#i have one inside my goddamn nose !!!! it’s so swollen and hurts like a bitch !!!

[fewderpewders]

i am so TIRED of PAINFUL ACNE

[avintagekiss24]

—you can pretend you don’t miss me; bucky barnes

pairing: tfatws!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4049

warnings: 18+ ONLY, knife kink, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, tiny bit of blood, attempted murder

challenge: @cockslut-padalecki a decade under the influence “what if I can’t forget you? I’ll burn your name into my throat”

request: bucky barnes + “i have a feeling i’m gonna get lucky tonight” + orgasm denial

author note: surprise! it didn’t take me two months to write something sjsksjs please enjoy fic #3 of my 5/5.5k follower celebration! also another quick congrats to lisa for hitting 10k!!

inspired by this art ; gif by @zacharylevis ; line divider by @firefly-graphics ; title inspired by billie eilish bitches broken hearts

The taste of bourbon and cigarettes is on his lips and tongue as he licks into your mouth. He moans into you, fingers digging into the meat of your thigh as he hooks your leg right around his waist. Your back is up against the heavy door of his apartment, fingers in soft brown hair, wet lips smacking and sucking, teeth nibbling on his swollen, red bottom lip. He laughs, relaxing into your kiss and lips and teeth as he anchors your weight in his metal hand, flesh hand rummaging in his almost too tight black jeans for his door key.

There’s a smirk on your face as you pull away from him. Your lips are still touching. Foreheads resting on one another's. Eyes a little shy, only connecting for fractions of seconds before they’re on the floor or a pair of lips. The jingle of keys fills the hallway, then the thunk of one as it pushes into the slot and stops hard against the rusted metal of the lock. The deadbolt slaps back into the door and with a push of his foot, and a little help from your weight being pinned against it, the swollen door scrapes against the frame as it pops open, swinging back into the wall.

Bucky slips his hands down your sides, grips your hips tight as he starts to back you inside. They stay there, those hands, as his eyes bounce back and forth between yours and dip down to your mouth where he licks his lips and catches his bottom lip between his teeth, like he’s fantasizing about wanting to feel them again. A metal hand cups your face, his palm warm as he sweeps his thumb along your cheek.

His tongue sneaks out just before your lips meet again to tease the roof of your mouth before he grabs your top lip between his. You both inhale deep, breathing each other in, a concoction of soft and sweet and smoke and warmth.

You’re not sure who moves first, whether Bucky is pushing or you’re pulling— probably a little of both— but you’re inside of his apartment before you know it. The door slams shut. Your leather jacket slips off your shoulders and hits the hardwood floor as you back further inside.

Fingers and hands are everywhere. Yanking at shirts, popping buttons, pulling zippers as lips get more desperate. You back into a set of bar stools, knocking them around just a little as you stumble and catch yourself, throwing your head back as laughter spills from you. Bucky pushes out a breath and a small laugh while he eyes you all hungry like as he pulls at his boots.

You tease him a little, putting those feminine wiles to good use— tilt your head, twist your hair around your fingers, push your tits forward. With your shirt crumpled on the floor, the titanium bars pushed through your nipples catch the soft pink, blue, and purple lights of the neon signs pouring in through the kitchen windows through the sheer mesh bralette covering your chest.

Bucky looks a mess. Hair all over his head, pants open— the band of his Hugo Boss boxers peeking out— plain black t-shirt now in a rumpled pile on the floor. His footsteps heavy as he stalks towards you. He stops short, wraps black and gold fingers around your wrist and yanks, collecting you again to crush your soft body against his hard one.

You tilt your head up towards him, eyes turning to slits, lips brushing against his as manicured fingertips push just inside his jeans. Soft tips sweep over a rigid cock, the size making a sly smile curl onto your face. This one is full of surprises.

“Well well,” you purr, kissing him quick, wet and loud, never taking your eyes off him, “I have a feeling I’m gonna get lucky tonight.”

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, a breath pushing out through his nose as a lopsided grin paints his handsome face, “Aren’t you a smart girl.”

You curl your fingers around his neck, digging the tips into his messy hair and draw him in— dragging the wet velvet of your tongue over his mouth real slow, watching as his eyes close, “You, bed,” you instruct, “Me, bathroom.”

Footsteps fill the quiet, surprisingly lived-in apartment, the clicks of your heels and his heavy thumps as he pulls you towards the bed. He just points off to his left as he falls onto the mattress, resting a leaden head on a wide palm as he settles in. Eyes blinking at you slow as you disappear behind a white door.

The bathroom is immaculate. White. Sterile. Nothing out of place— very military of him. You undress slowly, removing your shoes one by one before moving on to your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a see through bra, waist high panties— and a black leather ankle holster housing your six inch, hand crafted, butterfly knife.

You lift your foot, place it on the white countertop and slip the blade from the holster before carefully, quietly undoing the straps. Taking a deep breath, you stand up a little straighter, roll your neck and shoulders as you stare back at your reflection. The pony tail comes down, silky hair falling over your shoulders and down your back— best fifteen hundred bucks you’ve ever spent on yourself.

Gotta look good on the day you finally get to kill the Winter Soldier.

With a soft flick of your wrist, the blade flips out and you can’t help but run a manicured finger over the edge, pressing the sharp point into the pad. You find yourself in the mirror again and tilt your head a little as your brain goes a little empty— except for maybe one thought.

You wanna fuck him. You’ve earned it, and regrettably so, you find Bucky Barnes sort of interesting. Funny. Engaging when prodded a bit but still somehow deadpan and aloof.

His huge cock doesn’t help matters either.

You sigh, oh well.

The door clicks as you open it and pass through. You keep your hands behind your back as your body softens— sinks into itself a little. Hair falls in your face as you feign shyness, batting big, soft brown eyes and sinking your teeth into an ample bottom lip.

Bucky took the time to get completely naked. Hard cock gripped in his flesh palm, slow drags from the base to the glistening tip.

God, you really kinda wish you could fuck this man.

“Come ‘ere.”

An outstretched metal hand accompanies the gentle beckoning. You move soft, a small sound of your feet sinking into the carpet before you reach out with your empty hand and slide it into warm metal, using the sturdy grip to hoist yourself up and over his stomach.

His hands find your hips— big, warm, manly hands. They slip upwards just a bit to grip the soft of your sides. Move down again for thick fingers to graze over your ass and tickle the backs of your naked thighs. Still, you palm the handle of your knife tight and high, in the small of your back, as you use your free hand to push the dark strands of hair out of your face.

Bucky’s eyes meet yours when his fingers push between your parted legs, finding a wet spot in those mesh panties. You inhale deep, blinking back at him as his fingers keep a sweet little rhythm back and forth against your cunt. Hips defy your brain and push forward into those fingers— wanting just a little more.

Maybe you can wait… maybe until after...

You lean forward before your brain can finish stringing the words together— you have to or you’d lose all your nerve and give into that weak devil telling you to taste the sin. Let him spread you open until it hurts. Your mouth finds his hot and swollen and you kiss him hard, so hard he groans into it. You pull back just enough to lick his mouth again, eyes bouncing between his.

“What’re you waitin’ for, sweetheart? You need more of an invitation than this?” Bucky asks low and slow, pushing his cock right into your ass as his fingers creep inside your panties.

You smile, real nice and sweet before swooping the arm from behind your back to push the knife into his neck, “Oh nothing, baby,” you purr, “Just waiting for the right time to kill you is all.”

You lean back a little to see his face, tipping your head to the side. He’s pretty calm for a guy who’s minutes away from bleeding out on his own bed— but he is an assassin. Not much can shake him— should shake him.

Bucky blinks slow at you, hands coming to rest by his sides. His eyes don’t widen, pupils don’t dilate. Steady breathing stays just the same— he doesn’t even shift uncomfortably. Just blinks back at you. Slow. Easy. Without a fucking care in the goddamn world.

An angry heat blooms across your skin at his nonchalance as the seconds tick by. Your chest starts to rise and fall a little harder. Your eyes start to bounce between his as you suck your teeth in indignation, “You don’t remember me, do you?”

A blink is all you get.

“Of course you don’t,” you hiss, “Why would you? I was just one of many in the wrong place at the wrong time, right?” Your grip on the handle of the knife tightens as you push it harder against his skin— this time he swallows, “Who cares how many innocent lives you’ve destroyed as long as you got what you wanted.”

He still doesn’t say a word, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react. Just stares up at you as you crack, laughing angrily as you take his silence mockingly, “Well, I couldn’t fuckin’ forget you. Eight years. Eight years of living in absolute terror that you’d come back for me.” You’re seething now, eyes wild, breath coming harder and faster than the one before it, “Constantly looking over my shoulder, jumping at every bark of a dog and clink of keys and slam of a car door outside my apartment— do you know how it feels to live like that? Huh? Expecting to die every second of every hour of every goddamn day?”

Another silence drops over the room and it’s just the two of you staring at each other. You’re not even sure why he isn’t fighting back— why he’s just lying there and then it hits you, like a ton of bricks.

Of course he knows what it’s like to live like this. He’s used to it.

A trickle of blood slips down the side of his neck, the singular plop staining the white sheets below, “I’ve never thought about after— once you’re dead. What if I can’t forget you? I’ve spent so long hating you— it’s, it’s like by killing you, I’ll burn your name into my throat, you know? You’ll always just,” you tilt your head, digging the knife in a little harder, “Be there. With me always.”

The funniest thing happens as soon as the words slip through your teeth. His lips start to twitch. Curl into a smile— one where those pearly whites are on display— and then he’s laughing. Like someone just told a fucking joke.

It makes you recoil. Makes you squint and has your face twist in confusion, lips separating as a heavy breath passes through.

“Well,” he finally purrs, the laughter rumbling through his chest dying down, “Go ‘head, honey.”

When you hesitate, he pushes his chin forward, arch’s his head back to put his neck on full display, “Come on, baby. Don’t get my hopes up and not follow through.”

“You’re insane.” You hiss.

He leans up a little, another smile curling onto his lips, “In this business, you gotta be.”

The words stick in air like glue as he settles back into the pillow below his head, blue eyes twinkling underneath the soft neon lights pouring in through the windows.

He’s fucking with you. Just do it. The words echo, knocking around your brain as you stare down at him, blade still shoved into the crease of his neck. Another drop of blood plops onto the sheets below. Your lip snarls slightly, eyes narrowing as heat flashes across your skin again. He’s mocking you. After everything he’s done, all the pain— the fear.

You inhale deep, grip the handle so hard your nails dig into your palm and instinct takes over. The hatred, the built up aggression and vitriol guiding your hand, about to slash that pretty thick neck wide open. You are more than ready to see a deep red stain white sheets and blue eyes lose all of the life he’s built into them and fade away into nothingness. Just when you’re about to make your eight year long dream come true, it all flashes before your eyes.

Within a blink— half of a blink— you're off his lap, slammed up against the wall opposite the bed, warm flesh hand around your throat. You gasp hard, nearly choking on the air you can’t grab as you start to struggle, slapping at his face before swinging the knife wildly.

Bucky catches your arm with ease, squeezing your hand until you’re grunting and hissing in pain, grip relaxing around the metal. You blink again, and your knife is now pressed against your throat as you growl, struggling to no avail.

“You’re lucky baby,” he mutters, “Nobody survives that long while holding a knife to my throat.” He kisses you hard, digging his teeth into your bottom lip to drag it back with him when he pulls away, “You’re a cutie tho, so, you get a little reprieve.”

He leans back in real close, eyes roaming along your face as his head tilts, breathing easy. Staring back at him, lip curling again as you huff hard, angry breaths beating out of your nose. But your hands have come to rest on his arms. You can feel the blood coursing through the vein that’s popped out right down the center of his bicep. Your fingers flex around metal and muscle, goosebumps rising on your skin as the cool air conditioning tickles hot skin.

“Of course I remember you,” he whispers after a long time— too long, “I remember each and every face of the last seventy years,” his eyes bounce between yours, “I knew exactly who you were as soon as you popped up on that stupid dating app.”

Another sharp influx of air squeezes out of your throat when he drags the tip of your knife underneath your chin, down the length of your throat, down your chest. Slips it along your stomach before pushing it into the mesh that covers your chest. A flick of his wrist and you’re bare, the thin material giving way to the blade.

Your chest heaves, eyes wide, lips parting as the tip of that blade scrapes along your skin— right between your tits. Brown eyes drop to his red, wet lips quick, then shoot back to focus on his piercing blues.

“I wasn’t sure at first what you wanted,” he whispers, flattening the blade over a piqued nipple, clinking against the metal bar piercing your thick flesh, “If you recognized me after all this time— I mean, with the new hair and everything.”

A hum sounds at the back of your throat, trembling and airy and Bucky picks it up right away— another smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The fingers around your throat peel away slowly but he watches you all the while, fire behind his eyes as he tests you.

“You’re a good little actress,” words still soft but full— maybe amazed that you were able to get as close as you did, “But you knew that already, huh?”

You swallow hard, eyes tipping down to watch his fingers drift down your arm. Light little touches, “You have to be when born— ah,” the edge of the knife catches your thick nipple as he slides it across your tit.

He kisses you again, real sweet this time though. Tongue sweeping along your bottom lip as both his encase it, “I’m sorry baby. You were saying?”

Flesh fingers dance along your stomach, sweeping from hip to hip. Just the tips. Feather light drags so you don’t forget about them. His large palm grips your hip, pushes his thumb into the meat of your side and you have to close your eyes— clear your throat to center yourself. To remember why you’re there in the first place.

Sweet breath washes over your face as Bucky rolls your left nipple now into the edge of the blade— kissing you again when you shriek at the quick, sharp pain just to eat the sound. You lose the fingers around your hip, only to find them again suddenly, jumping in slight surprise as calloused pads cup a soft, wet cunt.

Bucky’s still blinking slow, fingers pushing along a swollen clit, massaging. He’s real close now, prickly cheek rubbing against yours, teeth nibbling at your jawline.

Your own fingers dig into his biceps as your eyes flutter with the tightening of your stomach. A warmth starts to spread through your veins. Hips find a little rhythm against his hand. A sharp prick here and there as he circles that knife— your own damn knife— around your tits and back up to your throat again.

That’s when he sinks two long, thick fingers into you, not stopping until his palm is flush with your sticky folds. His thumb pressed against the sensitive little nub at the center of you.

His eyes are slits, head tilted up slightly as his mouth hangs, dragging in the air you expel. Only then does his fingers start to move, delving in and out, thumb still pushing along your clit.

“God,” you pant, pushing your head upwards against the wall, “Mmm, I can’t—” his fingers push deeper and the words are gone, like they never even existed in the first place, “Fuck.”

Bucky pushes the smooth blade against your throat just a little harder— the sharp edge forcing your chin upward a little more. He flattens his thumb against your lower stomach, starts to pull his fingers, not push them. The heel of his palm starts to slap against your skin as you buck into the motion.

Your hands slip up to his shoulders, both arms wrapping lazily around either side of his neck. The soft hum from earlier is replaced with high pitched whimpers and breathy little squeaks. Bitten off words fall from your lips as you squirm against the wall, wanting him deeper, faster, harder— which he delivers without you having to say a word.

He grabs your cheeks, pinching hard as the blade flattens across your pouty lips. A weak, desperate whimper sounds, all your resolve gone. Whatever leverage you thought you had completely wiped away— and it makes a wicked grin spread on Bucky’s lips.

“You close, baby? Hmm?” he hums, licking at your mouth again, “Oh sweet girl, you wanna come, huh? You gonna come for me?”

He strokes your clit with the tip of his thumb, your walls clenching around his fingers. The gentle encouragement continues, real soft and between sweet little kisses all over your face. A dull ache settles in your belly, a thick heat starting to stir within. Your heart leaps into your throat as your hips pump with Bucky’s hand, the release so close you can taste it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groan, “‘m gonna fuckin—”

“You want it? Huh? Want me to make you come honey?”

You squeak in response, nodding fast as you bite down into your lip, “Please. Please.”

Heat ripples through your body as you start to tremble, legs going shaky and weak. Muscles start to burn all over as you tense hard, coaxing the sweet agony swirling in your stomach. You cry out, his name hanging on your lips as the rush of it all pushes higher and higher.

Just as you start to unravel, just as the coil begins to snap, his fingers are gone. Pulled from your cunt and clit. You’re whipped around his body, forced back towards the bed. Your mind racing— maybe you’ll be getting some of that cock afterall.

Or not.

Metal slaps around your wrist, bites into the skin as it clamps down, the clink of teeth sliding into the lock housing ringing in your ears. You snap your head towards the sound when it all finally connects in your murky brain. The horror of realization floods into your veins— blood running cold as your stomach drops to your feet.

The handcuffs clink against the dark metal headboard as you fight against it, “You bastard! You fuckin’ piece of shit, let me go!” you shout, thrashing your arm back and forth, pulling as hard as you can, “Goddamn it— let me the fuck go! I’ll fuckin’ kill you, you bast—”

“Ooph,” Bucky jests, octave rising as he slips back into his jeans, “You got a filthy little mouth on you.”

“Fuck you!”

He scoffs, laughing gently as he pulls his black shirt back over his head. The bastard even starts to hum as he plops down on the edge of the bed, taking his time while he pushes his feet back into his boots and shrugs into his jacket.

You keep sharp eyes on him as he stands and turns to face you, dangling a pair of small silver keys next to his grinning face before he tosses them somewhere deep in the apartment. You swipe at him with your free hand as he approaches, just barely catching his chin as he kneals down, “I’m gonna kill you,” you smile, a blind rage engulfing every pore, every muscle, every ounce of your body.

Bucky shrugs, “Not tonight, sweets. Listen, tell Sam I’m sorry about the mess, hm?”

“Who the fuck is Sam?” you hiss.

He looks down at his watch, “Yeah, he should be home in about an hour. It’s not everyday you walk into your apartment to find a naked, wannabe assassin handcuffed to your bed, so, give him my apologies— wait, you know about Sam, right? The new Cap, they made it official a couple of weeks ago.”

Your jaw clenches as you stare back at his smiling face, more humiliation pouring through you as you realize he’s had you pegged the entire goddamn time.

“Oh baby,” he laughs again, “You didn’t honestly think I’d take you back to my place, did you? I don’t even know you— you kids today are so reckless.”

Blue eyes bounce between yours for a few seconds before he glances down at his hands, works them back into his black gloves. He pulls your butterfly knife from his back pocket and starts to play with it, flicking his wrist to close it, and then open it over and over again.

“I’m keeping this,” he offers as he locks it closed and slips it back into his pocket, “Maybe you’ll find the balls to try and take it from me.”

“Oh,” you laugh, shaking your head, “I’m taking it back.”

Bucky stands, the sound of his heavy boots sounding through the apartment as he moves towards the door, “I look forward to it kiddo.”

***

If there’s one thing you respect about Bucky Barnes, it’s his attention to detail.

Right on the dot, exactly one hour later, you snap your head towards the front door as keys start to jingle in the lock. With the bed sheet wrapped loosely around your torso, you straighten up against the wall, eyes wide as you watch an exhausted Samuel Thomas Wilson walk into his apartment.

“Oh, fuck!” he shouts, jumping slightly and dropping his bag to the floor when he locks eyes with you, “What in the fuck?”

“I can explain… sort of.” you start, holding up your hand.

You apparently don’t need to. Sam’s phone is to his ear within seconds as he starts to pace back and forth, “Bucky, this is not why I gave you a key to my mother fuckin’ apartment!”

[ophiuchus-interactive]

In My Time of Need (MAJOR ANGST)

This is too long and too juicy of an ask to let it be just a common RO ask,

So! I'm going to be doing a mini-series answering this ask with all of the ROs!

Valerian is first! Now, remember, this is torture!

TW: Angst, blood, gore, torture!

Under the cut!

The prison cell looked akin to a tomb. Water leaking from the ceiling above your head, dripping through the stone brick and splattering against the aged, bloodied floor. Your hands were held in rusted, metal cuffs that were connected to the ceiling through chains. Valerian was in a similar state- only with him, his right eye was completely swollen shut. You wonder with a vague, passing thought if his eye dislodged from its position- or if it could be used at all anymore.

His breath was labored, heavy. The tell-tale rattle that echoed in his heavy gasps of air was a sign of broken ribs. The fierce, inky purple that took shape against his chest made sure of such an injury. A possibly permanent one.

They had beaten him within an inch of his life. The twisted, sinking feeling in your stomach was telling you that they weren't quite done yet.

In the darkness of the cells, you heard a large, metal door swing wide open, hitting the walls with enough force to make you jump. The clattering of your chains rang loudly in your ears, followed by the cacophonous, clobbering footsteps of your captors.

"He will not speak, commander. If we beat the whelp anymore without medical treatment, he will die,"

"He's not uttered a word?"

Silence.

A beat. Your heart is in your throat.

"...No, Commander. Nothing."

"'cause..." Valerian speaks up suddenly, his speech slurred by the blood the collected in his mouth, clogging his throat, "y'all dumb sons of bitches who can't....throw a fuckin' punch."

Your captors came into view. Their cloaked appearances giving you little to go off of as to their identity. Too tall for a Harpii. Too short for a Kal'Morran. They don't hiss their words- but something in the back of your mind makes you think they aren't exactly human.

"You know," The one called 'commander' says, " there is one thing I can never understand about your kind, captain. Do you know what that is?"

You watched- with a vague sense of astonishment- Valerian try his best to smile. You noticed teeth missing.

"What we're all better lookin' than you?"

Though you couldn't see it, you can imagine the Commander clenching his teeth, practically grinding them down to the gums,

"No. It is your aptitude for pain. In my experience, experimenting on the wide range of races that this universe, unfortunately, places in my hands for disposal, humans have always had a peculiar knack for...endurance."

The Commander chuckles, the action was enough to make your blood run cold, "True enough, I suppose. Humans have always been much more productive in experimenting than...well. Let's just say I don't think the two of you would do too well chained to our mining pits, living out the rest of your pathetically short lives harnessing the exact ore it is we will destroy you all with."

There was an audible smack to his lips, and then an almost dreamlike sigh, "Though the irony would be exquisite, indeed."

"Come 'ere to...talk, then?" Valerian coughs. The chains echo every harsh seize of his dry, bloodied throat, "I...stopped payin' attention right around the time you started...spewin' shit again."

You could practically feel the harsh and frigid stare the Commander was given Valerian. It was enough to make you swallow the lump that rose in your throat- a feeling of true fear.

"Grab the other one, Lieutenant."

"What?!" Valerian roars, his voice broken and scratched from his own screams, "You damned sonuva- they've got hell all to do with this! Leave 'em alone!"

Valerian's protests fall on deaf ears, the Lieutenant grabbing the chains that held your arms high in the air and release them from the hook- causing you to fall face-first into the floor.

Pain. White-hot, exploding pain burst like fireworks inside your skull. You felt blood pour freely from your nose; your forehead in enough agony to make you assume it was cracked.

You were pulled forward by the shackles that they hung you by, feeling every stray piece of stone and gravel embed themselves in your skin, burning the layers until it was raw, exposed.

The Lieutenant pulled you up from the floor, your blood trickling down the sides of your mouth and lips. Nausea began as your whole world started to spin. There was only one thought in your mind as you felt bile rise in your throat:

This was only the beginning.

"Come now, Captain, surely you can be reasonable? A member of your crew is about to be severely beaten. Their bones will break. Their skin will grow into that dark, nasty shade of purple- and you will have caused it. You will have caused their suffering.

Unless of course, you tell us precisely what it is we want, right now."

Silence.

And for that you were grateful. You and Valerian both know that not a word can be spoken of this. No matter what the cost.

"...Don't," You can hear Valerian say softly. Quietly. All that vibrato he had once before has been thrown to the side; all at once, he was a completely different person, "don't hurt them."

"I don't think you have much of a say in the matter, Captain. Either you start talking or I get to practice my hand combat- the ones that you abhor?"

"Don't- don't tell them shit, Val," You say as evenly as you can muster, "not a goddamn thing!"

CRACK!

It was the sound that came before the feeling- the force of a thick, gloved hand connecting with your side was enough to cause your body to forget how to breathe. You panicked as the pain blossomed into downright torment, your lungs being unable to catch up with the now broken pieces of your ribcage. You were left drowning in the dry, empty air.

"MC!"

"I'm going to give you one more chance, Captain. I suggest you take my words over your companion's- tell me everything. Every last shred of detail, and I will spare you both this pain."

Silence.

Do you think you hear a sob?

"Tch. Pathetic. Do you hold the silence above the people you're supposed to protect? What kind of a captain are you?"

"Stop! Please, stop, kill me- hurt me, anything but them-!"

"You do not get to beg like a diseased dog for a choice, Captain!" The Commander spits, his fury unable to be contained any longer, "Speak one more word that's not what I want, and I'll beat your companion until they're bloody, grey-mattered pulp on the floor!"

Silence.

A clatter. You think it was a tool. A hammer?

It doesn't take long for you to find out, however, as with a furious snarl, the hammer was slammed down upon the palm of your hand. You felt the bones in your hand crack under the force, the sheer magnitude of the assault was enough to make tears run down your face, and cry. Your nerves burned like fire, your body screaming for relief, and you know you won't be receiving any form of it. So this was true pain.

The world around you faded in and out of spotty darkness that threatened to consume your view, and you were afraid. Was this it? This- this can't be it. You needed to be awake, alive, you needed to see Valerian again.

But the darkness grew, and your air slowed down, and despite the chaos, the horror, you heard only one thing.

Silence.

A welcomed reprieve. An escape.

For now.

[rintarous]

fwb!suna

hottie alert wee woo wee woo fbi arrest him also if you’ve read the timeskip in the manga and it briefly shows suna can i just fucking tell u like holy shit hes fucking h+t + p.s implied sex <3

you two probably met at a random party thrown by terushima 

and he was kinda popular with the girls so he had girls beside him the entire time you first noticed suna

but little did you know he had eyes on you the moment you walked in

he’s definitely going to thank terushima for throwing this sick party my dude

as the night gets deeper the more you got yourself wasted

like duh? its a college party 

same goes to suna but lucky for him, his alcohol tolerance is spot on

so a few shots of vodka and any more of that shit wouldn’t hurt him

and now you’re kinda wasted and shit just walking around the place, greeting people here and there

when your eyes landed on suna,, again for the 2nd time tonight

homeboy was kinda looking for you too the whole night

cs u were hot shit just like he was

and so you approached him

he’s kinda surprised that you were the first one who made a move on him

so a little chit chat here and there later he finally asks you the question

“wanna get out of here for a bit?” he whispers in your ear a bit seductively

and thats how you found yourself entangled with him under the sheets if ya know what im saying ;))) 

but the entire time you guys were doing the deed, you two cracked jokes here and there

and this weird ass friendship was born

so you two both agreed to be friends with benefits whenever theres a party or u just need a good release 

you didnt mind it cs you know for a fact after this party is over, you’ll never see him again cs you never saw him on campus anyway

so after how many rounds later you two are finished and you two go back downstairs to the party

like nothing happened

except for the fact your lips are swollen and theres a bunch of hickies on suna’s neck 

ngl he really looks,,, hot 

so tbh u were kinda lowkey bummed out that you might never see him again

what you didn’t know was he slipped his number on a piece of paper when he slid his hands on the back of your jeans

but u dont text him

CS UR SCARED BAHAHAHAHA

so fast forward a week later after that party

you were kinda lonely and u wanted to see him again cs duh friendship

you had this project for this one class you have and you and kita ended up being partners

but your project was about some theory about computers and such and you’re just like what the fuck??

luckily for kita, he knows someone who’s taking a computer related course or something related to your said project and guess who it is ladies

thats right it was suna fucking rintarou

“i know someone who can help us” kita says, grabbing his phone and scrolling through his contacts

“cool. what course does he take” you ask as you took a peek 

“electrical engineering” - kita

boi u were shookt when suna comes rolling in the cafeteria where he was going to meet his friend 

“hey kita-san” suna greets and when he turns to you he just had this biggest smile on his face

“holy shit it’s you” suna beams, glad he FINALLY got to see you again

and like right off the bat you were red again like how the fuck did you not notice him before

he was hot AND an intellectual

anyway

the three of you spent majority of your time working on your project at your apartment

cs it was closer to school and kita still has to go home to take care of his granny and shit so he leaves p early but he gets shit done so its okay

so you alr know what happens next

when u’re feeling stressed over this goddamn project of yours,,,

suna graciously gives you a quick fuck to let out your frustrations

and thats like every other day

man you were starting to be head over heels over that bitch at this point

he just knows where to hit it you know??

kinda hard not to fall for someone that attentive 👀

so gradually, those quick sessions of yours turned more affectionate?? if you say so yourself

like it isn’t as rough like it used to be anymore?? like he’s scared of hurting u or some shit

and u couldve sworn he gave you heart eyes when you two made eye contact during sex

which never fucken happens??

oh boi this dude got you wrapped around his finger

but what you didnt know is that its the exact same thing to him, you got HIM wrapped around your finger

so for the first time ever you ask him to stay over

“can you stay?” you mumbled, hiding your face away from him after your session

suna GIGGLES

“thought you’d never ask”

lowkey tho y’all spooned the entire night after cleaning each other up

and after that you two started avoiding each other

you were crushed dude

but you didn’t want to catch feelings cs thats against the unspoken rule you had with him when you two agreed to become friends with benefits

kita notices this and asks you what’s wrong

and you basically asked him his opinion abt your situation rn

and hes just like: “well if you like him that much, why won’t you just admit it to him? cause it seems like he feels the same way” 

and u were like contemplating about it

so on the final day of working on your project,,, you decide to confront suna about your feelings for him

after kita leaves ofc

when he does leave, it turned awkward inside your apartment

like dead silence

as he was packing his shit back to his bag and you were like standing in front of your front door staring at him, hands shaking

“uhh suna?” you squeaked as he basically towered over you, “can i tell you something?” 

suna flashes you his signature smile, “sure! what’s up?” 

your mouth went dry and suddenly you don’t know basic words

you looked like a fish out of water just opening and closing your mouth a bunch of times

you just couldn’t find the right words nor express yourself so you did something you knew you did best,, you kissed him

you cupped his cheeks and kissed him like there was no tomorrow

and now suna was obviously caught off guard 

he dropped his bag and his hands immediately went flying to your hips

he kinda pushed you against the door as you slid your tongue into his mouth, tugging his hair slightly 

you pulled away first, putting your forehead against his, staring at his eyes

“i really like you” you mumbled, cheeks turning pink 

suna has never felt this ecstatic

“fucking finally” he huffs out, kissing your nose. “i thought i was the only one getting attached” he smiles

and after this you two continued your previous actions and obviously ended up getting hot and steamy in bed ;)

the end <3     

[tellmealovestory]

What The Hell

Summary: Dialogue prompt - Put the knife down

Notes: Also posted on my ao3. This was written for @sillyqt​ 1k followers challenge. Congrats again on all the followers!

Warnings: Swear words galore, back at it with the dumbass reader, mentions of smut, implied smut, did I mention the readers a dumbass?

There were a lot of things running through your mind that made sleep impossible. 

The storm raging outside. Heavy, fat rain drops that slammed against your window, wind that howled and shook the ratty frames, the loud claps of thunder that had you jumping each time they rolled across the night sky, the lightning that lit up your small room for brief seconds of a time reminding you just how lonely it could be at night when Bucky was away on a mission.

There were always too many things that could go wrong on those extended missions that left you tossing and turning unable to catch a wink of sleep. While you understood it was his job it didn’t make dealing with the worries over him getting hurt any less easier to handle. 

Rolling onto your back you whined at the mugginess that had settled in your room. The whirring of the small fan that sat in the corner only circulated more hot air doing little to cool you off. 

Outside sirens from an ambulance wailed causing you to wince. As much as you loved this apartment the neighborhood wasn’t the greatest and each time you heard sirens when alone or the creaking of what you were convinced of was someone breaking into your apartment you broke out in hives of worries and what ifs. 

Despite Bucky’s insistence that you move to a better apartment in a safer neighborhood your reluctance to leave the space you had called home since moving to the city had always won out. But laying in bed alone tonight you were beginning to rethink that position when you were convinced you heard your apartment door creaking open.

With a racing heart, shaking breaths and sheets tangled around your feet you sat up in bed tilting your head to the side trying to decipher if the creaking of a door opening was real or if you were imagining it. 

Break-ins weren’t unheard of in the building, but so far you had been lucky enough to never experience one. 

Floorboards creaked under heavy boots.

Shit, shit, shit.

Your phone was sitting on the kitchen counter next to the half empty boxes of Chinese food you had ordered earlier which meant if someone was breaking in you couldn’t even call 9-1-1 for help. 

Bringing your knees to your chest your eyes quickly scanned your darkened room looking for anything to arm yourself with.

Another heavy step, another creaking floorboard.

You understood why Bucky wanted you to move somewhere safer now. 

Think, think, think your mind screamed. With no phone to call for help, no baseball bat to smack whoever was inside your apartment you were fucked. You were about to die. You were about to die a horrible, slow death because you were the idiot in every horror movie who couldn’t manage to keep their phone with them. You were about to die wearing nothing but a tank top and a pair of underwear. You were about to die in a dingy apartment littered with take out containers during the middle of a thunderstorm. Fuck.

Swinging your legs over your bed you winced at the groaning of your worn out mattress. Freezing you sucked in a deep breath only exhaling when your bedroom door didn’t fling open to reveal a seven foot man wearing a hockey mask and holding a giant machete. 

Fuck you really needed to stop watching horror movies if you survived this.

Opening your bedside drawer slowly you rummaged around looking for anything you could use as a weapon, but so far all your fingers had run over was a condom, a vibrator with dead batteries that you were supposed to have changed earlier in the day and something sharp that sliced your finger.

Hissing you pulled your hand out of the drawer as you brought your finger up to your face struggling to inspect it in the darkness of your room. You didn’t dare turn a light on and alert your intruder you were in here. The metallic taste of blood filtered through your nostrils and you wrinkled your nose in distaste. 

Something sharp. Fuck, you really were that idiot in the horror movie who gets killed first for being a dumb bitch. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t thought of this sooner! If you survived this night you were going to spend the rest of the year on your knees giving Bucky Barnes the best blowjobs of his fucking life.

Carefully you dipped your hand back into the drawer. Grasping the handle of the knife he had thrown in there after a particularly kinky night of sex you sighed in relief. It may not have been a phone to call for help, but it was better than nothing. 

On shaky legs you stood up only to freeze when you saw yellow light flooding beneath your door.

Any hopes of the creaking floorboard, of the heavy boots being a product of your overactive imagination flew out the window. Your heart plummeted to your stomach, your hand grew sweaty the handle of the knife nearly slipping out of you grasp. And when the deafening sound of thunder echoed through your room you nearly pissed yourself from fear.

You were really about to die tonight. A million things flashed through your mind. Regrets, unfulfilled promises, moments you would never get to experience, places you would never get to see. Tears filled your eyes, but no matter how much you told yourself to pull it together you couldn’t. You had never imagined dying in your dingy apartment alone.

Taking a shaky step towards your bedroom door you tried to formulate a plan in your mind, but all you could think about was Bucky. The last time you had kissed him, the last time you had held his hand, the last time you had laid curled up in his arms sated after a passionate night together.

But mostly you thought about the last thing you had said to him. It hadn’t been I love you like it usually was. No be careful. No be safe. No come back to me in one piece. No. The last thing you had said to him was he had better plan on spending the next week buried between your thighs putting that long tongue to good use after he been called away on a mission in the middle of swirling his tongue over your swollen clit. 

Closing your eyes you whimpered at the memory. You had spent the day in bed going at it like rabbits. With your legs thrown over his shoulders, sweat dripping down every crevice of your body, his large hands holding your thighs open to him he had lavished your clit with the attention of a man on a mission and fuck had he ever been on a mission. 

Writhing beneath his body your knuckles had been turning white with how tight you had been gripping your bedsheets. Right on the edge of what you were convinced would have been a mind blowing orgasm his phone had gone off and though you had begged him to ignore it, fucking cried that you were so close, so goddamn close and to please, please, please just let you cum the fucker had pulled away with a kiss to your dripping center telling you he couldn’t ignore it and that he’d make it up to when he came back.

It was the last time you had seen him, last time you had talked to him and now you were about to die thinking about the goddamn orgasm you had missed out on. What the hell was wrong with you?

Reaching your bedroom door you hesitantly grasped the doorknob frowning when your sweat soaked hand slipped right off it. Sucking in a deep breath, praying to whoever would listen you twisted the doorknob, wincing as the door squeaked on its hinges. So much for trying to sneak out of here unseen.

Your body moved on its own as your feet shakily carried you out of your bedroom and into the short hallway. A quick glance into the living room appeared to show nothing missing. Swinging your gaze to the kitchen you noticed your takeout boxes had been moved from the counter. What kind of sick fucker broke into someone’s apartment and ate their food? Granted, the food was definitely not edible after having been sitting out on the hot counter for hours, but still. You really were dealing with a monster. With the kitchen, your bedroom, and the living room cleared that only left the bathroom and the spare bedroom. 

The thought of walking in on some freaky Goldilocks killer taking a bath or taking a nap had you shuddering. Tilting your head to the side you closed your eyes listening to the rain, the thunder, the wind, but you didn’t hear any running water and while it didn’t rule out them being in the bathroom you weren’t about to go and check to be positive.

Taking slow, careful steps forward you padded across the living room and to the kitchen in search of your phone. You had left it next to the takeout boxes, but much like the boxes your phone was gone now too. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Two options. 

You could stay and fight which despite Bucky trying to teach you how had been pretty much a disaster. Sure, you knew the basics, how to kick a guy in the balls, punch him the face, stab him in the eye, but that wasn’t going to do you much good if they got to you first.

The other option was running. Running out of your apartment, into the streets, anywhere but here. But your lack of clothing, the storm, the cut on your finger that had blood dripping down onto your leg was anybody going to take you seriously? And it wasn’t like you knew any of your neighbors who could help you.

Stay or go. 

Gasping at the low creaking of a door opening you crouched down on the kitchen floor holding the knife out in front of you. The apartment door was only a few feet to the right of you, but you were doubtful you could make it when footsteps echoed closer through your small apartment. The heavy steps matched the frantic beating of your heart. Sobs threatened to spill from your quivering lips. Slapping your free hand over your mouth your only hope was that whoever was in your apartment creeping closer couldn’t hear your muffled sobs. 

Adrenaline pumped through your veins and in a split second decision of stupidity or bravery you jumped up. Scrambling across the kitchen floor in your bare feet you came face to face with your intruder. 

Raising the knife your hand shook, your breath came out in heavy pants, your eyes were wide, your heart thundered and when lightning lit up your kitchen you let out a blood curdling scream as you lifted the knife and sliced through the air in a blind attempt to strike your attacker.

Like a scene straight out of a bad eighties horror movie where once again you were playing the dumb victim doomed to die your aim was off. Embarrassingly so, yet that didn’t stop you from trying again as you took a step forward slashing through the air screaming. If you couldn’t stab him maybe your screams would scare him off or at the very least alert your useless neighbors that you needed assistant.

“Y/N!”

He knew your name. Oh god. The killer in your apartment knew your name. 

Screaming at the top of your lungs you clutched the knife. Turning on your heels to run you yelped when a thick hand wrapped around your wrist holding you to the spot.

“Y/N!”

Blindly kicking at his shins, thrashing in his arms, you screamed, wildly waving the knife around in the air.

“Put the knife down!”

Out of breath with tears running down your face and scared shitless you watched helplessly as he grabbed the knife tossing it across the kitchen with such ease it was enough for you to stop your thrashing and your screaming.

As your eyes began to focus and a flash of lightning lit up your kitchen and the intruders face your jaw dropped in shock. 

“What the fuck are you doing!?” You yelled. 

Slamming your free hand against his chest repeatedly the adrenaline that had been pumping through your veins only moments before dissipated to surprise followed by anger.

"Shh it’s just me you gotta calm down, Y/N I didn’t mean to scare you, but you gotta calm down."

Ignoring his words you tried to yank your wrist free from his grasp, but he only tightened his hold. It was probably a good thing because you were about two seconds away from passing out. “You broke into my apartment!”

“I live here.”

Huffing you had no rebuttal to that, but that didn’t stop you from blurting out the first thing that came to mind no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

“Why were you stomping around like some serial killer? Huh Mr. I live here too and think it’s cool to give my girlfriend a heart attack!”

“I wasn’t stomping around,” he snapped, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What are you doin’ waving my knife around like a maniac? You could've hurt yourself!”

“You left it in my bedside drawer! I didn’t have a choice I thought you were a murderer and my only options of defense was this or a dead vibrator!”

Breathing heavily you glared at him in the darkness amazed at the fact that no one had bothered to check on you after the screaming match that had occurred. Then again it wasn’t like your neighbors knew you. 

"What are you doing here? The mission a-and you always get me up when you come hone why didn’t you wake me?"

Loosening his grip on your wrist he pulled you close his hand going to the back of your head as he quietly shushed you. It was unusual for him to be taking care of you after a mission usually it was the other way around with you bandaging him up, asking him if he was okay, giving him space whatever the mood called for depending on how bad the mission had gone.

Though you were wrapped in his arms in what should have made you feel safe and secure your body shook like a leaf, ugly sobs wracking your frame over the what ifs that could have happened. Snot and tears stained his shirt by the time you finally pulled away.

"I could have hurt you, Bucky! What if i had stabbed you? You could have died!"

Lightning illuminated the room again lighting his face up and though it may have been your eyes playing a cruel trick on you you swore you saw a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"Doll, the way you were waving that knife around the only person you were gonna hurt was you."

Yanking free from his grasp you crossed your arms over your chest. 

"I’m glad you find this funny James!" You hissed, anger and fear lacing your words. 

Storming into the bathroom you flipped the light on flinching at not only the brightness but the reflection in the mirror. Wide, crazy eyes stared back at you. Your hair was a matted mess with sweat, your face burning hot with tears and snot drying on your nose. You looked like shit, but found it difficult to care about that when you almost fucking died tonight. The strap of your tank top slid down your arm as you forcefully turned the hot water on. Reaching for a washcloth you ran it under the water ignoring the stare of Bucky as he stood in the doorframe.

"I’m sorry," he started, stepping into the small room before taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub. Yanking his shirt over his head he tossed it in the hamper staring at your reflection in the mirror. "I knew it was late and it was selfish, but I needed to see you I figured you’d be sleepin’ so I was gonna crash in the spare room till morning. I really didn’t mean to scare you, doll.”

"Yeah, well you did," you mumbled like a petulant child. Turning to face him you frowned inspecting the various cuts and bruises that littered his face and chest. Gently lifting the washcloth to his face you wiped away the dried flecks of blood that dotted the corner of his mouth. Had you been in a better mood you would have made a joke about him being a vampire. 

"I’m sorry", he tried again. Resting his large hands on your hips he pulled you closer so you were standing in between his thick thighs as he laid his head on your stomach. 

Carding your fingers through his hair you closed your eyes. Your heart was still thundering beneath your chest and you were still convinced you were two seconds away from passing out, but as you stood between his legs listening to the rain and the wind pound against the windows for the first tine tonight you breathed an easy sigh.

"You don’t know how scared i was," you mumbled, choking on a sob. "And you know the worst part? I couldn’t stop thinking about how i didn’t even say i love you before you left. I could have died tonight and my last words weren’t even I love you." Choking on a strangled cry you collapsed against his bruised and battered chest the events of the past hour taking their toll on you as your knees gave out.

Holding tight to you he ran his hands down your back, against the back of your head all the while cooing that he had you and you were safe and he would never let any harm come to you no matter what.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that sobbing and eternally grateful in his arms that you were okay, that he was safe, that you were both going to be okay.

Kissing the top of your head, your forehead, your cheeks, the corner of your mouth he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. It was sweet and loving, the kind of kiss that was meant as an apology for a myriad of mistakes made by the both of you, the kind of kiss that sent your heart fluttering, your knees to shake, your stomach to fill with butterflies, the kind of kiss that if it could talk would whisper nothing but I love you, I love you, I love you.

But it wasn’t enough for you. Sliding your hands to his chest you gripped his hair yanking his head back as you kissed him hungrily. It was a desperate kiss, a sloppy kiss, a needy kiss, but he got the hint, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as he roughly shoved his tongue into your mouth. Groaning he tore his lips away from yours only to kiss his way down your neck. "Never meant to scare you," he mumbled. "But maybe we should start those self defense classes back up."

Nodding your head at his kisses, at his apologies you never wanted him to stop, but his words had you frowning. 

"I had it under control."

But you didn’t. Had he been an actual killer like you had originally thought you would have been dead in a minute.

Chuckling he stroked your hip. "I love you, but you didn’t have anything under control." 

"Yeah, well," you sputtered. "Had you woken me up none of this would have happened!"

"I know," he sighed, regret tinging his words.

Staring down at his cloudy blue eyes, his tanned chest full of well defined muscles, those glorious thighs you quirked your lips up. "You could always make it up to me," you started, your voice sultry as your fingers stroked the back of his neck.

Catching on quickly he quirked his eyebrow up. 

"You did promise to spend the next week between my thighs... what do you say we make it two weeks and I’ll think about forgiving you?"

"You'll think about it? Honey, you'll forgive me after the first orgasm," he promised.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

Squealing as he stood up and dragged you to your room you quickly forgot about the horror, the worries, the anxiety you had been through as a different kind of adrenaline filled your veins when he pushed you down onto your bed ready to make you scream for an entirely different set of reasons. 

[mylittlemarston]

Hi, I have a request! I’d love to read Arthur x f!reader with #79, 65 and/or 4 from that prompt list. I just think all three of those lines go well together, so I’d be happy with just one of them or all of them ;) Thank you so much, keep up the good work!!

Thank you so much!!!

I’m sorry that this took me so long to write, but I really enjoyed doing it and I even went back and spaced out the speech lines so that it’s (hopefully haha) easier to read !! I really hope you enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur Morgan x female reader

Warnings: gore, violence, swearing, torture, abuse  

Summary: After reader goes missing, Arthur starts worrying about her whereabouts, despite being told everything was fine. 

word count: 3063

_______________________________________________________________

          Those damn O’Driscoll’s

     June 16th, 1899

18:17

       “All right Jackie. You ready for me to get ya back to mama?” I ask Jack. I took him into Valentine today to let him get out of camp for a while and get him a few things, my treat. Poor kid needs to get out every now and then.

 “Yeah! Thanks aunt y/n!” He says with a big smile, hugging my waist. I rest my hand on top of his head, rubbing it gently.

 “No problem kiddo. Come on.” I say, getting on top of my horse, cooing at him. I hold my arm out for Jack and pull him up, putting him behind me. 

“Ride fast aunt y/n!” He cheers.

 “Hold on tight!” I say speeding up. 

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

      “Thank you so much, y/n. He really needed it. I appreciate you even offerin’ to take him out. I would’ve but-“

 “Abigail, it’s fine.” I say. “Anytime. I love that boy like he’s my own, you know that. If you ever need anyone to watch him, you know I’m here. I needed to get out anyways.” I tell her with a smile. She smiles back and takes Jack by the hand.

 “Did you have fun with Miss y/n?” She asks him.

 “We had a lot of fun Mama!” 

I smile, kicking my foot around in the dirt for a short moment before heading over to Arthur to let him know I’m leaving. “Hey Arthur. I just wanted to say goodbye.” I say, heading into his tent.

 “Well where  you goin’?” He asks me, walking closer with his brown hair shining gold in the faint evening sun. 

“Just gotta do a few things. I’ll be back soon.” I tell him, walking out of the tent. Getting on my horse, I head out of camp.

 “Be safe y/n.” John says, guarding the camp.

 “I always am John.” 

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

I ride for a few minutes when a man on a horse charges into mine, knocking me off and onto the ground. “What the hell! Watch where you’re goin’, you son of a bitch!” I stand up, wiping the dirt off of my knees.

 “I wouldn’t talk that way missy.” The man says getting close to me. Before I can do anything, he pulls out a revolver and hits me with it, knocking me unconscious. 

      June 17th 

03:17

            “Wake up, bitch!” A man yells, his voice deep and heavy. He kicks my side, forcing me to cough. I cry out in pain, and the man just laughs.

 “What do you want from me?” I ask, my voice angry.

 “We want Dutch. Your leader. Whatever the hell you call him.” He says. I try to move, but realize I’m tied up with rope and reinforced by heavy chains. They’re as tight as they can go around my wrists and ankles, every subtle movement causing me to wince. He gets closer to me and I try to back up but am greeted by a cold wall.

 “You’ll never get a damn word outta me! They’re my family!” I say, anger growing within me at the thought of whoever these people are scarring poor Jack and hurting anyone within the camp. The man doesn’t take no for an answer, and I’m greeted by a hard smack on my cheek. I forget about being tied up and try to lunge at him, the rope digging into my wrists. I feel something wet drip down from them, and when I look back behind me, I see blood on the rope and my wrists cut to shit. Tears start to fall down my cheeks, dripping onto my shirt that has been torn and dirtied. I try to ignore all the pain I feel in my body, but it’s too unbearable.

 “Let’s try this again, girlie.” I wince at the pet name, wanting so badly to kill this pile of shit.

 “I already told you. I’m not tellin’ you a goddamn thing! You can keep me here forever and I wouldn’t tell you!” I fire back at him, my voice going hoarse from all the yelling. The man gives me a cold smirk before grabbing me by the throat and squeezing down hard on it.

 “We’ll just have to do this the hard way then.” He says. “Boys! The boss said we can do what we want to her. Get the knife.” He lets me go, and I cough while trying to catch my breath. Another man walks up to me with a knife while two more men stand on either side of me, the original man who kidnapped me undoing his belt.

 “What are you doing?!! Stop! Get away from me!” I thrash around, the rope digging deeper and deeper into my skin as I scream and kick with all my might. Tears are flowing down my face, my throat sore and my head pounding. The man with the knife holds it to my throat, putting a little bit of pressure down onto it. Just enough to draw blood, but not enough to make me bleed out. While trying to pull away, I slam my head against the wall, making everything fade to black. The last thing I saw was the two men standing beside me undressing me. 

09:32

      I wake up in more pain than I was before; my eye swollen, lips bloody, stomach and legs bruised, and an ache in my lower abdomen. Another man walks up to me, forcing my head up to look at him. His thumb brushes over my lips, the cuts on them burning as he does.

 “Good mornin’ sweetheart. Hope you got yourself a full nights rest. We got a lot of fun things to do to ya.”

 “Who the fuck are you? Why do you have me here?” My voice is a little hoarse, but nothing I can’t handle.

 He flashes a cold smile as he licks his lips greedily. I look away, thoroughly repulsed. “I’m Colm O’Driscoll. I’m guessin’ you  know who I am?” 

I meet his eyes again, tensing at his name. I make as much distance between us as I can but am not very successful. His face is inches from mine, his hot breath laced with alcohol and tobacco.

 “Yes, I do. But why do you have me here? If you’re gonna kill me, just do it already.” He chuckles, stepping back.

 “I don’t wanna kill ya, honey. I want Dutch to come find you.” It was my turn to laugh at him.

 “Then what. He and the boys  kill you? You don’t stand a chance.” I say, laughing a bit harder than before. Colm’s eyes go dark and cold, his face showing pure anger. 

“I won’t stand a chance… if they come for you. If they don’t… well…” anger pools inside of me again. 

“You hurt anyone in that camp, I’ll find you and kill you myself! Don’t you go anywhere near it!” I smirk at him, realizing what I said. “Oh wait. You can’t. You need me alive to tell you where it is, right? So you wouldn’t kill me anyways.” He gets close to me again, his hand going across my face with a hard slap. 

“You’ll tell me where he is. Trust me.” He turns and walks away, grabbing a gun and vanishing into the shadows. I drop my head down, tears stinging my eyes. Maybe he’s right. What if they don’t come for me?

14:48

Arthur’s pov

      “What if she’s in trouble, Dutch?” Arthur asks, his voice gruff.

 “It’s only been less than a day, Arthur. We’ll wait another day or so and go from there.” Dutch says, lighting a cigar and taking a puff from it. Arthur walks away from him, going to sit on a log by the fire. He rubs his face, his mind only producing thoughts of you and your safety. John joins him on the log, sighing.

 “Arthur, what’s wrong?” He asks, sitting up and examining Arthur’s slouched position. 

“It’s y/n. I’m really worried about her. What if she’s in danger? With the amount of people after us, anything could’ve happened.” He sits up, staring into the dancing flames.

 “She’s strong. You know that. She won’t deal with our bullshit, let alone anyone else’s.” John tells him, chuckling. Arthur chuckles too, loosening up. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Dutch said to wait a little longer and if she doesn’t show up, we’ll go find her.” John nods, patting Arthur on the back.

 “She will. And if she don’t, I’ll go with you.” He says standing up. Arthur nods, staying on the log and sighing. What if she really isn’t okay…? He asks himself, the anxiety only growing within him.

June 18th

07:53

      I can barely lift my head up from yesterday’s torture. I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this. I try to swallow, my throat in so much pain from screaming. My eye is even more swollen than before, forcing a wince from me when I try to look up. I lick my dry lips, greeted with the taste of blood. There’s no telling if it’s from my mouth or my nose at this point. I can’t imagine what I must look like; bruised and battered to hell. If only Arthur could see me… he’d kill every one of these monsters. I smile weakly at the thought, even though it hurts. I force my head up, leaning it against the cold stone wall. A heavy door swings open and a silhouette approaches me. “Colm.” I can’t be bothered to try to look at him as I say his name.

 “We found the camp. Turns out we didn’t need you after all.” I forget about the pain and take every ounce of energy and might that I have to look at him.

 “Don’t you dare…” I say angrily.

 “Calm down girlie. We’re only givin’ ‘em a warning. No harm from a warning, right?” He sneers.

 “From you, who knows. Anythin’ could happen. They’ll kill you in a heartbeat and you know it.” I say. He chuckles, getting close to my face and caressing my cheek. I try to pull away but can’t.

 “Let’s just see how that goes, hm?” He walks away.

 “Let’s see…” I say quietly. 

19:23

Arthur’s pov

      Arthur finished his bowl of Pearson’s stew, setting it down on the ground and walking to his tent.

 “Arthur,” Hosea calls out for him. “we need to find her.” He tells him while Arthur rummages through his things, throwing a bag together. 

“Yeah we do.” He says, turning to the older man. 

“There’s no telling where she is. But we need to look.” Hosea tells Arthur solemnly. Arthur nods. They head out of the tent and into Dutch’s for a game plan.

 “What are we gonna do, Dutch? We can’t just sit around while she’s out god-knows-where with god-knows-who, getting hurt or lost or whatever the hell she’s going through.” Arthur says angrily. 

“I know, son. We’re leaving first thing after we come up with a plan and get everyone who’s goin’ with us together.” Dutch says, clearly exasperated. Arthur rubs his face again as he tries not to let his emotions get the best of him. He’s truly worried about you. Just the thought of someone ‘having their way with you’ vexed him. How could someone so monstrous harm such a fragile, delicate flower such as you? His mind raced with thoughts as the other men conversed in front of him about what they’re next move will be. Suddenly, Miss Grimshaw rushes into the tent.

 “Dutch! It’s those damn O’Driscolls! They’re here!” She whisper-yells. 

His face flushed red with rage and he storms out, everyone in camp forming a line with the men in the front. Colm walks up to them, three men of his own behind him with their guns out. 

“Van der Linde.” He says, leering.

 “O’Driscoll…” Dutch says, his hands moving to his hips. The only sound between them is the wind blowing between the trees, rustling the leaves on them this warm summer night. The smell of firewood and thick atmosphere that made it hard to breathe.

20:37

I woke up peacefully from a painful nap, having only terrible nightmares of what might happen if I never make it out of here. I lift  my head up slowly as to not bring myself more pain then I’m already experiencing, but it’s no use. I groan, letting my head gently hit the wall behind me. I hear the door open again. That goddamn dreaded sound of a creak and heavy footsteps. It’ll take a while to not hear them in my mind at night when I close my eyes. I whimper and try to get as far back as I can before my body meets with the wall. The man who entered mumbles under his breath angrily about something, quickly taking the shotgun by the door and practically running out of the room again. Even when I’m not talking, my throat is in agonizing pain. God what I would give for a hot bath right now. Then again, I would give anything just to get the hell out of here. There’s audible yelling outside followed by a couple of gunshots. There's footsteps above me, and I can’t help but hope that Arthur came for me. That they all did. Then I hear it. That familiar gruff voice that only seems to soften when near me. 

“Where is she?!”

 It’s muffled, but I know that voice from anywhere. I lift my head up too quickly for my liking, groaning at the discomfort. “Arthur…” I try to croak out, but it forms into a whisper. I hear another gunshot from where I heard his voice before, along with heavy footsteps headed towards the door. I sit up straight, tears welling up in my eyes. “Arthur!” I say louder, this time making it audible for him to hear. 

He busts the door down, looking at me while he slowly and gently places his gun in his holster. “Y/n…” He says softly, freezing up as he looks at me with sorry eyes and a mournful expression. 

“Please… Arthur please get me out of here… I wanna go home…”

He rushes over to me, freeing me from the restraints that held me to the wall. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m gonna getchu outta here. You’re safe now, I’ve got you.” He says with his voice as sweet as honey wine and as soft as silk. Oh how I missed it. He picks me up and slings me over his shoulder, retrieving his gun from his holster once more and holding it to his side. He opens the door, walking up the stairs. I grunt at the subtle movements that make my pain even worse. “Shh… You’re alright… You’re with me now.” 

I can’t help but start to cry softly at his sweet words. I hold onto his shirt, missing the way his eyes lit up and the faint flush that rose to his cheeks. 

Arthur’s pov

How could he not feel sorry for you? How could he not freeze up when he entered the room where you sat with dull eyes and blood on multiple wounds on skin that was once clean and soft. Lips that he so badly wanted to kiss that were now bloodied and chapped. The image of you with Jack while inside of camp and the way you would play with him. The kind, loving smile you would give him when you spotted him across camp that made his day a hundred times better. You had held onto his shirt as you cried onto it, and he had never felt so protective of anything or anyone before. He swung the door that led outside open, looking around for many O’Driscoll’s. Thankfully there weren’t  any, thanks to the rest of the gang that had tagged along. Dutch and John rush up to the both of you, John turning his head away when he sees your face. 

“Christ… we need to get her back to camp immediately. You two go on ahead. We’ll meet you back there.” Dutch says with eyes locked on you. Eyes of guilt.

----------------back to reader----------------

The ride back to camp was anything but enjoyable. Everything hurt. Arthur laid me down in the medical tent, fetching a bucket of water while I changed into the clothes he brought me from my tent. He came back with the bucket and a rag, smiling at me  sadly as I tried to sit myself up on the cot. He brought the bucket next to me, sitting in the chair that was next to the cot. He dunked the rag in the water, squeezing it and gently placing it to my busted lip. 

“You can’t keep doing this.” He says after minutes of silence. 

“What’s that?” I ask him, a whisper being the loudest I could speak. 

“You can’t keep getting yourself into trouble like this. I worried about you so much. You really scared the shit out of me, y/n.”

A weak smile spreads across my lips as I fidget with the blanket laid on top of me. “I’m sorry. But goin’ through all this made me realize… Never mind. Forget I said that.”

Arthur pulls the rag away from my face, laying a gentle hand on my forearm. 

“Y/n, what is it? Talk to me. You can tell me anything.” 

I smile down at the blanket, watching my fingers play with the soft pelt. “It’s a silly thought, really. I don’t know why I even thought I could say it out loud… it only makes sense in my mind.” He takes a gentle hand and turns my head to look at him. My heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest and my cheeks feel red. I shift so that my face is just mere inches from his. I put my hand on his cheek, looking deeply into his blue eyes that shine like the ocean on a midsummer day. I lean forward and place a kiss on his lips ever so gently. He very carefully wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into a sweet embrace. I bury my face in his neck, smiling against his skin as he places a gentle kiss on my neck.

/////fin~/////

Sorry if this isn’t lined up either haha I tried

[evolsinner]

⊱┊27

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SEXUAL ASSAULT. READER DISCRETION ADVISED.

-ˋˏ ༻🍷༺ ˎˊ-

theo pushes me against the door and smashes his lips onto mine. at the same time, he slides my denim spaghetti strap dress down my chest, exposing my bare chest to his full view.

“damn,” he admires them hungrily, “look at ‘em built~in stress balls.”

“take a picture, lasts longer,” i tilt his head back up to eye level with me.

“oh, don’t worry, i’m intending to,” and he crushes his lips back onto mine.

he grabs one of my boobs in his palms and squeezes before pinching my swollen nipple. soft moans flow out from my mouth and my wetness down there increases.

🎶my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard and they’re like, it’s better than yours damn right it’s better than yours

“nice ringtone,” theo smirks.

“shut up.”

he chuckles. “aye, let’s see if your milkshake really does bring all the boys to the yard,” he smugly raises his eyebrows and lowers his mouth to the bud he had been torturing seconds before. he begins to suck on it whilst kneading the other one.

“ohhh,” i moan. “yesss.”

his tongue circles my areola, nibbling, slurping and lapping up his drools. after pretty much mutilating my nipple, he lands a cute peck on top of it like that’s somehow gonna heal every nasty thing he did to it. “tell me how you like it done, babygirl.”

“touch me.”

he pulls the rest of my dress below my waist and skims his hand down my stomach to my core. if i keep my eyes shut for long enough, i could pretend it’s not him. i’m torn between wanting to remember and forget. i want to remember how it felt when isaac touched me, but i want to forget how it felt when he broke me...

“damn, you’re so wet.”

my phone goes off again but this time it reminds me of reality. it reminds me of how my life was once a dream these past few months and now it has gone to literal shit. getting irritated, i lift theo’s shirt up and drag him into myself, desperately tugging at his zipper.

“alrighty then,” he grins. “my babygirl is one greedy little bitch, ‘cept imma spoil her like her daddy couldn’t.”

the dress slides off my body entirely and pools around my ankles. i wriggle out of my underwear. he gets rid of his pants and boxers. then he picks me up by the thighs and walks backward to his bed. he falls onto the bouncy mattress. i get on top and dry grind on him. he grips my waist like he’s got claws for nails.

“fuck, you’re good!” he groans.

i push myself further down onto his erection, the wetness of my core spreading to other parts. “ooh, theo.. “

“that’s it, baby, just like that,” he lifts his head up to watch me rub my kitty on him. “keep it go..ing..mm..oo..yeah..” he exhales deeply, dropping his head back down on the pillow.

i lower my hand, further massaging his bulge with my palm and pressing it into myself. more grunts escape from his mouth and it looks like he’s in a paradise of his own. my phone, yet again, goes off. i glance over my shoulder to where it’s placed on the far back cupboard.

theo yanks me down. “eyes on me, slut!”

his lips are so sour. i try to find the sweetness within them, but it’s difficult. it’s unlike the first time we kissed and unquestionably unlike mr killian’s, nowhere near.

isaac’s was a whole nother valhalla.

theo changes position, getting on top of me. he reaches over and pulls back the top drawer from his nightstand. everything is happening so fast. i am getting dazed and confused even faster. i lean up on my elbows, watching him rip up the silver packet with his teeth and rolling the rubber on.

he returns, caging me.

my respiration becomes dense and i kinda become uncomfortable, a bit claustrophobic. my ringtone continues on and off in the background and it really does bring me back to reality. the hell am i doing with the school’s pitcher??

“theo,” i calmly lay my hand on his abdomen, “i..i don’t think we should do this anymore.”

“c’mon, rosé,” he jeers. “what happened to that girl who was all over me in the boys’ locker room? surely, she’s in there somewhere. maybe i can help bring her out?”

“no, really, theo,” i reach my hand down, ceasing him from entering, “i want you to stop.”

i’ve made a mistake. this whole thing is a mistake. it was like a bandaid on the crack of my healing heart. only now that it’s beating again, all i wanna see is lime green eyes greeting me, not the blue that i’m drowning in.

“no, you don’t,” he decides for me and plants a rough kiss on my lips.

i press my head back, getting his tongue out of my mouth. “yes, i, fucking, do.”

“rosé, you can’t just fucking do that,” he snaps. “you can’t just get me hyped up like this and then not go through with it.”

i sigh, “i’m sorry. i just..i just thought i was ready, but i’m not.”

“it’s too late, you said yes already so quit being a pussy with that ‘i’m not ready’ shit girls do, and let me do my thing. i ain’t stopping.”

“but i’ve changed my mind, i don’t want to anymore. i’m sorry.”

“try to relax for me, okay?” he gets rid of the interference on behalf of my hand by gently placing it beside me. “i won’t hurt you.”

i stubbornly place that same hand at my entrance.

theo heaves, “well, what the hell do you suppose i do with my hard as fuck dick then?”

“fuck if i know. jerk off or something?”

“you’re shitting me, right?” he raises his eyebrows.

why is he being so demanding?! i’ve never seen this side of him.

a forced homely smile appears on his face. “...just relax.” he pretty much snatches my hand up and away. “and breathe, okay?”

before i can stop him again, he’s already inserting himself inside of me. i make an effort in relaxing, i really do, but my body just won’t have it.

“see, ain’t that bad,” his voice toys with me. “i’d ask if this is your first time, but i know it’s not.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“whatever you make of it,” he avoids answering the question. “you good? i’m gonna start moving now.”

“please, baby, let’s just do this another day,” i push my hands up on his chest like i’m bench pressing him, but of course it does nothing. “promise i’ll make it worth your while?”

“for fuck’s sake, stop fucking resisting!” he lashes out. “it won’t do you any good but make it hurt more!”

i flinch at his sudden outburst and fear creeps up on me like slow molten lava. patience is wearing thin from both sides. i need it to stop, but i’m petrified of the monster this will unleash, this monster right in front of me. all the way in he goes and all the way out i feel utter disgust.

“you are tight as fuck, rosé,” he grunts. “almost like you’re milking me.”

“..theo.. maybe..i..we..”

“shhh, baby,” he whispers. “it’s okay.”

sickening aftertaste merges in with my saliva, my lips quiver.

he extracts, “you taste nice.”

i look to the side so that his gaze meets my cheek. he exists out of me slowly, then back in he goes. i try to move underneath his body, but he has me cemented in such a form where comfort is not an option, let alone the chance of escaping.

“don’t cry, rosé, please.”

at this, a dozen silent tears escape from my watery eyes. hostility is the only word that comes to my head. hostility in his eyes, hostility in his tone, hostility in his biceps. it’s like the smell of cigarettes, intoxicating, and that’s what scares me the most.

“i’m only giving you what you want, rosé.”

i can’t answer him.

“this is what you want, right?” he looks me dead in the eye.

i nod...

“good girl.”

the droplets trickle off the side of my temples and land on the plush pillow. i just want isaac. i need him. i miss him...his dimple, his half~smiles, his tired blinks...i miss him a lot.

“you’re doing great. just a little while longer, i promise.”

i dry my tears with his neck because i’m too scared to move my hands.

“hey, hey?” theo brushes the hair off my face. “shh, shhh,” he coos. “why you crying for, baby? you’re doing amazing, okay?”

there’s a sudden shift from soft to rough. it’s like he wants a taste of both worlds. his thrusting has intensified and his audible satisfaction has grown louder. the fear in me, well, that disappears. i don’t like being used in this way. taken advantage of.

“hones..honestly! you’re hurting me so please just get the fuck off me!”

he pins me down fully, almost like dead weight on top of me. he digs sharply into me like a shovel, tearing away at my insides a gluttonous thrust at a time. my tears crystallise, my body aches. it’s as if my heart is in the place of my brain; the pulses banging on my skull. i throw a series of blows to his chest, but even that works against me.

“don’t fight it. the only thing that’ll do is make me fuck you harder!”

my heart is thundering, there’s an apocalypse going on in each of the chambers and it’s taking everything in me to focus through the rumble. my hand despairingly searches for something on the nightstand, anything.

amongst the lamp, the tissue box, an opened marlboro pack, a lighter, a vape pen and some empty red bull cans, i finally hit jackpot. insanely tight, my fingers encircle themselves around the glass body of a corona extra.

1, 2, 3.

“fucking bitch!” he roars, clasping his head.

this gives me enough time to escape from underneath him. i fall out of the bed, slide back into my dress and leave everything else behind.

“rosé!!” theo growls after me, grabbing his boxers.

barefoot, i run to the stairs. only a meter away from the staircase when a hand latches onto my ankle, tripping me over. theo cusses and tries to claw his way atop of me, but i flip over and kick him in the nose. he groans loudly and releases me, cupping his nose.

i run down the stairs, feeling him only a step or two behind me. i slam into the door and begin desperately unhinging each lock in a row. fuck, how many goddamn locks does this guy have?! when the last one gets undone, i pull down on the handle only to be ruthlessly pulled right back with my fucking hair.

“where the fuck do you think you’re going, huh?!” theo snarls. “i ain’t done with you yet, babygirl.”

i scream, holding onto his hands holding my hair. he sickly inhales the scent of my neck and places his palm over my mouth. i bite down immensely hard. he rips his hand free and stumbles back.

silence.

i’m just so scared.

so, so scared.

i don’t see blue eyes anymore. i see grey. pure grey. they stare right through my soul, irises of like hurricanes trapped in tiny snow globes. the globes begin to crack, bit by bit... there will be an avalanche in just milliseconds.

i open the door, stumbling out onto the lawn before regaining my balance and breaking into a sprint. i look over my shoulder when suddenly i bump into a wall right in front of me, forcing me to arrive at a standstill.

glancing up, it’s not…a wall but..

isaac killian.

[kpopchangedme]

Im Jaebeom | Pregnancy!au [M]

Jaebeom read so many baby-related books he's forgotten how to enjoy some simple pleasures... (Oh, and you are obviously cranky and hormonal but he knows better than to tell you that!)

Protagonists: Im Jaebeom & You

Word Count: 2.4k

Genre: NSFW - Newly Weds - Romance - Angst - Pregnancy - Pregnancy sex- Smut || [Drabble 2k]

Prompts: “I can’t help the fact that I’m so goddamn moody all the freaking time” + “Should have gotten a puppy.” [Anon]

Lyly's note: Is this sexy pregnancy!au worthy of Things I Wish I Knew or what? lol. Pregnant ladies, go get some! ;)

GOT7 | M.list

You let out a loud swear, stepping on a phone charger someone has somehow abandoned in the middle of the living room. It freaking hurts, like a tiny torture device, tore the sensitive skin of your foot. Of course, when you sit on the couch to examine it, it looks perfectly fine. 

“Should've gotten a damn puppy,” You curse again under your breath, unreasonably livid. 

Instantly, the guilty party's head pops out of the doorframe to his office. “Honey!” Jaebeom considers you from head to toe in outrage, “The Shrimp has ears.”

That's his thing now that the third-semester started; obsessing about auditory development and what the baby is able to hear. Swears, news coverage of dramatic events and loud quarrels are strictly prohibited. He plays music whenever he has the chance, boasting about how you are growing a music whiz. 

Ever since he read his first damn pregnancy book, Jaebeom turned into a helicopter daddy-to-be, always hovering to make sure you are doing everything right. At the end of the third prenatal visit, he decided on moving his whole studio at home to work and mommysit – as he calls it.

By the time he was done with the fourth pregnancy book, you felt like nothing but an incubator to his spawn. That's not exactly what you wished your first year of life together would feel like. But then again, you didn't plan on getting pregnant on your honeymoon, the first time you two ditched contraception. It happened very fast. Everyone called it a blessing and you did too for a while, you were elated. Right until you started to lose your hair and struggle with acne like a damn teenager… Now it varies daily, you are either excited or scared shitless, in high spirits or easily irritable, you can't tell before it shifts. Overbearing, Jaebeom has gotten better than yourself at reading your daily disposition.

When you glare at him, he straightens worryingly in the doorframe, partly to blame for your current mood. “Don't look at me!” You snap in exasperation, still rubbing the sole of your aching foot. “Can you stop looking at me like that?”

He risks taking a few steps in your general direction, expertly assessing the situation, “Like what?”

"Like I’m a ticking bomb; like I'm gonna start yelling at you any second!” Freezing in the middle of the place, he presses his tongue to his cheek. You are almost shouting, but he knows better than to point that out.

“I’m not,” Jaebeom comes to sit by you guardedly. He makes sure not to maintain eye contact for too long, as though you're a dangerous fickle animal. "Did you hurt yourself?"

You hiss threateningly at the question but he still reaches for your perpetually bloated foot. Gently, he massages it, flashing you a dumb innocent smile. Still sullen, you at least allow him to do that much.

Fine, you do not completely hate having your man work from home. 

“I can’t help the fact that I’m so goddamn moody all the freaking time...” 

“Moody?” You cross your arms over your chest and Jaebeom chuckles, shaking his head. “You're the living definition of serene honey... You're the best. I love you.”

“Shuddup.” Groaning at the fake compliment, you offer your second foot after a minute of pampering, slightly appeased. “Stop trying so hard, it turns me into a cliché bitch.” You don't miss Jaebeom’s grimace at the word, but he isn't brave enough to correct you again. “Tell you what, if the baby's first word is a swear... I’ll do everything you ask of me for a year.”

"Everything? A whole year?” Raising his eyebrows suggestively, Jaebeom leans in for a lengthy kiss. “You know I can't say no to a promise like that. I would abuse that power, I’m quite imaginative.” You laugh against his mouth, sliding your arms around his neck for him to linger a little longer. Your hub has one hell of a gift, he can always change your mood, even on the worst days. That being said, you're always in the mood for some sexy time with him lately. You just have limited positions and flexibility. “I might teach the Shrimp your favourite cusses just to win that privilege.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

Laughing, Jaebeom sits back but you follow, managing to climb him without difficulty. It's clear he has started something with his massage, stirred your desire. “I’m not done,” he warns pointlessly, not talking about you, "I'm working hard." He points his chin to the studio, but you don't climb down. There's no way he believes you will let him go back to his office right now.

“Very hard yeah,” chuckling, you pull at the collar of his shirt, “Mister Producer.” He breaks the kiss to get rid of the piece of clothing himself, eager to entertain your favourable disposition. Some sacrifices are harder to make than others, and taking a break from work for quick sex is a no brainer. Your hands roam his shoulders, even after all this time you still can't get enough. “Did you save it?” Nudging your nose to his, you pull away to throw your loose gown over your head. 

Jaebeom groans, already expertly unhooking your bra, “Of course I saved, but I’ll need to get back to it...” His mouth explores your neck and you throw your head back, savouring every single one of his kisses. “Feeling better?” He hums, lightly sucking your skin and you moan. Fine, having your man work from home is the best damn thing that ever happened to you. At your natural response, Jaebeom cups your swollen breasts, thumbs rubbing circles on your areolas. 

“Shit.” Instantly, he shushes in disapproval making you laugh. You lean into him as much as your 29 weeks belly allows. “I can't help myself, I'm too sensitive.”

“I can see that baby,” Jaebeom marvels as his constant stroking of your nipples makes your thighs jerk. “I read third-semester’ orgasms are incredibly intense...” You rise to your knees to slide his fleece jogger pants down, smoothly freeing his erection. These darn books sure reveal some useful information sometimes… “What do you think?”

“Oh, how would I possibly know that?” He stops altogether, freezing under you at the joke. Barely two days prior, you finished twice before he did – very expressively – but still, he hesitates. For a man as skilled as he is, it sure is easy to make him question himself. Jaebeom is contemplating his life, a dubious look on his face when you take his cock in your palm. His eyes shut, goosebumps spreading on his body at your touch. Smirking, you stroke him leisurely, “I guess you’ll have to keep working hard so we can find out.” You say that but really, you’ve been so hypersensitive lately, he could make you reach your high without even trying.

“You know...” Opening his eyes lazily, Jaebeom frowns; “I'm not sure how I feel… About the Shrimp is hearing all our sexy talk...” It's your turn to stop everything.

Oh no, he did not just say that… Not after all the stuff he put you through!

“I swear to God, Im fucking Jaebeom! I let you have your way until now; I gave up caffeine, cheese and fish…” Suddenly livid, you start checking things off of your fingers. “You are worried of dumb stuff you read about despite the doctor's best opinion... So, I let you hire a cleaning service; I stopped driving myself around and dyeing my hair; I allowed you to post our ultrasounds all over your socials; I didn't say anything when you sent the cats away to your mom's…” His mouth is open in awe as you angrily go on. He's clearly racking his brain to find out what he said wrong. Him and his stupid pregnancy obsessions. “But this... This is where I draw the fucking line Jaebeom. If you stop making love to me because it creeps you out... Honest to God, I will murder you. I don't care what the baby hears. The doctor said it was safe. I want sex, I need sex. Give me sex, or I'll destroy you.”

“Honey,” Jaebeom bites his lips, struggling to conceal his amusement, “I wasn’t saying we should stop. It doesn't bother me like that...” His right palm rubs your lower back in repetition to ease you. “I was just wond–”

“I don't care what you wonder about,” you interrupt, still down, “just do me.”

Before Jaebeom can fully laugh at you flaring over nothing again, you're kissing him roughly, intended on getting your way. Wriggling under you to get to a better angle, he doesn't seem too affected, simply enjoying the hormonal rollercoaster ride. One of the actual perks of your pregnancy is being in the mood quickly and it's more than just your desire, it's physical too. Something that is undeniable when his hand finds its way between your legs. You're ready for him already, wet and messy. Though you rock into his palm briefly, there's only one thing on your mind right this instant. 

You don't want to wait any longer to feel him inside you. You use Jaebeom's shoulder as a fulcrum to position yourself, raising on your knees and he helps, holding his cock as you gradually sink down. Once you're sitting back on him on the couch, filled, you pause, dropping your forehead to his. Eye to eye, out of focus, Jaebeom pecks your lips tenderly. His hands caress your belly on their way to the side of your thighs. That's enough to make you soft all over again. The power that man holds over you knows no limit. Careful, you rise, rocking your hips forward to add friction before sliding back down. This lazy back and forth goes on for a while and every time you fall down and your ass meets his thighs with a clap, you feel like breaking. 

“Okay?” Jaebeom mumbles, using his strength to firmly guide you upwards. You're thankful for his help because you're heavy and tired. You nod, letting out a weird throaty sound when he fills you up once more.

Jaebeom chuckles, entertained by your acute senses and unusual reactions. Sliding on the large couch to lay, he makes sure you follow closely, riding him. From this position, he can take better control, raising his hips to slam into you. You coo when he does, hovering above to let him have his way. You're already too taken by so little. There's a gentle thud in your belly at the shift of position but Jaebeom doesn't seem to feel the baby stir, awakened by your unrest. Thank God, because the last thing you want right now is for him to stop or slow down. It's not something abnormal or new at all, but now that the baby's movements are getting more noticeable from the outside, you wouldn't be surprised if it messed up with Jaebeom's sexy groove. In the dark, he picks a swift pace, thrusting faster but lighter, making sure to stretch this moment for as long as you both can.

Yet, you're shaky and unfocused, unable to calm yourself. Way too fast, you come undone, overwhelmed by the friction and pleasure. Ecstatic, you drop on your hands, on all fours, as your intense orgasm washes through you. Aware you're peaking already, Jaebeom maintains his rhythm, breathlessly laughing at your shortage of stamina. Sure, he was right, pregnancy orgasms are amazing but they also come almost unannounced and are ridiculously exhausting.

Losing the smile, Jaebeom frowns in concentration, probably trying to finish too. After a whole minute, you're still being carried by your own paroxysm, core quavering when his hips halt altogether. Sighing deeply, he cums in spurts inside you, letting go probably more hastily than he would have wanted to. He's a team player. He knows you won't be able to handle him for long after oversensitivity hits you.

Afterwards, you both stay like that for a moment – as one – trying to repossess yourselves. Some days, it's like you're an entirely different person. Food doesn't taste the same, you yell at your caring husband over nothing and your orgasms are absurdly drawn-out. 

“Hey,” Jaebeom speaks up after an eternity and you take it as a cue to pull away, letting him fall out of you, “that was very quick. Are you alright, was it good?” Typical of him lately, being so overly concerned, you snort. Reaching for the tissue box on the coffee table, he offers them up so you can clean yourself. Still overpowered, you nod, laying back naked on the couch to do so.

What a sight it must be, a stranded whale in the middle of his living room.

Jaebeom doesn't seem to see that though. Transfixed, he positions himself to comfortably kiss and hold your heavy belly. His fingers linger, tracing patterns over the stretched skin. “What about you Shrimp?” He asks mouth pressed to the bump, tickling. “How are you doing?” Sure enough, the baby rolls, following the sound of his familiar reassuring voice. 

“We definitely woke her up”, you announce casually, grabbing one of his hands to position it better. Now that it's over, hopefully, he won't mind or get weirded out by that idea. “And you’ll need another nickname, we're both getting huge.”

“Sorry,” Jaebeom apologizes with adoration when there's a more obvious kick. To him, his baby girl's tumbling never gets old. To you neither, but it's a different sensation entirely. Whispering in confidence, he adds, “You'll always be a shrimp to me." At the words, you can't help the flutters you feel, not from the baby. When he looks up this time, Jaebeom doesn't seem as apprehensive of your reaction. You're on the magical post-coital cloud of happiness, together. “What?” If it could, your heart would physically expand from emotion at the sight, swelling with unconditional love. As an only answer, you run a hand through his locks and he cutely grins. “Shrimp, I think we're safe for now. I don't think mommy wants to murder daddy anymore...”

“Daddy needs to get over himself,” you dramatically roll your eyes, smiling, “he knows mommy loves him, no matter what…”

GOT7 | M.list

[beerecordings]

Poison - Chapter 4

(Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3)

This is the chapter that made me think “yeah, I would have to rate this mature on ao3.” PLEASE be careful with trigger warnings for death, gun violence, blood, convulsions, vomit mention, and major abuse.

Should be a couple more chapters after this one. Hope you enjoy :)

It's been months since Marvin saw Chase.

He remembers an absent-minded goodbye, his hand drifting across Chase's shoulder as he moved towards the kitchen for an early morning cup of coffee. Chase was too eager to wait around for further farewells. He hadn't slept all last night in his excitement to see Izzy and Hunter again, and his face was flushed red with joy, his fingers gripping at the black backpack straps around his shoulders and hugging the stuffed presents he bought them to his chest.

Marvin's fairly sure he was the only one who had a chance to say goodbye to him before he was gone. It wasn't til the next day that they realized he never made it to Stacy's.

And then, without a trace, he was gone.

Until today. Until now.

“Chase?” he whispers. “Is it you?”

The body Anti wears is skeletal, worn down to bones and slate-colored skin, so thin his fingers look almost fleshless. Blue and brown eyes sit, mismatched, in a face steadily hollowing out, somewhere between snow white and smoke grey. Chase's mouth is calm and thin, his tired gaze nevertheless watchful, a gun clutched stiffly, painfully, in his hand.

He meets Marvin's eyes for just a moment, and then, with steady, ferocious, murderer's hands, Cottonmouth takes her shot at the monster coming down the stairs.

Her aim is perfect. She does not shake. She does not hesitate.

The bullet never hits.

Anti vanishes and reappears in a flicker of an eighth-second, closer to her now, and she takes a couple steps back, shocked, stunned, but not as shocked as Marvin.

He is in the break between his convulsions, but now it is the sight of him that freezes him to aching, petrified stone. It takes him a long time to open that bloodied mouth, to breathe through his swollen throat, and to choke out, like the prayer of a dying man, the only two words left in the world that matters in the slightest.

“Chase! Chase! Chase, amata!”

“What the fuck are you?” shrieks Cottonmouth, aiming the gun again. She shoots and Chase's body is gone again, vanishing in a spasm of red and green and blue and yellow light, exploding back into existence on the other side of the room, with colors falling off him like stray coding.

“I am a great many things,” says his mouth. He turns an empty gaze to Marvin.

“Chase?” whispers his aching, struggling throat. “Carissima?”

“Oh, Carissima,” repeats his savior flatly. “Look, listen, he still loves me.”

A giggle echoes around Marvin's head and he shivers, staring at the man, who does not move, does not smile, only stares, the gun held loose in his hands.

“Silly cat,” Chase continues, tilting his head at him. His face has all the emotion of a beach full of clean sand, like the water has withdrawn, and the rocks were carried away, and nothing hides beneath its surface.

“Is it really you?” chokes Marvin. Hot tears spill down his face. “Or is it Anti?”

His black baseball cap is tugged down low, mussing the exhausted yellow fringe at the end of his stiff curls. His eyes are empty – no color, no pupil, like cataracts have swallowed his irises whole. Heavy white strings dangle from the sleeves of his filthy winter coat, tight enough that his fingers are faintly blue, and struggle to clutch the gun properly.

“I'm not anyone,” he replies, in a voice like a wind dying down. “I'm not anything anymore.”

He wipes a little of Killian's blood off his over-sized camo-green jacket and moves forward, staring Cottonmouth's gun in the face.

“Who the hell are you?” she snarls. “You're nothing like fucking Blue Mask.”

“'Who the hell are you?'” repeats Chase's mouth, taunting, his voice high-pitched and erratic. Marvin whimpers, recoiling from a sound distinctly Antiseptic. “Look, a little girl with a coke addiction and no baby daddy to kiss her good night. You think cat's blood is going to make you feel any better, child?”

“Shut the fuck up!” she screams, and the blast of her gun explodes through the prison room once again, only for Anti to disappear and re-appear, the bandages wrapped around his throat beginning to soak red, a wide smile on Chase's face.

“How did you know that? How are you doing that? I'll fucking kill you!”

“Oh, Marianne! I know everything about you! You think you just get to scoop my big brother off the streets and feed him goddamn rodent killer without having to worry about me? No, no, no, little girl. Blue Mask should never have scared you. No one you've ever bought snow off of or hired as a thug or paid to hide your enemies' bodies should have ever scared you. Not compared to me.”

“Twink-ass bitch boys with power complexes don't scare me.”

Her voice is the hiss of a snake on the defense, but still she makes herself laugh, finding her smile again, her eyes wildly lit, her long hair disarrayed in sweaty curls around her face.

“Okay,” says Anti flatly. “Now that was just rude.”

She aims that gun again – futile, desperate, snarling, laughing. “I'm going to bite the meat off your fingers and cook the bones into acid.”

“All talk, child. All fucking talk.”

“Fine, then,” answers Cottonmouth, drawing from her inside coat pocket a long silver machete, fat and gleaming. Her eyes meet Anti's in the glow of a shared and entirely insane light. “No more chatting.”

She cuts forward knife swinging.

Anti shrieks with joy and vanishes, appearing beside her and yanking a blade out of thin air, meeting her blow as she turns. He brings the gun up and it is Cottonmouth's turn to disappear, leaping aside before the bullet can tear her apart and striking like a viper at his head. Anti ducks the blow and lashes out at her legs, knocking her backwards and leaping up to pounce on her, only to catch a heavy slash on his arm. He lets out a short cry, so much like Chase's voice that it makes Marvin gasp, and stumbles back a little, laughing as blood soaks through his split jacket. Cottonmouth leaps back to her feet and then –

A gunshot.

She screams, a short burst of agony from her lip-sticked mouth. Marvin stares in horror at her shattered knee, the bone destroyed by Chase's perfect aim and Anti's perfect hatred. She crumples, Anti surges forward, he has her by the hair, shoving away the machete and the gun, and then –

“Anti, don't kill her, don't kill her!”

Anti points the gun at her head.

“Little girls shouldn't play with things that belong to me.”

To her credit, the Cottonmouth never screams, never cries out, barely even trembles. Looking her death in the face, she turns her eyes up to Marvin.

Faintly, on her mouth, a smile.

Hatred in wild eyes.

Marvin's ears ring from the closeness of the gunshot and Marianne's body crumples at his feet.

For a long time, he just lies limp in his chains, eyes closed, tears slipping down his face.

And Anti waits.

Anti waits for him to look up again.

Marvin seizes once, twice. There is, by now, perhaps a minute between each convulsion. He had never known that exhaustion can hurt this badly.

“This,” he whispers finally, with a mouth that drips blood. “Is horrible.”

“Yeah,” sighs Anti, swiping blood from his cheeks and stepping forward, that white-ocean blankness burning like static hell in his eyes. “Really not your best day, old friend.”

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

“No, no,” mumbles Jackie. “This isn't right.”

His eyes roam the walls for hints to tell him he's dreaming or dead. The cold slatted wood of the apartment stares back at him without feeling. It has nothing to hide, and nothing to tell.

“This isn't right,” he repeats.

Soft, stained carpet presses up against his boots. Toothpaste mint smell and a faint fume of blood wafts through his nose. Computers buzz softly beside the wounded old mattress puffing out fatly with cotton and wire.

“This can't be where Anti's been keeping him. It's too...”

“Jackie.”

Max's hand comes to sit on his shoulder. Jackie reaches up to clutch it, not sure why he can't seem to focus all of a sudden. Not sure why there are tears in his eyes.

“It's too normal,” he croaks. “Max, your intel must be wrong. This isn't where Anti and Chase have been living.”

“My best guys tracked him back here. Saw where he was in that picture, guessed at a couple places he might have come from, called in at a couple residencies asking after him. Owner here recognized the description, gave us a room number, and then we checked the security footage. This is where Chase was this morning, Jackie, and he's the only one the apartment owner is aware of who lives here. He's been here for months. Anti's just hidden him well.”

Jackie breathes hot, hissing air through his teeth and stalks forward to begin tearing up the apartment again, drawing a low sigh from a worried Max. Yanking open blank cabinets of the cramped, empty brown kitchen area and scrabbling at the corners of shitty carpet flooring, Jackie searches for any sign of the things he expected – Chase's hair, maybe, bloodied clumps of it in the bathroom, confirming that he has been thrown around and forced through whatever torments might take Anti's interest at the time, but there is nothing but quiet beard trimmings scattered around the sink.

Or chains, maybe! Why are there no chains? No rope to bind his little brother up like a dog, trapping him in this single-room apartment, leaving him to dangle by his wrists or be shoved into the closet all day, cramped and aching? Where are the muzzles, the ropes, the torture weapons and car batteries? Why is there nothing but a couple old bracelets Jackie knows Chase was wearing the day he lost him, set gently down on the windowsill?

Or there should be – oh, Jackie doesn't know – powerful sedatives or opioids to keep Chase docile and weak, maybe, scattered around the drawers to be used when his poor little brother resisted too much or too long, but there is nothing Jackie recognizes except a box of cheap band-aids and a finished bottle of Chase's Cymbalta still sitting sadly on the counter.

Jackie picks up the bottle in his hand. It feels like a tiny little doll or something pressed between his palm like this. He got him this prescription with some forged documents and a couple pushes to see him off to a therapist, and he remembers Chase telling him he liked the symbolism of it more than anything else – putting the tiny pill on his tongue every morning like a promise: “Another day and I'm still trying. Another day and I still refuse to let this kill me. Another day and I'll keep taking my medicine, and this will never beat me.”

A promise. A promise. His little brother, a fighter.

“Why wouldn't Anti throw this away?” Jackie whispers, rotating the bottle in his hand. “Why does Anti still have so many of his things? Why is there no sign of the struggle? I know he must be struggling. I know. Max, something's wrong.”

That warm, sturdy hand returns to his shoulder. “Jackie,” he says. “Look at these, shoved beneath the mattress.”

In Max's hand, there is a tiny lime-green journal and two stained, squished, sorrowful little stuffed animals.

“Oh, oh,” cries Jackie, taking them from him and holding them in his hands. “Presents for Hunt and Izzy. He was going to see them.”

A once perfectly rotund, chunky seal plushie has been flattened into a weary little pancake. The little purple dragon is no better off, its long neck askew and its pink ribbon of a tongue flopping out of its smiling mouth.

“Maybe Anti used them to upset Chase,” suggests Max.

Jackie tears open the journal, desperate for an explanation, stepping in circles around the room as he devours snippets of page after page, flickering through as fast as he can.

“Jack's name is all over, too,” Max points out, scanning the ceiling and the walls of the room. “Just in marker, sometimes, but sometimes scratched in. I think you were right, he's been looking for him all along. But he never found him.”

Jackie can't even hear him over the rushing of his blood pumping rapid through his head.

“Max,” he chokes. “Max.”

“Yeah?”

Jackie's shaking hands can barely hold the journal.

I didn't know it would fucking hurt! Stupid fucking boy! I can't extricate myself anymore! I think this is a fucking curse, I think the Cat must have warded this body, or maybe I rushed in too fast, but I can feel myself changing and I don't know what to do! What is happening to me? What is happening? I can't hear Chase resisting anymore, I just feel repulsed by my own presence, and I can't stop thinking about the things that Chase loved.

He tears to another section.

My mind is being devoured. I was Anti yesterday and Chase before that but I can't remember who I am today. I think they used to want different things but now I can't think at all and I don't know my name. I can't tell why the body is suffering but I can see my skin getting so white. I want to eat but the last time I tried I expelled everything within the hour and the vomit burned at me and the body fainted and brought my mind down too. Being unconscious confuses me for reasons I can't understand and I do not sleep. I think that is why the body grows so heavy. So heavy. So heavy. I want to be torn apart.

Max is trying to take it from him, calling his name, but Jackie can't be pulled away.

Where are my brothers? Where's Jack? I don't know why I want them. I killed a girl today and it made the body start to cry and laugh at the same time. I started to hurt, like the brain was insisting there was a wound or a sickness, but I cleaned my flesh for hours and couldn't find an injury. I think I'm dying and I'm afraid. I woke up crying for the doctor today but nobody came and I think if he had been there I would have slit his fucking throat open stupid doctor boy stupid body let me go I can't get free anymore I don't know who I am or what's happening I think I am going to die and I am afraid –

Jackie's ringtone explodes into the air, finally yanking him from his reverie, and he drops the book, gasping.

“Jackie! Are you okay?”

Setting a hand on Max's shoulder to reassure him – despite an internal panic as wide as the Nile – Jackie yanks his phone out of his pocket and tries not to be afraid by the contact name “ZE GOOD DOCTAH” lighting up his screen.

“Schneep! What's wrong? Is Marvin still – ”

“Jackie,” croaks Henrik, and Jackie stiffens hard, digging his nails into Max's shoulder.

“Okay. Okay. Whatever's wrong, it's going to be okay.”

“Jackie – Jackie – ”

“I know, bud, I know, just tell me.”

“Come home,” Henrik demands, a gasp in his voice. “Come home now. Bring a car.”

This tone of voice does not take further questions. Jackie closes his phone and sprints from the apartment where Anti has kept his brother prisoner within his own flesh for months now, skipping the elevator and charging down the stairs.

“Follow me in the car,” he shouts to Max, and then he is racing onto the pavement and slinging his body onto Chase's old bike, pulling on his helmet and shoving the keys into the ignition.

Traffic laws and the police car following behind him be damned, he's getting home faster than anybody has ever raced down these streets.

And the only thought in his head for the whole seven minutes and forty-three second drive?

Henrik just saw Marvin die. Henrik must have just seen Marvin die. Henrik was watching. Henrik, his sentry. Henrik just saw Marvin die.

But nothing is as he expected it when he reaches home.

He lets the motorcycle tumble onto the pavement, racing into the house.

“Jackie?” calls Henrik, and Jackie is darting down the hall towards his voice, tearing open Marvin's door and coming to stand at the end of the bed, his footsteps slowing, slowing, freezing as he stares.

Star-silver light makes halos in Jameson's eyes.

“Schneep,” whispers Jackie. “What's – ?”

“He woke some sort of power up,” Henrik replies, in a hush like a twilight.

That much Jackie can see. He remembers the first night he saw his first little brother wake him up with eyes glowing like lanterns, crying about a power he didn't know how to control. Yes, he has known the blue light in Marvin's eyes a hundred times over, and felt power make stiff and heavy the air around them, just as it does now. Jackie steps closer, standing before JJ, keeping him safe in his shadow.

“He says he can see where Marvin is. Can see the path he took last night and the possibilities that are before him now. We need to go where he tells us.”

A soft and shuddering breath passes between Jameson's teeth, his eyes fluttering shut. Henrik is holding him up, his arms hugging his shoulders, his hand squeezed in JJ's so tightly it will soon be blue.

Jackie crouches down beside the bed and takes Jameson's other hand, reaching up to touch his face, coaxing the light in his eyes to turn back towards him. James looks down at him, trying to straighten up at the sight of Jackie, pressing his fingers into the strong bones of his brother's white hands.

“Doing okay, Jay?” murmurs Jackie.

Jameson nods.

“Does it hurt, buddy?”

“No,” he shakes his head, pressing on Jackie's hands as he tries to rise. Henrik helps him get up, but the hand crushing his own has begun to be as much for his own comfort as it is for JJ's.

“Jameson,” says Jackie. “Can you take me to Marv?”

Jameson finds his footing and straightens up with Jackie, tilting up his chin. His eyes glow. He's always shone like a star to Jackie anyway.

“Yes, Jackie,” he says. “I promise.”

He cuts through the overwhelming world and Jackie's tired face rises into a smile. He knocks his head against JJ's and gives a strand of his hair a teasing yank, pushing him towards the door.

“Go get your shoes on! Max will take us in the car. Schneep, let me get a look at the livestream so I know what we're dealing with and then let's get the hell out of here! We got thirty minutes and a brother to find!”

He whirls eagerly on Henrik, but his brother is unmoving, staring down at the carpet.

“Schneep?”

Henrik bobs his head in a nod.

“What's wrong? Can I... did we lose the livestream?”

“Um.” Henrik wipes at his glasses, sniffing. “It was... cut off.”

“What? Why would she do that?”

“It wasn't her.”

“What do you mean?”

Henrik continues cleaning his glasses, never looking up.

“Schneep. Henrik. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Someone found him first, Jackie.”

“What? Who?”

“Who do you fucking think?”

Suddenly Henrik is shouting and Jackie flinches, reaching forward to grab his hands before he can crush his glasses.

“Who do you fucking think? Who’s always fucking haunting us? Stalking my family from a shadow that never dies away with the sun, hunting us like foxes!“

His voice breaks. Jackie takes his glasses from him and grabs his chin, forcing him to look up.

And if Jameson's eyes shine with power, well, Henrik's bubble up with deep blue grief, a bitterness twisted on his mouth and terror shaking earthquakes into his steady doctor's hands.

“He’s wearing Chase,” Henrik sobs. “Jackie, Jackie, you have to make him stop, he’s wearing Chase. If you had seen him - if you had seen him - oh, Jackie, he is like a dead man already.”

Jackie barely hears him. He is already stepping from the room, unable to breathe, his mind fixed on his tortured, stolen, poisoned, poisoned, poisoned little brothers, waiting on him to save them.

He doesn’t intend to fail.

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

“Anti?” asks Marvin. “Are you going to kill me?”

His rescuer stares back at him. Dazed, exhausted, hurting, Marvin does his best to look back.

“Anti,” he says, again, louder now. “Are you going to kill me? What, you don’t have an answer? Anti, what have you done to yourself?”

Anti has none of his usual wild glee, none of his intensity. He stands before Marvin with his body slack and his eyes slightly glazed, those strung up fingers twitching, that grey face hollow as a lightning-struck tree.

“Anti,” repeats his rescuer distantly. “Anti?”

“Yes,” snaps Marvin, baring his teeth. “That's your fucking name, isn't it? Or what, you really are some fucked-up, puppet version of my little brother? Huh? My little heart? Tell me honest this time, you horrible little virus – Chase or Anti?”

At this, a flicker of confusion betrays his apathy, and he purses his lips, reaching up to play absent-mindedly with a string of Marvin's hair, curling it around his finger. Marvin recoils, wheezing.

“Chase or Anti?” he repeats, cocking his head at him. “Chase or Anti? I think maybe there was a difference once.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” chokes Marvin, trying to breathe through his fear. Tears are running down his face so fast he'd be blinded even if he could make his stiff eyes move. “What have you done to my little brother?”

Anti – Marvin has to think of him as Anti, he cannot believe it is Chase – hums distantly and drums his fingers along the barrel of the gun, considering. “Don't worry for us,” he says, in a voice felt-soft. “It was frightening at first, but now there's just us. Now there's just us, and you.”

Marvin spits at his feet, feeling the convulsions beginning again, and fear comes pounding through his head. “You've worn his body so long you've forgotten you're not him,” he shrieks, as his shoulders begin to tug him up, and his jaw begins to chew, and his arms, like sticks, refuse to support him. “You're just a fucking parasite, puppeting his body because you don't have your own – ”

Anti slaps him so hard he bites his tongue clean through, and then he is seizing. He chokes desperately, trying to scream, his eyes suspended motionless in his skull, his face turning blue, and Anti resumes his patient speech while Marvin writhes.

“Try not to be so rude,” he snips, shoving greasy hair which has lost all of its curl out of his mismatched eyes. “I have feelings, you know! Anyway, I was just stalking you.”

He leans down to push Cottonmouth's body away from Marvin's feet, the better to watch him spasm. “I was bored. I've been hearing about people looking for you and the other... um...”

He pauses, confused. Blood courses down Marvin's chin.

“Jackie,” he remembers, clapping his hands together, a moment of distress flickering over his face. “Lately I think so much at once it's like I can't think at all... you and Jackie, anyway, people have been looking for you. Something about revenge and murder and true crime, I guess, it was all pretty cool. Some people started watching you, I started watching them – and then, what do you know! I wake up one morning and pick up on this magnificent broadcast.”

Marvin can't breathe. Marvin is dying. He can't take any more of this.

“Ch-ay-ay-ase,” he sobs, as the relaxation finally fucking comes back. “Chase, help me, h-help me...”

Anti's eyes flicker.

He stills, watching him, his mouth slightly parted.

“Chase, Chase,” moans Marvin, well past caring what Anti thinks. “Amata, adiuva me, it hurts, it hurts! S-stella amata, little brother...”

“Marvin,” mumbles Anti – no, Chase, Marvin has to think of him as Chase, Marvin cannot think of him as Anti, not when he says his name so gently, not when his eyes are ringed so deeply in exhausted grey, and the soft pads of his bloodied fingers come up, slow, to touch Marvin's shattered cheek –

“It's going to be okay,” he soothes, and Marvin dissolves into tears, spasming in his chains, choking through his swollen throat. “Aren't you so grateful little brother saved you?”

“Let me down, let me down,” begs Marvin. “Please, I can't take any more of this, just let me down to die.”

“Now where would the fun be in that?” answers Chase, his voice suddenly cold, his eyes very dark.

“Why is this happening, what has he done to you...”

“You're really dying, aren't you? This is so strange, I feel... shaky... I thought this one was excitement, but maybe it is distress... it's so difficult for me to sort them...”

Marvin stares at him, unable to move his stiff eyes away and trying hard to keep his gaze focused on him, on something, on anything. “You're... you're crying.”

He is. He stands quiet before Marvin, his hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, his calm mouth slightly parted, one eye brown, one eye blue, both glittering with tears.

“We cry often,” he says softly. “I used to try and make us stop... then I began to cry too. It was so scary. I had never cried before. Now we cry often, because I... I can't... I... Marvin...”

His eyes drift away with his words. Tears drizzle down his face, turning red as they meet Cottonmouth's blood, sprayed across his chin and mouth.

“I think I'm losing great parts of myself,” he mumbles thickly. “I think I am killing great parts of myself. I can't remember who I was before this. I just wanted... a body? Or was it to go see my children? My babies...”

“Stop, stop,” Marvin chokes, quivering in his chains, his mouth full of hatred and bile and love all together. “Stop pretending to be him! Fuck you. Let me die, Anti!”

Anti – Chase – he closes his eyes and breathes in deep, shaking his head slightly. “I lose focus so easily. We were talking. I was here to see you die. Did she tell you three hours? Nah, you've got more than that, dude. Look, this strychnine concentration is so low I'm surprised it turns the gophers into corpses. Besides, if you were really dying, you wouldn't be chatting, now would you?”

Marvin is beginning to miss the silent and staring version of Anti.

“You're being such a baby. Depending how hard you fight, you could make it another forty, fifty minutes? I mean, probably your little organs in your tummy are pretty fucked up, but you're still a little while away from dropping absolutely dead. Right? I think I read that. I'm doing my research right now and the internet's shitty down here in the basement. But the others are on their way, so we shouldn't wait.”

“The others?” gasps Marvin.

“Well, I think,” answers his little brother, glancing around the room, his eyes settling on the green bottle of gopher poison, standing up beside Cottonmouth's drink on the table. “Don't know for certain, but knowing our brothers, yeah, dude, they'll be here soon enough.”

He reaches out for the gopher poison – and then pauses, and takes the tea instead. Marvin watches through confused, blurry eyes as his tongue darts out to taste the droplets on the opening of the lid. He gives a small chirp of satisfaction and then throws the whole cup back, his throat working eagerly to quench its thirst. Turning to the almonds and tearing open the bag with long-nailed fingers and lighted eyes, Marvin is reminded of some sort of feverish raccoon tearing through the alleyway trash at two in the morning. He shoves a couple in his mouth and hums as he licks salt off his hands, pushing the bag into his backpack and then zipping it up tight again.

“I've remembered what I came for,” he announces, clapping his hands together. “Or I think so anyway! I want – okay, firstly – an answer to the deal I offered the big red one.”

“You're losing your fucking mind,” chokes Marvin. “What deal?”

“Well, I gave it to Red, or I think it was me, anyway. I offered a deal. I said I would give him back this body in exchange for one thing – Jack's location.”

For all that his mind is scrambled, split somewhere between Anti and Chase, that name has never disappeared. That obsession has never disappeared. Jack's location. Jack's coma. Jack, Chase's friend, Jack, Anti's creator, the one that damned him from the start.

Marvin didn't know that Anti offered Jackie anything in exchange for Chase. But it doesn't for a second matter to him. He trusts Jackie. He's always trusted Jackie. With his life, with Chase's, with Jack's. And he knows, immediately, the answer that Jackie would give.

“The reason you never got a reply is because he would never dignify that sort of bullshit with a response.”

Marvin's head is spinning. If this is the last of his strength, he's proud to use it defending his friend.

“You will never find Jack. You will never use Chase as currency for anything. You are falling apart, Anti, splicing yourself into Chase's brain just for one desperate moment of feeling like a body belongs to you. You've forgotten who you are. But don't worry, little brother. Some day Jackie's going to remind you of exactly what you are – a sick, twisted, hateful little murderer who chose to live in agony a long fucking time ago.”

Anti screams and strikes Marvin again, and, oh, yes, no more games, Marvin knows that it is Anti's fury that drives a blow like that, no matter how much he looks like Chase, no matter how deeply he has seeped into his little brother's head. Marvin knows what poison feels like.

“I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you!” Anti is shrieking, tears flooding down his face, red, now, with hatred and despair, but it no longer matters to Marvin. He can barely feel the blows. Everything has dissipated into this far away agony, buzzing at the tips of his fingers, and he's afraid, but only because he's thinking of Jackie, and Henrik, and JJ, and his tortured, tortured Chase. Oh, but they'll have to grieve for him. They'll have to find him like this. They'll have to bury his body.

He never meant to leave them with this burden. He never meant to leave them at all.

Goodbye, my brothers, I hope you know I loved you, better than anything, better than I knew it was possible to love anything or anyone. I hope to see you again one day, in a place where the sun always shines and we are all of us safe... I hope I get the chance to hold you then, one more time and then a thousand more. I love you, I love you. Goodbye.

Something slams into Anti, halfway tackling him away from Marvin, a furious, airy little snarl accompanying Anti's shout of surprise. Marvin no longer has the strength to look up. His delirium is so hot now that he can't seem to put a coherent sentence together even in his head – apologies and final words and cries of pain whirl through his brain like somebody broke a washing machine and can't get it to stop spinning.

Faintly, he makes out a fight close at hand – Jameson pressing Anti to the ground, the gun kicked meters away and the machete pinned down to the cold concrete floor. Jameson hisses and shoves his long silver knife to the bandages at Anti's throat, drawing a stain of blood from his Adam's apple. His body spasms impossibly as he tries to glitch, but Jamie just whistles a shrill warning and presses the knife in tighter, making Anti choke and still. If he weren't wearing Chase, he would be dead already. Jameson's teeth are bared in a wild snarl and his eyes shine like stars.

To Marvin, all he is is a blur of silver light. He can taste his little brother's power in the air, but his brain doesn't connect it to JJ himself, and he shivers and turns his face away, afraid to be burned by the light.

“Marvin, Marvin, here I am, here I am. Oh, my brother. It's done, Marvin, it's done. I'm right here. I got you, I got you. Jackie, help me get him down.”

“I'm coming. Jay, keep him pinned,” calls a stronger voice yet. “Max, is there an ambulance coming?”

“I can't get any signal down here. I'll go radio for them upstairs.”

“Okay, okay. Here, bud, I got you, I got you.”

Arms wrap around Marvin's body, and he lets out a short, frightened cry – but then his chained hands are lifted up and oh, mercy of mercies, he is taken down from the hook that holds his straining body up.

Warm arms encircle him and carry him to the ground, cradling his head. He can almost breathe deep again! He can almost move! Maybe if he weren't so tired. All he can do is draw shallow, weary breaths through lips blood-stained and dry. He feels horribly swollen, like he is already a dead thing, and the stiffness is so painful he can no longer describe it in a meaningful way – he is wooden now, trapped within his own bones, aching to be free, motionless, it feels, for days and days and days.

And then – his cards!

A small cry of joy rises from his aching lips and someone gives a shaky, relieved little laugh as he clutches at the pack of cards pressed against his chest. Energy rushes through him – oh, almost painful, too much all at once. He sits back and tries to breathe through it, his fingers searching for the warm, healing magic of his hearts. Now that the cards have freed his magic, he hopes for a little relief before he dies after all. Maybe even some purification. He doesn't want his body to be so tortured for his brothers to find.

A cool, needle-less plastic syringe touches his lips, but he does his best to push it away with trembling fingers, trying to smile an apology at his captors. He can't drink with his throat so swollen. He's scared to choke. Don't make him. Let him go, please. He's ready for this to be over. A deep sigh falls from his aching mouth and he sinks back in the arms of the person holding him.

“Marvin, you have to take it.”

The syringe is back on his mouth. He groans, shifting wearily.

“Marvin. Marvin, hey! I need you to focus, please, you have to work with me. Jackie, pass me my – yes, thank you.”

A cold circle of metal touches Marvin's breast and he grumbles, hurting, trying to press back against the hands that hold it down to listen to his heartbeat.

“Is he going to be okay, Schneep?”

There's no answer. The cold metal moves down his chest. Someone's breathing has picked up above him.

“Schneep?”

“I – I don't know, I – ”

“What do you mean you don't know? We found him before three hours were up. That's enough! That has to be enough! Cottonmouth said he had three hours, it's only been two hours, forty-four minutes and – ”

“Give him the relaxant. Just – give him the relaxant.”

The syringe returns to his mouth. Marvin hisses, anguish mixing up with his pain. Leave him alone to die! Please! Why are they so insistent on him drinking it, anyway?

He cracks his eyes open and sees that it is not water that is being offered him. Dark and ichorous, it swirls before his mouth.

Someone shoves the syringe deep into the back of his throat and begins to push the liquid in.

“No!” he shrieks, trying to shove it out of his mouth. “No, no, no more poison!”

“It's not poison! Marv, stop!”

He is pinned to the ground by an earthquake's worth of pressure, making his spasming muscles burn with pain. Everything is bright, everything is loud, everything is painful, and he is not taking any more fucking poison. He's not fucking drinking that. They'll have to kill him before he takes any more of this shit. His hands tighten around the cards laid on his chest, something waking up inside him. Power warm as getting back into bed crashes through his stomach like a purifier, but it won't matter if his magic is trying to save him if someone is just shoving more fucking poison in his mouth! No!

He drops the Jack of Hearts and clutches at a Club. He doesn't need to look at it – he can feel the harsh burn of angrier magic. His eyes flicker open and his teeth snap around the syringe.

Henrik barely has time to register the bright blue glow in his brother's eyes before something explodes in his face.

Jackie lets out a scream in his stead as Henrik recoils from Marvin's side so hard he goes crashing to the ground, gripping at his face, unable to stop a ragged gasp falling from his mouth as hot, hot, hot iron magic burns into his cheek. Jackie is grabbing at him, trying to get a look at the burn, but Henrik can only clutch at his face, shocked tears coursing down his cheeks as the Six of Clubs burns, burns, burns deeper and deeper into his flesh.

“Max!” Jackie is shouting, looking up the stairs. “Where's the fucking ambulance? Marvin, stop!”

But Marvin is not listening.

He can feel nothing now but poison.

Throughout him. Filling up his blood. Without him. Spilled across the floor. Around him. He can feel a darkness. He can even feel somebody else's poison.

Underneath Jameson's hands, a being of pure poison.

Chase's heart beats weakly beneath his starving ribs, his face hollowed out with hunger and stress, his skin slicked in somebody else's blood and his face contorted in hatred.

“Amata,” croaks Marvin. “Chase...”

His whole body is shadowed by a heavy black poison.

And he cannot escape it alone.

How can he die knowing his little brother is in that much pain!

“P-purity,” he mumbles, pulling the King of Hearts from his deck with shaking fingers. A blue glow ignites in Marvin's eyes, to match the fervent silver of his little brother's across the room. “A spell for... a spell for purity...”

“No, no!” someone cries. “You don't have the strength! Please, no spells! You will die!”

Arms wrap around him, holding him tight despite the heat burning against his flesh, and he hears someone breathing close to him – crying close to him. Oh, Henrik's familiar hands, clutching at his shoulders, Henrik's head pressed against his own, his little brother hiding against his shoulder, whimpering for him to stop...

“Please, please.”

He's so tired. He's so tired of being scared all the time. He needs to have a happy ending for once.

The glow cools in magnificent eyes. Marvin pants, clutching at Henrik's hands, dazed. Hurting, hurting, hurting.

“Henrik,” he tries to say, but he cannot get his mouth to move. His swollen throat wheezes desperately. His heart races like a horse. “Henrik, this hurts.”

“Sh, sh, don't try to talk. I've got you, I know. I know. Let me make it better. Please, let me do it, Marvin, Marvin. Don't let me lose my big brother. Just trust me. Just put the card down.”

Marvin is sinking down against him, the energy draining out of him.

“Let me handle it, let me take care of you, it's me... the good doctor... or I'm trying to be... don't you trust me, Marvin? Don't you still believe in me?”

Ah, his Henrik. His brother.

Marvin drops his cards. One remains hovering in the air, the King of Hearts glowing with the power he summoned, but he stops trying to use it. He will let Henrik do the purifying for him – his little brother is right that he does not have the strength to be casting spells for his own healing or for Chase's. He has to trust his little scientist.

Henrik lets out a low, croaking cry of relief, holding onto Marvin's shoulders. Jackie crashes into the two of them, wrapping them both in his arms again. For a second, Marvin manages to turn his head towards them, smiling faintly, his eyes fogged over.

“Sh, sh, there you go. I’m not going to let you die, Marvin. I’m not going to let you die.”

Marvin lies still against his body as Henrik presses the syringe back into his mouth. He massages the relaxant down Marvin's aching throat, whispering assurances as Marvin sinks into silent tears against his shoulder, his face drifting as he slips towards sleep. Henrik spoons a mouthful of black medicine into his mouth. Jackie strokes his hair.

He's so filthy and so ugly and in so much pain, but they still hold onto him.

He wants to talk to them so badly. He doesn't even have the strength to move – no, no, wait! If he really focuses – if he really, really focuses – he can squeeze Jackie's hand.

He can push his head, just a little, against Henrik's.

He can look over at Chase and Jameson. See their faces again.

He was scared to die without seeing them again, but now he thinks he'd be ready to go. Yeah, he’d be ready. Doesn't know how his body would survive this much pain, anyway. Doesn’t know his heart could ever take this much hurt. He just needed to see them one more time.

“Love.” His mouth is trying so hard. His throat is fighting a war. His lips part like the waters of the Red Sea, but the word is a mangled mess on his mouth. “Love.”

And Jackie, Jackie, Jackie who has always understood him, from the day that he was born, back when he did not even understand himself – Jackie whispers, “Love you too.”

Marvin drifts beneath the warmth of unconsciousness.

[therainroguefanfiction]

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 011 [A Hero’s Style]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 2,490 ☁

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“It’s the very first breath, When your head’s been drowning underwater, And it’s the lightness in the air when you’re there.” Logic ft. Alessia Cara, “1-800-273-8255″〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

The door to the nurse’s office slid open and the boy with the messy green hair stepped inside. He was cradling his right hand, the index finger swollen and badly bruised. I sat up on the bed, rising a brow at him. “The fuck happened to you?”

His gaze shot up, a blush covering his freckled cheeks and nose. “A-Ah, it was n-nothing, really!”

My eyes narrowed at him. “Pretty sure a broken finger ain’t ‘nothing’, but okay.”

“W-What about you?” he asked, softly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He refused to meet my gaze. “A-Are you okay, Winchester-san?”

The door slid open again and Granny stepped inside. “Can I help you, deary? What happened?”

He handed her a slip of paper, his green eyes trained on the ground. “I, umm… I got hurt…”

“Well, I can see that.” She brought his hand to her lips and gave it a smooch before having him sit down to wrap it up. He thanked her before swaying out of the room, tiredly. She glanced over at me. “Feeling better?”

“Define ‘better’,” I scoffed, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “I could go for some tacos, if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s the best I could hope for,” she smiled, patting my arm. “You’re free to go.”

I gave her a lazy salute before leaving the room. I stopped off to change back into my uniform before heading back to class. A couple students still lingered inside, turning to look at me when I slid the door open. Didn’t anyone ever teach these brats it’s rude to stare? I scowled, grabbing my bag from my desk before leaving the room.

“Young Jen!” A woosh of air rushed past me before Toshi appeared in front of me, his large hands on my shoulders. “I was looking for you!”

“Well, you found me. And you know where I live, so.”

“Come with me, please!”

It was a bit hard to avoid drawing attention to myself when I was being dragged along by the most attention-grabbing hero in the fucking world. He led me to a small room with a couch and coffee table, where three cups of steaming tea sat. Aizawa was sitting in an armchair with his eyes closed and arms crossed.

“Please have a seat,” Toshi held out his arm toward the couch and I plopped down on the end closest to Aizawa. He sat beside me, angling his large body, which slowly fizzled out to his skeletal form. He coughed a few times before speaking. “Will you tell me what happened today?”

“With the green-haired kid? Yeah, I was wondering about that, too. A broken finger is pretty crazy, huh?”

“Jen,” Aizawa shifted, giving me a pointed look.

I shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t fucking know. One minute I was fine, the next I’m being subdued by Magic Eraser over here.”

Toshi put his hand on my knee, giving me a kind look. “You know you don’t have to keep secrets from us. You can be honest, you can trust us, we won’t judge you. We just want to help you.”

I clicked my tongue, lifting my leg to rest my ankle on my knee to remove his hand. “That’s pretty unfair, Toshi, when you have so many secrets of your own. Trust you? That’s rich considering you won’t even trust me.”

“What are you talking about, Young J -”

“You know a shit ton more about my dear old mum than you’re willing to tell, aye?” I forced a smile, standing up and shoving my hands in my pockets. “Probably about me, too. And this damned quirk. But that’s fine. I really don’t remember anything that happened so can I go now?”

The two of them exchanged a look.

“This isn’t over,” Aizawa responded, but his voice was softer than it had been earlier.

“Sure, sure.” I waved at them over my shoulder before closing the door behind me.

As I walked home, my phone started to buzz in my pocket as a new message came through. Another a few minutes later. And another. My eye twitched, already annoyed. I swear to god if Murder is spamming me again… but I knew it could only be him. I only have three contacts in my phone – Aizawa never texts me and I knew Toshi would be giving me some space for a while before trying to talk things out.

At that moment, I was overcome by a loneliness fiercer than I had ever felt before.

‘Oi, extra’

‘Dont ignore me’

‘I want a rematch’

The hell is this kid on about now? I replied, ‘U won last time bro…’

‘Its not a win unless i destroy u completely!’

I rubbed the back of my neck, ‘Im really not in the mood for this’

‘Che what crawled up ur ass and died?’

I hesitated, stopping to look up at the sky. The blue was replaced by hues of orange and red as the sun sunk low on the horizon. We’ve only talked a few times, but I felt… a bond with Murder and, right now, he’s the closest thing to a friend that I’ve got. ‘Hey… I wanna tell u somethin’

‘Oh god i dont want ur nudes’

This fuckin’ brat… ‘I said tell not show dumbass’

‘The fuckd u just call me bitch?!’

I slid my key into the lock, stepping into the silent apartment. I kicked my shoes off, pushing them against the wall so Toshi wouldn’t trip when he finally returned home. Falling onto the couch, another message came through.

‘Well r u gonna tell me or nah’

I smiled, sadly and began to tell him my story. I told him about how I got here and about the shadow man with his weird-ass warp quirk, about Gramps and how my mother was apparently a hero. I left out names and key details, of course, but I told him mostly everything that had happened over the past year. He would chime in with some smart ass remark every now and then, but I ignored them and continued to pour my heart out to this guy I had only just met a few days ago.

It felt so goddamn nice to get everything off my chest. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

That night, I slept better than I had since I arrived here.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“I am… HERE!” The door to class 1-A slammed open and Toshi leaned into the room, standing on his tiptoes and holding the outside of the doorframe. “Coming through the door like a hero!”

If that’s how heroes make an entrance, count me out. It seemed to impress the other students, though, as a murmur of excitement filled the room. God, these kids are too easily amused.

“I can’t believe it’s really All Might!”

“So he is a teacher! This year is going to be totally awesome!”

“Hey look, is he wearing his silver age costume?”

“I’m getting goosebumps, it’s so retro!”

I fell onto my desk with a sigh. It’s like a bunch of little kids meeting Santa at the mall. I guess I could kind of understand it if he had powers but they didn’t, but they do. They’re no different from him, they’re just younger. I was thankful to be sitting behind Big Boobs – between her tall frame and gravity-defying hair, I was completely hidden from Toshi’s line of sight. We hadn’t talked since yesterday. I was asleep by the time he came home, and he was gone before I woke up.

“Welcome to the most important class at U.A. High – think of it was heroing 101!”

I don’t think ‘heroing’ is a word. Or is it? Scratching my cheek, I pulled out my phone, hiding it under my desk as I typed the word into the Goggle. Oh my god, the first result that comes up says the word ‘heroing’ means the opposite of being a hero! There’s also a mention of something about heroines. I scoff, earning a glare from the Peppermint that sits beside Big Boobs.

“Here, you will learn the basics of being a pro! And what it means to fight in the name of good. Let’s get into it! Today’s lesson, we’ll pull no punches!” He held out a card that said ‘battle’ in large, bold letters.

“Fight training!”

“But one of the keys of being a hero is~” Toshi pointed to the left wall as thin shelves emerged from it, holding numbered cases. “Looking good! There were designed for you based on your quirk registration forms and the request you sent in before school started. Get yourself suited up and then meet me at training ground beta!”

“Yes, sir!”

I waited until he left the room before standing up and grabbing case number twenty-one, following the throng of students as they rushed to the locker rooms to get changed. I went to the back of the room, hoping to avoid the other girls before sliding my shirt off.

“Woah, you have a tattoo? That’s so cool!”

I glanced over at the Punk Girl, earphone jacks hanging from her ear lobes. I grunted in response, turning my back to her. She muttered something about being rude before walking away from me. I glanced over my ‘costume’ before grunting in approval. Honestly, I had expected them to fuck it up, especially since Midnight didn’t approve of it, but I was surprised that they had kept it just as specified.

Black, steel-toe combat boots accompanying black baggy cargo pants with plenty of pockets for knives. A black belt with a silver skull buckle. A white wife beater, over which was a white overshirt, the sleeves stopping just past my elbows. I glanced in the mirror, putting my pendant under the tanktop before tucking the front of it behind the belt buckle. Damn, I really like this look.

I stepped out of the locker room ahead of most of the girls, seeing a few guys leaning against the wall outside, waiting. Fumi was among them, dressed in a black cloak that completely covered his body. He glanced at me when I approached, red eyes scanning my body.

“You look nice, Winchester-san.” He said, politely.

I chuckled. “You can use my first name, it’s easier. And you don’t look so bad yourself, Fumi.”

“Fumi?” he mused, following in step beside me as we headed down the hall.

“Don’t like it?” I asked, glancing at him.

“I don’t particularly mind,”

I hummed.

As the group reached the end of the long hallway, I could hear Toshi’s booming voice before I saw him.

“They say that clothes make the pros, young ladies and gentlemen. And behold – you are the proof! Take this to heart, from now on, you are all heroes in training!” His shadowed eyes scanned the crowd. “This is getting me all revved up! You look so cool! Now, shall we get started, you bunch of newbies?”

My eye twitched. Who the fuck is he callin’ a ‘newbie’? Didn’t that insult die like five years ago? We’ve talked about this, man, don’t try to be hip, you’re just gonna embarrass yourself, bro. I sighed, shaking my head. This is gonna be a long-ass day.

Footsteps came from the tunnel and I glanced over my shoulder. Is that… a green bunny? No, no, no, there’s something familiar about that costume, but what is it? Ugh, this is gonna bug me.

“Now that you’re ready, it’s time for combat training!”

“Sir!” Prep was encased in a suit of armor. “This is the fake city from our entrance exam. Does that mean we will be conducting urban battles again?”

“Not quite!” Toshi held up two fingers and at first, I thought he was flashing us the peace sign. “I’m going to move you two steps ahead! Most of the villain fights you see on the news take place outside. However, statistically speaking, run-ins with the most dastardly evil-doers take place indoors. Think about it! Backroom deals. Home invasions. Secret underground lairs. Truly intelligent criminals stay hidden in the shadows. For this training exercise, you’ll be split into teams of good guys and bad guys, and fight two on two indoor battles!”

Good guys and bad guys? That’s such a gray area, ain’t it? I leaned my arm on Fumi’s shoulder, scratching my cheek. Is anyone truly ‘good’ or ‘bad’, really?

“Isn’t this a little advanced?” Frog-girl asked.

“The best training is what you get on the battlefield! But, remember, you can’t just punch a robot this time. You’re dealing with actual people now.”

Actual people, huh? Should I avoid using my quirk? If I lose control again, there’s no Aizawa around to stop me. Someone could get seriously hurt or… I shook my head. Come on, don’t think that way. Just take a deep breath, you got this.

“Sir, will you be the one deciding who wins?” Probably.

“How much can we hurt the other team?” How villainous.

“Do we need to worry about the losers getting expelled liked earlier?” No, ’cause Toshi ain’t Aizawa.

“Will you be splitting us up based on chance or comparative skill?” Should be obvious it’s gonna be random.

“Isn’t this cape pre chic?” What the fuck is wrong with you, French Fry?

I sweatdropped. These guys are really fucking nuts, aren’t they?

Toshi held his head back, his voice strangled. “I wasn’t finished talking…” He reached into his costume, which I didn’t know had pockets, and pulled out a small notebook about the size of his palm, flipping it open as he held each side with one hand. “Listen up!”

Oh my fucking god, he wrote a script for this? “This class is a hot fucking mess…”

“The situation is this: The villains have hidden a nuclear missile somewhere in their hideout. The heroes must try to foil their plans. To do that, the good guys either have to catch the evildoers or recover the weapon. Likewise, the bad guys succeed if they protect their payload or capture the heroes. Time is limited and we’ll choose teams by drawing lots!” He held up a bright, yellow box.

“Isn’t there a better way?” Prep asked.

“Think about it,” Green Bunny responded from beside him, holding up a gloved finger. “Pros often have to team up with heroes from other agencies on the spot. So maybe that’s the reason we’re seeing that here!”

“Yes, I see. Life is a random series of events… Excuse my rudeness!”

I should really learn these guy’s names, but how can I do that without actually having to interact with them? I wonder if Aizawa or Tosh would let me see the student files… that seems pretty doubtful. Plus, Tosh hasn’t looked at me once so he’s probably still upset with me.

“No sweat! Let’s draw!”

Yup, this is definitely going to be a long-ass fucking day.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC Genre: BTS Mafia!AU Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Smut, Slow Burn WC: 2923 “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

AO3 | WP

Chapter 09: I’m Fine

"I’ll keep telling myself, Even if I fall down again...I'm fine."

Raelyn rarely slept.

Then again, it came with the territory. Just because a person had a certain shift that they were given didn’t mean anything. There were few professions in the world that “never sleep” and working in a hospital was one of them. The other, from what she understood, was television news broadcasts. Just like news staff, hospital personnel were always on call.

She didn’t mind it. This was the occupation she chose, and she wouldn’t have traded it for anything. Not even for a few more hours or sleep. Or hell, even one more hour of sleep.

But there were times, very few times, where she would have made a deal with a demon if it meant getting just fifteen more minutes. Even five.

This was one of those mornings.

Raelyn didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, but she could recite exactly how many hours she’d been awake.

Thirty-six, to be exact.

The very minute that the car accident victim was wheeled in through the ER entrance, she knew she was in for the long haul. On a normal day, she would have had just one more hour until her shift was over. Throw in one of her co-workers calling in sick and well, that pretty much summed up the next day and a half for her. If she wasn’t running around gathering all the medical information on the patient, she was administering sedatives and making sure everyone else was taking the right number of breaks so that they didn’t pass out when they were needed in a pinch.

It got a little scary around the twenty-ninth hour. Some of her fellow nurses didn’t think the victim was going to make it through the morning, let alone through the night. A few morbid cynics were actually taking wagers. In this line of work, sometimes you needed to make light of even the worst situations to get through it all.

Otherwise a person would go certifiably insane.

Once everyone was dismissed and assured that the patient was, in fact, going to make it, Raelyn felt like her bones were going to turn into jelly. She’d collapsed into a chair, the physical and mental exhaustion finally taking its toll. A few of the orderlies made sure she was alright, asking her if she needed to take a quick nap in one of the employee rest areas. But Raelyn knew her body. She needed a cup of coffee; just enough caffeine to get her back home so she could pass out for the next twelve hours.

Crossing the threshold of her modest apartment, she barely remembered hanging up her coat or even stepping into her house slippers. She didn’t even really remember stripping out of her scrubs, throwing them into the hamper, or even taking a quick five-minute shower. The only thing that really registered through her body was climbing into her extra-large sweatshirt and falling into her bed face-first. If her phone died in the middle of her nap, so be it. She was off for the next two days as per the orders of her supervisor.

Like she was even going to argue.

Beep. Beep.

Raelyn groaned, rolling over onto her back while scratching her stomach. The soft beeping noise barely registered at the forefront of her mind. Exhaustion held strong, keeping her tethered to the bed and she pulled the mink blanket up across her body. Sometime in her sleep she’d pushed it off of her and instantly regretted it.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

That noise again.

That goddamn noise again.

Her eyes slowly opened and she moaned, her vision attempting to focus. The stream of moonlight that slid in through the bedroom windows helped her to see better in the dark. Was she dreaming? This had to be a dream. There was no way she fell asleep that hard only to be woken up by some damn noise she could barely even hear. That was just crazy.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was the buzzer from the front door.

“…you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” she muttered, sitting up on her elbows to look around the room. Her eyes lingered to her nightstand, the digital clock’s red numbers mocking her of the time.

4:27 AM

She angrily threw the covers off her, almost tripping into her house slippers, before shuffling her way out of her bedroom and into the living room. Hands brushed up against the wall, attempting to feel for the light switch and the living room was flooded with a soft amber lighting. Raelyn had never been a fan of bright light and she had lamps everywhere – keeping the atmosphere ethereal and comfortable. It was easy on her eyes that way, especially when she didn’t have her glasses on.

Crossing the small distance to the front door, she reached up to the panel where the door camera was. Pressing the button, the screen lit up but all she could see was the top of someone’s head as they seemed to be leaning against the door. She watched as their hand lifted to press the door buzzer again and it was then that she noticed it was stained with blood.

Gasping, she unbolted the door and threw it open. A man practically fell into her arms and his sheer weight caused her knees to buckle slightly. Bracing most of her weight onto her back leg, she wrapped her arms tightly around the person before ushering them inside – her leg extending out to kick the door closed. When she heard the security lock latch and beep, Raelyn took a moment to see just who was in her house.

The silvery blue and black hair was unmistakable, and she nearly dropped him on accident.

“Taehyung-ah!”

He groaned, attempting to look up at her as he gave her a pained smirk. “Hey…Rae Noona…”

It was here that she was able to get a good look at him now that he was brought into the light. His right cheek was slightly swollen and showing tell-tale signs of bruising. There was a cut over his left brow, leaking a fresh red trail of blood down his cheek that began dripping onto the floor. Hand prints were left on his throat – angry red welts and small scratches from where nails had gotten hold of him.

The worst, though, was the injury around his stomach. The one he was clutching on to so desperately. Raelyn surmised that he’d gotten hit badly in his stomach. Maybe a group assault? She couldn’t be sure. She knew for certain that it wasn’t a gun. In South Korea, unless you were a police officer or military, civilians were prohibited from owning firearms.

That or if you were a hired assassin, but this wasn’t some damn action movie.

Hefting him up as best she could, she ushered him into the living room where she laid him down on the floor. His clothes looked a mess, like he’d been rolling around in the dirt. But his hand was still clutching at his stomach and she could now see the red stain blossoming across his shirt. Raelyn’s lips formed into a thin line and she stood up, making her way toward her bathroom where her emergency first aid kit was located. She then picked up her glasses from her nightstand and put them on. She was going to need her sight completely for this, she could already tell.

When she returned to the living room, she saw Taehyung attempting to sit up and she quickly knelt beside him – her hands on his shoulders and urging him to lay back down. However, as gentle as she was, her face spoke her anger in volumes.

“Lay back down unless you want to make my job harder,” she snapped once she was able to force him back down. “Let me see.”

Taehyung’s brows furrowed but instead of moving his hand, his fingers curled into a fist to grip even tighter into his shirt. Raelyn had to resist the urge to growl at him, instead focusing her attention on opening the first aid kid. She could feel the onset of a migraine right near her left temple.

“Boy, if you don’t move your goddamn hand, I’m going to make you.” She glared at him. “Now let me see.”

He seemed to be considering her words before he finally loosened his grip, his hand sliding off his stomach. She saw the injury and a wave of relief hit her. It was just a stab wound. Lifting his shirt up, Raelyn’s eyes inspected the wound before pressing two of her fingers around the cut. He hissed slightly, but that was to be expected. Thankfully, it wasn’t deep. But he was still going to need stitches.

Her stony expression remained. “I have to disinfect this and it’s going to hurt like hell. You want something to bite on?” She watched him shake his head as she soaked some gauze in rubbing alcohol. “Are you sure? This is your last chance.”

“Woman,” he grunted, half laughing as beads of sweat broke out across the bridge of his nose, “just hurry up and get it over with. I’m dying.”

Raelyn rolled her eyes. “You’re far from heading to your grave, I can assure you.”

Just as he opened his mouth to throw some other kind of smartass comment at him, she pressed the gauze to his cut and watched the bright white cloth immediately change to red. Taehyung yelled, clearly unprepared for her assault. But it served him right. She slept for maybe two hours before he showed up on her doorstep, bleeding all over her entryway. She wiped three more gauze strips over his stomach, moving his hand to cover the last one.

“Put pressure on this.” Raelyn began threading a needle. “Don’t move.”

“W-Wait a minute,” he protested, trying to sit up but she put her hand on his forehead and all but shoved him back down onto the floor. Taehyung coughed, clearly surprised by her strength. “Wow, your bedside manner is terrible, Noona.”

“Shut-up,” she said, her tone icy as she finished threading the needle. “You don’t get to bitch after waking me up in the middle of the night.” Dipping the needle in the rubbing alcohol, her dark eyes lingered on him for a moment. “Move your hand.”

“What?” He blinked up at her in disbelief. “You’re just going to go at it? Just like that?”

Her neutral expression didn’t waver. “You wanna bleed to death?” Needle still in hand, she pointed to her front door. “The door’s right there. Do it out in the hall.”

Taehyung coughed while trying to catch his breath. “You are so mean.”

Now she pointed the needle at his face, right between the eyes, causing his eyes to cross slightly. “Keep it up and I’ll sew your mouth shut.”

Holding his hands up in surrender, he turned his head so he wouldn’t see her work. Satisfied that he was going to keep his mouth shut, Raelyn began stitching up his wound with absolute precision. It only took about fifteen minutes, but it was fifteen minutes of silence she appreciated. Sweat dripped from her brow and she quickly lifted her arm up to swipe at it with the back of her wrist. The stitches needed to be tight so that the scarring would be minimal. The last thing she wanted to hear was Taehyung bitching about how his oh-so-perfect abs had been marred.

Once she was finished, she placed some gauze to the injury and secured it with medical tape. He sat up, taking note of her handiwork, and she set aside the bloody rags and dirty needle to be tossed out. Closing the first aid kit, Raelyn turned to look him square in the eye.

“You’re fixed. Now get out.”

Without waiting to hear him out, she got to her feet and made her way to the kitchen. She needed to wash her hands and probably splash some cold water on her face. Then she was going back to bed and she dared anyone to try and stop her.

Taehyung followed her. “Wait. That’s it?” She didn’t look at him as she threw the bloodied gauze and needle into the trash. “You just sew me up and throw me out?”

She didn’t look at him. “I’ll bill you later.”

Raelyn’s hand went to the faucet to turn it on, but Taehyung’s larger hand encircled her wrist before forcing her to turn around and look up at him. She could see her irritated expression reflected in his eyes as he, too, gave her an equally irate face.

“You’re not even gonna ask what happened?”

“I don’t need to ask. I’m not blind. I know exactly what happened.”

“And you’re just gonna brush it off like it’s nothing?”

“Like I said, I’ll bill you later.”

He frowned and while she appeared unaffected on the outside, Raelyn was infuriated from within. This was what she was talking about the last time she spoke with Taehyung. This was the kind of shit she was trying to keep away from her life. It was one thing to be a nurse and help someone who was bleeding out on an operating table when it was a stranger. It was a completely different issue when it was someone she knew. The life that Hoseok led, the life that the rest of them led, that violent path to claim dominion was something she quickly realized she didn’t want to be part of. It was undue stress. Especially since they were still trying to make a name for themselves.

It was why she broke up with Hoseok two years ago. He told her that it wouldn’t always be like this, but that was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. Her past held enough scars. She didn’t want to add more to it by worrying about whether or not the person she cared for would get cut down at any given moment. And she sure as hell wasn’t about to become a liability for them either. Raelyn wasn’t going to keep Hoseok from the path he wanted to walk, but walking that path beside him was something she didn’t want to do. She wasn’t ready to. Hell, she didn’t think she’d ever be ready.

And now Taehyung showed up, beaten up and bleeding in her personal sanctuary. Was he fucking crazy?!

“Look, Noona –”

“No, you look!” She yanked her hand free from his grasp, using it to smack his chest hard. He took a step back, blinking at her in surprise. “This is the kind of shit that I was trying to avoid the first time around, Kim Taehyung! Do you have any fucking idea what it’s like to wake up in the middle of the night and have someone bleeding out on your doorstep?!”

She smacked him again.

“Wondering when the hell someone you care about is going to kick the damn bucket? Huh? Do you?!”

This time she punched his shoulder, her lower lip quivering slightly.

“I lost count how many times Hoseok would come here, beaten up and bleeding all over the goddamn place. And like you, he’d just laugh it off and promise me that things would get better.” Raelyn angrily wiped at her cheeks. “Well you know what? I got tired of waiting for things to get better. I fuckin’ told you this already and you just won’t listen!” Not wanting to look at his worried expression anymore, she buried her face in her hands. “You’re such a fuckin’ asshole.”

Raelyn took several deep breaths, refusing to lose it or cry. She had to stand her ground on this. Because if she didn’t, she was going to have to admit to herself that she cared. She told herself a long time ago after ending things with Hoseok that she valued her freedom more than anything else. Raelyn couldn’t afford to waver. Not now.

Silence seemingly stretched on forever between them and then she felt Taehyung’s arms encircle her in a warm hug. Biting her lower lip, Raelyn had to remind herself not to cry. Instead, she took three deep breaths and lowered her hands, inhaling softly. Taehyung smelled like Curve for Men and rubbing alcohol. She sniffed, collecting herself. Taking a step back, she noticed that Taehyung’s hands were resting at her lower back. Warmth touched her cheeks and she could feel an ache inside of her chest - an ache Raelyn was desperately trying to ignore.

She took another step back, clearing her throat loudly before reaching for a rag on the counter and shoving it into his hand. He looked at it curiously and she pointed to the door. “Clean up that mess you left in the hallway before the cops show up wondering what the hell happened.”

Taehyung grinned, the color coming back to his cheeks. “Can I make you breakfast to make up for everything?”

“I don’t care. Do what you want.” She watched him turn to leave the kitchen and head to the front door. “I’m still billing you later.”

A ghost of a smile touching her lips as Raelyn heard him chuckle just as he closed the door behind him. Once it clicked closed, she sighed and pressed a hand to her forehead. This was going to be problematic. She could tell from a mile away.

Yet there was a part of her that just didn’t have the heart to turn him away. Not this time.

[drakewalkerisreal]

Warning: Pregnancy Mood Swings

DRAKE×RILEY

Warnings: Language, NSFW, Strictly above 18

One more abstract from my dream fanfic..

--

Riley struggled to get up off the couch to get the glass.

“Let me get that for you,” Drake jumped up quickly.

“Don’t be silly,” Riley snapped. “Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I’m useless.”

Oh shit, now where did that come from.

“I know,” Drake offered. “It’s just that… well, I know where the glasses are. I can get some for you.”

“I don’t need your help” Riley snapped.

Riley is in late second trimester of her pregnancy and she has clearly got mood swings these days. Sometimes she gets angry and yells at him, sometimes she cries without any reason. Oh and sometimes she becomes really horny.

After pouring the water, he entered the living-room. Riley sat in the chair, legs parted, her swollen belly extended and she was beautiful. Drake handed her the glass staring.

“What?” she asked.

“What do you mean what?”

Riley snapped out of it “You were staring at me,” Riley told him “You’re thinking of how fat I am.”

“No!” Drake opposed as he sat on the couch. “Not at all! Actually I was noticing how beautiful you are.”

“Oh ya, right,” Riley grinned sarcastically. “I bet.”

“Honestly,” Drake stammered “You look great, wifey.”

“Don’t lie,” she frowned. “You think I’m fat. You must be thinking how long it will be till I look good again.”

Drake scowled, “Shut up Brooks, don’t be stupid”

Riley sighed “When I have this baby and get skinny again everything will be back to normal.”

“Well, I think your beautiful now,” Drake came closer to her rubbing her knuckles.

“You mean it?” Riley asked. “You honestly think I still look pretty?”

“Maybe even more pretty than ever,” he took her in his arms and cuddled her. “You’re my baby and you always look pretty.”

Riley told him sadly “Still, our sex life has gone to shit since I started to show.”

“Its because I am afraid that I’ll hurt you & the baby” Drake nuzzled his nose on her cheeks.

“No, only if you’re really rough. There are ways to do it safely. You just don’t have any desire now that I’m fat.”

Here she starts again.

“That’s stupid,” Drake argued. “I probably want you more these days.

“Why?” now Riley was amazed.

Drake blushed, “I guess... I don’t know. I just think you have become really sexy after getting pregnant.”

“You get turned on by a fat belly?” Riley laughed.

“Well, may be it’s because of our child, yes, I guess I do.”

“Are you turned on ?” she asked batting her eye lashes.

“Yes,” he started kissing her neck. “Yes I am.”

“Then make love to me?”

Without delaying any further, Drake sweeped up her bridal style and took her to bedroom kissing the whole time.

Drake put her down near bed and slowly began to pull the shoulders of her maternity dress down. The fabric slid off her shoulders and down to her swollen breasts. Drake slowly started kissing her fuller breasts.

Riley shuddered and moaned, “Oh god, that feels so nice.”

Drake grabbed a handfull of one breast and lightly sucked another.

“I’m gonna be good to you,” she smiled as she pulled him off her nipple and slowly tugged her dress down over her swollen belly and let it fall to the floor.

Drake stared at her swollen stretched skin lovingly. He was now straining the crotch of his pyjama pants painfully.

He rubbed her large belly and then pulled her panties down. Riley tugged at his jeans and undid his buttons. Slowly she peeled away the jeans and pulled down his underwear.

Drake smiled down at her as she took his length in her small hands and sat on the bed. She opened her mouth to take him in. She slid her mouth over his cock and began to suck expertly with a soft tongue. “Goddamn that feels good”

“Ya,” Drake panted as he grabbed Riley’s hair and pulled it up out of the way so he could watch her “Brooks, You’re so beautiful!”

“Drake, I need you!” Riley slurped as she kissed his balls softly. “I need you so bad!!”

“Yes!” Drake barked as he pulled out of her mouth and turned her around. Anything for you love.

Riley frantically got on all fours on the bed and put her ass in his face. “Come on,” she panted heavily. “Stuff me! Stuff youself inside me!!!”

Drake wasted no time as he grabbed the base of his thick rod and pushed it between Riley’s slightly parted vaginal lips. Slowly he pushed into her more as he grabbed her thighs.

“OH JESUS!!!” Riley screamed.

Drake reached around and rubbed her swollen stomach as he started to slide out of her slowly “Is it okay, Brooks? Tell me if you feel uncomfortable and I will stop immediately”.

Riley thrashed her head back to look him in the eyes and grabbed the pillow in front of her.

“Fuck me Drake. Fuck my pussy! I love you fucking me with your baby inside my pussy!”

Oh God, the language!! She has become really horny since pregnancy. But I love her like this. At least its better than her mood swings.

Drake grabbed her hips and began slamming himself into her harder and harder “You like my big dick, don’t you?” You’re so beautiful with my cock stuffed inside you.”

“Yes!” Riley moaned as she squeezed her tits with her free hand. “I love your big cock!! Give it to me!”

“Right there!” Drake said as he pushed into her slapping her ass. “I’m gonna give it to you right there!”

“Yes, Drake! Fuck me!!”

“You want me to pound your sweet little pussy don’t you?”

“Yess!” she growled as she arched her back. “Pound that pussy!! Make me cum!!”

Drake was sweating now as he pushed in and out of her faster and faster.

“That’s it,” he told her. “Cum for me! Cum on my big cock!!”

“OH JESUS, I am cumming!!!” Riley said grabbing the bed with both hands and ground her ass against him shamelessly.

And then she reached her orgasm and screamed his name.

Drake yelled “Fuck! I’m cumming too!!! “Yes!!” Riley groaned. “Cum for me baby!!”

“AURGHHH!!” Drake groaned as he eagerly jerked loads of thick white cum in her pussy. God it was so erotic to fuck her like this.

Drake panting, held her in the same position. He was still inside her. Suddenly, he heard her sob. Oh fuck! Did I hurt her? He pulled out immediately. He turned her around and cupped her cheeks “Baby look at me! Did I hurt you? Did I hurt the baby. I am sorry Brooks”

“No, you didn’t” she shook her head.

“Then what is it? Tell me babe” Drake asked worriedly.

“That was so good, Drake. Oh I thought you don’t like my body these days. I was afraid you will never love me like that again”

Drake pulled her into his arms “Are you out of your mind? How can you think like that” He pulled her chin up “ I love your body , Brooks. And now having my baby inside your tummy makes you more beautiful and hotter. You get that?”

“Hmm” she hide herself in the crook of his neck.

He took her to bed and lay her down gently. He spooned her and kissed her ear softly “I can see what this baby did to you and makes me want to fill you more. And yeah, I love your bigger boobs”.

@drakewalkerwhipped @drakewalker04 @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @emceesynonymroll @star-spangled-eyes @dcbbw @jovialyouthmusic @drakesensworld @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @ao719 @duchessemersynwalker

@pug-bitch @rainbowsinthestorm @burnsoslow @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @iplaydrake @katedrakeohd @nikkis1983 @qween-corgis @thorfosterlove @moneyfordiamonds @butindeed

[blessedbucky]

Look. Okay. I’m really proud of this smut I wrote for the latest chapter of my Steve/OC/Bucky story on Ao3. I usually keep this stuff on the story blog, but @strawberrylovessebby convinced me to post it on here.

Warnings! Because this is just fucking filthy! Breeding kink, cockwarming, overstimulation, and just all around MEAN TOP BUCKY BARNES

YEAH BOI

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Gently, someone takes Quinn’s arm and stretches it out, the skin tacky and itchy with something. Finally, she decides to take a peek at what’s going on. She has to blink to make sure it isn’t a hallucination. Let her eyes adjust to the dimness of the car’s interior lighting. Thankfully, she’s still so sleepy she doesn’t hold her breath like she wants to. She doesn’t want to let him know she’s awake.

Greedily, because this may be the last time that she’ll ever see him, she wants to take her fill of him.

Bucky rips open some antiseptic wipes—an even more familiar smell that helps calm her down. There’s a first-aid kit in his lap that’s loaded with all the top-notch shit. Memories start to swim back to the surface of her mind and she reasons he must’ve stolen it from the Hydra base or trucks since there’s blood all over the sides of it. Real question is why does he even have it? Is he hurt? She’s about to turn doctor mode on, but then…he presses the wipe…to her arm?

Something blooms to life inside Quinn’s chest. There’s an echo in her mind, Natasha’s voice. Hope is a dangerous thing to have in someone like the Winter Soldier. But how can Quinn not have hope? There’s a shadow there on his face, of the man he used to be. His brows are furrowed and his bottom lip is bitten between his teeth as he concentrates on his task. The task of tending to Quinn’s injuries. Probably absentmindedly, his thumb rubs circles into her wrist while he carefully wipes away the blood that stains the rest of her arm. When he has the area clean and clear, he stares at the bend of her arm where there should be a gash. There’s not.

Bucky still hasn’t noticed that Quinn’s awake now and that she watches him. Just as confused now as she’d been in the Hydra truck. This isn’t how someone acts when they don’t want to be near another person. She supposes it could be out of some…sense of responsibility? But…he could’ve left her there in the truck. And…and a jacket that is definitely not hers had slid off onto the floor. He’s caring for her. He’s touching her.

He prods at the bend of her arm and she decides to have mercy on him. “It already healed,” she comments casually, breaking the silence. She keeps her eyes to the front, so he doesn’t realize she saw more than he probably wanted her to. Saw his tender act. He instinctively squeezes her arm at being caught off guard. “I’m okay now. Don’t have a scratch on me. I—uh, my serum makes me heal really fast.”

“Which is how you’re here and not still in the hospital after I almost killed you,” he reasons flatly. “And since I couldn’t get the job done, you’re running around like a moron, trying to get the rest of Hydra to kill you by pulling stupid stunts like trying to play soldier with no backup.”

Quinn breathes in. Breathes out. For all she knows, Bucky still thinks she’s a nurse. Still, a little payback is in order. So, she turns her body toward him and grabs his metal wrist. “I have a super soldier serum,” she explains calmly and squeezes. Grips harder and harder until the metal creaks in protest and the plates shift restlessly. He breathes harshly through his nose, staying stone-faced, but his eyes flash with discomfort. She immediately pulls her hand away. “There ain’t no playing, either. I spent my time in wars.” She’s been in them on and off for almost fifty years. “I lead teams of men—”

“A civilian trying to play soldier,” he interrupts rudely.

“This was different,” she admits reluctantly, trying desperately to be patient. “I was pissed off. I shouldn’t have gone in there in that state of mind, I’ll say it.” There’s another snide remark on the tip of his tongue. She cuts him off before he can say it. “You really have room to sit here and lecture me when you’re on a one-man road trip of revenge?”

“I know how to keep my emotions in check.”

Annoyance flares and she grits her teeth. “Oh, really?” She raises her wrist in the air. “Funny you say that considering you got so pissed at me touching you that you nearly broke my goddamn wrist.” Calm down, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Steve whispers in her mind. You’re losing your temper.

“I had my emotions in check until you showed up.”

Temper officially fucking lost. “You sure are talking a whole lot of shit for someone that came to save me and just sat here trying to patch me up. Maybe youneed to do a better job at keeping your emotions in check!” His eyes narrow at her. “Yeah, you heard me. Don’t touch me, Quinn. Don’t come near me, Quinn. Yet, here we are! Make up your mind and cut it out with this hot and cold bullshit. By the way, cheap fuckin’ shot with tripping me last week.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so easy to see through. You thinking you were going to get a sweet little kiss was all it took to take you out.”

She sputters. “I’m not easy to see through! That wasn’t the reason why! That—that ain’t all it takes, asshole!”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, why don’t you be a big fucking man and prove it?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches and sparks of anger light up his eyes. She smirks, smug that she’s annoyed him as much as he has her. Later on, when this all processes and she’s not as emotional, she’ll give an astonished little laugh about how they immediately fell into that same old routine. The only person that could ever truly match her in stubbornness was Bucky and they’d bicker like an old married couple all the time. Each with their own point to prove while Steve usually sat off the side and smiled at them like the sappy dope he is.

For now, Bucky snaps into action, sliding toward her to close the distance between them. Quinn, blood thrumming with the irritation and pride, mentally prepares herself to stay cool and calm when he’ll inevitably lean in close to pretend that he’ll kiss her. She won’t let him one-up her like that again, thank you very much. Goddamn Bucky, though, he knows. He knows she has a chip on her shoulder that’ll make her strive to prove him wrong. And he always needed to have the last word. Or…maybe it happens because of the charge in the air. It’s there and it’s more than their anger. It’s that old, familiar pull. That magnetic force. That same thing that’d always pushed them into bed during an argument, still spitting mad yet tearing desperately at each other’s clothes.

Bucky is the one that does it, she thinks. There’s no pretending this time and that’s how he wants to catch her off guard. He wraps a hand around the back of her neck and hauls her to meet him in a bruising kiss. Joke’s on him because this isn’t going to make her freeze up. This’ll only spur her on. Finally, after seventy years, she has her mouth on him and he honestly thinks she’s about to drop the ball? How many times has she dreamed about this? Oh, no. You bet your ass she’s about to savor this.

Bucky bites down on her bottom lip and she groans before she’s opening her mouth, letting him lick inside. She pulls away, taking a second to breathe. “Is that really all you got under your sleeve? You think you can kiss me stupid?”

A metal hand grasps her chin and Bucky runs his thumb across her swollen bottom lip. “I think I should fuck you stupid instead.”

“Your dick ain’t that magical,” she snarks.

“Like I said, you’re too easy to see through.” He grins and it’s a sharp, wicked little thing. “It’s cute watching you try to piss me off enough to fuck you. It’s written all over your face. You want it, but you’re too proud to beg. And if I just slipped my hand down here…” He unbuckles her belt and Quinn holds her breath as his hand dips underneath the waistband of her pants. She jerks and whimpers as he palms her pussy, her panties a thin barrier between his skin and her heat. “You’re so wet. You sure my dick isn’t magical?”

Quinn snarls wordlessly, grabs his shoulders, and shoves him back against the seat. She takes the chance to crawl into his lap and tries to kiss that infuriatingly sexy smirk off his face. She rocks her hips down against his, feeling the hard, thick length of him between her thighs. “You got a big ego, but you keep pushing my buttons, knowing I’ll take the bait.” Her hand skirts underneath the hem of his shirt and she scratches her nails against the hard plane of his stomach. He shudders, groaning in the back of his throat, and she purrs in satisfaction. “But I’m a nice little lady and I won’t play silly little games. You want to get your dick wet? Huh? You want to fuck me? Do it.”

Bucky’s metal hand fists her hair and forces her head back. She gasps, the sting making the center of her throb. His mouth travels across all that newly exposed skin, sucking bruises that she’s sad will fade before they’re even done. “Got a rubber?” His voice is a low rumble and it sends a shiver down her spine. They’re doing this. Holy fuck, he really does want to fuck her.

Right. His question. There was this same issue with Steve when he came out of the ice, after she’d went to see her OBGYN. Not really an issue. More that he didn’t know about yet another modern marvel. “No,” she breathes out and his noise is one of, what she thinks, is disappointment. That excites her. They’re doing this and it’s not only her that’s panting like a bitch in heat about this. “Don’t need one. I’m on birth control now.” Does he even know what that is? Birth control pills weren’t put on the market until the sixties. “That means you can’t knock me up.”

“Ain’t that a shame,” he husks into her ear. “Maybe if one of us put a baby in you then you’d stay out of trouble.”

Quinn jerks back so hard that she knocks her head against the roof of the car. “Jesus Christ,” she hisses and it’s not because of the pain. Heat rushes across her body at that…admittedly really attractive and pretty picture. She thinks the act itself may be the more alluring thing. She thinks about how she’d look on her hands and knees, Steve and Bucky taking turns holding her down and just fucking her until she’s dripping with their come. Nope. No. Stay away from that train of thought. “You can’t say shit like that,” she mutters.

Quinn lowers her eyes and hands to start working herself out of her pants. Get this show on the road and hope he’ll move on with it. Unfortunately, Bucky’s always had a sniper’s eye in every single way. Sharp. Pierces her down to the bone. He watches her now. Really watches her and her hands tremble the tiniest bit. From arousal or fear? Why is she scared? Oh, maybe because it’s literally been decades since they’ve been intimate and he doesn’t need to know that, apparently, she has a…a thing for getting knocked up. What the fuck, Quinn?

“Why not?” Bucky purrs and his hand settles above her heart. It beats underneath her skin, rabbit quick. “Why can’t I say it? That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He chuckles darkly. “You want me to put a baby in you?”

Is it possible to come from words alone? Dizzily, Quinn thinks she’s about to find out. She clutches his shoulders like they’re a lifeline. Swallows hard and tries to put on a stern face. “I want you to shut the fuck up and stick it in me already.” Too bad that comes out too breathless to be taken as a threat.

“What has you so shy?”

She stares at him blankly. “I’m ‘bout to fuck you in a car. I look shy to you?”

“Yeah,” he answers bluntly with a wicked little gleam in his eye. He has her number and knows it. “Rogers doesn’t know, does he? The magic secret to getting Quinn Hayden to settle the fuck down? I should tell him. All you need to do is hold her down and keep stuffing her full until it sticks. Get her all swollen with your kid, Rogers, and then she’ll think twice before she rushes off to get herself killed.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” she snarls before she quickly leans forward to crush her lips to his. “Give it a goddamn break already,” she complains against his mouth. They’re both desperate to get undressed now. He isn’t as unaffected by this as he tries to pretend to be. His hands are tight on her hips, lifting her up as she desperately fumbles to get her pants down and off. People with dicks have it so easy. A quick unzip and it’s ready for action. He already has it out. She wants to see, but she needs him to shut the fuck up. “Only you would try to turn fucking into a lesson—”

The noise that comes out of Quinn’s mouth can only be described as a squeal. Bucky doesn’t let her have a chance to take her panties off. When her jeans are out of the way, he pulls her panties to the side and shoves inside her. And Quinn…she’s definitely gone on all this. Gotten off on it. His filthy mouth, the rough and almost callous treatment, and holy tap-dancing Christ his dick has gotten thicker and bigger. It’s a recipe for disaster and by disaster she means to come. Easy as that, folks. She throws a hand up against the roof of the car, her eyes roll in the back of her head, her thighs tremble, and she’s crying out and grinding down against him to chase after the waves of pleasure.

Bucky tosses his head back against the headrest, grits his teeth, and the vein on his neck bulges. “Did you just come?” he asks incredulously through heavy breaths. “Fuck,” he moans and reaches down between their bodies. His fingers slide between her folds, brushing over her clit, and that’s way too much too fast. She tries to jerk away which means she raises up, about to let him slip out of her to get away from the oversensitivity, but he digs metal fingers into her hip and slams her back down on his dick. She shrieks. “Yeah, you did,” he grunts.

“It’s too much,” she gasps.

“Tell me you don’t love this,” he breathes out. Finally, his eyes slide open and she could come again from that look alone. Those stormy gray eyes, molten liquid and dark with lust. He shoves his fingers between her parted lips and she automatically licks them clean, tasting the brine of her own come there. “Lie to me. Say you don’t want it.” And he pulls his fingers out of her mouth, gently taking her chin in his hand instead, waiting for her to really tap out if she wants.

She ducks her head. “I want it,” she admits quietly. “I love it.” Her hands move back to his shoulders and she tries to lift her hips, but he still won’t let her move. She stares at him with wide, wet eyes. “Bucky, please. I’m still so—I need you so bad. Let me ride you, sweetheart.”

“No.” Her mouth drops open in shock because he can’t be serious. But, no, he actually is. He’s resisting the urge to thrust up into her. “You’re going to stay right here.” His fingers dig into the skin of her hips, keeping her from bouncing. “You’ll keep my cock nice and warm with that burning hot pussy of yours. You’re going to wait until I’m ready.”

Bitchily, she asks, “What? You need a minute so you don’t blow your load? You turn into a one-pump chump, Barnes?”

“Are you really asking me that? When you’re so desperate to get filled up with my load that you came just from me talking about it?” She flushes in chagrin, heat crawling down her neck. “I’ll take it away, Hayden. You want that? I’ll pull out and jerk off all over you.” He fists a hand in the front of her shirt. “Send you back aching and empty and with the reminder that you fucked your chance up. Stop being impatient.”

Quinn buries her head in the crook of his neck and bites down on the thick cord of muscle. Both in retaliation and as a way to stifle the sob that’s in her throat now. Stop being impatient. Does he remember? Back in the war, he used to say that all the time. First time he ever stuck his dick inside her, he’d said it. Seems poetic he should say it when he gets his dick in her in this shiny new century. “You’re a mean fucking asshole now,” she says miserably.

“You’re the one gagging for my cock.” Sweet Lord, have mercy on her soul. Not only did this man’s cock get fatter, but so did his mouth. He really isn’t pulling his punches here and if he’s trying to purposely be a dick-head to warn her off, it’s not working. This is only turning her on more. “Sweetheart,” he croons, sickly sweet. “You’re clenching. I think you like it when I’m a mean fucking asshole.”

“Bucky, please let me move,” she begs.

He hums, the absolute fucker. “What was I just saying about having some patience? I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet. Hasn’t even been that long since I’ve gotten you on my dick. Maybe I want to enjoy this a little longer.” God, she wishes he wouldn’t say little heartbreaking things like that. He’s teasing her, but she knows that this must be the first time he’s had pleasure in decades. She’s thinking too hard about this, but she wonders if maybe he wants to relish this. She’s already gone for this infuriating man and wants to give him everything.

Quinn stops and thinks. She wants to give him all the pleasure in the world and not to brag, but she knows how to work it. If only he’d let her have the chance to prove it. “Okay,” she murmurs into his ear. She traces sweet, little kisses along that sharp, chiseled jaw of his. “I’m sorry. I’ll be good.” She slides her arms around his neck, moving her hands up to thread her fingers in his surprisingly soft hair. That dream briefly passes through her mind and she blushes as she adds, “I want to be a good girl for you.”

He groans and she gasps when his hips buck up. “I know what you’re doing.”

Oh-so-innocently, she replies with, “All I’m doin’ is thinking before acting. Ain’t that what you want?”

“That’s one lesson. I’ll fuck you stupid, but you won’t get my come because you haven’t learned lesson two. I’ll just pull out and come all over your pretty little ass.” The future has spoiled her. When did she start needing to get come in so bad? Steve’s almost as bad as she is about instant gratification. He’ll tease her to punish her, but he’ll eventually give in and fuck her full. “This is your last chance, Hayden. Only reason you’ve gotten this many is because I want to soak your pussy in my come as bad as you do. Be good.”

Holy shit, she really is gagging for it. She does the one thing that it seems like only Bucky Barnes was ever able to make her do—she backs down. She has to force her body to relax when every single neuron is firing off with the urge to move. She tells herself she can handle it. All she has to do is sit there in his lap, close her eyes, and breathe. Focus on the fact that he’s here, underneath her hands and body. He’s finally close again and she can learn how to mold her body against his. Because they’re both so different now. Thicker and more toned from constant warfare. Edges sharp as knives. Is this what he smelt like before, she asks herself as she breathes him in again. She can’t remember.

Bucky then decides he wants to push Quinn to the brink of her sanity. It starts out innocently enough, to fool her. His hands slide down to palm her ass and she moans at the contact. Still, she doesn’t move. She does yelp and jerk when he smacks her ass, though. He laughs and does it again. “Stop cheating,” she hisses, knowing exactly what his plan is.

“I’m a mean fucking asshole,” he reminds her. One of his fingers rubs over her asshole and she squawks, more out of surprise than anything. She tugs on his hair as payback which only makes him chuckle breathlessly.

“How long are you going to do this?” Quinn whines. Maybe if she acts bratty enough, he’ll stop with this sadistic game and fuck her. “A normal person would be doing cartwheels in the street over getting to fuck their girl raw.”

“Yeah, I’m so normal.” He slaps her ass again with the motherfucking metal arm. She weakly punches the other headrest and sobs. She’s going to lose her mind. Hell, she already has. The pain and pleasure wires are getting all crossed and, Jesus, that simultaneously hurt so bad and felt fantastic. “All this arguing is getting boring. I’ll let you have it, but I’m not stopping. Doesn’t matter how pretty you cry.”

As what normally happens in Quinn’s brain, she latches onto can finally do good thing rather than thinking about anything else in that sentence. He plants his feet more firmly on the floor, she grabs his shoulders, and her brain whites out as she finally lifts her hips and slams them back down. His thick cock drags inside her, stretching her out, filling her up. “Oh, God,” she breathes out. She tilts her head back, eyes fluttering shut, and sighs with pleasure.

Bucky’s fingers find her clit and her nose scrunches up. The coil in her gut tightens and she moves faster, desperate to come. She bounces faster, knees scraping on the rough fabric of the seat. His breath is hot against her cheek and he’s moaning in her ear. The faster she moves, the more insistent he rubs at her clit. Pair that with the fact that he’s been stretching her out for however long and spanking her and it really shouldn’t be that much of a surprise that she comes again. She slows down, rolling her hips, walls fluttering around his cock, making these little, “ah, ah, ah,” sounds when her oversensitive clit rubs against his pubic bone.

Quinn makes to move off of him, if only for a minute or two to recover before she starts back up. Bucky’s arms suddenly lock around her and he crushes her against his chest. I’m not stopping, he’d told her, and she knows what his dastardly plan is. He keeps her pinned there and she wails at the first brutal thrust up into her. He was holding back before, lulling her into a sense of false security. He’s going to put his back into it now.

He really is going to fuck her stupid.

Quinn struggles against it, especially when he angles his cock at just the right angle that it hits that spot inside her. It burns. It’s razor sharp. It’s like touching a livewire. It leaves her raw and screaming and shaking. She really does start to cry, tears running down her cheeks. She begs him to slow down, slow down for a second, but she doesn’t ever ask him to stop. She doesn’t want him to.

The next and final time Quinn comes, she buries her teeth in his shoulder, muffling her piercing scream. Every muscle in her body locks up and her heart thunders so hard she can feel it against her skin. Bucky’s desperately rutting up into her and she feels gutted. It doesn’t take much longer before he’s stilling and flooding her with his hot, thick come. There’s so much. So much that it drips down out of her, down his cock, making the place where they’re joined together even wetter. She mewls. He’s there inside her now. Finally. After seventy years.

Quinn stays there, curled against his chest, feeling him soften up inside her. He shifts under her and she slumps off to the side. She tries to curl up in the seat, but he catches her knee and forces her to spread her legs. She tries to squirm away, too sensitive for more, but he simply moves her panties back into place for her. He cups her pussy again, humming. “I made a mess of you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” she agrees. His come is leaking out of her, soaking her panties. “Yeah, I love it. I love having a piece of you inside me like this.”

“Of course, you do.”

Then, there’s silence. She’s not sure how long or what she said that made him go quiet…until she jerks as the car starts back up. She dozed off. In the time between when she started to, Bucky helped pull her pants back up and draped his jacket back over her. She’s slumped back against the door. She’s floating high in the clouds. All the adrenaline rushes, the lack of sleep, the high of her orgasms, and now the warmth and smell of Bucky surrounding her? She’s shocked she even woke back up.

“Go to sleep, Quinn. We’ll be back at your hotel in two hours.”

“M’kay,” she whispers hoarsely. “G’night, Buck.”

[oh-its-souichi]

Ultra- Violence

Part 4 

Overhaul X Reader 

Yo! 

l--o-n-g---a-n-g-s-t-y--f-a-n-f-i-c--a-h-e-a-d.

Yeah I gave myself to much credit this series should be finished in a few days.  

Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, physical abuse, drugs, Overhaul’s a bit ooc but eh,  LEMON (which I am absolute trash at writing so I kept it EMBARRASSINGLY short) , this part is long and the grammar is shite. Sorry. 

You stood prim and proper as always a kind and loving smile on your face completely void of any thought or emotion. At this point you didn’t even fell human anymore. You felt like an empty vessel. None of your senses worked anymore like they had been zapped away. 

Your arms and legs were numb 

Your head foggy 

Your ears unable to hear what was going on around you 

Hell you couldn’t even understand  word he was saying like you had completely forgotten how to comprehend your native tongue. Well that was until he uttered his last sentence. Six words you would never imagined HE would string along, forming them purposefully in a sentence. “You what?” you stuttered dropping your hands at your size, your mouth agape.  

He raised an eyebrow at your boldness repeating himself, giving you the benefit of the doubt. “I want to start a family.” He repeated. All the language skills you had built up over the years abandoned you leaving you to stare blankly at him, your mouth trying to from some semblance of a ineligible pronouncement. ‘A family!’ you screamed in your head. To bring a kid into this, no, his world would be nothing short of cruel. 

The likely hood of him wanting to bring the kid into the world for the pleasure of being a father was slim to none. If anything he would probably use it in an experiment as he had your parents. You didn’t know why though. He could barely handle being around adults let alone some germ bag kid. You paused your words your brain ticking at the word. Germ. That’s it. 

“Children are so dirty my dear” you said snaking your way across the room and to his side. Mimicking the same moves he pulled on you when attempting to be charismatic. “Can you imagine the sickness they would track home and infect everything with?” You allowed your voice to seethe as you bent down practically whispering the last part into his ear. 

Your voice made goosebumps raise up on his shin and he was reminded of the sensation of your lips against his. Playing along with your game he pulled you down onto his lap, running a gloved finger along you jaw, making you shiver at it’s tenderness. “But it would be from you my darling. They would be pure” his voice was plain as usual but you could hear what could only be.. adoration? 

You looked into his eyes watching them sparkle with something. Did he mean what he was saying? or was there something motivating him. A shadow of a plan that lurked beneath his coy words. “No” you said feeling the danger of your utterance. The twinkle in his eye you saw seconds ago faded away his eyes hardening in it’s place. 

The room around you went completely silent. 

He stared into your eyes making you shift uncomfortably on his lap, tempting you go hop off and run for the door, escaping out of his confines but he cleared his throat before you could work up the nerve. “Well that’s to bad my dear” he said.

Painstakingly slow he drug his hand up the back of your neck and into your hair, his touch like a million little kisses, like the feeling of feathers on your skin. It made you woozy, it made you want him. He continued up, making sure you felt how could he could feel against you until he got the the middle of your head and stopped. He toyed with the idea your obstinance was due to the the loss of your mother and that he should pardon your bad behavior but immediately shoved the idea away. He was never one for forgiveness anyhow. Suddenly he slammed your head into the arm of the coach, his masked face void of any emotion.

You gasped at the pain that engulfed your face, blood flowing out of your nose.

Tears begged to leave your eyes but you didn’t let them.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Why would I want the father of my children to be someone like you.” you spit your voice muffled by the coach. He ran his fingers calmly through your hair staring blankly in front of him.

“Someone like me?” he questioned pressing your face harder into the coach causing more blood to gush out of your nose. “Someone who can’t love.” you said calming your nerves. He sounded genuinely curious. “You’re fucking sick. What kind of child wants a father who can’t even love their mother.”  

 He went silence for a moment seeming to mull what you said around in his head. “On the contrary my angel.” he said shoving you off of his lap and onto the floor, your body thudding harshly on the carpet. “I adore you” he said his voice laced with sadness and disgust. You let your head hang allowing the blood to drip onto the ground, staining the creme carpet. You knew how much your dearly beloved hated blood. You scoffed looking up to him only to see him turn his head away refusing to look at you. ‘Typical’ you thought bringing your hands onto his knees. “Why won’t you look at me? Am I to dirty for you" you breathed extending his name. His eyes hardened, fury growing evident on his face. 

Harshly he grabbed you by your hair yanking you to your feet.

He wanted to kill you. He wanted to watch your blood splatter your body exploding before him, popping like a water balloon for being such a pretentious bitch and bleeding all over his floor. He didn’t act on that desire though. You were to rare to kill.  Instead he studied your face loathing the blood that streamed out of your nose the bruise that was forming on the bridge of your nose. He had done it again. He was staining you.

“I adore you” he said letting go of your hair, allowing your body to fall back to the ground. You blinked in amazement. Watching him walk away. “Go to your room and bath. Be sure you are ready for me when I come to visit you.” You sighed giving up. You would never win. He waited by the door holding it open for you, waiting for a response.  “Yes dear” you said weakly standing up and walking past him and out into the hallway. He hummed pleased “Now go into your room. I will bring your noon meds. soon.” 

You nodded solemnly walking down the hallway and into your room. 

....

A few hours later, the meds. given having warn off, you sat sobbing quietly in your room. Your swollen eyes watched rain drops streak down your bedroom window. 

You had been focusing on a specific pink flower that seemed to be getting berated by the heavy drops, the tender little plant rocked clumsily with each impact. It  looked like the pedals would fall from the stem and rot on the ground below but you suddenly remembered how resilient flowers were. You had no reason to worry. 

To the right of you- you heard your door slam into the dresser you had used to barricade yourself in your room with, in an attempt to keep people, well, him out. 

“Y/N” he stated obviously unamused “Remove your dresser from the door now.” Ignoring him you continued to stare out the window wishing so badly that you had been born that pink flower. So you could have been planted in Overhaul’s garden, close enough to know who he was and for him to acknowledge you but far enough away he could never hurt you again. Part of you wanted to laugh at the thought. 

You sounded pathetic. 

Maybe you were

Having been so wrapped up in your own thoughts you didn’t hear Overhaul demand you to open the door once again. At your silence he sighed going nd fetching Chrono and Nemoto who were awaiting his instruction in his office. They heeded to his request and left to deal with you. Overhaul on the other having predicted what your reaction would be when the two men busted down your door stopped by is lab to retrieve a more potent tranquilizer. The medication required an injection so patiently he prepared the necessary supplies he would need to preform the shot. Methodically he retrieved a clean syringe and pushed the tip into the bottle of Midazolam he head placed on one of the counters.  

As he slipped the needle in he heard the door crack open followed by a weak scream. He pumped the liquid inside of the syringe cringing as he heard you continue to protest. “Let go of me!” he heard you sob your voice muffled. 

He wished you would have been reasonable and opened your door so he wouldn’t have had to go to these lengths but you forced his hand. He didn’t want to allow Nemoto and Chrono to lay their filthy hands on you but you were so goddamn stubborn. It pissed him off that you would disrespect him after everything he had done for you.’Ungrateful’ he thought walking down the long corridor until he reached your room. 

The sight he walked in on disgusted him.  Chrono and Nemoto had you roughly pinned to the bed, your hair was strewn around wildly while your extremities were shaking. “Continue to hold her tightly” he said his words feeling like acid in his mouth. “I’m going to be giving her an injection.” At his words you thrashed around until Nemoto shoved his knee into your back causing you to cry out in pain. “Nemoto Be gentle with her please” Overhaul said circling around the bed until he was at your side. Feeling his presence you let out a defeated sigh and relaxed under the grasps that held you. “It will be okay my angel” he said stroking your hair before calmly injecting the serum into your arm. After the liquid was dispelled into your veins, you relaxed.

Your precious body going limp. 

“Release her” he told the two men, catching you in his arms before you slipped off of the bed and hit the ground after they let go. Lovingly he lifted you onto the bed, he knew your skin was crawling with his assistants filth but that could be dealt with after you got some rest. 

...

When you woke up your head was throbbing, a pain like knives plunging into your skull. Weakly you groaned slapping your hand to your forehead. “Oh my gosh” you sighed at the pain at the pain finding it hard to focus your eyes. Desperately you looked around your, from what you could tell, dimly lit room. All the furniture that you normally would have been able to see was blurry almost like there was a thick fog surrounding you. “What did he give me’ you thought sadly hoping this wasn’t permanent. 

There was a cool breeze hitting your face filling your nose with the scent of rain. Involuntarily you felt your body take a deep breathe in reveling in the freshness of the air. Now that you thought about it you couldn’t remember the last time you had a breathe of fresh air. Overhaul didn’t let you outside and the window in your room was barred shut prohibiting you from opening it. ‘How is the air getting in?”  you thought attempting to sit up but collapsed back into your pillows. A groan escaped your lips and you tried again to no avail. 

“Are you awake angel?” you heard Overhaul say his voice like medication to your throbbing head. “Yes dear” you said swiftly not having heard him come in and attempted to sit up but stopped when your body began to shake.Overhaul watched you struggle his blank face covered by a thin black mask. He wore black pants and black button up shirt with the sleeves still rolled up from giving you a bath as well as dealing with his other experiment. 

He placed your meds as well as a cup of water onto your bedside table and helped you sit up, positioning your body against your head board. “Are you experiencing any discomfort?” he asked taking his hands off of your body, satisfied with your position. “My head hurts a bit and I can’t see. My vision is blurry” He hummed figuring the tranquilizer hadn’t worn off yet, nothing to be concerned about. “Take these. I included a pain medication to assist with the pain” 

Compliantly you downed whatever ever was in the cup desperate for some relief  and took a swig of water feeling the pills trickle down your throat. There was definitely more than usual but you didn’t care. After swallowing the last pill you sigh softly and blindly placed the cups onto the nearest hard wood surface. 

The coolness of the liquid seemed to bring you back to your senses. 

.As your eyes cleared you could see a new white door hanging off the hinges where your old one used to, your dresser tucked neatly against the wall. Embarrassment seeped into you cheeks, turning them red. “Thank you” you said to him hoping he would gloss over your mental breakdown, not that he was one to do that. “Anything for you” he sighed making you cringe. Here is comes you thought casting your eyes away from him to the window expecting his hand to latch onto your scalp and ripe you off the bed and hurt you until he thought he had punished you enough. 

Overhaul’s eyes lingered down on you taking in your face. You looked different than before almost... sickly. Your eyes were hallow with sadness, your skin sunken with the amount of chemicals he had forced into your system. Not that you were repulsive. Far from it. Even drugged up you were ethereal. 

Curtly he cleared his throat. “I had to do that to your parents angel. You know that right?” he said. You exhaled sadly once he pronounced the ‘S’ at the end of parents. ‘I’m sorry dad’ you thought picturing his face.  “Please not now” you sighed. He sat down beside you grasping your hand “No, you need to tell me you understand” he said a bit of desperation in his voice. 

You didn’t answer, not knowing what to say and let a silence fall over the two of you. Outside you could hear the rain continuing to thump off of the roof and you wished you were out there to feel it. He scooted your head closer to his mouth, his touch inciting a fire in you. ‘I love him’ you thought your eyes rolling back at the silkiness of his voice. “I did it for you” he said tucking some of your hair behind your right ear. “Because of them I am one step closer to riding society of it’s sickness and making it safe for you to live in, safe for our children to live in.” he said placing a render hand on you stomach making you flinch. 

He had never touched you like that. 

Before you knew it you found yourself leaning into his chest, the steady thrum of his heart beat soothing you as another wave of drowsiness hit your body. “if you refuse me though angel, like you did earlier, their deaths would mean nothing” he whispered into your ear. Your eyes widened in horror. 

In the distance you could hear you conscientiousness screaming, begging you to reject the poison (bullshit) but you ignored it being drug back by his voice. “The sacrifice they made was for you. They wanted us to be happy in a healthy world. Your not going to disrespect them by throwing that all away are you?” he said pushing you lightly away. 

‘How could I have been so selfish?’ you thought feeling guilt rock your body, tears welling up in your eyes. “Of course not!” you said embracing him in a tight hug, sweetly surrendering to him. He jumped slightly at your touch but calmed and smiled underneath his mask.

 He knew you would understand. 

“Save your tears angel” he said raising your head from his chest. Gently with his thumbs he brushed away your pesky tears, seeing the helplessness in your face. He had you in his trap. becoming completely dependent on him as he always wanted. You nodded and he could see your eyes wrinkle telling him you were smiling at him from underneath your mask. Gingerly he discarded his mask setting it on the bedside table then repeated the action and took off yours placing it next to his. 

Remaining still you watched his movements feeling a cool gust of wind run up your exposed back. You turned you head to the window only to have it brought back by his ungloved hands. He cupped your face carefully kissing you. 

Goosebumps erupted on your arms, spreading across your chest and legs. Without giving you time to adjust to this sudden display of affection he caressed you down onto the bed, his body hovering over you. Your head hit the soft blankets, his lips never leaving yours. He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip making you moan softly. 

 Cautiously you tangled your hand into his brown hair loving how soft it felt intertwined with your fingers. He responded by trailing soft kisses down your jaw and neck lingering on your collarbone before nipping at the skin. 

You moaned at the sensation feeling himself lift his body off of your and begin to strip off your nightgown. “Overhau-” you went to say before he cut you off. “it’s Kai” he stated sitting you up so he was able to pull the gown over your head. “Kai” you repeated back. 

He almost shivered at how beautiful his name sounded when leaving your lips. It almost made him want to bring it back so he could hear you say it all the time. You made it sound so clean. “Yes that’s my first name. Please use it wisely.” he warned. Whether it be the medicine he had given you or the rush you got from his skin against yours. but you found yourself giggling cutely at him. “Kai” you repeated. “I like it” 

He leaned over and kissed you tenderly on the forehead before standing up and removing his clothes. Neatly folding each article of clothing and setting it on your dresser. 

You stared in awe at his exposed chest, the skin had always been hidden away from you. A gentle smile spread across your face and you motioned for him to come back. With a shaky breathe he did so. Crawling back onto the bed he separated your thighs with each one of his knees positioning himself between them. You could already feel the wetness of your core and looking down at Kai you saw he was plenty ready as well. He shot you a cautious glance as he lined himself up with your entrance. Seeing his hesitance you nodded and smiled lightly seeming to give him the confidence he needed. 

Pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead he pushed himself inside of you shivering at the sensation. “Kai” you moaned feeling him pump himself steadily in and out of you his eyes never once leaving your face. He was so beautiful. You felt your cheeks flush under his charming gaze small moans leaving your mouth. 

 Silently he worshiped the little sounds you made, revering the way you moaned his name quickening his pace so he could hear more. 

The two of you continued on well into the night until he met his release and collapsed on top of you breathing heavily. You ran your fingers through his hair appreciating the small moment between the two of you. “I adore you” he said lowly, relaxing under the feeling of your fingertips massaging his scalp. 

[musicalluna]

what needs, part vi

part v | part iv | part iii | part ii | part i 

don’t uh. look too closely at the technical stuff

--

Tony is slightly less agitated now that they're actively working on something. Slightly.

Normally he'd have already gotten lost in the project, but he keeps glancing behind the others to look at Steve. He looks as horrific as he'd sounded.

It's never fun seeing Steve suffer, but this is a new, fresh hell.

“Tony, what do you think?”

“Huh?” Tony tears his eyes away from Steve and back to Jane. “Sorry. About what?”

“We think we can disrupt the locking mechanism with an electric current.”

Tony frowns. “But Steve��”

“JARVIS says you've got thin rubber sheeting. We can put it between the cuff and his skin—”

“And it'll protect him from the current. I should have thought of that!”

“So you approve?” Jane says. “I mean we're pretty sure it will work, but neither of us specializes in electrical engineering.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says, “it should have occurred to me, it's perfect.”

Jane beams.

Behind her, Steve jackknifes on the couch with a strangled yell. Peter tumbles to the floor.

Steve curls forward around his arm with a low groan.

“Honey?” Tony says, voice rising.

“Dad?”

“What happened? Steve, what happened?” Sam asks, darting over.

Peter watches him come with big eyes. “He fell asleep! It was just for a second—”

“Oh, damn,” Sam says.

“Fuck,” Steve mutters and his voice breaks.

“All right, okay, you're all right,” Sam says, cupping the back of Steve's head. Tony hates him a little because he wishes he was there to do it.

Steve groans, low and wet, wanting. It's a horrible sound.

Sam kneels down. “Let me see. Can I?”

The others form a loose half-circle around them and block Tony's line of sight. He drags his hands through his hair. If only he'd brought the goddamn suit.

Pepper looks up from her tablet and the flash of the light over her skin catches his eye. Tony looks at her. “Natasha got me into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files.”

Tony drops his hands. “And?”

Pepper's mouth draws into a thin, tight line. “There's no record of Steve being subjected to these procedures. This week's records include x-rays, MRIs, examinations, physical fitness tests, mental acuity tests—standard procedures. According to these records he was there this morning to provide a urine sample.”

Tony stares at her, dumbfounded. “Someone's doing this under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s nose. In their own facilities.”

“That's probably why he was sent home with the bracelet,” Pepper says grimly.

“Son of a bitch,” Tony hisses.

“I'll notify Fury.”

“Directly,” Tony tells her, even though he knows he doesn't have to. Pepper will have already figured it out. “We don't know who we can trust.”

Pepper nods and pulls out her phone, setting aside the laptop.

Tony turns back to the feed. “Guys? How's he doing?”

Bruce is closest to the station. “As well as can be expected. He got another dose of epinephrine. He said he's already had three or four today—”

“Christ.”

“—he's fidgety and his hands are shaking.” Bruce's face creases with a frown. “I'm worried about his heart. If they've been doing this for days and it's happened multiple times a day that's an elevated level of adrenalin over an extended period of time and that's going to put a strain on it no matter how next-level he is.”

“It doesn't matter because you're going to get it off him right now, right?”

Bruce nods. “Jane and Sam are getting the rubber sheeting into place.”

Tony scrubs a hand over his mouth. “Take care of him, Bruce.”

Bruce smiles crookedly. “You know we will.”

–

Peter hovers over his dad's shoulder while Aunt Jane and Uncle Sam work a rubber sheet in between the cuff on his dad's wrist and his skin.

His dad keeps flinching—Peter can feel it through the hand he has settled lightly on his back.

“It's okay, dad,” he murmurs. “It's okay, it's okay. You know, it's like dad says it's no big deal if it hurts you can cry or yell or whatever and it doesn't make you weak, you know? So you can do that, I won't judge and Aunt Jane won't judge and Uncle Sam won't judge and—”

“Peter,” his dad says and sounds exasperated, only a little quaver in his voice. Peter's pretty happy with that.

“Okay, I think we've got it!” Jane says.

Peter peers over his dad's shoulder to get a look at his wrist—it doesn't look like much. Kinda like he's wearing a weird armband. His dad tenses though pulls back from Sam a little.

“Are you sure?”

Sam reaches out and squeezes his dad's knee—there's barely anywhere else he can touch without hurting him—and looks him in the eye. “Tony wouldn't let us do anything that might hurt you, right, man?”

After a slight hesitation, dad says, “Right. Okay.”

“So this'll be just like we're giving the cuff a jump,” Tony says from the screen. “Only we're trying to overload it.”

Aunt Nat smiles reassuringly at Steve as she attaches one of the jumper wires to the cuff. He's stiff, eyes fixed apprehensively on the cable. Peter curls one hand around his, careful to be gentle. His dad looks up, eyes red-rimmed and swollen. It makes Peter's gut ache.

Aunt Nat hooks up the other wire. Then, without giving any warning whatsoever, she flips the switch. The prongs on the cuff spark and there's a faint crackling sound, then a click and the cuff splits open, tumbling off his dad's wrist and clattering to the floor.

His dad flinches again, like that's the only way he knows how to react to anything right now and then pulls his wrist in toward his body, the rubber sheeting slipping free and flopping to the ground too.

“It worked!” Natasha announces, fiercely triumphant.

“Steve? You okay?” Tony asks and Steve nods, dazed.

“Yeah, it's—” His face crumples a little. “I can—”

“Yeah, honey,” Tony says, so gentle.

“Can I take a look at it, Steve?” Sam asks.

Reluctantly, his dad holds his arm out and Peter winces when he sees the state of it. He's got a big, ragged bloody cluster of punctures on the inside of his wrist and the skin around it is blotched dark purple and red.

Bruce makes a stifled angry noise.

“All right, it's time for you to go get some rest,” Sam says, gingerly guiding Steve's arm back to his body. “Come on, we'll do what we can to make you comfortable.”

They all troop upstairs to Uncle Clint's. His dad protests when they take him to the master bedroom, but Natasha just puts a hand over his mouth and tells him to shut it.

She and Sam help him get situated in the bed and then Sam cleans up the wound on his wrist. When that's bandaged, He gets up and Natasha takes his place, pressing a kiss to his dad's forehead.

“Go to sleep, grandpa. You're safe now. We'll take watch until Tony gets home.”

His dad nods head barely moving. He's coming down from the adrenaline and now that there's nothing standing between him and sleep, he's barely keeping his eyes open. “Sorry,” he mumbles, expression going miserable.

Aunt Nat shushes him and strokes his hair just twice before he goes lax with sleep. It's scary seeing him like this. He's always so tough. He takes hits that would cripple other people and he just keeps coming.

They go back out to the living room, leaving the door cracked behind them so they can check on him.

Peter ducks his head guiltily when he sees Aunt Darcy. “Hey—Aunt Darce, 'm sorry, I shouldn't've—”

“Oh, please,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You don't think I knew you were going to run off the second I turned my back? How dumb do you think I am?”

Clint hooks an arm around Peter's neck and gives him a noogie. “You're lucky I don't kill you for it.”

Peter groans.

“Hi, Tony,” Jane says, pulling up a holographic screen on the nearest table. “Everything's fine.”

Peter's embarrassed and pleased when Aunt Darcy and Aunt Nat pull him down in between them on the couch. It makes him feel kind of like a baby, but it also makes him feel steadier, so he can't really complain.

“Yeah?” his dad says, tone anxious. “He's okay? Sleeping?”

“He's sleeping,” Bruce confirms. “This is a good step toward getting him on the road to recovery.”

“What do you know about the people who did this?” Natasha asks and her tone is so measured it makes the hair on Peter's arms stand up.

“Well,” his dad says and smiles darkly. “They've been doing this behind Fury's back, so I imagine that will go over well.”

“How have they been doing that?” Jane asks, frowning.

“Falsified reports,” Tony says. “Pepper's done some digging and all the reports say they're doing the usual stuff.”

“They sent him home to keep Fury from getting suspicious,” Clint concludes and Peter's dad nods on the holoscreen.

“Yeah, that's what we think.”

“So what do we do about it?” Sam asks.

“You don't do anything,” Tony says. “You keep your eyes on Steve and make him comfortable because it's killing me that I can't.”

“Of course we will, Tony.” Bruce pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “He's safe with us.”

“Yeah,” Tony sighs and slumps on screen. “If Peter hadn't heard him, we might have never—”

“It's not your fault, dad,” Peter says and then shrinks back when everyone looks at him.

His dad smiles wanly.

Clint kicks the leg of the coffee table. “I thought he'd stopped doing shit like this.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too,” Tony mutters.

“That's a talk for later,” Sam says. “You let us know what we can do to help get the bastards who did this and we'll take watches. Steve won't be alone.”

Dad looks around at them all and his face melts into something soft. “Thank you. Dunno what I'd do without you guys.”

“Be lying in a ditch somewhere,” Natasha says, a smirk tugging up the corner of her mouth and his dad smiles back.

“Nobody fucks with Cap and gets away with it,” Clint says, darkly.

Everyone around him is practically pulsing with violent energy, but for the first time all day, Peter finally feels like

[prettyboiiharringrove]

Pregnant omega Billy and his cravings!!!

Actual Harringrove content ?? From me ?? I’m as shocked as you are. Anyways, Billy has a meltdown about cookies, I do hope you enjoy because this is a bigger mess than I am lolol

( alpha/beta/omega masterlist )

🍪👅 🍪👅 🍪

“Don’t come home,” Billy barks and Steve isn’t evensurprised, he’s just confused as to what he did this time. It’s always beeneasy to piss him off, and these days it’s a pleasant surprise when Billy’s notmad when he gets home. He loves Billy, he really, truly does, and that pup oftheirs is a dream come true, but Steve prays for the days where Billy’s moreaffectionate lapdog and less angry house-cat.

“What’d I do?” Steve sighs, deciding to keep driving towardshome, because Billy usually starts to miss him and then get more annoyed at himfor not being there in an hour or less after yelling at him.

“You went into my drawer, Steven, and when you get pregnant you will get your own drawer foryour own fucking snacks, but until then you leave mine alone,” and really,Steve isn’t sure how he sounds so scary when he’s bitching about his not sosecret snacks, especially when Steve knows he’s probably leaning against thecounter rubbing soothing circles on his swollen stomach as their baby no doubtjoins in on Billy’s hissy fit. For all intents and purposes it should be cutebut a mad Billy is nothing to turn your nose up at, unless you want it brokenthat is.

“Okay like, I know you’re trying to prove a point orwhatever, but I can’t get pregnant so I don’t even know why you say shit likethat and honestly, I should get my own drawer for putting up with you,” andokay, Steve knows he’s stupid but he didn’t think he was that stupid until those words came out of his mouth and he actuallyconsidered turning the car around and asking Joyce if he could crash on hercouch for the night.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck did you just say to me?!” andSteve knows he deserves it, but Billy screaming at him kind of makes his skincrawl. He feels guilty, and he wants to blame his inner alpha for the feeling,but really it’s just Steve; it’s Steve that feels weak in the knees justknowing that he upset Billy.

“I just mean—”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I know what you mean,” Billy soundslike his feelings are hurt, and that just tears Steve up inside because heknows he’s pretty much the only person that actually makes Billy feel things sohurting him is the last thing he wants to do.

“Babe, it’s not like that, alright ?? I’ve just had a longday, but listen I promise I didn’t go in your drawer,” and really, that’s allhe meant when he said ‘putting up with you’. He didn’t mean that he’s hated theway Billy’s been acting because honestly, he hasn’t. Billy’s always been a bitof a dick, and now he actually has a bit of a reason to be, cramps, lack ofsleep, swollen ankles, endless hunger and all.

“Steve, my Oreos are gone, there was an entire half sleeveleft, I know there was because I was saving it despite the fact that I wantedthem so bad that I cried in the shower — don’t say a fucking word, I know whatyou’re thinking and if you bring up hormones again I swear to god — but fuckSteve it’s not there now, and I didn’t eat them, so it had to be you,” it still kind of pisses off Steve to be accusedwhen he knows he didn’t do it, even has a pretty good idea of what actually happened, but he deals with it,for Billy’s sake.

What’s more annoyingis that they’re not Oreos, they’re the grocery store’s knock-off versionbecause that’s what Billy craves. Steve bought him real Oreos once and Billy cried and ‘no it’s not about the fucking cookies, it’s because you don’t fuckinglisten, Jesus, does what I say even matter to you’ and obviously it does,but Steve still can’t understand why cookies are that fucking important.

“You sure you haven’t been sleep eating again?” it’s beenhappening a lot lately, and Steve isn’t judging him or anything, he’s beenknown to do weirder things then wander out of bed and eat snacks without evenwaking up to chew. He just thinks that maybe Billy should have considered thatbefore calling him angrily.

“No, I haven’t been, I don’t do that anymore,and how could I considering your kidkept me up all night kicking like he’s trying to get ready for the goddamnworld cup,” Billy groans and Steve knows it’s because the baby definitely startskicking right as he’s mentioned, as if on cue.

“Exactly, he kept you up, and when you bit—,” he canpractically hear Billy raise his eyebrow, daring him to say that sentence, baitinghim so that it’s easy to go in for the kill. He’s smart enough to correcthimself and start over. “When you talked to me this morning, you said you wereprobably going to take a nap. Did you?”

“Shit,” Steve smirks proudly and doesn’t even argue whenBilly tells him to shut the fuck up despite having not said anything. ‘That’s what I thought’ lingers heavilybetween them but Steve’s smart enough to not actually say it out loud.

“You want me to buy you more before I come home?”

“No, that’s uh, that’s actually why I was mad. I mean I waspissed about my cookies, but I was more pissed because I went to get more of myown and got stuck in the car. The chief was walking out — stop laughing asshole —he was walking out with his weird daughter and saw me. You know how embarrassingit is when the chief of fucking police has to go buy you cookies and then followyou home so he can help you out of the fucking car ??”

“Yeah that uh, that sounds horrible,” he knows Billy’sprobably going to punch him, or kick him in the shin again when he gets home,but he really can’t stop laughing. “Sorry, sorry, that’s just, that’s fuckingadorable.”

“It’s not adorable, it’s the worst. Doesn’t help that Ialmost pissed myself and I dropped the keys and he had to come get them for me,and his kid just stared at me the whole time, like she was embarrassed for me.I don’t need some freaky teenager looking at me like I’m pathetic.”

“You know her name, and I thought you liked her.”

“I don’t like anyone,especially not when I’ve had the worstday ever.”

“Okay that’s a lie, and you’re being dramatic,” yet anotherbad decision on Steve’s part, but sometimes he just can’t help himself.

“And you’re being a dumbass, what else is new ??” heprobably deserves that, so he tries not to let his feelings get hurt,especially when his boyfriend has always been a hot mess and a bit of a bitch.

“So can I come home yet?” Steve’s pretty sure he knows theanswer, but he’s decided to humor Billy so that he can get back into his goodgraces.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Translation: yes, yes, a thousandtimes yes because I’m lonely and I’m probably going to climb on top of you thesecond you get home and not move because you’re warm and comfy and I love you. 

It’s funny how Steve can get so much out of a simple sentence, but he’s been inlove with this emotionally constipated asshole for years, so he’s figured outmost of the language. He speaks Billy, although like most languages, some things just don’t translate.

“I’ll rub your feet for you,” Steve smirks when Billypauses. He knows that he’s won, that Billy can’t even pretend to still beannoyed because he’s tired and the thought of a foot rub alone practicallymakes him cream his jeans because it’ll feel so damn good.

There’s a beat of silence and then.

“Hurry up.”

Steve decides to speed up after they hang up, hoping to getthere before Billy finds something else to be mad about and changes his mind.He also decides that tomorrow he’s going to go the store and buy as many ofthose fucking cookies one cart can carry and hide them in case of emergency.