and what started as just sweaters turned to gloves, hats, blankets and so on

Soon Luffy started experimenting on what he could make, like hammocks, stuffed animals, dolls, flowers

He was always out of yarn and the things he made were never the 'right' color, he just used what he had

As a result he had weird colored dolls, ("that's you ace!" "Why is my skin Orange??" "At least you're not blue and purple") pink animals of all sorts, (when he was really into doing animals all he had available was pink yarn) and blankets with no coherent color scheme cause he'd get bored, work on something else, and when he worked on the blanket again he had already used up the other yarn

Luffy didn't take any of his crochet stuff with him when he set sail, not any of his hooks, yarn, or creations, leaving them all in Makino and the villagers care (he offered dadan a doll with purple skin and told her it was her, she insisted it looked nothing like her and that she wouldn't keep it. It sits on a shelf in the house where everyone can see it, she tells any new members who ask all about how someone made her as a doll)

Because Luffy didn't have any of his stuff with him when he sailed, not that it mattered since he would have lost them if he did take it anyways, nobody on the crew knows he can crochet

Nobody knew until one day they were at an island and they were having an art festival, where Luffy used his food money to buy crochet stuff.

Luffy immediately got back into crocheting. He made a sleeping mask for Zoro, a tangerine shaped purse for Nami, a bookmark for Robin, and I can't think of any more things but he just started crocheting again.

The crew is astounded that their captain can actually sit still for more than a couple minutes AND that he's doing it out of his own free will. And maybe he never runs out of yarn again, Luffy never questions how he seems to have a never ending supply of yarn.

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #136 part 2

Danny couldn’t take all of the excitement, who knew all he had to do to get to space was get thrown through a portal and get turned into a dog! He began to wonder if Damian would be willing to bring him back up here sometime. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d ask but he’d figure something out. He could feel himself heal a little faster as he soaked up the energy of the cosmos. Being able to heal by interacting with his obsessions, one of the perks of being half dead he guessed. His tail wagged excitedly as he began to forget about the things going on around him, Sam would definitely yell at him later if she found out. 

Sam and Tucker were probably looking for him right now. He of course would tell them if something happened to him or the zone but the current form he was in made finding a natural portal back home difficult. He also wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get back here if he did. Getting back to his royal duties was important but he also felt he deserved a little break from it, since he graduated college the Observants have been on his ass about getting all of the paperwork from years of neglect caught up. He was honestly really tired of it all and if he could just get some time to relax as a dog in a parallel world who could stop him?

With no clocks around and nothing to tell him how much time had passed, Danny began to forget why he was there. He honestly didn’t care though as it wasn’t as important as SPACE. He’d probably forget about being turned into a dog if Jon didn’t pet him on the head and bring him out of his thoughts when he began speaking.

“You really like space don’t you buddy? I’ll have to tell Damian about this, you're so cute!” He cooed, “He’d have to ask his dad if he could take you up here, he’d probably say it’s OK so long as you're on your best behavior.” 

Danny could be a good boy, he could be the best boy if going to space was on the line and apparently it was. He gave Jon a little woof of determination and turned to look back out again.

A little while later a door slid open and a few people walked into the room. He recognized Jon’s dad but the other two were unfamiliar. There was a man and a kid around Jon’s age, the man was tall and broad. They must have been Damian and his dad if Danny had to guess.

Danny ran over to Damian and sat down in front of him and gave a small woof.

“Haha, looks like he knows who his master is already.” Jon’s dad joked. So Danny was right to assume this was Damian and good thing because if he had just sat down in front of a random kid he’d feel a little weird. 

The kid had black hair that was slicked back and he wondered what his eye color was since he had a domino mask on. He wore a black suit that looked like a hero costume with red accents. He looked kind of cool or at least Danny thought he would be if both him and Jon weren’t children. Although Danny supposed he couldn’t say much on the matter considering when he started. 

Damian seemed to pause, it looked like he was trying to make sure no one else knew he was nervous. He knelt down and slowly reached out his hand, and it was then that Danny knew what he had to do. He was going to make this kids day. He slowly sniffed Damian’s hand and before anyone could say anything he quickly moved so that his head was under Damian’s hand and nuzzled into it. He could tell Damian was trying and somehow succeeded in masking his emotions… well on the outside. This kid was super excited to be petting a puppy, almost as excited as Danny was to be in space. 

The raw emotions Danny could feel from him honestly made Damian an adorable kid but something about his demeanor made Danny think it was probably a terrible idea to say that to his face. Danny had a lot of work ahead of him if he was going to get this kid to open up to him and the people around him. Soon though he found himself getting carried away by Damian, as he and his dad said their goodbyes to Jon and his dad. He found himself in a different location after they entered the weird tubes and while he was sad to leave space he felt renewed with a new sense of purpose. 

They exited and Danny found that they were in a cave, a dark cave and while Danny wanted to explore, he was instead greeted by several others, they were wearing normal clothes but Danny thought they might also be heroes considering the layer they were currently in. Damian scowled at them as they cooed over Danny. He was handed over to the bubbliest brother or Danny assumed they were siblings considering how close they were all acting. They also had similar black hair and Danny thought he would have fit too if he was human. Most of them had blue eyes almost as striking as his own. 

Damian had walked away but he was receiving a lot of pets on his head as well as telling him how much of a good boy he was. A few minutes later and they had gone up an elevator, they took a quick trip outside and then Danny found himself on Damian’s lap on a couch. It was then Damian’s siblings asked the one question he was kind of dreading, “So what are you naming him?”

 In the next part Jason steals Danny because why does this random pet Damian got calm the pits?

Master Post:

Previous:

[postersofleon]

SEVEN

Leon had issues and you understood them. Tied in a world where he couldn't even trust his own government, where bioweapons are a common thing and mistrust is common. Breaking up with an alcoholic with the best option to have. However, when time passes, Chris decides to bring you to help with Leon's current crisis. When he sees you, he is ready to give endless promises now. Seven days to win you back.

notes: fem!reader x leon. leon is drunk, sad, angsty, and needy for reader, codependency relationship; chris is a sweetheart. he wants to help both leon and reader. I don't like this :( idk why. i ramble too much. EDIT! future chapters will have smut

tuesday: loving you

wednesday, thursday. friday, saturday, sunday

monday

taglist: @scarlettsbullsh

There was small, uncomfortable silence as you were driven to the small vacation place. Rebecca wore a small smile, but Chris could tell that you were uneasy. But you didn't want to give Chris a chance to even speak. What happened in China is still seen, not in complete detail, and not even the same overwhelming emotions. Yet it lingered.

Sure, everything is forgiven because everything has to during a mission, and even you have forgiven Leon. Yet you couldn't forget.

You loved Leon. With your entire body, but he wasn't the man you met back in 1999. Sure, the bitterness of Raccoon City seemed to always mask the smell of the alcohol. Then, being obligated to work for the government. This was stupid. You knew. You knew his issues. You knew why you broke up with him.

It's unfortunate. You were forced to love two different men. A man who wanted to help people and a man who wanted to get rid of the bad. Something in Spain began the trail, and two or so years formed the path. His disappointment of the government increased over and over, but why... why was he willing to point a gun to you and Chris to protect a woman who made their life's worse?-

You shook your head. No. No, don't be stupid.

Your hand began to tremble.

"Are you okay?" Rebecca asked. You simply nodded your head. Your fingers rubbed your gun hand, the knuckles, and soon your palm. A small scar in your hand interrupting the normal lines of your hand.

The car stopped.

When you look at the place... it was like going back to the old house that you once shared with Leon. Two unhealthy people trying to find peace. One found a bottle, and the other found denial. It was truly the saddest thing to remember, but the good things came rushing in. When you and Leon drank from his flask as you two laid on the bed naked. Alcohol made your bolder while Leon looser.

Walking through a couple of halls, Rebecca turned to see you and rubbed your arm, "He misses you." She promised. But you didn't need her promise when all your phone did was buzz over and over with messages belonging to Leon. Slowly and steady, you saw Leon. Nothing really changed from him. He still had his dark brown hair, which made it look worse with his grease. Your heart clenched.

"Leon," You couldn't control your mouth, "Leon..."

Leon turned to see who said his name. Your habits are trying to get better while his are getting worse. At least he wasn't drunk, drunk- he was better than the other days.

He walked towards you and hugged your body tightly. The overwhelming stench of alcohol burned your nose. All the old conversations you had of his issue bloomed again. Your hands trembled as you hugged him back. Leon kissed your neck over and over, dragging you away from Rebecca and Chris.

"I needed you. I'm sorry." Leon muttered softly.

Nothing changed. Nothing at all.

And that was the problem.

Your hands cupped his face, his small stubble of beard barely even growing into a proper beard. "How long?" You asked.

"Three days." Leon responded quickly. His blue eyes met yours, "I... I try." You even recalled the next words as you two reply together, "But sleeping is easier."

Leon turned away, his cheeks had splotches of red skin; he looked unwell. "Don't tell that... this has been every day." Your fingers traced his face lines. The ones in his cheeks, his brows when he furrowed them.

Leon sighed, "Yeah." He hugged you tightly. Little by little, he finally noticed Chris and Rebecca approaching them. He nuzzled his face between your breasts to use as cover. He was already going to start to be pissy. Your hands rubbed his back gently attempting to calm him down.

"I thought you didn't talk anymore." Chris grabbed himself a chair to sit on.

"We do. By text." You explained with a meek voice. Sure, you avoid his: "I want to fuck you so bad." Texts but not the simple hi's or when he comes to bother you.

But never these touches. Though, after dating for thirteen years, you were use to him.

Rebecca sighed softly, "C'mon," She smiled again, "Let's leave them to talk." Leon groaned weakly as he let you go. Rebecca and you left the room. You closed your eyes tightly.

Little by little tears escaped your eyes, "You... you see why we broke up?" You crotched down to your feet, feeling horrible like all those years ago. "A unhealthy relationship," Rebecca whispered softly. She crotched down beside you. "Rebecca, I still love him. I..." You cleaned away your tears. "No matter what I did helped, he didn't get better. I leave, and he is worst-"

"That's not your fault." Rebecca assured you from your codependency with Leon. The trauma of the two you made you stick against bad and good. You would've been with him still if it weren't for Chris.

-

Leon saw you be taken away from his arms. His hand itched to grab his flask once you were taken away. "Enough, Leon." Chris put his hand out, hoping Leon would put his metal flask in his hand.

Leon didn't so Chris yanked it from his hand.

"Leon, I swear," He put the flask on one of his many pockets, "Leon, I need you to listen."

Leon licked his molars, "I'm listening, Chris. Don't have to repeat it over and over." He leaned on his chair, his eyes kept glancing at the door where Rebecca took you away. Chris exhaled deeply, "A mission-" He began.

Leon groaned weakly, "I'm not going to a stupid mission. I'm on vacation." He grabbed the empty glass ready to pour more, but Chris stopped him again.

"A mission," Chris said more firmly, "Isn't a romantic getaway. It's a job. Our job." Chris made sure to keep eye contact. Leon smirked, "I'm with someone. Don't ask me out."

Chris fought the urge to roll his eyes, "Don't start-" He put his hands in front of him, "You and her shouldn't have been placed in missions so early." Chris wanted to be patient with Leon. "What you two suffered, back in Raccoon City. It was very irresponsible to make you feel you needed to save her."

Leon's face tighten. He could already smell Chris's bullshit, "Listen, I asked for her, nobody made me get her." Leon remembered the first time he saw you. You were one of the old military people of Umbrella and got send there among others who. You were like him. A rookie who was just wanted to help people, but the infected ruined your plans.

He wanted you. You understood the world like he did.

That's why you two needed to be together in every mission until two years came along. When you broke up with him, his life changed for the worst, but it didn't seem you two were actually broken up. He always told you where he was. He told you about nightmares.

"But you two ended up hurting yourselves. Jill and I never had this issue-"

Leon rolled his eyes, "I love her." He muttered softly. Every damn day, Leon saw your eyes as the gun was raised against Chris and you. Chris forgave him faster, but you...

Leon's eyes closed, "Every day I think of my bullshit," Leon opened his eyes and looked at his fingerless gloves, "I just want her back."

Chris exhaled deeply, "You need to stop drinking then." He sighed softly. This job made you an addict to whatever gave your comfort. For you and Leon, you two had each other, but Leon held his need to save people and alcohol.

It was fucked. It wasn't fair for either of you.

"She'll think forever that you prefer your dumb flask."

His throat nearly choked on his own spit, Leon's head hung low as a heavy sigh escaped his lips. He loved you so much it hurt. Little by little, tears escaped his eyes.

Slowly dripping down his face, Leon felt even more sick of himself. With his arms around your waist, you gave him a breath of fresh air- you gave him life.

[ficsofabotchedmind]

What is lost, will always be found

Summary? No.

Warnings? Yes, but only a little; hurt/comfort, reader needing their moms, depression, feelings of abandonment, this was self indulgent.

Alex x Olivia x their kid!Reader

———————————————————————————

Things had been going ok, but at the same time things were also going to shit. 

Y/n had been exhausted every day, putting on a mask of happiness, lying their way through everything. 

They sighed and thought as they walked to Olivia’s door, “Why did I agree to this dinner with mom and Noah? All I want to do is go home, curl up and cry. Although I should be grateful, at least they remember me and include me.” 

Knocking and hearing a ‘hold on!’ coming from inside, Y/n took one last shuttering breath and prepared the mask that they wore so well. 

The door swung open and there stood Olivia, Y/n’s adopted mother and one of the only people to genuinely love and accept them, and with a wide smile, “Sweet baby come here! I’m glad you could make it, come in!” 

As soon as they entered a smaller body collided with their own, looking down they could see a head of unruly curls and a wide smile, “Y/n! I missed you!” 

For the first time in days, the smile on their face became real, “I missed you too, Bud! How was your day at school?” 

Noah grinned even harder and pulled back, “It was good! We did an art project in class; I get to bring it home Monday!” 

Olivia smiled as she watched the interaction between her two children and walked to where Alex was, “They don’t even notice you yet, let’s see how long this will continue before you’re noticed.” 

Alex laughed quietly, “Deal, but I’m sure Noah can keep them busy for a while.” 

Liv giggled quietly and looked to Alex, “Thank you for coming back, Alex. Speaking of, have you given any thought to- “ 

Alex gave Olivia a look, “I still have my license, I never lost them but Olivia, if I do come back, keep Elliot away from me. Got it?” 

Liv pulled a face, somewhere between shock and humor from the looks of it, but said, “I will try my best, but you know we work cases with Organized Crime.” 

Alex sighed and was about to grumble but the timer went off, it was time to eat. 

Olivia and Alex bought everything to the table before Liv called everyone to eat, “Alright you two, let’s go. Y/n, can you hand me the glasses please?” 

Y/n smiled but as they turned around, their jaw fell open and there stood Alex Cabot in the flesh wearing a wide grin. 

Y/n felt a tear slip down their cheek and as they dove into Alex’s arms, they spoke softly, “Mama! Wha-what are you doing here?” 

Alex smiled and held them tight, “I’m coming home, I got sick of Florida, and I wanted to be near some of my favorite people, so I decided to move back home.” 

Y/n pulled back with tears and a certain look in their eye but before Alex could ask them what was wrong, Y/n pulled away completely and said, “Let’s eat!” 

Alex watched them carefully and then turned to make eye contact with Olivia confirming if she saw it as well and once Alex saw the look, they knew something was going on and now both women were suspicious. 

They would leave it alone until later, for now it was time to have some family bonding. 

Talking amongst each other and going about how their days were and what they all did, dinner quickly ended. 

Liv smiled at Noah and told him it was bedtime and to say goodnight to everyone but of course he didn’t want to go to bed yet but with one look from his older sibling, he compiled and told everyone goodnight. 

Liv gave Alex a look that told her to get started and she’d be back soon, and Alex complied, “So let’s go ahead and dive in, no bullshitting. How are you really, sweetheart?” 

Y/n faltered slightly with the dish in their hand, “I-uh I’m fine, why?” 

Alex sighed and put everything down, “Listen to me, I know I haven’t been here like I should have for quite a few years but I’m coming back and I’m going to be here and around you quite a lot. So, tell me now and I won’t have to use my lawyer skills on you.” 

Y/n took a shaky breath, trying to speak the truth but the burning lump in their throat wouldn’t cooperate and all that came out was a broken sob, quickly covering their mouth and turning into the arms that came around them, they let all the pain out. 

Alex held Y/n tightly, one hand on the back of their head and the other rubbing their back, “Let it out, little bear. It’s ok, I’m here. It’s ok.” 

Y/n cried hard into Alex’s shoulder, holding themselves close to her and let out a few broken words, “I’m so tired, mama. It’s so fucking hard.” 

Olivia heard those words as she came around the corner and immediately wrapped her arms around the two and held them, letting a few tears at the obvious pain their little bear was in. 

After a while Y/n pulled back, Alex and Liv had more questions but kept quiet and led them into the living room. 

After a while longer, Liv spoke but kept a tight grip on Y/n’s hand, “What’s going on, sweetheart? Tell us, please.” 

As a hand went carding through Y/n’s hair, they broke again and spilled it all, “When is it going to be me? Everyone is leaving me behind, moms! All that happens in this life for me is I help people, but when it comes to getting help in return, I get ‘I’m sorry, I’m busy’! When am I going to be placed first!? When am I going to get helped in return!? When is it going to be ME?” 

Alex and Olivia both felt tears streaming down their faces at the obvious pain and turmoil in Y/n’s voice, they could see clearly in their body language and their face how tired they were. 

Olivia immediately drew her eldest in for a hug, squeezing them tight, cradling them. Alex immediately came in behind and wrapped herself around the two, holding both Olivia and Y/n, they cried with their child. 

While Alex wasn’t legally Y/n’s other mother, she sure as hell thought of Y/n as her child as well and damnit, she was going to help bring the light back to their eyes. 

Sitting on the couch for quite a while letting Y/n get some of their pain out, Olivia spoke, “Listen to me, we may not be your friends or your coworkers, but we are your mothers and as long as we are here, we will never forget you. Little bear, neither of us care what time it is, where we are, what we are doing, come and find us and we will be there. Ok?” 

Alex made a noise of agreement, placed a soft kiss upon the back of Y/n’s and said, “Listen to your mom, she’s a wise woman. We’re here, sweetheart. We are here, we always will be.” 

Y/n made a noise of acknowledgment and nodded against Olivia, and they said in a broken voice, “Thank you, please never leave me.” 

Alex squeezed harder and said, “Never, we will fight to be here by your side for the rest of our lives. You are our child, we will never forget, never leave, and will always make time for you.” 

They continued to stay in their little pile they made for a couple more hours, keeping their child sandwiched between them and cocooned in safety. 

With Y/n drifting to sleep, the last thing they heard and felt was Olivia’s voice and Alex squeezing tightly, “No matter how far you roam, we will always find you. What is lost, will always be found.” 

Alex chimed in, “If we even let you out of our sight, you are our baby, and we swore to protect you. We love you, Y/n. Please never forget.” 

Drifting to sleep within the warmth and safety of their mom’s arms, Y/n was finally at peace. 

——————————————————————————— 

Bonus: The next morning  

Y/n was groggy when they awoke, rubbing their eyes, raising up to find where the voices were coming from, they spotted their mothers locked in an embrace and made a slight face before speaking and scaring both women, “Ew but fucking finally, it’s about damn time and I would continue but I want more sleep, just don’t be too loud if you have sex. Two impressionable children in the apartment.” 

Both women gaped at Y/n and shook their heads while Y/n fell back asleep with a soft smile on their face and a soft huff of a laugh escaping their lips and thinking as they drifted even farther into sleep, “Fucking finally, it only took them 24 years.” 

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 11

Again, I am working on Paper Hearts and Sweet Home Indiana until they are complete and Paper Hearts just snuck in another chapter so that was fun.

In this we have Corroded Coffin trying to change the culture of metal and the band meets Bob Newby.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

****

Celeste Baptiste was a miracle worker in her field and everyone knew it. Producers and recording studios were chomping at the bit to work with The Fallen the second she put out feelers that their current producer and studio just weren’t meeting the band’s needs.

They decided to go with Starcourt Recording studio as it was closer to home for a lot of the members. Which of course pleased Spence to no end, as it meant that he got to spend more time with Nadia.

They were currently interviewing for producers and had yet to find on that worked for them.

Enter Bob Newby.

****

Bob wasn’t used to working with bands that had alter egos. He heard of them of course. Slipknot, Daft Punk, and others. But he wasn’t a fan of secrecy for the most part and beyond the basic NDAs of contracts, he wasn’t a fan of those really, either.

But there was something about these four men that pulled him in. Especially when he learned that their previous producer had been trying to do with them. It was like he hadn’t listened to them at all and was trying to force them into what he thought metal meant.

So he thought he’d at least speak with them. If they didn’t like him or he didn’t like them, he’d walk away, no skin off his nose.

They walked in all wearing more casual versions of their onstage personas. They wore hoodies and masks of their colors to hind their face and hair, but the rest was all very down to earth. Bob supposed it made sense, after all, they couldn’t record in their tight leather outfits.

He was surprised to see that the drummer’s mask’s eyes were covered unlike the rest of the band and he couldn’t help but wonder if his eyes would give him away, like having some kind of heterochromia or something like that.

“Hey, I’m Bob Newby,” he greeted. “Everyone take a seat. Thanks for coming to meet me at my house studio, I’m two days away from a deadline and am really crunching it.”

“Of course,” the one in white said. He was the only one’s whose mask didn’t completely cover his face. “I would apologize for the subterfuge but it’s kind of our shtick.”

Bob smiled. “So I’ve been told. Tell me a little bit about yourselves.”

The one in white smiled. “I’m Abbadon, I’m the lead singer. I can play guitar, piano, and violin, but we don’t usually incorporate that stuff into our music.”

“Is there a reason why not?” he asked, clasping his hands together and leaning forward on his knees.

The band members looked at each other in shock.

“The label wanted us to stick to metal,” the one in blue said, “They were okay with Abbadon on rhythm guitar to help fill out the sound, but they didn’t want any of that other ‘stuff’.” He put air quotes around stuff.

“They do realize that metal and heavy rock have been using piano for as long as the genre has been a thing, right?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Again the band looked shocked.

Bob sighed. He held up his hands. “Wait, wait... we’ll get into all that once all the introductions have been made.”

The one in red and the one in white shared what he assumed was a concerned glance.

“You weren’t told about us?” the one in red asked.

“Oh, no, I was,” Bob replied with a grin. “But I want to hear it from you.”

So they went around and introduced themselves and he was starting form a picture about the band’s dynamic.

“Right,” he said, “I’ve listened to your other albums, seen recordings of your live shows, and even watched interviews and this is my takeaway on your sound. Your last producer was trying to force you into harmonies and melodies of early thrash metal of the 1980s, which isn’t your style at all.”

Astraeus, the one in midnight blue, spoke from his place on the floor, “That’s what we kept trying to tell him. He said that the sound was coming back and if we wanted to compete with the likes of Metallica and Corroded Coffin then that’s direction we needed to be heading as a band.”

Bob let out a long exasperated sigh. “But you can’t compete with them.” He held up his hands when Azrael, the one in black, and Asmodeus, the one in red, bristled. “I’m not saying you’re not as good as they are. Absolutely not. But you’re not in the same genre of metal that they are. It would be like comparing the Rolling Stones and Beatles because they were both British rock bands.”

Astraeus and Azrael shared a glance, one Bob couldn’t interpret with their masks on.

Azrael rolled his eyes. “We’re what our detractors love to call nu metal as if music can’t have more than one sound.”

Bob nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right. You’re vocals tend toward the melodic over the screaming or more guttural sounds of thrash metal. So I would focus on that. The label sent me over the demo and you’ve got a lot of great stuff here. Stuff the other guy didn’t want to touch. Some of the more...” he cocked his head back and forth, “blatantly queer? LGBTQ+? Gay stuff?”

“Queer works,” Abbadon said with a wry note to his voice.

Bob nodded again. “Who is the writer/writers?”

Astraeus and Azrael raised their hands.

“With a little lyrical help from Abbadon,” Asmodeus said darkly.

Abbadon rubbed his back to calm the other man as he bristled at his other bandmates.

“So how does your writing process work?” Bob said ducking his head to his smile.

Astraeus explained how Abbadon would write down his thoughts and feelings and that he would turn them into lyrics for Azrael to turn into songs.

“So I’m guessing that at least either Abbadon or Astraeus is some variation of the rainbow spectrum?” he pressed the band.

The two men in question shared a glance, Astraeus nodded.

“I’m bi and Astraeus is gay,” Abbadon confirmed. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Bob threw laughed. “No not at all. In fact just the opposite. I want you two to come out.”

He couldn’t see their faces but he could feel the blank stares as their eyes bore into him.

“I understand that is a daunting feeling,” he murmured kindly. “But I think it would really boost your image, allow you to be more open with your songs, especially with Starlight Eyes, and it would make more metal artists be more comfortable with an LGBTQ+ label. Because right not a lot of metal stars are out and all of them have come out while being so massively famous that they could ‘take the risk’.”

Asmodeus and Azrael shared a look.

“The two of us are straight though...” Asmodeus said, “I’m literally famous for women throwing themselves at me, is them being out going to hurt either us or them?”

Bob tilted his head to the side. That was a fair question and one that should be considered. But he shook his head. “It shouldn’t. No one is going to expect the whole band to be queer. Take Corroded Coffin for example. Other than their bassist, Brian Martin being ace, he is still attracted to women romantically,” he held up his hands in defense when it seemed that a couple of the band were about to interject, “and I’m not saying he doesn’t count as queer, because I’m not. But the only one with what the average person would consider queer is their frontman, Eddie Munson. He is an out gay man, but even he didn’t come out until they were selling out arenas.”

The other members started teasing their lead singer, ribbing him and making low probably ribald comments.

Bob raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat.

Azrael turned him and Bob could feel the absolute glee radiating off the man. “Abbadon here, has a crush on Eddie.”

His face split into a large grin. “Aren’t you scheduled to tour with them next year?”

Abbadon coughed and cleared his throat. “Yeah, we’re working on that.”

Their manager who had been waiting in the corner on her phone for the meeting to conclude turned to the band. “What do you think, boys? Is Bob our man for the job?”

He looked up at her and then back to the band. “So what do you say? You ready to rock the metal world?”

Abbadon spoke for all of them when he said, “Yeah. Yeah we are.”

****

In the end it didn’t matter what Steve and his band wanted for the tour dates because Gareth’s little stunt landed him in rehab. And Corroded Coffin’s label refused to tour without him.

Which had pissed Eddie off. They had made a deal with Gareth and he had broken the deal first. And as shit as it was, getting a touring drummer was easier than replacing anyone else in the band.

Eddie and his band were doing an interview about Gareth’s sudden stint in rehab, talking about the future of the band.

Only they weren’t dressed like they normally were. They were still in jeans and t-shirts. But their jeans were in various shades of blue and Brian wore a plain white tee, Jeff wore a Taylor Swift Eras band shirt, and Eddie wore pale pink tee with David Bowie as Ziggy Stardust on it.

In short they did not look like a metal band. They looked like three guys, just shooting shit.

It had been a slow change over the summer. Every time the band went for an interview that wasn’t at an event one of them would dress slightly different. Then two or three of them would wear something a little less ‘metal’, until they were all dressed like they were.

The interviewer, Jenna Peterson looked as uncomfortable to be interviewing them as they looked to be interviewed.

“So let’s start with something softer,” she said, crossing her legs and simpering, “so why don’t we first first talk about your shift in style.”

Jeff threw back his head and laughed. “Good god! We don’t wear the ‘uniform’ for a couple of interviews and we get the clothes question.”

Brian shook his head.

“You think all those leather and chains and shit is comfortable?” Eddie asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Maybe, maybe not. But it sure is hot as hell,” she said cocking her head.

Jeff snorted and ran his tongue over his lips. “We were getting tired of the hate metal stars get for wearing anything but leather and black denim. Do you know how fucking hot that shit gets?”

“Like there was a bassist from a huge metal band,” Eddie said, agreeing, “that was papped wearing a graphic tee and cargo shorts standing outside of a shop where his wife was shopping and suddenly everyone was talking about how he sold out and that he was disrespecting the genre. Dude was sixty or some shit. If he can’t wear what makes him comfortable without being told he’s selling out, than what hope is there for up and coming bands from being shunned because they ‘don’t conform’ to the aesthetic of being in a metal band.”

Jenna smirked and tilted her head. “Is this about The Fallen and their assertion that they wouldn’t have been welcomed if they had been themselves.”

Jeff and Eddie shared a glance.

“I won’t lie,” Jeff said, “and say that wasn’t a part of it. But it was also because one of my good friends from high school was a huge metal fan. Loved all the greats. Metallica, Iron Maiden, Dio, Black Sabbath...like was the biggest fan of all of them. Had all their albums on vinyl, posters on her wall, but other than the odd band t-shirt she sure as hell didn’t dress like a metalhead.”

Jenna leaned forward and rested her chin on her hand, elbow propped up on her knee. “So what did she dress like?”

Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes. “She was a cheerleader with a fondness for pink and frilly. She loved floral prints and cardigans for fuck’s sake.”

Jenna sat back in shock. “Wait, really?”

Brian nodded, scratching his cheek thoughtfully. “Yeah. She’s our manager now. But the push back she would get for not dressing like a metalhead and just being a girl was repulsive.”

“We apologized to her about not trying to change the culture around what a metalhead should look like,” Jeff said, “and she waved us off. Said that if it had bothered her she would have said something herself. But she was the one that helped carefully curate what we wore so that it went smoother.”

“We’ve been talking to other bands, too,” Brian said. “Getting them to help. We are supposed to the genre about non-conformity but here we are pushing a conformity on people in the same story, different font.”

Jenna returned to her simpering, she batted her eyelashes at Jeff. “Is The Fallen among those you’ve asked to help?”

“No,” came Eddie’s blunt answer.

She reared her head back in shock and blinked at him for a moment. “Why not? It seems to me that of all the bands to need to dial it back, The Fallen would be at the top of that list.”

Brian snapped his fingers. “And that would be why. They don’t need to dial it back. Maybe they would be as famous as they are without the masks and shit, but now it’s integral to who they are as a band. And we aren’t going to make them change to make other people more comfortable.”

Jenna uncrossed and crossed her legs. “Well, good luck. So you just finished your ninth album, tell me about that process.”

They talked about the album and Gareth’s battle with substance abuse.

The interview never got less awkward, but Corroded Coffin handled it with such grace that a lot of people were calling Jenna out on social media for being the absolute worst choice for that interview.

****

Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

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