#i want to break him into little pieces with a hammer and pick apart his insides to study under a microscope

[cinammonelles]

For the blorbo ask game, Luna VNC and your favorite Tai Sui character!

THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME THE OPPORTUNITY TO BE INSANE ABOUT THEM🤝🤝🤝

Okay so I don't talk about Luna enough because my brain turns into alphabet soup if I try to verbalise my feelings ever but I would kill god for them

I am the normalest Prince Zhuang enjoyer actually :)))) subtly shoves multiple unposted insane ramblings under the rug

[darkbluekies]

What if reader did somehow manage to escape Silas for at least more then a year?

White bunny

Mafia!yandere OC x reader

Summary: a year has passed since you escaped Silas. When he finally finds you, you're a shell of what you once were and he desperately tries piecing you back together.

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, panic attacks, a bit of age regressing? (I don't know), broken reader, knife

Word count: 1.6k

He’s found you. He’s finally found you. For a year you’ve managed to keep yourself out of his reach … but not anymore. You’re going to come back home now. He can’t stand to be away from you even a second more. 

“Pick the lock”, Silas tells one of his men. “Quietly. If we wake up the other residents in this building they’ll call the cops.”

The man in front of him nods and sinks down on his knees by the front door with his hands full of supplies. Silas watches as he picks the lock with a satisfying feeling in his body. He’ll be able to hold you soon. A year has been too much for him. He usually can’t stay away from you for three hours … let alone a year. The second he sees you, he’ll capture you in his strong arms and never let you go again. His heart hammers in his chest at the thought that there’s only a locked door in between you. Soon. 

“It’s open”, the man says. 

Silas smiles and opens the door. The apartment is dimly lit, an indication that you must be asleep. His heart swells. Oh, how pretty you must be. 

Sadly, one of his men knocks over a vase with his machete. Silas can hear it crash against the floor, but has no time to stop it. Mortified, he looks around, expecting you to stand in any of the door frames. He’s quiet as a dead mouse, listening. He can hear moving in the room to his left and grabs the handle. Locked? He tries again, harsher this time.

“I know it’s you”, he can hear your voice whisper from the other side of the door. “Leave, Silas.”

“L-Leave?” he repeats. “Are you nuts? I’ve been looking for you for a whole fucking year, baby! I’m not going anywhere. And if I am, you’re coming with me. Don’t make me break down this door.”

He feels like a feral animal. Every inch of his body needs to feel you and he’ll go crazy soon if he doesn’t get to have you.

“I’m not going anywhere”, you spit.

Silas turns to his men and gestures for them to pick the lock. Only a few minutes later, Silas opens the door. You’re crouched down in the darkest corner of the bedroom with a knife held out in front of you. Silas breaks out into a relieved smile. It’s really you. His dear, little Y/N. 

“Why don’t you put down the knife before you hurt yourself and come over here and give me a big hug, hm?” he asks and opens his arms. 

“I’d rather plunge the knife through my heart”, you growl back. 

Taken aback is an understatement. Silas frowns in shock. 

“Why?” he wonders. 

“I don’t want your filthy hands on me!”

“Well, that’s not up to you to choose-”

“No, I’m serious, don’t touch me!”

He freezes at your tone. You sound absolutely horrified at the thought of him touching you? Everything about your body language is in defense. You seem ready to attack him if he moves just the slightest bit closer. You’ve never been like this before. WHat has happened to you?

“Y/N, put down the knife”, he says again, calmer this time, testing the waters. “I’m just going to talk to you. Okay?”

You shake your head quickly, lifting the knife with shaking hands. 

“Take it”, he orders one of his men. 

The designated man moves closer and you swing the knife wherever you can reach, cutting him here and there, but he is like a machine — not moving an inch. He grabs the knife out of your hands and backs away. You’re defenseless now, just like Silas wants you to be. He walks over to you and sinks down in a squat to take in the sight of you. Your entire body is shaking violently, wide eyes following his slightest motions. Silas reaches out his hand to stroke your head and calm you down, but you scream in terror and cover your face with your arms. 

“Baby, I wasn’t going to hurt you”, he says, growing worried. “What’s wrong, little thing?”

he can hear you whisper something and leans closer to hear. A mantra of ‘don’t touch me, don’t touch me’ leaves your trembling lips. He can feel his heart sink to his stomach. Did he do this to you? He can’t have … can he?

“Give me the rope”, he says over his shoulder. “If I can’t touch them, I have to make a leash or something.”

Your cries escalate. Silas turns to look at you with even more despair.

“P-Please”, you beg incoherently. “A-Anything but that. Please!”

Silas gulps. This is his doing, a hundred percent. The touching can be coincidental, but he’s the only one who’s kept you tied. Things start to click together. Oh, what an idiot he is. 

“Little thing, look at me”, he says. “I’m not going to touch you and I’m not going to tie you, but I’m not leaving this apartment without you. You got that?”

You nod quickly. He wants nothing more than to wipe your tears and hold you tightly in his arms, but he won’t be able to hear more of your cries. He starts to think of a way to get you out of here without frightening you even more, but his worries are quickly resolved. The lack of air you got when hyperventilating has made you black out.

“I’ll take them”, Silas says and lifts you up in his arms. “Don’t worry, little thing, when we get home, you’ll go back to normal.”

Oh, how wrong Silas was. You’re quiet and reserved and refuse to be touched. All you do is sit in bed while hugging your legs to your body and keep your eyes down on the mattress. He has to come up with a solution to make you relax. You haven’t slept or eaten in days now. He leaves to go to the store in hope to find something to get you loosened up. While looking through aisles of scented candles and body lotion, he sees the children’s department. With one last resort, he walks over to the stuffed animals. 

“Are you sure Y/N would like a stuffed animal?” his second in command asks hesitantly. 

“What other fucking choice do I have?” he groans. “If they refuse to hug me, I guess I have to find a substitute. I can’t fucking listen to their crying anymore. They barely want to be in the same bed as me. This has to stop before I go insane.”

“Which one should you pick?”

“I think the white bunny will be the best alternative.”

He picks out the fluffy animal and heads straight for the cashier. The woman seems to recognize him, but doesn’t say anything. Silas is grateful for it. He’s in no headspace to be dealing with people today. All he wants is to see his little angel happy. 

When he comes home, he notices that his bedroom door is open. 

“Shit!” he gasps and looks around, seeing his second in command. “Get the car, they escaped again!”

He’s just about to pass the guest room when he notices that the door is ajar. Carefully, he peaks in, finding you lying on the bed in a fetal position. Silas sticks out his head in the corridor and alerts the second in command that you’re found before sneaking into the guest room. 

“Hey, baby”, he whispers gently. “I got you something.”

You don’t move. 

“Here”, he says, placing the white bunny on the bedside table. 

Silas holds his breath, waiting for your reaction. He silently begs for you to like it. Carefully, you sit up and pet the soft toy. Silas notices how your eyes aren’t … dull anymore. You seem to recognize the toy somehow. 

“D-Do you like it?” Silas asks nervously. 

“Bunny …”, you whisper. 

“Yes! Yes, it’s a bunny. I got it for you. Do you like it?”

You nod slowly and take it in your hands. For a few seconds you feel around before hugging it close to your chest. Silas breathes out in relief. 

“Why are you here?” he asks. “I thought you ran away again …”

“I didn’t want to be in there”, you mumble. “Want to be away from you.”

“But … you’re mine. We’re meant to be together. I haven’t touched or tied you a single time since we came home. Why can’t you at least acknowledge my presence?”

“Scary …”

“I’m not meaning to- … wait, why do you talk like that?”

You look at him questionably. 

“You talk … almost baby like”, he says slowly. “What’s going on?”

You hug the bunny closer. 

“Oh … I get it”, he says, nodding. “Would you like to watch ‘Scooby Doo’ with me? In the living room? We can get you some vanilla ice cream and those cookies you mentioned that you liked when you were a kid.”

You nod. Silas breaks out into a smile and nods along. 

“Alright”, he says. “Let’s go downstairs.”

You voluntarily follow him down to the living room, hugging the toy closely. He can’t seem to figure out why you suddenly started to act younger than you actually are, but he's not going to question it. You’re not crying, you’re not telling him to go away. That’s good enough. He creates a fort of pillows and blankets on the floor for the two of you to sit on, almost making a pillow fort. If you need childhood stuff, he’ll give them to you. 

Silas gives you glances throughout the movie. He knows he has gotten a second chance. You’re broken and it’s all because of him. He breathes in. This time, he’ll be careful. He’ll never hurt you again.

[liselicanis]

Good Things Fall Apart

[AO3 Link] [Ch. 1] [Ch.2]

Chapter 3: Quietly I Mourn

The only sound in her workshop is the dull roar of a welder's flame. The small little taps of hammer on metal, and then a satisfied sigh. She pulls of her mask and inspects the two pieces she has put together and nods to herself. Her eyes flick to a screen displaying a picture of an R-7000, one that was holding a submachine gun in it's hands and she compares the fingers to the ones that are laying on her table.

A close enough match, maybe a tad bit shorter? There was only so much she could fix. Sneaking a peek back at the semi-comatose omnic in the middle of her workshop, she compares the size of her hand to the metal. It's cold and hard compared to her much softer and squishy flesh.

The cast on her other arm reminds her of just how breakable she is compared to omnics. They break too, but most cannot feel pain. Not in the same way a human can that is. She actually does wonder if he did.

Though asking him would be a task. All he can do is crackle and hiss at her. By now she's learned that when she does something he doesn't particularly like he'll make a noise. And that's the most she can get out of him. A lot of times, the omnic straight up ignores her so she can't even do the 'one hiss for yes and two for no'.

Gah, this was frustrating. Fine, since Mr. Grumpy wants to act like that, she can just concentrate harder on her work. Like, her actual work and not him. She might not be any use on the field right now, but she can still file reports.

A quick text to Yuna and she's back at her computer, working on some reports. "The damage to the defense matrix was...hm...so now I can only use it for 3 seconds, huh. Lame. Wonder if Dae-Hyun can bump it up to 4..." and then she cringes.

He hasn't been back for two days since she basically threw him out. She knows he's stopped by though, since sometimes there is food and drinks left outside the door. Notes that remind her to actually sleep in her own room tonight because the rest of the team is starting to get suspicious about the amount of time she's kept herself cooped up in here.

What a guy.

She can't rest just yet, the arm on her desk is nearly complete, and paperwork has been piling up. Usually Yuna would be helping her with this but because of her omnic friend here, she's been doing almost all of it herself.

"Since I can't be out there with you guys, I might as well do it, right?" she had told Kyung-soo. King merely shrugged over the video call and agreed to send her reports via email.

When she had filed her own reports, they had been more or less tailored to her particular fashion, quick and filled with gamer slang she'd picked up from her years of online gaming but when it came to her teammates she learned a few things she hadn't previously.

Jae-eun's were very clinical while Yuna liked to summarize as quickly as she could but her reports were still at least three pages long. Seung-hwa was similar to Jae-eun but had more complicated words that Hana learned to keep a dictionary tab open on her browser to decode what the heck he was trying to say. And last but not least Kyung-soo's were shorth and not too detailed. "...we showed up and nine Gwishin squid drones blew up..."

Wow. So descriptive. Is this why their Captain always had to have a word with him? Whatever, back to the report.

Singijeon had sustained the least amount of damage while Beast had taken the most and was nearly totaled. "No wonder she sounds mad in her text..." her fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, the tap of the keyboard being the only sound that echoed in the room.

At one point she turned to look at the omnic, but he seemed to have put himself in hibernation mode? At least, that's what she thinks it's called. Omnics didn't technically need to sleep, so...hm.

Poor guy must be bored out of his damn mind.

-

He was not in fact, bored out of his mind. What he was doing however, was watching her.

One week he'd been stuck on this table, one week of her constantly talking and prodding at him. At one point she had actually propped the table up and watched a movie with him, explaining to him the plot and pointing out her favorite scenes and quoting lines that she knew by heart. He hadn't care much for it when he realized that this was in fact the movie she had been talking about when she expressed her wish to ride upon his shoulders.

Just yesterday she had taken a tape measurer and held it to his torso, saying that his arms would be the first thing she was going to work on.

There had been this excited tone to her voice as she set the measurer aside and set her hand on the stump of his shoulder. "Since you're so big, bet you are really good at protecting others." Well, she wans't entirely wrong, but even then what good was it to be big if he hadn't been able to protect the few he had cared about?

Lanet had died because of his unwillingness to be patient. Nameless and Zera abandoned him. Just like he had abandoned his once home in Nepal. He tries not to remember Mondatta and Zenyatta too much. A teacher he had cared deeply for and a brother he could confide to his thoughts about the world they lived in.

He focuses instead on the girl who is now slouching in her chair, either deep in thought or fast asleep, he can't tell, and how despite the caution of her male companion, is insistent that she wants to help him.

Ramattra is still wary though, questioning the reason she feels the need to do so. Surely she's doing this out of selfishness, to make herself feel better. When she had talked about his hands, she kept looking at his faceplate, grinning, and then mentioned how much it reminded her of some stray cat that one of her teammates had snuck into the base some time ago.

"In the end, Seung-hwa had to give her up. I hear sometimes he still visits the family that adopted her," she had said, her voice becoming more quiet. "They apparently lost their father recently to a Gwishin attack. You see, he was a fisherman, and he was working in his boat. Our radar didn't pick up the distress signal in time."

She stayed quiet after that. Why bring up the cat at all when it would end up causing a pained memory? He really couldn't understand how the minds of humans worked. One moment as happy as one can be, the next they are a broken mess.

Or like now, how she's just sitting there, simply existing like he is. His sensors pick up her even breathing and concludes that she's asleep. Figures, since the girl had been working him almost nonstop. Taking only the smallest breaks to take care of her human needs.

Other than that she has remained at his side, fitting pieces together, holding them up for inspection, taking notes on what needs to be refitted or readjusted. She's wiped off old stains from his armor, not commenting much other than an off-hand 'do omnics bathe?'.

(in theory they could, but it was probably best not to get too wet lest their circuits malfunctioned)

It is the sound of her door opening that he snaps back to reality, his vision sensors easily helping him see through the darkness of her room. It is her friend, the one that had helped get him here that steps through, looking hesitant.

The boy goes over to her, pets her head fondly and turns off the monitor for her. He then removes his jacket to place over her shoulders and then finally comes to stand by Ramattra's side.

"..." the human male says nothing, only stares at him hard. Ramattra cannot sense any malice or anything from this human.

Finally the human lets out a breath he's been holding, almost exasperated. A hand is running through his hair and the boy looks so lost that it is almost pitiable. Almost.

"Listen, I-" whatever it was that was going to be said, Ramattra never heard, because at that moment, warning alarms began to blare.

[coff-in]

hiii coffin! how are you!!

i had a questions abt your ocs :3 since Andrew’s assigned weapon is the cleaver and Ashley’s is the gun, what weapons does each of you oc’s have? and do u have an why?

- Dungeon Anon

hehehehe!!! i do, i do, i do!! ALSO I AM DOING VERY WELL!

SO! starting with the oldest (before andrew): alexis would use his bare hands/fists. I couldn't really think of him using a physical weapon in face to face combat, he seems to be the type of person to avoid physical altercations as much as possible. of course, as the oldest, he's ready to throw hands to protect his family if he has to-- and he's not half bad! he mostly lacks technique and doesn't have as much punch as andrew, but he makes up for it with his energy and speed.

amber (second oldest/middle child) would use a baseball bat. this is mostly inspired by my online friend who always uses long blunt weapons in zomboid, but i do think it fits amber's alt/rebel vibe! it's meant to hurt and get sore, the pain lingers and leaves noticeable bruises... they can break bones too! if given the chance, they'd add nails or barbed wire to the bat for the extra damage and the vibes

before i said amy (second youngest after ashley) would use a hatchet-- which i still think fits her. it's the tool and weapon of a hardworker, requiring the strength and skill to properly wield. i also see her with a fireaxe and hammer. i usually think of my ocs via a player would a video game, seeing them walk around in a 2d avatar/3d environment platformer (think of subway midnight! amy's mind is akin to that), and every time amy slams down with her hatchet her body does a little jump due to the physical recoil. she's the shortest somehow (5 foot flat or 152.4 cm) and not the most physically strongest so she can't properly wield her weapon. i like to think about the weapon being some sort of representations of the expectations she puts on her shoulders... they're heavy but, like, powerful. and they lead her to hit hard, and harder, and harder. she'll shock everyone with what she can do. she can hurt, and protect, and destroy if she must. she's not weak... she's useful, she promises!! i've also dreamt of her and amber using the demon summoning for dummies book as some sort of spell book... i wish we saw more of that book.

the baby of the graves siblings, aria, would have two weapons depending on the route. throughout most of episode 1 and 2 (during the neutral portion of the game), she's just use a basic kitchen knife. it's a classic weapon (especially for a yandere like her) and she pulls it off well. during the burial route she'd use metal knitting needles (she's a neet like ashley in my mind, so she's pick up a variety of hobbies to entertain herself. knitting would be one, along with embroidery, painting, and reading some of andrew's poetry and acting it out). knitting (or crocheting at least) is using one single strand of yarn to create something or it can be used to sew two different pieces of yarn together. it's supposed to be a basic reflection of their (andrew, ashley, and aria's) relationship getting closer together, intertwining their strands together to create something beautiful!

during decay, she's grab a pair of scissors. they're relationship is falling apart, slowly unraveling the tapestry they were forced to create. and if aria has to cut out parts or lose strands to salvage her favorite part, then so be it. i think it also reminds her of school and the school saying "don't run with scissors". ari always had power at school, no? manipulating her poor classmates with her acting skills to be pawns of her own game to get andrew and ashley's attention. scissors are everywhere, danger is everywhere... sometimes you just overlook it.

ANYWAY! that's for my graves siblings... as for the non blood related ocs

juno wolfe uses metal claws because i say so. i want to lean into the "wolf" aspect of his characters because he's honestly just a loyal mutt to be commanded by the graves siblings. even if they can't claw their enemies to death, he still has his teeth to rip and tear off their skin and flesh!!

coff-in uses powers beyond the human understanding because humans don't need to understand how it does the things it does. they just need to know not to provoke them into using them.

that's all :3 sorry this is long, i haven't gone to bed and have been yapping/writing stuff (non-tcoaal, sorry!) all day

please ask me more about my ocs, i love my children no matter how much suffering i put them through (it builds their character)

----

coff-in

[skyfall8600]

Day 10: Movie Night

12 days of Christmas with Eddie

Eddie Munson Masterlist

[750 words] - sorry this one isn’t as long as the others! Wanted it to be a sweet little moment mainly from Eddie’s point of view.

——————————————————

Each tape was rented. Cost a slight fortune but there was no way Eddie could make you pick between them. You got so excited at all the options, so he just ran with it.

The movie night was scheduled to start at 5 pm sharp. The list was already picked out and the popcorn was hot and ready.

Movie number 1: Gremlins

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” you muttered, getting comfy under the blanket.

“I didn’t even know it was a Christmas movie.” He said, stuffing his face with the first handful of popcorn for the night.

“It’s one of the best— good or evil, all those little gremlins are so freaking adorable.”

Sure enough, Eddie was hooked onto the small television screen. He loved both the cuteness of gizmo and the sheer chaos of the evil ones.

When the movie ended, you stood to turn on the light— dreading the mess of popcorn that was squished into the carpet. Upon opening the lights, Eddie squealed and hid under the blanket.

Screaming “Bright light! Bright light!”

You laughed, whacking him with the pillow. “Big baby. Get the next movie set up, I’ll make some hot chocolate.”

Movie number 2: National Lampoon’s Christmas vacation

“You ready?!”

You shook your head, “I did not agree to this.”

“Drink every time Clark fucks something up. Piece of cake—“

“Eddie! It’s only the second movie and we’ll be hammered by 8pm.” You said, reluctantly taking his can of beer in hand.

“I’m offended you think I can’t hold my beer— you on the other hand might have to take it lightly.” He said with a smile, forcing you down onto his lap.

Wrapping the blanket around you both, the movie began and Eddie was getting ready to drink you into oblivion.

Movie number 3: Scrooge

You may have been a little lightheaded, cuddling tightly into Eddie’s neck.

“Aw, what’s the matter, love? Too tired for movie night?” He coed into your hair, he loved when you got like this. Part sleepy and cuddly.

“Never! Press play.” You said, leaning further into him.

It was now pitch black outside, the slight chill from the winter air sneaking into his small trailer from the little cracks in the wall.

Perhaps Eddie was right, the buzz from the two beers you had during movie number 2 and Eddie’s comfortable body meant that you were close to passing out.

It was perfect. Late nights like this, regardless if it was a planned movie night or not, we’re always your favourite. Eddie would sacrifice all the feeling in his left arm if you fell asleep on him; god knows he’s sometimes gone hours without moving just so you could continue to be comfortable.

There was no way you’d last through the night to get up to the final movie, but he didn’t mind. You were cradled up in his lap, your head on his chest while his arms were around you.

Having already predicted that you were close to falling asleep, Eddie pressed play for the movie and turned the volume right down so it was nearly audible.

In the soft light coming from the little screen, he took in your sleeping features.

“Too bad you couldn’t last until the end of the movie marathon,” he whispered into your hair with a smile. “I may have snuck in a special home movie—“

You stirred slightly in your sleep, snoring softly. It made him chuckle.

Pretending that your sleeping response was how you contributed to his little conversation, Eddie continued to speak.

“I had the whole thing planned— it starts off with some of spring break last year, then fast forwards to when we danced at Hopper and Joyce’s wedding. Then bam— screen cuts to black and I was going to ask you if— if you wanted to move into an apartment with me next year.” His voice broke off, his eyes scanning your face.

“I managed to save up a lot this year, and with the mechanic gig next year— I figured it would be the perfect time to start our little life together.”

He kissed your forehead, letting the buzzing from the tv screen become the only sound in the trailer. Along with your snoring and mumbles, which he would never admit you did in person.

“It may have not worked out asking you during movie night, but perhaps I can sneak it as part of your Christmas gift.”

———————————————————————

Eddie Taglist:

@silky-luxe @fentyreligion @littlelunarfox @coconutchumby @eempxth @superflannel @fluffycookies22 @yearwalker96 @cutiecusp @magicalchocolatecheesecake @grungegrrrl l l​@m1rkw00dpr1ncess @dixontardis @buckyslwt @bratckerman @dani-d0rk @musicmoviestv @tomshelbystits @reddisteddie @santaatemypuppy @cherryrevenger @chipster-21 @azaleaforsure @eddielives1986 @luceneraium @loving-and-dreaming

[its-deputy-caleb]

could you write how lords would react if Ethan killed the ray of sunshine lord you wrote earlier? how they would treat Ethan if they know that he killed their favourite person? will karl still propose him to team up? i really love these headcanons you wrote and i just want more <3333 plant soft lord is the best.

Firstly i want to say a huge ✨THANK YOU ✨ to the 500 followers i have, i seriously wouldn’t be able to do it without y’all and the love and support has been amazing!! Here is the plant lord and there’s already a part one so go and read that first bc these directly relate to it! also this is angsty af but i’ve left it open ended for some more hc’s to come :)) enjoy!

Alcina Dimitrescu

When Alcina learns of your death she is not the only one to mourn you. The whole Dimitrescu family is devastated and heartbroken at the loss of such a beautiful soul like you.

She’s filled with rage that some man-thing could just take away someone so powerful yet so kind. When her screaming finally stops, Bela can be heard crying in her room and at family dinner that night everyone is silent. It’s just not the same without you.

Alcina has a grave made for you, one with a large headstone and surrounding it she laid beautiful flowers from the indoor garden you all made together as a family.

While she grieves for you, Alcina notices how strange it was for moss to grow around the surrounding stones so quickly but grief had clouded her mind to really think or notice too much about it.

She becomes even more protective of her daughters, not wanting to see them suffer the same fate you did. Alcina promises you that she would kill Winters on sight if she ever ran into him again.

Donna Beneviento

Donna has never taken death too well and losing you was no exception. She feels completely empty without you, not even Angie can comfort her sometimes with how much she misses you.

When she saw what Ethan had done to you it felt like apart of herself died with you. Donna spent the next few hours crying into your chest, begging someone to bring you back but she knew it was no use when the flowers and grass you were laying on turned to ash underneath you.

With the help of her dolls she manages to carry you back to the forest where she lays you to rest under a huge willow tree. She places one last kiss to your forehead before she lays down the doll she made for you.

Donna spends a lot of time in the forest after that as a way of staying close to you. Somehow when the trees blow in the wind it feels like you’re hugging her.

In the forest, Donna finds little white flowers appearing all over, the exact ones you used to grow from your palm. She leans down to pick one and tucks it behind her ear as she remembers how you used to give them to her.

Salvatore Moreau

Your death was one of the most painful things Salvatore has ever felt. He can’t even bring himself to feel angry at Ethan when all he feels is numbness from your death.

His heart sinks when he sees the lush and green scenery around the reservoir being to rot and die, the view now resembling what it looked like before your arrival only somehow much more gloomy.

The trees no longer have leaves and are left hollow and dead inside. The grass that you used to spend hours laying on, watching the clouds together is faded and grey. All these things remind Sal just how much he misses you.

Salvatore often sits by your grave which is up on the hill overlooking the reservoir. You said it was one of your favourite places because at sunset the water reflected the pink and orange sky, it was only fitting that your grave be there.

He’ll often talk to you and tell you about his day while he sits there, a coping mechanism if you will. But it usually ends with him bursting into tears as he realises you weren’t there with him.

While he’s lost in his grief and tears, Sal fails to notice how the dead tree which you’re buried next to begins to grow its leaves again, with beautiful pink blossoms growing on the top.

Karl Heisenberg

Karl is fuming, absolutely enraged that Ethan Winters, someone who he was willing to trust and team up with could go and take away someone so pure and precious to him.

It actually pains him to continue his plan to get revenge on Miranda, not only do all his Soldats have your nature-like embellishments but you were someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

There’s so much of you around the factory that his heart breaks just looking at the flowers, the vibes and the moss that are scattered throughout the dark hallways.

He figures the factory, a place that’s so metallic and industrial is no place for you to be laid to rest so he carries you to your home in the forest.

After finding a nice quiet spot near a stream, he brings his large hammer into his hands and disassembles it using his powers. He reworks the cogs and pieces of scrap metal to make a large metal wreath. Karl would’ve been upset at losing his favourite weapon if he hadn’t lost you first, besides he could always make another hammer, you were special.

When he places the wreath down, little vines and flowers grow in between the crevices of the metal. The action makes Karl break down on the spot as he cries, the action bringing up so many memories of the two of you together in his factory which now leave him feeling empty and as lonely as ever.

[animatedrapture]

"VORFREUDE."

Summary: Sakusa thinks of you as his vorfreude, his intense anticipation from imagining future pleasures. He swears it's not mere delusions.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x F!Reader / slight Komori Motoya x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Genre & Content Warnings: Slight angst. NSFW. Dark content. Yandere behavior. Porn with Plot. Incel/Bully!Sakusa. Virgin!Reader. Abuse. Non-con. Blackmail. Coercion. Misogyny. Slut-shaming. Slight manipulation and mindbreak. Fingering. Corruption. Defloration. Degradation. Vaginal penetration. Creampie.

Notes: Thank you soooo much to the lovely anon who commissioned this! Took a lot longer than it should've cause academics kept cutting in & joint with my anxiety. But yeah, thank you so much :') Thank you Faiwy for the final beta !! <3

If you're thinking about commissioning me, please refer to this post.

You’re a constant, Sakusa thinks.

For as long as he can remember, you’ve been following him and Komori like a lost puppy—whenever they were, you were sure to be there. He can’t think far back enough to remember when it started, but you were insignia of constancy, that was all Sakusa knew.

He listens intently while you talk to Komori from beside him, voice low and stumbling over your words every so often—he knows you're going out of your way to avoid saying something he could use to pull you apart with, piece by piece like a frail little toy.

"How did the test from yesterday go?" Komori questions you, right as your trio made it to the cafeteria.

Your easy-going smile falters at the mention of it. Sakusa already knows the answer. He shares that class with you, after all. He had the front row seat to see your face flushed with humiliation and how rigid your body grew when the professor told you Sakusa would be tutoring you.

Reminding him that out of everything about you, the way you wore your heart on your sleeve is something that insistently rubbed him the wrong way.

First, because he starts thinking about how easy you make it for people to take advantage of you; it makes his blood boil. Then, he starts thinking about every reaction he could get out of you, like how you'd look from beneath him as he used your body the way you wanted him to.

Because you do, don't you? Why else would you go out of your way to adjust to his habits? To carry around your personal sanitizer and wipes, always making sure the space you were in with them was clean.

Nothing else could explain how you strung along with them like loose thread.

It tugs at the heart beneath his ribcage—but whenever he sees you give all your attention to Komori, the betrayal sinks in, and he's reminded what kind of a woman you are.

A whore.

As you laughed nervously, taking a seat across from them, Sakusa wonders if you're having fun, wonders if for a moment you're riddled with guilt as you flirt with his cousin and him at the same time, in the same breath.

"N-no, it didn't turn out very well," you admit in between stutters, embarrassment creeping back in.

Komori frowns empathetically, "I could help you, you know—"

The sparkle in your eyes is quick to appear. God, you're so cunning. It makes Sakusa consider that maybe you failed the test on purpose, thinking this would happen—but that would be giving you more credit than due. You're just a dumb little girl.

"I'm already tutoring them," Sakusa interrupts, and he's unsure whether to be delighted or angered at the way your face falls sullen.

"O-oh right, but—but I'd love to get your help, Motoya-kun—"

The scoff Sakusa lets out is loud, loud enough to make you wince. "You're dumb enough as it is, you don't need distractions," his words come slicing like knife. You sink in your seat.

Komori laughs awkwardly, giving you a smile—sheepish and apologetic—he's so kind, he's always so kind.

Sometimes you wonder how they're actually cousins; until you're reminded that Sakusa hadn't always been this mean to you. He had always been cautious, but he wasn't ever mean like he was out to get you at every ragged edge.

Somehow, though, the closer you got to him—past his defenses and indifference towards you—the meaner he's gotten.

You were like a moth to a flame, not in the sense that you were attracted to its light, but more so like being punished with burn after burn the closer you got.

But your feelings for Komori begged you at every instance to swallow the humiliation down, at each of Sakusa’s degrading remarks.

You take out your packed bento, wiping at the table with wipes before placing it down, the cousins moving to do the same out of adapted habit, until you notice Komori digging in his bag, eyebrows furrowed like he's confused.

"Motoya-kun? What's wrong?"

He turns to you, scratching at the back of his head, "I think I forgot my sanitizer."

You're quick on your hands, offering him yours without missing a beat and Sakusa's reminded of why he even likes you at all.

You were persistent with being able to stick around them. He thought that was remarkable. That you'd never been freaked out by his habits, you respected his space—something he couldn't say with the people who pushed and disregarded his boundaries. That instead of forcing him to adjust to you, you went out of your way for him to be comfortable with you around.

And he's flattered, really. He doesn't have to wonder if he had a chance with you because surely, he does.

Since he's so nice—nicer than a whore like you deserves, he'll let you know your feelings are reciprocated, then he'll fuck you, because surely, that's what you want… Right?

Then maybe, when you're finally his girlfriend, he can start training you to stop being such a flirty slut, that you belong only to him and that you’re nothing but his property.

But for now, he can settle with the warmth in his chest as he notices all the ways you try to get his attention.

Being with Sakusa is hard, even with Komori around, it was nerve wracking. Conversations with him weren't any easier, if anything, they were more dreadful.

When you ask Sakusa about tutoring you, you do it over lunch just so you avoid having to walk up to him alone. His answer is curt when he tells you to come over tomorrow, and that he’ll pick you up from your place; because you can try all you want to outsmart him, but he’d always catch on.

Because Sakusa was smart, and you were just you.

After lunch, you feel nothing but the dread bubbling in the pit of your stomach—churning and thrashing—because no matter how hard you try to push it down, the fact is that you’re actually scared of him.

Scared of the nitpicking he'll scrutinize you with—the way you sat, the way you looked at him, the way you trembled in his presence alone. You start thinking of what to wear, because even something as little as that can put him off—always commenting about how short your skirt is, how you're showing too much skin, how you're probably doing it on purpose.

But it's nothing you're not used to anymore.

So you tug on your fear, push it into a corner, and you tell yourself that Sakusa is mean, and condescending, and harsh, but he wouldn’t hurt you. You pick yourself up from the corner of your mind, and you repeat in your head like a mantra. Sakusa wouldn’t hurt you.

The ring of the bell breaks you out of your reverie. It reminds you that the day has almost ended, and that it felt like a blink faster than it should’ve been. Still, you pull on your things, gathering them to leave the classroom slowly emptying out.

You make a small sound of surprise when your eyes dart over to the door, where Komori stood, an anxious smile on his lips. He looks like he's been waiting for you, making your heart hammer against your chest like it wants to leap out.

Face-flushed and giddy, you walk towards him.

“Hey, Motoya-kun. What’s up?” You smile, all sweet and bright-eyed. From the pit of Komori’s stomach, something flutters. You only ever look like this when your eyes are on him; he thinks he wants to keep it to himself.

He brings a hand up to his hair, lightly scratching at the back of his head with a nervous smile, and it’s awkward in an adorable sort of way. He’s walking beside you along the corridor, it’s slow and the bit of silence between you is calm.

“Ah, well…” He starts, gaze flickering to the floor and back to you indecisively, “I was wondering if I could ask you to the newly opened café tomorrow. A-after you study with Sakusa-kun, of course,” He stutters a bit, offering you a boyish grin.

It so nearly pulls a squeak out of you, surprised in the most love struck sort of way. Your heart beats out of your chest unlike the way Sakusa makes you feel.

Your heart hammers out of fear of him—but with Komori, it's nothing but pleasant and warm and intoxicating.

Your smile is instantaneous; it comforts Komori as your lips part.

"I'd love to," you answer him softly, though an octave higher.

Sakusa finds you both like this, shyly smiling at each other like lovesick doves. There's nothing pure about you, you shouldn't be smiling that way. Especially not at the face of his cousin.

"Oi," he calls out, even through the face mask, his annoyance seeps into your skin and makes you feel small.

The blood that had rushed to your cheeks dries you pale at the glare he gives you.

"Coach is looking for you, Komori," he follows, yet never taking his eyes off of you.

"Right. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N!"

Sakusa takes another step closer to you the moment Komori's out of sight. Your grip on your bag tightening, instinctively taking a step backwards.

The action alone makes him practically sneer with you cowering in response.

"Disgusting," he mutters, brimming with venom. "There's nothing I hate more than girls who throw themselves at any guy they see."

Maybe it's the sheer malice in his voice, or the way your eyes catch how his hand moves up—but you flinch, like expecting a hit to come across your cheek.

The pain never comes and when your eyelids flutter open, you're met with hard eyes the color of obsidian yet gleaming with a newfound resolve despite his furrowed eyebrows that suggested hitting you was far from the origin of his intentions.

Without a word, Sakusa walks away from you with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.

You let your body slump against the wall. His eyes burn in the back of your head, almost like they’re warning you.

Right before you head to bed, your phone chimes once, then twice and it’s bittersweet. One from Komori, telling you he’s excited to see you tomorrow, and one from Sakusa—not beating around the bush, it says nothing but ‘9 AM.’

It’s firm and unyielding. Even as your head hits the pillow, forcing your eyes shut, sleep doesn’t come easy—not even at the thought of seeing Komori on a date.

It’s not the sunlight peeking in between your curtains that wake you, nor the sound of birds chirping outside your window. Instead, it’s the ache in your body acting like a bad omen. Nevertheless, you drag your body out of bed.

Your stomach churns but you get ready for the day.

You think the next hour couldn’t come any quicker, because you’re fidgeting on the balls of your feet and somehow, there’s goosebumps rising against your bare skin.

Your phone blinks back at you with a minute before nine o’clock but you already hear the knock on your door. Your breathing halts even as you move hurriedly to open it—and even when the air hits you as you find Sakusa on your doorstep.

You feel his eyes wander, from the very top of your head, down to your feet, and he mutters, “You look nice today.”

The blush that creeps on your cheeks is only natural. Compliments in any form that came from Sakusa were hard to come by—only because they were compliments in the most genuine, honest of ways.

Sakusa is mean, and if you were more honest with yourself, he’s a bully. But Sakusa, mean or not, is still Komori’s cousin; so you give him a smile, palms going clammy.

“Thank you, Sakusa-kun…” You trail off, hesitating on your next words, “You look nice today, too.”

And he does. The dark color of his clothes complimented his pale skin and dark, curly hair, and despite being covered by the mask, his pristine beauty seems to gleam through. Even seemingly unfazed, his gaze on you softens by a fraction.

As abrupt as it appeared, he’s already turning away, “Hurry up,” he quips, but his voice is softer because you look nice today were words that confessed his truest feelings—the ones that reminded him he’s so in love with you and that you’re the cause of warmth in chest.

Even when you strut around trying to get Komori to like you, Sakusa doesn’t attempt to deny the feelings he harbored, because you look nice today, too should mean something, shouldn’t it?

You know you’re dressed up for your date with Komori, but Sakusa doesn’t know that; so in that moment, he appreciates you. For once, there isn't one insult that lingers in his tongue or even in his head as he walks slowly.

Sakusa is nice today, you note as he keys the lock to his place. He had awkwardly placed his hand on the small of your back on the short walk it took from your place to his, guiding you along the sidewalk.

You've only been to his place once or twice, both times were with Komori, so you weren't familiar with the directions. The walk was silent, and in his silence, you found a reason to relax—just enough to make you think that this might go well.

Despite all awkwardness, Sakusa is forward. Seeing you sat on his couch so comfortably, the skirt of your dress riding up slightly, does nothing to hold back his urge to keep his hands on you.

It's a good thing he doesn't have to keep his hands to himself now, right? Since you like him so much, you'd let him fuck you now… Right?

Sakusa's movements are sly, that's why you don't question how he walks closer towards you, sitting so, so close to you—that's why you choke on the lump in your throat when his hand shoots out to grab you by the wrist, pulls you in, then presses his lips on yours.

The second that passes is only because you couldn't wrap your head around Sakusa—lips pressed against yours and body so close.

But the next second, you're pushing him off roughly enough to stop him and he's looking at you confused.

"Sakusa-kun, I think you misunderstood—I like, I like Motoya-kun, I didn't mean to—this is—" you're trampling over your words, looking at him with panicked eyes.

Sakusa mutes out the sound of your voice, all he can hear is the beating in his chest and the ache of it—the sound of his heart dropping to his stomach. He should’ve known.

All the softness in his eyes are gone. His hand, still wrapped around your wrist, gripping tighter and tighter; your heart skipping obnoxiously against your chest. Something about the way he's looking at you now petrifies you.

His silence feels deadlier than his destructive words, deadlier when you wince at his grip, whimpering, "Sakusa, you're hurting me—please," and still, he doesn't let up.

Not when he's roughly tugging you from the couch, taking your arm with a bruising grip, then he's hauling you somewhere. You thrash, panicked pleas calling out to him and apologies he doesn't deserve but you offer him anyway. All your protests are rewarded when he halts, turning to you without a hint of remorse, pushing you to the floor—his foot comes to your side, kicking you with a force that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Bile is rising up your throat, coughing and arms shooting to your stomach to protect yourself. Scared feels too small of a word to describe the feeling that looms over you as he takes your arm again, dragging your curled up body.

Sakusa shoves you inside a room, even as you flail around and beg for help, his face remains impassive; whatever force you’re putting in the way you try to break free from his hold is futile. Of course he’s stronger. Of course, but you can’t possibly accept this, can you?

You made Sakusa yearn—disgustingly grapple on his feelings so needlessly, and nothing, he thinks, could be more unforgivable.

So he secures you on the bed, bound and within his claws, for you to take responsibility for the yearning you've planted inside of him.

"S-Sakusa, please," your begging sounds like a whimper. "I-I won't tell anyone! N-not even Motoya-ku—!"

You hear ringing in your ears before feeling the sting across your cheek. From inside your mouth, you can taste metal.

"You won't tell anyone either way," he mutters apathetically, like the idea of you telling anyone isn't a threat, "No one would believe you…"

He pauses, gaze on you hardening for a second, "You don't want Komori finding out you only got close to him because you wanted me, right?"

The sound of disbelief that escapes you is small, even the wide-eyed betrayal that flashes in your eyes does nothing to make him even pity you.

"You–I, I didn't—"

At your stuttering, Sakusa clicks his tongue, "You're such a dumb girl you don't even know what you want."

"That's not true, Sakusa—"

He glares down on you. The bed dips, bracketing your body between his knees, hovering over you, then leaning forward. His hands move slowly as if caressing you before grabbing your hair with a stinging tug.

The fear pooling your eyes only makes him even angrier.

"I hate that face," he grits out, "Always looking at me all scared, then you look at Komori like a shy innocent bitch, it pisses me off."

Pretty as you are, he lands another hit across your cheek—hard enough that you can feel a cut on your cheek trickling down with blood, the side of your ear going deaf. You’re not sure anymore if it was a slap or a punch—all that you know is that it hurts. Your vision is blurred when you open your eyes, but even through them, the insanely expressionless eyes of Sakusa are clear.

It dawns on Sakusa that you wouldn’t date him. Of course you wouldn’t. Sluts like you go for guys like Komori—so he’d just have to take you by force, make you date him by force, make you love him by force.

Besides, you look prettier forced, he observes. Your face tear-stained and bloody makes his cock throb in his pants. With your body weak underneath him, so helpless that it disgusts him and fuels him with desire all at once.

Something about your weakness, the innocence that spills from you contradicting his firm idea that you’re a dirty whore makes him livid. He pictures you painted with bruises and cuts, the image sending a shiver down his spine. Clenched fists pull back, only to land on your sides, on the same places he kicked you.

What makes you feel sick at the stomach more than the abuse he inflicts on you is the way Sakusa’s movements lack hesitation as his hands travel to your bare thighs.

"W-what are you doing?”

It's disgusting. Women like you are disgusting. You lead him on just so you can take advantage of his feelings like this—that even if he knew better, he'd still soften up for you.

It's you who lured him into this, he almost sneers at the thought. You were truly vile, and yet he loves you all the same—wants you all to himself all the same.

"Omi?' You breathe, frightened. The nickname falls affectionately, though, putting all your hope into it, wishing it would tug on his heart enough for him to let you go.

“Let’s talk about this, Omi? Please?” You cry, searching for his eyes—the ones trained on your thighs as he glides his hands against them, your dress bunched up to your hips revealing your baby pink panties. Your sobs only grow louder as he goes further up, going on as if he’s in a trance where he can’t hear you groveling at him to stop.

Strong, calloused hands stop at the band of your panties, fingers hooking, and only then does he look back up at you. Dark eyes drown you as he tugs them down torturously slow, exposing you to him in your most vulnerable state.

The same second you attempt to force your legs shut, comes a biting pain on the inside of your thighs, instantly blooming his handprint at the force. Your mouth opens to wail at the pain, but it’s the same wail that Sakusa swallows as he brings his lips to yours with a kiss so treacherously passionate.

Sakusa pulls away quickly though, eyeing your bare cunt, he brings his fingers to your slit, experimentally rubbing up and down and your response is immediate, somehow. Your slick gathers on his fingers, body squirming from beneath him.

“K-Kiyoomi, it feels weird—stop, please,” yet your hips buck into his fingers as he prods at your tight hole, “Don’t—Not there—N-no one has touched—”

He lifts an eyebrow, “You’re a virgin?” His question sounding more of a comment, because the hesitant nod you give him is almost needless when you hiss at the intrusion of his digit pushing inside of you; your walls clamping down on it, body tensing, he brings a thumb to your clit, circling with enough pressure to make it feel good.

And it’s wrong. So wrong, but it feels good because you’re moaning against your will, whimpering at the curl of his finger and at the additional finger he’s slowly sinking into you.

The stretch is uncomfortable and foreign. Nothing is in Sakusa’s mind but at the thought of you absolutely untouched, absolutely all for him to ruin. Your body instinctively leaning to his, submitting to his ministrations—fingers scissoring and pushing in and out of your pussy, the sound of your slick echoing in your ears as if to taunt you, but your legs are trembling, your gasps are broken and there’s a pressure in your pelvis about to snap.

“You’re so filthy,” he mutters, but he looks at you like you’re the farthest thing from filthy, and his comment is exactly what makes you break, eyes rolling to the back of your skull and cunt creaming around his fingers pathetically.

You feel so dirty, especially at the sound of your slick as he pulls his fingers out and shoves them inside your mouth—the taste of you tainting your tongue. Shaking your head profusely, you beg him with your eyes, “No more—please, I don’t want this.” you weep, muffled.

“Suck,” he commands, but your defiance is clear before you even shake your head, so he pushes his fingers down further, choking you until you gag and find it hard to breathe.

“Suck,” he repeats, and you relent.

Watching you suck messily on his fingers, drool and tears disheveling you, dried blood sticking to your skin, he frees his twitching cock out of its constraints.

Though hazy, your eyes catch it, the thickness of his cock—hard and flushed at the tip—your hands tugging at your restraints feebly making you panic and choke on his fingers, nearly biting down on them.

He’s quick to pull them out, glaring down at you with dark eyes, jaw ticking as his hands curl into fists; knowing what’s to come doesn’t prepare you any more at the excruciating pain of his abuse, even more so at his length pressing against your wet folds—cockhead nudging your puffy clit and making your cunt drool on him.

Both hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them to your chest. The pain on your face numbs at the sensation of him prodding on your entrance, ripping you apart and increasing the pain—your head throbs as he stretches your cunt with his fat cock, barely giving you time to adjust as he starts to move slowly despite your tense walls barely allowing him.

He curses as he ruts into you, bathing in your cries and moans, violating and invading the entirety of you. The pleasure of feeling you and having you just like this seeps into his bones, turning his languid thrusts more desperate.

“You make desperation look so pretty,” he groans, “You’re making such a mess, you like being forced like this?”

He insults you, but you’re everything he always wanted and more—the taste of your skin as he sucks marks onto your neck as if you were his to own, the clenching and humiliating sound of your cunt squelching as he pounds into you and grunts against your skin. His cock throbs inside you and drags along your velvety walls deliciously; all you can think is that you hate this.

Pressure, pain, the drowning pleasure of Sakusa all over you and inside you don’t allow you to retreat to the back of your head and forget. Not with the burning euphoria building up in your stomach or the moan that slips from your lips as Sakusa brings one of your legs down, bringing his hand to your breasts and thumb swiping around your sensitive nipples.

“O-Omi, please,” you sob, weak and submissive—just how you should be. Your nails dig into your palms, arms aching from your restraints. “I-I’m gonna—I think I—”

“Y-you really are a whore,” he spits, voice strained yet patronizing, still. “Do it, then. Cum on my cock.”

His hand moves in between your thighs, fingers pressing and rubbing circles on your clit as you cry out, tight walls clamping down on him and stuttering his already sloppy thrusts, your arousal running down his length and down to his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

Your moans come out as squeals of his name, your back arching and breath catching in your throat, vision going white as he continues to fuck into you.

His breathing is ragged, moving to bury his face into the crook of your neck in an odd show of affection, your swollen cunt pulsating around his cock as he suddenly stills, his low groan vibrating against your skin as he empties inside you.

You want to cry—but nothing comes out, all you can feel is the bruises on your skin, Sakusa’s cock buried deep inside you and his cum leaking from your abused hole, the stickiness and the sweat.

Maybe Sakusa’s right. Maybe you are disgusting, because as he peels himself from you, thinking it’s all over—Sakusa doesn’t undo the ties keeping you on the bed.

He reaches towards the bedside table, grabbing his phone. The sound of the shutter going off once, twice, over and over with the camera directed at you pulls your soul out of you.

“Omi—?” Your question remains a lump in your throat, but Sakusa is smart. He doesn’t need to hear your question.

“You’re my girlfriend now…” He mutters carelessly, “but I’m sure you don’t want Komori to see how you like to be fucked, right?”

[arvinsescape]

Choices.

A/N: Another Mob!Tom fic, a longer one. It’s another darker one and I hope you all enjoy! Do not engage if the topics make you uncomfortable 💕 (side note: I managed to get switch!Tom in there).

Summary: You become the product of someone’s torture and now you have to decide what you want.

Warnings: Smut (oral, f rec), unprotected sex (wrap it up, stay safe), Violence, blood, injuries, bruises, language, misogynistic views. Minors do not engage. I think I got everything, possibly a few typos.

W/C: 8K.

The sound of skin-on-skin contact resonated through the halls, the sting in your cheek burning as Caleb shook the sting from his own hand.

“What did he do with my shipment?” Caleb hissed as he crouched down so he was eye level with you.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that, when he finds out what you’ve done, he’s gonna kill you.” You said, probably a stupid thing to say as it earned you yet another smack to your already bruised cheek.

“I’ll give you one thing, you’re tougher than you look. Shame you think you’re worth more to him, he’s known for the last twelve hours I’ve had you and he’s done nothing.” Caleb laughed as he stood to full height.

“Bullshit.” You hissed and Caleb laughed.

“Oh come on, you don’t think men like us put women above our businesses do you? More women like you will come along, more cunts to keep our cocks warm. Let’s be real, that’s really all you are and ever will be to him.” He laughed and you winced at the harshness, maybe he was right. He wasn’t here, wasn’t here to help you.

“Now,” he announced as he made his way over to a table, taking a hammer off it. “I’ve quite frankly grown bored. Tell me what he did with the shipment, tell me where it is.” He said, he was yet again in front of you. He’d taken your hand in his and if your wrist wasn’t roped down to the chair you’d have slapped him.

“You have quite dainty little fingers.” He said as he stroked over them. “Shame I’m going to have to break a few.” He said and you felt defeated, utterly defeated.

“I don’t know what he did.” You answered in a breathy whisper. “He doesn’t get me involved.” It wasn’t strictly a lie, you knew he’d stolen the shipment just not how.

“Given up? I would to, must be disappointing.” He laughed again as he crouched down to your level, stroking your sweaty hair out of your face, running a thumb harshly over the bruise on your cheek. “Maybe he hasn’t even noticed you’ve gone, that spot you occupy in his bed probably isn’t cold, already filled.” He taunted and you felt the tears fall.

“Just let me go. I can’t help you.” You said, your heart was broken. He knew you were here, and he’d done nothing. Maybe it was all bullshit, maybe he didn’t love you like he said he did.

“But we’re having so much fun.” He said as he stood up again. “I know you know something, you must, you sauntered around that mansion enough.”

“I don’t.” You said, completely defeated now.

“Tell you what, you can serve as a lesson, I’ll give you back to him. Since you can’t help and show him what happens to his stuff when he messes with mine.” He said and you succumbed to the tears.

**

Tom was panicking he’d not seen you all day, you’d gone out for lunch and now he couldn’t get a hold of you. His mind was racing, he’d sent all of his staff out to find you and no such luck, it was like you’d disappeared into thin air. He was pacing his office, running a hand through his hair when he heard it. Three loud knocks to his mansion’s door. He hastily made his way downstairs, Harrison in tow.

As soon as he opened the door, a body collided with his own. He only just caught it in time, the body almost limp in his arms. It took his brain a moment to catch up as he realised just who it was that had been thrust into chest.

“Caleb sends his regards.” A man laughed and Tom felt frozen. How had this happened? Not you, not his precious princess. Tom watched as the man disappeared, Harrison giving chase.

It was your small fist on your right hand that grasped his shirt that brought him back to reality, he picked you up, one arm around your back, the other in the crook of your knees as you winced in pain.

“I’m sorry princess.” He mumbled as he took in your features, you looked so tired, bruised cheek. Tom felt his anger rise, Caleb should count his days lucky because when Tom found him it would be the last day he spent on Earth. He took you into your shared room, placing you carefully on the bed as he took in the rest of you. The outfit you’d worn that day was dirty but still intact, your wrists were raw, evidence of the rope that had tied them down, the same with your ankles.

You had bruises almost everywhere, face tear stained. You were half awake, weak as you fluttered your eyes occasionally before closing them again. Tom sat with you on the bed for a while, thinking about his next move, of all the ways he was going to torture Caleb for doing this to you. He heard commotion downstairs and knew Harrison had caught whoever had brought you back to him.

Tom didn’t leave you, he knew Harrison would take over, bring the men back and make sure whoever he’d caught was dealt with until Tom could deal with it. Harrison was his right-hand man, one of his most trusted advisors. Tom looked down at you, moving stray strands of hair from your face, he almost cried at the sight.

He kept a hand on your chest, evidence you were alive. He brought his lips to your forehead as he kissed it, a tear making its way down his cheek. You didn’t deserve this, and he couldn’t protect you, he failed at the one thing he’d promised to himself. It wasn’t long before your eyes fluttered open to look at him.

You took in Tom as you opened your eyes, he looked tired, upset as he held a hand to your chest, hair a mess and those brown eyes had seemingly lost their usual spark. You looked at him, no energy to speak. He’d left you, didn’t come for you when you wanted him to, you briefly remember begging for him, pieces of the beating you’d taken coming back in flashes. You’d lost consciousness through parts, the pain too much.

“Hey Princess.” He breathed out, voice soft, quiet. It almost sounded like there was an ounce of care in there, but you must be delusional. You just looked at him and he sighed before disappearing. You didn’t really wonder where he’d gone, what he was doing, you were thinking about how to get yourself home, away from this and away from him.

It wasn’t long before he lifted you again, you were too tired to fight with him as he took you to the bathroom, stripped you of your clothes and put you into the bath. The first bath you had was to get rid of the dirt, Tom ever so carefully washing your body and hair, it almost had you fooled into thinking he cared. He’d fooled you for almost two years now though.

He almost cried again as he took in the bruising that was all over your body, he took your left hand into his own and you winced, almost crying out in pain. He studied your hand, as if in some sort of mocking he took in the bruising of your left finger, the one he intended to place a ring on. He could tell just by looking at it that it was broken. He whispered out an apology, he needed to call his personal doctor to come and see you.

He lifted you again, carefully, before running a second bath, placing you in there, probably hoping the hot water would relax your tired muscles. It was silent, the only sounds being your winces, Tom’s quiet apologies and his soft kisses to your skin. Tom was the first to properly break the silence.

“I’m so sorry princess.” He said softly and you wondered how this man, your Tom could have left you like that, left you to die for all he knew. You didn’t speak, too tired for an argument with him. He sighed as he sat with you, sitting on the edge of the bathtub as you got lost in your own thoughts.

Your gut was telling you it couldn’t be true, your Tom wouldn’t have left you like that, he’d have come for you if he’d known but your head was full of the things Caleb had said. Full of the doubt he’d put there, the doubt that Tom loved you at all, that he felt anything for you. You felt more tears slip down your cheek as you hastily and angrily tried to wipe them away.

“Hey, hey, I’m here, I’ve got you.” Tom said as he lowered himself to take you into his arms. Your good but wet hand fisting the dry fabric of his shirt as you cried into his shoulder. “You’re okay. I’m here.” He repeated as you cried for what felt like the millionth time that day. “I’m gonna take you to bed okay? I won’t leave you, not tonight.” But he already had hadn’t he? He’d left you with Caleb, maybe you were just a good fuck, and he couldn’t be bothered to find anyone else now that you were back.

He lifted you for the last time out of the bath, draining it as he stood you on your feet, wrapping a towel around your fragile frame. Rubbing his hands along your arms in an attempt to help you dry off. You didn’t fight him as he placed a shirt, his shirt, over your head, helping you get into bed. Everything about him was so soft in this moment, so gentle, it made it hard to believe what he’d done tonight or on the contrary, what he’d not done.

Tom’s doctor came and left, securing your finger, whatever he said to Tom was drowned out by your own thoughts. You tuned back in to hear the doctor say that your bruises were okay, you were going to be okay. But that was lie, you weren’t okay, far from it, not emotionally at least.

You fell asleep that night, hand fisted into his shirt, it was keeping you grounded, reminding you that you were here, with Tom, in his room, not back there. It was a reminder you weren’t dreaming. Tom held you until you fell asleep, coaxing your not broken fingered hand to interlace with his own, you knew you were probably grasping his hand too tight, but you needed to keep yourself anchored, stop yourself falling apart. You were tired and in no mood to fight and being here with Tom was a far better alternative than being back there with Caleb.

Tom was drifting into his own sleep when your scream jolted him awake, probably woke the whole mansion. Your body suddenly moving from his own as you became completely unsettled, face contorting in pain. Tom was quick to move as he tried to wake you, dodging your flailing arms, he took them in his hands, careful of your finger, pinning them above your head.

“Princess, it’s okay, it’s me. It’s Tom, it’s just me. You’re safe.” He repeated as he watched your eyes snap open and meet his, he was shocked to see the rage in them.

“Get off me.” You screamed at him, and he did, instantly, releasing you from his hold as he sat up, you sitting up onto your knees as you looked at him.

“Princess, it’s okay, calm down.” He reassured as he carefully went to take your hand in his, you slapped it away and stood up off the bed.

“Stay away from me, Tom. I want to go home.” You snapped and he stood from the bed as well. He heard a knock at the door, ignoring it.

“Baby, you are home.” Tom was utterly confused at your turn towards him, you looked so angry, so hurt with him and he couldn’t understand it. He’d spent all day looking for you, used every resource he had to try. He made his way towards you again, placing his hands on your shoulders.

He watched as you cried again, falling into his chest, you were tired, confused, that much he could tell. Like you were fighting an internal battle with yourself, one he knew nothing about, and it was frightening him, your sudden anger towards him setting him on edge. He heard a knock on his door again and bit back his anger, for your sake.

“Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it in the morning.” Tom snapped, hands moving to cover your ears as not to startle you. You suddenly moved, ripping yourself from his grip as you looked at him wildly.

“You left me.” You said and Tom looked confused, he felt confused.

“What, princess, I don’t know what you mean.” He said calmly.

“Bullshit. You left me and you know you did. Why is it you keep me around? A good fuck? The minute my life is in danger, you do nothing. You really had me fooled.” You ranted as you paced the room and Tom felt more confused than he ever had in his life. Left you? He would never, had he known where you were, he’d have come straight for you.

“I didn’t leave you princess, I promise. You know me, I love you. You know I’d do anything to make sure you’re safe.” He said as he carefully approached your figure, stopping your pacing and forcing you to look at him, tears streaming down your beautiful face again. You looked at him almost desperately, like you wanted to believe what he was saying but couldn’t.

“I, Tom. I can’t get these thoughts out of my head. I don’t want to believe that you left me, but you did. How do I know that what you’re saying isn’t bullshit?” You spoke, voice broken, and Tom almost cried again.

“If I’d have known where you were, I’d have come for you. You know me, Y/N, you know me.” He said sincerely.

“I want to believe you but I can’t. Caleb said-“

“Whatever he said was bullshit, baby, you know me. You know I’d move the world for you.” He said as he stroked your hair.

“I need to get away.” You spoke and you looked at him, you were begging him not to argue with you. “I need to think.” You said and it was so desperate that Tom couldn’t deny you, you needed it and he’d give it to you.

“Okay baby, I’ll let you go. Wherever you want, but tonight please just stay here and I’ll take you where you want to go tomorrow.” He pleaded and he watched you fight an internal battle with yourself, he knew what you were thinking. He knew you were thinking that if you spent the night in bed with him, you were scared you’d wake up tomorrow and all will be forgiven. Tom’s heart tore in two as he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’ll sleep next door. If you need anything that’s where I’ll be.” He said as he kissed your forehead and made his way out of the room.

It was 5 o clock in the morning when the door opened in one of his spare rooms, a body colliding with his own as it clung to him. He didn’t fight you when you climbed on top of him, wrapping yourself in him. His heart hammered in his chest, he was conflicted, you’d just asked, begged, for space and here you were making sure there wasn’t an inch of it.

You were on top of him, trying to pull his arms closer around you and he didn’t fight, not when he heard the small sigh leave your lips. He was careful not to hurt you as he placed his arms around your trembling figure on top of him.

“I just, I can’t. I need to feel safe.” You cracked voice reached his ears. He was conflicted, he knew this would have you feeling differently in the morning, but he couldn’t forget the pleading look in your eyes when you told him you needed space. He’d let you have this, give you what you needed tonight but tomorrow he had to let you go. As much as it would rip his heart out he had to let you go.

He held you, carefully as your breathing evened out in the crook of his neck. He was used to you wanting his touch but never like this, not this much. It was almost like you wanted to get inside him, wrap yourself completely in him, like you couldn’t get close enough. He did his best, did his best to make you feel covered and only when he heard your soft snores did he know that he’d been successful at making you feel safe.

“I love you so much.” He said as he held you and let his own tears fall.

**

He woke up and felt no weight on top of him, you’d moved. He thought you’d be downstairs and was shocked to see you sat cross legged on the bed next to him.

“I’m sorry about last night.” You said.

“You’re sorry?” He asked, what?

“I just, I couldn’t sleep without you.” You clarified and he nodded as he studied you carefully. He knew what was about to come, knew he needed to be a better man than he’d ever been in his life, for you. “I was thinking,” you started as you cleared your throat, although it did nothing for the croakiness of it. “Maybe we should talk.” You offered and his heart shattered, last night you were scared of it happening and it had.

He sat up as he rubbed his hands down his face, collecting himself because this was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. He just couldn’t forget that begging in your eyes. The way you pleaded with him to let you go and in his mind this was the right thing to do. Be the man you’d begged him to be last night.

“You’re mind was pretty made-up last night.” He grumbled and he didn’t miss the way your eyes melted at his morning voice.

“I’ve had a chance to sleep.” You ran your uninjured hand through your hair as you shrugged.

“Y/N,” He hated using your name, he hardly ever used it but pet names? Not right now. “With me.” He continued and you furrowed your brows.

“So?” You huffed back.

“You begged me to let you leave last night.”

“I’ve changed my mind, I can’t sleep without you.” You said.

“Don’t do this to yourself, last night you wanted, no needed to leave, you told me so.”

“I was confused. Tommy,” that fucking nickname. “We can talk it out and I can stay here.” You were making this hard.

“I can’t. Y/N, you need let me do the right thing here, the right thing for you.”

“So you just want to leave me again?” You huffed out, anger rising on your ever beautiful features.

“Again? I told you last night that’s not what happened.” His voice still soft. “You need to clear your head and you and I both know you won’t do that when I’m here.” He reasoned, he knew you had to find a way to process this, and he knew what would happen if he let you stay.

He’d done his own thinking last night and he knew if he let you stay, if you allowed yourself to just get wrapped up in him instead of process what had happened to you and the cause of it, the cause being his lifestyle. He couldn’t do that to you, he needed to let you think even if that meant letting you go forever. He was ripping his heart out here and the look on your face was stomping it hard into the floor.

“But I don’t understand.” You whispered as you let a tear fall, Tom was quick to move and wipe it away, you caught his hand and brought it between your own.

“You will, you need to process this, need to think about what you really want. If you weren’t with me this never would have happened.” He said and you let out a choked sob, you knew he was right.

**

He’d moved you into a flat, well Harrison had moved your things in, Tom knew if he did it he’d become selfish and let you come home. Tom made sure it was secure, bought it in your name so you wouldn’t be attached forever if you decided to leave, it would be yours. He kept it safe but he stayed away, you’d been gone a week when you first called and out of instinct he answered.

“Tommy?” You sniffled down the line and he knew a nightmare had just woken you up.

“Y/N, this isn’t a good idea.” He warned softly.

“I know, I didn’t call you any of the other nights, but I just need to sleep.” You said and he sighed, running a hand over his face.

“What do you need?” He asked and he hoped you wouldn’t say what he thought you were going to, that would make it harder on both of you.

“Can you, I know you won’t come here and I can’t come there, can you just talk to me? Please?” You asked in a whisper and Tom couldn’t refuse.

“What do you want me to talk about?” He asked and he heard you sigh down the line.

“I don’t know, just anything.” You said and he heard you shuffle around presumably to get more comfortable.

**

That was the first of many phone calls, the two of them indulging themselves late at night when neither could sleep. Tom never called you, you always called him. He was becoming conflicted, he probably shouldn’t be doing this but he was too selfish.

“Tom?” You said and he knew that voice, already feeling blood rush downstairs. It’d been a while since he’d had any sort of relief.

“Y/N/N.” Tom groaned and he heard you giggle slightly, in that seductive way that could get him going at the most inconvenient times and you knew it. Yeah you were definitely horny and this wasn’t a call to help you sleep.

“Tom, I need you.” You panted down the phone at him and he threw his head back into his pillow.

“Y/N, no.” Tom said, firm tone and he heard you shuffle around and hoped to god you weren’t gonna start doing what he knew you were probably thinking. If he heard you moan that would be it, he’d drive over and he couldn’t let that happen.

“Come on, Tom don’t be a killjoy. You always want me.” You said and he heard you shuffle again.

“This isn’t a good idea.” He said, cursing himself for growing hard.

“Come on Tom, we’ve done it before.” You said and then he heard it, your little whimper that meant you’d probably touched your clit.

“Y/N.” He said firmly. He couldn’t let this escalate as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t. He heard you huff. “Please don’t.” He said.

“You don’t want to hear me take care of myself?” You tried again, a moan slipping down the phone.

“No.” Yes.

“Fine.” He heard you huff in defeat.

“We need to stop these phone calls, they’re not doing you any good.” He spoke, voice firmer than he thought it would be to say his dick was currently straining in his boxers.

“I don’t want to, I won’t, I’m sorry.” You stumbled over yourself.

“It’s not just about calling me for phone sex, it’s all of it, it’s not a good idea.” He said, he’d never gone soft as fast in his life, the atmosphere had changed massively. “Y/N/N,” he sighed. “I want you to stop calling me, until your head is clear I want you to stop calling me.” He said, voice soft and he heard your sharp intake of breath.

“Okay.” He heard you say after a while before you hung up.

**

That was two months ago, he knew you were okay, of course he did but he had had zero contact with you. You were slowly processing what had happened to you, thinking about what you wanted. No matter how many times you thought to yourself that Tom’s lifestyle wasn’t the reason you’d been practically tortured a bruise would remind you that if you weren’t with him it wouldn’t have happened.

It wasn’t until you went to bed that you realised how much you wanted him even if it wasn’t a good idea. He made you happier than anyone ever had, he cared, fuck did he care. He always wanted the best for you, you wanted to be angry at him for doing what he did but you couldn’t. Every time you took a branch of that anger it led you back to the same trunk, the same reason, he’d done it for you, been the better man for you.

Tom was a selfish man everyone knew that, if he wanted something it was his but with you? He couldn’t, he never had been. It made you realise that Caleb was wrong, he had to be, Tom hadn’t behaved like a man who used you to keep his dick wet. There was no way he could have faked that for so long. He was always faithful, not like half the men that rivalled him, he just wouldn’t do that to you.

You love him, that much is clear to you, the way he makes you feel and looks after you is something you know you’ll never have again and ultimately it’s what made your decision. Although you knew that what happened before could potentially happen again, you found yourself unable to care, Tom was it for you. You had to follow your heart, it couldn’t take the pain of being away from him but it didn’t mean you’d turn as much of a blind eye anymore.

You knew who the man was, who you wanted to be with, you wouldn’t be the naive girlfriend anymore, the one who pretended none of it happened. You had to take some responsibility yourself, toughen up, if you were going to be with him, you needed to toughen up and wake the fuck up. Realise how dangerous his world can be and if you were going to make yourself a part of that then you had to make some changes.

As long as you could have him the way you loved him behind closed doors then it was a risk you were willing to take. You couldn’t stop yourself as you brought up the contact you’d not used in two months.

**

In the two months since Tom had asked you to stop calling him he’d still not managed to find Caleb. Every lead was a dead end. He missed you. Missed everything about you, he took solace in the fact that he knew you were safe and probably healing. He found himself wishing you would call and he’d gotten so drunk one night that Harrison had had to take his phone from his hand to stop him calling you.

He lost hope daily that you were going to call him, that you were going to show up and realised you’d probably done the smart thing and decided not to have anything to do with him. It hurt him, truly it did but was he to do? Make you stay? He knew if he’d let you stay another couple of nights in his bed then you’d just consume yourself with him and not think about what you wanted.

His phone made him jump when it rang, he wasn’t used to this anymore, wasn’t used to seeing your contact pop up, not over the last two months. He almost declined the call until he thought about why you might be calling, you’d made no attempt to contact him in all this time, maybe you were ready to talk, maybe you’d cleared your head. His thumb swiped at the green button as he put it to his ear.

“Can you come over?” That was all he got, no explanation, nothing.

**

His fist banged on the door, you knew it was him, you knew immediately. You knew him like the back of your hand. You opened it and couldn’t help the small gasp that left your lips, was he trying to drive you insane? Those dress pants, white shirt tucked into his pants, rolled up sleeves? Fuck, he always looked like he was formed by the gods themselves.

“Hi darling.” He spoke and you couldn’t stop yourself as you threw yourself at him, hugging him tight. It was nice to feel him hug you back, be back in those arms that did nothing but make you feel safe, at home.

“Hi.” You whispered as you pulled back and pulled him into your flat, he was yet to see it.

“Why the late-night call?” He asked.

“I wanted to see you.” You shrugged, licking your lips that had become dry just from looking at him. “I miss you.” You spoke honestly.

“I miss you too.” He said back so easily, no time to think about the words.

The atmosphere in the room felt thick, thick with tension, the last time you’d spoken to him you’d wanted him to help get yourself off and you grew aroused at the thought. Your fingers just didn’t quite cut it, nor did the vibrator. Nothing would feel as good as having Tom wedged between your legs as he fucked into you.

He looked at you like he was thinking the same thing, he’d always said his hand wasn’t as satisfying as your wet heat. You grew hotter the more you thought about it, the more you thought about him getting himself off to the memories of the two of you fucking, just like you’d been doing. He watched your every move ever so carefully, your bruising was now all healed, finger free from its bandages.

You looked like you again but you had a shine to you that Tom liked, you looked happier, almost healthier. Like you’d been properly taking care of yourself and he smiled, it was good too see you happy after his last memory of you. He cleared his throat after a moment and spoke.

“Do you want to talk?”

“Not right now.” You answered as you approached him. “I did, but I don’t, not right now.” You rambled out as your mind became clouded with lust, it’d been so long since you’d had him, you’d not had anyone else, why would you? They wouldn’t give it to you like Tom would.

“Is this a good idea?” He asked quietly as he studied you, you didn’t say anything as you leant up to kiss him, tenderly, far more tender than you’d initially thought you were going to. You both sighed at the contact, you wanted him. He studied you for a moment, looking for a sign of regret and when he didn’t find it he captured your lips again.

This time a little more forcefully, but not by much. You kissed tenderly, carefully, almost like you were remembering each other, basking in the way one another felt against them again. You pushed your lips more forcefully against his and he groaned slightly as your hands weaved into his hair. It was still careful, neither wanting to overwhelm the other.

His hands found a firm place on your waist as he pulled you closer to him, lips growing slowly firmer until Tom’s tongue was tracing your bottom lip and you granted him access. You both moaned in pleasure as your tongues found each other’s after so long, neither of you forgetting how they almost danced together. The sound of your lips finally uniting being the only sound in the quiet flat.

It wasn’t long before Tom had picked you up, carefully, and your legs were wrapped around his waist as he carried you down the hallway and into your bedroom. Your kiss had grown much heavier along the way, your arousal for each other settling in properly as the only emotion left was lust, need for each other. You untucked his shirt as he carried you, hand trailing up his toned back.

His hand was carefully squeezing your waist, grabbing a handful of your arse every so often. You felt him harden against you and you knew he knew how wet you’d be for him when he took your shirts off. He kicked your bedroom door open and when he turned to shut it he pinned you against it.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” He was the first to say as he placed kisses along your throat, your hand fisting in the back of his hair.

“Feels like it.” You spoke as you felt his hardened length again.

“Like you’re gonna be any better.” He teased and as if to prove his point he ran a hand up your thigh and into your shorts, running his finger through your folds. “So wet.” He hummed.

He moved you and placed you on the bed, something digging into your back as he did. You moved your hand around until you found whatever it was and when you pulled it out you heard Tom mutter a ‘fuck.’

“Not quite the same but it took the edge off.” You said as you threw it down the side of your bed.

“Thinking about me?” Tom asked as he pulled your shirt over your head. “Did you touch yourself? Thinking about how well I fuck you with my fingers, tongue, cock?” He asked as he took in your braless and now topless figure. He couldn’t get enough of you.

“Always.” You panted when he brought his mouth over your hardened nipple. He hummed in response and it sent vibrations through your entire being. It ignited you in a way it always had, in a way only he could.

“That’s fucking hot.” Tom said as he popped your nipple from his mouth and as you attempted to undo the buttons on his shirt. You grew frustrated when they wouldn’t play ball and sat up, Tom moving with you, he looked at you confused for a second before you quite literally grasped the middle of his buttons and ripped it off, buttons flying everywhere.

“Fuck me.” Tom said, never had he seen you so needy for him, so desperate. It was doing things to him he couldn’t explain, he didn’t have much time to think as you latched your mouth onto his neck and sucked. You knew exactly where his sweet spot was, not hesitating to suck, you moved his now open shirt off his shoulders and it dropped to the floor. It wasn’t until you pulled back, eyes darker, completely consumed by lust that he realised what you’d done.

“Have you just left a mark?” Tom asked, almost astonished, it turned him on to no end. You just shrugged as you laid back on the bed, looking up at him and he swears he lost his dominant side for second. Completely in awe of you.

“Oh baby,” he didn’t miss your breath hitch at the nickname as he regained himself and crawled back on top of you. His own lips found the top of your breast, sucking his own mark onto it. “It’s cute, watching you try and take dominance from me, but we both know who’s in charge, don’t we darling.” He asked as he sat back to look at his handy work. He’d kicked his shoes off by now as he laid on top of you.

“Tom, please.” You begged and he chuckled, completely consumed by desire, the pair of you were by this point. His cock was throbbing for you and he knew you’d be clenching and unclenching around nothing, around the idea of him being inside you.

“What does my princess want? My fingers?” He asked as he made quick work of your shorts, placing a finger inside you that had you rolling your head back and moaning in pleasure. His kisses trailing down your body as he looked up at you through hooded eyes. “My tongue?” He asked as he placed it carefully on your clit. Teasing you by halting all movements, watching you squirm as you tried to create friction. “Tell me baby.” He spoke before oh so slowly dragging his down your folds to meet his fingers and dragging it back up. You sat up to look at him between your legs, god the look on your face was something of pure pleasure in itself.

“All of it, Tom, I just want you.” You panted out and he chuckled as he moved his finger, carefully sliding in and out of you, mindful that it’d been a while and while he knew your own fingers had been inside you, your fingers were smaller than his.

“I suppose it’s been a while. Should fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, the way you’ve missed.” He said and before you could respond his tongue was back on your clit as he sucked and licked at it, watching, and groaning as you threw your head back, body arching off the bed as one hand fisted his hair and the other your bedsheets.

It wasn’t long before you were squirming beneath him as he added a second finger, opening you up for him, your body shaking as you neared your first mind blowing orgasm in almost three months. He could have blown his load just from watching you as you arched off the bed, screamed his name and tightened so well around his fingers as you came. Panting, body shaking as he helped you through it.

He expected you to be all fucked out when he climbed back on top of you, what he was not expecting was for your still just as lust blown and wild eyes looking into his own. You took him by surprise when you pushed him onto his back before climbing on top of him. You didn’t ride him often and when you did, it was never with so much confidence. It was like he’d awakened something primal in you and he fucking loved it.

You made light work of his pants and boxers, straddling him as you confidently took his cock into your hand and placed him inside you. He couldn’t stop the moan that left his lips at the feeling and also the sight. This was not what he was expecting as you placed your hands on his chest and moved your hips of your own accord.

You’d never been shy in bed, not when it came to being beneath him but every time he’d relinquish control and let you be on top you’d ask for his guidance. Not tonight, tonight you were using his cock to get yourself off and he loved it, loved the way it made him feel. He moaned as he gripped your hips, you’d taken control, he hadn’t given it and fuck if it made him almost finish inside you right there.

You moaned as you moved your hips, feeling every inch of him as the angle had him brushing that spot you’d not felt stimulated in a while and it made you almost scream his name as you fucked him. You wee both moaning, sweating and you expected Tom to take control back but he didn’t, he let you have all the control.

“So much for we both know who’s in charge Tommy.” You moaned and you expected a cocky response but none came, just a moan of your name. “Fuck, you feel so good.” You said as you felt your high approach, felt as you tightened around him and it only served to make you moved faster. Tom became something of a moaning mess underneath you, something you’d never seen before and that urged you on as you chased both of your highs.

“Just like that baby.” He said and your eyes rolled back into your head as you felt your orgasm fast approach. “Shit, Y/N/N, I’m gonna come.” Tom moaned and you don’t know what came over you, a feeling of pure power maybe, but you’re glad that it did.

“Come for me Tom.” You whispered, voice laced in lust and command as you placed your lips to his ear, leaning back to watch as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he moaned uncontrollably, moaning profanities laced with your name. You’d never seen him like this, you felt powerful above him, the ever so powerful Tom Holland reduced to a moaning mess because of you. It urged you to finish chasing your high as you fucked him through his. You collapsed onto his chest, with an almost scream of his name as you felt euphoria wash over you.

“Fuck.” Was all Tom had to say when he came down from possibly one of the most explosive orgasms he’d ever had. He loved being in control he really did, but watching you like that? You could have the control whenever you wanted it.

“Yeah.” You mumbled against his chest as tiredness washed over you. He flipped you over whilst staying inside of you, carefully drawing himself out as he cleaned you both up. Whilst he was busy doing that it gave you time to realise just how much power you had over him. He could have easily taken back the control, shown you who was in charge and he didn’t not even when you practically dared him to.

He came back into the bed as he massaged your thighs that were now aching slightly. You shivered as he did, body feeling sensitive all over after your orgasms. You played with his curls as he rested his head on your stomach.

“Where did that come from?” He asked, amused tone.

“I don’t know.” You said honestly, you didn’t, maybe it was the fact that you’d not been able to have him for three months. Maybe it was the desire to hold power over him, even if just in bed, you weren’t sure but he’d woken something in you that you liked.

“I’m gonna have to let you take charge more often.” He laughed as he continued to massage your thighs, your hands still in his hair.

“How come you didn’t take it back? The control?” You had to ask.

“Didn’t want it, not then. Fuck, you looked you so hot. It did something to me, watching you use me to get yourself off, taking your own pleasure like that, fuck.” He said as he kissed your stomach.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you’ll be a sub now, I’ll miss you railing me into whatever surface we find ourselves on.” You laughed and he joined.

“No, but you can have the control, whenever you want it.” He spoke and it sounded so honest that your heart soared. Tom Holland did not give control to anybody, it wasn’t his style yet here he was telling you could have it whenever you wanted it. That’s how much he loved you, how much you were different to everyone else in his life. It solidified your decision.

“I want to come home.”

**

You’d worked things out between the two of you, a week’s worth of late nights and talking. You’d told him you wanted to be more involved, you didn’t want to shy away anymore, Tom was hesitant but agreed. You asked him to train you, make sure you could a least attempt to defend yourself, although that wasn’t going so well, every time he was teaching you one of you got distracted and you usually ended up underneath him.

Tom liked the change in you, you were tougher, more confident and he wondered what had brought the change. You were still the same woman he fell in love with, the same woman who was kind thoughtful and free but now? Now you weren’t afraid to speak your mind, you commanded a level of respect from his men now and he loved it. He loved everything about you and you him.

It was a month later when you both heard the commotion downstairs, you jolted up. Tom had only had to wake you from a couple of nightmares, they were seemingly leaving you, slowly but surely. Tom placed a hand on your arm, sitting up, your eyes frantically looked for his and calmed when they locked.

Tom got dressed as he made his way downstairs, he was shocked to see Harrison carrying the very man he’d spent just over four months looking for. He was struggling against Harrison but to no avail, Haz had a firm grip around the man’s arms.

“Found him, hiding out in some club.” Harrison spat as he threw the man down at Tom’s feet. He spat blood onto the tiled floor of the mansions entrance.

“Tom! How’d you like your girl? Sent her back nice and pretty for you.” Caleb said, laughing as he did. Tom felt his anger rise again, images of what he’d done to you filling his mind. Tom wasted no time in kicking him in the gut.

“Take him into the living room and tie him up, I’ll be back in a minute.” Tom said, he was going to say goodnight to you, this was going to take him a while. He huffed as he made his way into the bedroom and shit the door.

“What happened?” You asked as you rushed over to him.

“Haz found Caleb.” Tom said and he watched as panic flashed in your eyes for a moment before they found Tom’s.

“What are you going to do?” You asked, voice steady.

“Better question is probably what I won’t do.” Tom said as he took you into his embrace. He held you for a moment and kissed your head. You thought for a moment, this man had been your tormenter, the man who’d taunted you, made you feel heartbroken. This was the last part of getting over what happened to you. “I’m gonna be a while, so I came to say goodnight.” He whispered as he kissed your head.

“I want to come.” You spoke before you could stop yourself.

“What?” Tom asked, voice faltering.

“I want to watch you kill him Tom.” You spoke more confidently as you moved away from him.

“Absolutely not.” Tom said, sure he was willing to let you know about everything in his business, but seeing him deal with someone? No.

“Tom,” you said as you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I need this, I need to see him die. I’ll know it’s over then.” You whispered.

“Sweetheart, you don’t, I know you think you do but you don’t. You’re not gonna wanna see what I’m gonna do to him.” He said firmly.

“Tom, please?” You begged as you looked at him and you knew he was fighting an internal battle within himself. “If it gets too much, I’ll leave, I promise. I won’t think of you any differently, Tom I know you’d never hurt me.” You said, hoping to win him over.

“It’s not for the faint-hearted love. It’s not like in films, this is real life and what you’ll see, what you’ll watch happen it’ll change you. Make you more like me, darken you.” Tom said and you looked at him with all the confidence in world. This was the life you wanted, the life you’d chosen and you didn’t hold a single regret.

“Good.”

[skeezsbbygirl]

kiss it better + bang chan

hello lovelies! (づ￣ ³￣)づ

im back with another bang chan scenario <3 hope you guys enjoy this one!! (oh and tmt hit 1k+ notes ahhh thank you so much >.<, also i might be uploading a prince!chan fic soon, stay tuned sunshines)

STRAY KIDS EVERYWHERE ALL AROUND THE WORLD.

"Chris, baby, please."

It's been two hours, nearing three, since Chris decided to give you the silent treatment. The cause of your current suffering rooted from the events that took place last night.

A college friend of yours happened to be visiting the city, and what better way to celebrate a rare occasion than dressing up and going for a girl's night out with a bunch of your other friends. Chris happily agreed to let you go, he didn't need much convincing since he trusted you with everything and that included you getting home in one piece.

As the late hours of the night passed and shifted over to the wee hours of the morning, Chris grew worried, checking his phone for the nth time as he expected a call or text from you to reassure him that you were fine, or that you were at least still alive somewhere.

Fortunately, he managed to get a hold of your situation through one of your friends, credits to Jisung for grabbing her number that one time you guys set them up for a date.

"Hyung, she said that (y/n) got into a cab ten minutes ago," Jisung explained over the phone. "Her phone also died, so that's probably the reason why you haven't heard from her," he added.

"Alright, got it. Thanks, Ji."

Strike one.

Your drunk self thought that it was a good idea to call for a cab, even declining your girlfriend's offer to drive you home. You insisted that you were fine and that you would only derail their way home since your apartment's route leads to the opposite direction. So, in your semi-intoxicated state, you hopped into a cab and made your way home.

Strike two.

You came home last night, struggling to keep a certain level of sobriety. Heels in one hand and your clutch in the other. You weren't completely hammered, but it was still enough to piss Chris off as he took in your drunken state.

Strike three.

Nevertheless, Chris patiently took care of you. He helped you out of your clothes, took your makeup off for you, and tucked you in bed with him.

You could've gotten away with what happened, until your hungover self decided to betray you.

When Chris sat you down for breakfast, he managed to ease in the happenings of last night, carefully bringing it up as to not agitate you or make you feel like he's blaming you for going out and having fun.

He was just worried, especially having known that you went home all by yourself without even contacting him.

"Baby, you could've borrowed one of your friends' phone and asked me to come pick you up," Chris sighed as he reached out for your hand, placing his on top of yours, his fingers tracing circles on your skin.

"I know and I'm sorry, but can you just scold me later?" you said, your tone a little harsher than you intended it to be, probably due to the lingering headache and side effects of your drinks last night. You felt like your skull was being split into two and you just wanted to eat and recover in silence.

"Babe, I'm not scolding you. I was just-"

You cut Chris off. "Alright, I get it, you were worried but I took care of myself. So let's just argue later, yeah?" you snapped.

And you're out.

Upon hearing your reply, Chris' jaw clenched, visibly appearing offended and irritated. He retracted his hand from yours, opting to cross his arms over his chest.

You bit your tongue when the words you spat out finally settled in. It sounded wrong and you definitely shouldn't have said that. You readied yourself for the argument that was about to ensue, but nothing came.

"Okay."

That was all he said before he stood up and left.

Your eyes widened at the sudden realization that slapped you back into reality, the ugly outcome of your sudden outburst.

You were about to get up and follow Chris to apologize, however, the sudden throbbing pain in your head disabled you from getting out of your seat. Instead, you were forced to sit back down and wallow in guilt.

And that's how you ended up getting the silent treatment.

You left your boyfriend alone for a few hours, hoping that his anger would dissipate by the time that your hungover got better. But much to your dismay, he wasn't having it with you.

"Baby, can I come in?" you knocked on the door of Chris' home studio.

Silence.

"Chris, baby, please," you tried again, but you were still met with silence. You let out a sigh as you ambled back towards the living room, deciding to just give him space and talk it out whenever he's ready.

Chris was naturally a forgiving person, a little tougher on his members, but a complete sweetheart when it comes to you. So when he gave you the silent treatment for the very first time that day, you didn't know what to do.

So, you waited.

A couple of hours passed, three and a half, now, to be exact, you heard Chris' door unlock. You immediately perked up at the sound, quickly scurrying on your feet to meet him.

"Chris, I'm sorry," you apologized with your head hung low, eyes on the ground, and fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

Nothing. Nothing, but the cold breeze of Chris passing by, giving you no due attention. He sauntered towards the kitchen and opened the fridge, paying more attention to the cold food items that were displayed in front of him.

How you wish you were the half-eaten cheesecake now, huh?

Having enough with his torturous act, you were set on using the two tricks you had up your sleeves -- 1) faking an injury, as petty as that sounds, you were desperate, and 2) luring him with something he likes, be it an innocent gesture or a daring one, you would practically do anything at this point.

With your first plan in mind, you crept up behind him and positioned yourself near the edge of the marble kitchen island, placing your hip at the sharp corner so that it would appear as if you bumped against it.

From a third person's point of view, you probably looked stupid, scratch that, you did look stupid, but you were set on breaking Chris' silent streak.

"Ah!" you yelped in pain, hands quickly coming up to clutch your right side. You dropped on the ground, still maintaining your hold on your "injured" torso.

As soon as you cried out in pain, Chris hurried to your side.

"Baby, are you okay?" he asked with a worried expression plastered on his face. His cold demeanor immediately melting once he saw you clutching your side. "What happened, babygirl?" he crouched down to meet your level.

"I accidentally hit the edge of the counter," you said. "Come here, baby," Chris placed your arms around his neck as he scooped you up from the ground, carrying you bridal style towards the living room.

"Show me where it hurts, love," Chris ordered as he sat you down with him. He carefully moved you on his lap, making you straddle him.

"Right here," you pointed towards a random patch of skin on your right side. Chris placed his hand over the supposedly injured area, gently soothing it with the warmth that radiated from his palm.

Adding the icing on the cake, you hissed in pain as his hand came in contact with your skin. "Shh, it's okay, baby. I got you," Chris cooed as he planted a kiss on your cheek, in hopes of making you feel better.

He lifted your shirt up a bit, allowing him to inspect for any cuts or damage to your skin. "Do you want me to go get an ice pack?" Chris offered. "No, it's fine," you replied.

"Alright, just tell me if need anything," Chris responded as he leaned down to press a chaste kiss on your exposed skin, tugging your shirt back down as he pulled away.

You nuzzled your face into his neck, in an attempt to conceal the grin that was forming on your lips. Completely fooled by your actions, Chris continued rubbing your side as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

"Does it hurt anywhere else, baby?" Chris asked and you nodded. "Here," you pulled away from him and pointed towards your chest. He shot you a puzzled look, confused as to why your chest would hurt when you claimed that you bumped your side.

"Because I was trying to apologize to my boyfriend a couple of hours ago, but instead, he gave me the silent treatment," you pouted.

Chris bursted out in laughter as he heard your response.

"It's true. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he locked himself inside his studio. Totally unfair and uncalled for," you continued and Chris shook his head in disbelief, his laughter coming to a stop as he calmed down.

"I could say the same thing about what happened last night," Chris challenged, raising one eyebrow at you.

"I'm sorry. I know I was being stupid. I should've called you or at least shot you a message from my friend's phone to let you know that I was coming home late. I just thought that if I called, I was going to end up bothering you, considering that it was such an ungodly hour," you explained, fiddling with the string of his hoodie.

"(Y/n), you could never be a bother to me," Chris said, "And did you honestly think that I could sleep knowing that you were out there?"

"I was so worried about you. Thank Jisung for having one of your friend's number because I was this close to losing it," Chris stated.

"I know. I'm really sorry," you pressed a kiss to his lips. "I promise I won't do it again, forgive me?" you added, pecking his lips once more.

"I can't stay mad at you," Chris let out a defeated sigh. "Of course. I forgive you, babygirl," he gave you a small smile.

You cheered and pulled him in for a hug, momentarily forgetting about your said injury.

"Do you feel better now?" Chris teased as he poked your sides, making you jolt in surprise. "Christopher!" you squealed, bursting in a fit of giggles as you realized that you've been caught red-handed.

Well, at least the intentions of your plan worked.

"You know what they say, desperate times call for desperate measures," you shrugged and Chris chuckled in amusement. He leaned in and gave you a kiss.

"You're lucky you're cute."

[whimsywispsblog]

Tears and Sorrow

A/N: Hello! So, here's my first little ficlet for Karl Heisenberg

Trigger Warning: Violence, blood and gore with graphical descriptions

Song lyrics used: Yearning for Dark Shadows, by Brain D'Oliveira and Aga Ujima.

Pairing: Karl Heisenberg x Reader

//Hello, my tears,

Because of you,

I am who I am.//

He ran as fast as he could, his limbs aching with pain at the increased strain. Ignoring the throbbing ache in his muscle, he kept running through the woods, his breath getting more and more shallow, his nose starting to bleed. 

Images of his lover's mutilated corpse kept popping up in his mind, irking the man until he almost stumbled upon a big rock. "Fuck. Fuck" He swore under his breath, hoping that she was safe...Safe from that vile witch- Mother Miranda. 

The smell of blood from his nose made his stomach sick, the metallic stench reminding him of the experiments. The room. The daunting pieces of equipment. The pain. And his own screams, which are starting to sound like hers.

//Hello, Sorrow,

Because of you,

I am who I am.//

It was a mistake. It was a goddamn mistake. From the moment Heisenberg laid his eyes on her, he knew that love would always be doomed for him. For them. Yet, he took his chances with her. With the love of his life (Y/N). 

"Should have fucking told her to go home." He grunted, resisting his strong urge to smack his head with the hammer. "Should have fucking told her to leave, you moronic freak!"

She was always different. He knew it. He felt it. 

She was everything he was not- she was human; he was a monster, a freak. 

She had a heart and soul. He shed his last ounce of humanity long back. She was born special. He was made special, or more like a monstrous swine. 

If Miranda ever found her, he knew what she would do to the girl- make her the living vessel for her lost daughter. And probably kill her if her body rejects it.

Yet, he wanted to play the Charming Knight in Shining Armour- Oh how ill-fated was this knight and his beloved maiden! 

The horrible, horrible images of (Y/N) chained and shackled while being stabbed with millions of needles and knives and every other gruesome sharp object that these cruel freaks used...What an irony! 'I am one of them...A cruel freak.' 

A nasty monster who tried to be a good man. 

//Long, long, ago

I did not know who I was

And in the deepness,

I was lost And now...//

Memories that he tried to suppress long back kept resurfacing now as if (Y/N)'s unavoidable demise was the trigger. Memories of his days as Miranda's lab rat.

He could hear his own screams of agony- the way they tormented him. He could feel the pain of the sharp things piercing through his youthful flesh, the sounds of muscles tearing and bones breaking. It sounded like metal tearing apart. Harsh grinds and cracks of bones shattering intermingling with the squishy sounds of the tearing of the muscles.

He could feel the sudden, painful jolt of electricity through his body- frying up every part of him, almost like as if he was losing control of his body- blurred light and darkness coming in and out side by side. He felt his throat letting out strong aching coughs splattering with blood, the metallic taste of the liquid filling his mouth.

The tears he had been trying to swallow now started to fill up his eyes, making his vision hazy.

"Fuck's sake, please!" He said once the fortress where Miranda performed her brutal experiments came into his view. His sprinting quickened its pace, his breathing getting more difficult now, as he wiped out more blood flowing down his nose. 

//Hello, my tears,

Because of you,

I am who I am.//

He barged into the fortress, ignoring every single Lycan grunting at him. He looked around, the inside of the fortress being a massive maze. Frustrated and tired, Heisenberg punched a wall close to him, a deep dent forming. 

'clink clink clink' Sounds of some metal being dropped or kept!

Without further delay, he picked up on the sounds, following its faint traces through the maze. The sounds got louder and louder...followed by whimpers and strained breathing. (Y/N)'s breathing. 

His heartbeat thudded loudly and fast, a strange sensation in his stomach, something warning him about a particular ominous revelation...A revelation he knew he had to expect today as he got closer to the room. He stood in front, his hands shakily reaching for the door.

//Hello, Sorrow,

Because of you,

I am who I am.//

Mother Miranda turned around an impassive expression on her face as usual. She had expected Heisenberg to come in. After all, it was from his factory that she found his naïve little guinea pig.

Ignoring the Mother and everyone else present in the room, Heisenberg walked straight towards the bed where a body bloodied and lifeless laid...his lover's body.

Her eyes stared into a distant space, lifeless and dull. Her lips were purple pale and her entire torso covered in blood. The cadou didn't just reject her; it killed her. How barbaric. Heisenberg placed his hand on her cold cheek, caressing it a few times...Just like the night where he promised to protect her. And here she was dead. 'Because of me.'

Blinded by fury and rage, Heisenberg let out a loud howl, the whole room shaking and the metal in the room starting to fly in random directions. Some of the metal crashed against the walls, some tore through the furniture, and others pierced through the Lycans, killing them ruthlessly and mercilessly. Their inners splattered out, blood painting the room in crimson red, the metallic stench getting stronger. The room was filled with the shrieks of the dying Lycans and the metals grinding and clashing.

All he could see was red. All he wanted to hear was the fucking screams of pain and agony- the ones that both he and his lover endured...The one that killed her...The one that took her away from him forever.

"Heisenberg!" Miranda's voice echoed through the room, making the man stop in an instant. He looked at Miranda dead in the eye, his gaze intense and piercing, devoid of his sunglasses. But the woman never flinched, a cold command radiating off her that made the man stop. She could control him, almost as if she possessed his body and controlled him from the inside. "Remember your allegiance." 

He watched the woman vanish, his eyes still fixated on the same spot where she once stood. The metal around him dropped, loud 'clank' sounds vibrating throughout the room. 

His breath slowly returned to normal as he turned towards his lover's corpse. Reaching out to her lifeless body, his one hand on her neck and the other on her back, he bought the woman to his chest, burying his nose in her hair. He breathed in her flowery scent, overpowered by the bloody stench, with tears running down his cheeks. Tears he had tried to contain. Rocking himself back and forth as if trying to lull a crying infant to sleep, he held the girl's body close, his wails getting louder and louder...

"I will fucking get you, Miranda."

//Because of you,

I am who I am..//

[ragingbookdragon]

Dancing With Danger

Batboys x Meta!Reader HC/Imagines

Word Count: 3.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, Suggestive Themes

Author's Note: Edited another story for y'all! Enjoy! -Thorne

Dick:

His feet hit the fire escape, and he cursed himself at his carelessness. He shifted, trying to pick his feet up before it happened, but he was too late; he thrashed, pulling away from the metal railing that was curling around his ankles, but the second they wrapped around his thighs, he knew he was done. Still, he struggled, fighting even as the railing wrapped around his wrists and waist, effectively pinning him to the wall. He grunted, heaving with all his might, hoping that he could find some slack within the metal, but he couldn’t, then he heard an amused chuckle from above.

“You sure fell for that one, didn’t you, Nightwig?”

He craned his neck up to see her on the ledge he’d just jumped from. His eyes narrowed into a glare and she lowered down; her feet hit the metal platform and she sashayed over to him.

He rolled his eyes and deadpanned, “Nightwing.”

She put a hand to her ear, a smartass smirk playing her lips. “Sorry, Nightwig? What was that?”

He growled at her. “Wing. Night. Wing.”

She put her hand to her chest in mock apology, nodding. “Right, right. Nightwing.” She grinned and stepped up to him, reaching out a hand and tracing at the raised symbol on his chest. “But back to my original question…you really did fall for that one.” She cocked her head to the side as she leaned against the railing. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one out of the family?”

“I am.”

“Really? From the way you leaped without looking first, you could’ve fooled me.”

He tugged at the metal around his wrists. “It was an accident, it won’t happen again—” He stopped, glowering at her. “When I get out of here, I’m going to—” His words stuttered as she pressed herself up against him, draping her arms around his neck, slipping one of her legs between his hips until her thigh was nestled against his front.

One of her hands fell away and twirled the hair that brushed his cheekbones as she repeated, “When you get out of this?” She waved the hand, and he felt the metal tighten, then a piece came up and circled his neck; it wasn’t tight enough to cut off the air, but just enough to feel the pressure and he gasped despite himself.

Her eyes narrowed in amusement and she whispered, “I’m afraid you’re not going to get out of this one, Nightwing.”

She hummed and leaned close, lips brushing against his cheek as she said, “You’re stuck.” He raised his head a little, swallowing thickly, as he tried to get comfortable with the metal around his neck. “Man, you look like a lost puppy.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you don’t know what to do.” He opened his mouth to retort but shut it when he realized that she was right—he didn’t have anything, his mind was blank, and it must’ve shown on his face because she grinned and murmured, “And there we go…you know I’m right.”

He inhaled deeply before clearing his throat. “So, what are you gonna do to me?”

She reached up and traced his jaw. “Hot man in a skintight black and blue suit, helplessly pinned to a wall? I could think of a few things.” The finger she was using to trace his jaw shifted slightly and traced his bottom lip. “You and I could break a sweat for a few hours.” Her head dipped towards his ear and she smirked as he shivered. “Ravish each other’s bodies until we’re slick with sweat and collapsed chest to chest.”

When he gave her no response she pulled back and peered at him a moment before huffing and bopping his nose. “But you really don’t look all that into what we’ve got going on.”

She pulled away, leaving him missing her warmth, and she waved a hand, the metal around him uncurled, freeing him. “So, I’m just gonna go on my merry way.” She slipped over the railing and climbed up to the ledge.

Before he could stop himself, he stepped forward, a hand reaching out as he called, “Wait!”

She stopped, turning around, a smirk on her face. “Yes, Nightwing?”

“What if I was?” he asked.

“Was what?”

He swallowed thickly, suit suddenly feeling skintight. “Into it. You know…you and me…breaking a sweat…ravishing each other?”

She hummed and winked at him. “I guess we’ll just have to wait for the next time you get careless.” She pulled something from her pocket and waved it around. “Thanks for the souvenir, cutie. It’ll go great on my wall.”

His eyes widened at the sight of the Batarang in her hand and he patted his pockets. “How did you—”

She winked again. “If you can catch me…I’ll tell you.” She mock saluted him as she took off. “See you later, pretty boy!” He huffed a laugh, feeling the grin work onto his lips as he jumped the railing, climbing the ledge, and taking off after her.

Jason:

His feet sunk as he sprinted in the gravel of the electric station. His hood had been lost a few moments before, cast off somewhere in the forest he’d been chasing her through, but he didn’t care; he was too focused on catching her and bringing her to GCPD.

He saw her up ahead, simply standing still, face directed towards the sky, and he skidded to a stop, pulling out his guns. “Look doll, I don’t want to hurt you. But if you wanna dance? I can dance.”

She turned around, and the grin she wore made his stomach clench, and he wasn’t sure if it was from apprehension…or arousal. “Really? Because I don’t think it’ll be much of a dance between us, Red Hood.”

He narrowed his eyes as he thumbed the hammer back on his pistols. “Why’s that?”

She motioned around him. “Look around you, Casanova…you don’t realize where you’ve just run into, do you?”

He looked around for a second, then his eyes widened, and he muttered, “Oh shit.” His eyes darted back to her, and he raised the guns, but it was too late.

She waved her hand, and they went flying off somewhere he couldn’t get to. He stepped back, intent on fleeing when something hard hit his back. There wasn’t even time to glance behind him as hands moved involuntarily over his head.

She tutted as she walked towards him. “And that, Casanova, is why you don’t where gloves with metal plates in them.” She paused, tipping her head to the side. “Well, I could control you even if you didn’t have metal gloves.”

He paused, staring at her as she stood up in front of him. “…The iron in my blood.”

Her eyes widened in mild surprise and she smiled. “Not many people can get that one. Well done.” She reached into her pocket and pulled something out, raising it and shoving it into his mouth. “Have a cookie.” His eyes narrowed, and he tried to spit it out, but she placed a hand over his mouth and laughed at the glare. “Relax, Casanova, it’s a chocolate chip cookie…not poison.” His eyes were still narrowed, but he chewed slowly, and she snorted as she pulled her hand away. “You’re kinda stubborn.”

He swallowed and bit out, “It’s one of my charms.”

She smiled at him and lifted her hands, rifling through his pockets; he let out a grunt and tried to pull away, but a metal cord wrapped around his strong arms and broad chest, stopping him. “Good news for me then.” She stopped, pulling out whatever it was she was looking for. “I like stubbornness.” She winked. “Makes sex fun.”

His eyes widened and he stopped struggling in favor of gaping like a fish. “I…What?”

She snorted and looked down at the tracker, tapping a few buttons before crushing it in her hand. “I like stubborn men because it makes sex fun.” She looked at him and tapped his forehead. “Did I get through the central brain function this time?”

He blinked and leaned as far as he could. “You…want to have sex…with me?”

She nodded, eying his body with no shame whatsoever, and he felt his body flush with desire under her gaze. “With a body and thighs like yours? Who wouldn’t want to have sex with you?”

He smirked at her answer and cocked his head up. “You let me out of this, and we can take this to a hotel. I promise I won’t disappoint you, doll.”

She huffed a laugh and reached up, running her hands up his suited stomach as she quipped, “Is this before or after you hand me over to GCPD?”

His muscles flexed at the feel of the pressure and he murmured, “Before, of course. I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I left a woman unsatisfied.”

Her eyes narrowed and she tipped her head up, resting her chin on his chest; he gazed down at her, their faces inches apart. “Sounds hot. But as much as I’d love to roll around with you all night…I have no plans of sitting in a jail cell.” She paused; her hands splayed along his chest as she asked, “You gotta S.O.S. button I can activate for you, Casanova? I’d hate to leave you defenseless.”

He scoffed at her ‘concern’ and nodded. “Device in my left thigh pocket.” Her eyes never left his as she reached down, unbuttoning the pocket before pulling it out and clicking the button. She dropped it on the ground and brought her hand up, ‘accidently’ brushing the inside of his thigh with her hand; he sucked in a breath that sounded distinctly like a groan and she let out an amused hum.

“Sorry Casanova, my hand slipped there.”

He chuckled and murmured, “Oh, I’m sure it did, doll.”

For a moment he was sure she was gonna hit him, then she gripped his chin in her hand and pulled him into a searing kiss. His eyes went wide then she shut, just as she grinned and stepped away from him.

She cast him a wink and turned, walking off, but stopped when he breathed heavily, “So, just out of curiosity…if we happen to do this tango again…can we do it in a bed next time?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Only if I get to top.”

He smirked at her. “I’d love to see you above me, doll.”

She winked at him before turning back around, swaying her hips as she walked off; she waved, calling out, “I’ll see you the next time we dance, Casanova.”

Tim:

He fumbled with the change the barista had given him before he finally grunted exasperatedly and shoved it into the tip jar; she blinked, stunned at the action. “Um, Red Robin? You just put all that change in the tip jar.”

He nodded, handing her the thermos. “I know.” He motioned to the can. “Put the java chip Frappuccino in the cup and we’re square.”

She nodded, taking it from him. “But are you sure you don’t want your change? You literally gave us like eighty dollars in tips.”

“I just want my coffee. I really don’t need the money.”

She shrugged, but made his drink, and a few moments later he was stepping out of the Starbucks and moving down the alley. He brought the cup to his lips when the sound of someone coughing behind him made him whirl around, his Bo staff already clicked and extended. He only had it in his hand for a split second when it whipped out of his grip, flying against the wall.

It dropped and he capped the thermos, setting it down before he raised his hands, ready to fight. “You.”

He barely had a second to react before his back hit the alley wall, his staff pinning shoved into his chest, holding his back against it. He struggled, trying to push it out of the way. When it didn’t budge, he tried to crawl out from underneath, but it curled, digging each end into the wall underneath his arms. He stopped struggling and sighed, realizing that he was caged and not able to slip out.

She stepped towards him and picked up the thermos, winking at him. “Me.”

He grunted, trying to reach for the cup. “That’s mine.”

She snorted at his vain attempt and uncapped it. “Mine now, Red.”

He groaned as he watched her take a sip. “Why would you hurt me like this? You know my weakness is my coffee.”

She nodded as she swallowed and brought the cup down. “And pretty girls who manipulate metal.” She winked. “Don’t forget that one too.”

He grumbled in annoyance but acquiesced. “Yes, yes. Coffee and pretty girls who manipulate metal make me weak in my knees.” He glared at her as she took another sip. “Happy now?”

She nodded. “I’m getting there.” She shook the cup. “When I finish this, I’ll be very happy.”

He whined at her. “C’mon…don’t do me like this.”

“You’re so cute when you whimper.”

“I’m not whimpering.”

“Alright puppy. You keep telling yourself that.”

He whined once more when she took another sip. “I’ll do anything if you stop drinking my coffee.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and capped the thermos before lowering it and walking up to him. “Anything?”

He nodded frantically his hand reached out to grab it. “Anything. Just let me have my coffee.” She kept it out of his grip, only letting his fingers brush it and he groaned, looking at her. “Please?”

She smirked and reached up, taking his chin in her hand; she leaned close and pressed her lips to his. She laughed internally as he groaned against her, his hands no longer reaching for the cup, this time trying to get a grip on her suit to yank her against him. She felt his tongue dart against her lips, and she opened her mouth for him, letting him slip his tongue inside. She let him have his way for a few seconds before she pulled back; he chased her lips until she rested her pointer finger against them, effectively stopping him.

His breath was hot against her finger and she tapped his mouth quipping, “For someone who wants coffee so badly, it seems to me like you want to make out a helluva lot more.”

He grinned, giving her full view of his pearly white teeth. “Would it help more if I told you I wanted to drink my coffee, then make out with you in the movie theater balconies?”

Her eyes narrowed in amusement and she twirled away, uncapping his thermos once more. “It probably would.” She gestured to him. “You get outta that and find me in the balconies and we can continue where we left off.” She waved as she stepped off, sipping his coffee. “Bye Red.”

After a few moments, the bent Bo staff dropped to the ground and he jerked forward, taking off in the direction of the movie theater, his heart hammering in his chest as a face-splitting grin crossed his lips.

Bruce:

She collapsed into the lawn chair on the roof, tugging off the pants and overshirt she wore until she was left in her underwear and bra. She groaned, feeling the heat crawl over her body, and she raised a hand, making a piece of metal spin like a ceiling fan until it blew a breeze.

The air it gave off barely staved the sweltering humidity and she groaned once more. “It’s. Too. Fucking. Hot.”

She heard an amused hum beside her, and she cracked an eye open, seeing him standing above her; she grunted and waved him away from her. “Oh, go shove it, Batman. You know I love playing two-person-push-ups, but it’s too hot to play right now.” Another amused hum followed and she rolled over onto her stomach.

She turned her face to the side and glared up at him. “How are you not dying of a goddamn heatstroke right now? I know you’ve gotta be sweating under all those titanium plates.”

He shrugged. “Suit has a built-in cool layer. I’m in the middle between starting to sweat and not.” He paused, looking around, then added, “It’s about a good seventy-five out here.”

She groaned, reaching down to grab her glass; sipping it, she motioned to the pitcher and empty glass. “I figured you’d show up sometime tonight…have a drink if you want.”

Surprisingly, he poured himself a glass and sat beside her. “Why are you out on the roof?”

“‘Cause my fucking AC broke.”

“You can’t fix it?”

She glared at him. “I manipulate metal, Batman. I don’t fix things.” The corners of his mouth turned up and she closed her eyes, whining, “It’s so hotttttt!”

A few seconds later, she felt a cool breeze run up her body and her she moaned, digging her face into the chair. “Whatever you’ve got going, Batman…it feels great.” She received a chuckle in return, and she mumbled, “If you even think about trying to arrest me, I’ll crush your head in that metal helmet you’ve got on. You hear me, Batman?”

He hummed at her. “Mhm. Don’t worry. I’ll take pity on you simply because you’re hot.”

She opened her eyes and grinned at him. “Well, thanks for saying.” She winked. “Is that the reason you like sleeping with me?”

He huffed a laugh and tipped his head. “I like sleeping with you because you like sleeping with me.” He peered at her. “And you’re a mystery I can’t figure out.”

She flipped over onto her back and propped herself up on her elbows, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“You have the ability to manipulate metal and magnetic fields…I like to know what makes people the way they are, but I can’t figure out why you have the ability.”

She shrugged at his answer. “I can’t answer the question either…as far as I know, I’m the only one in my family who can do this.”

He was silent a moment, then inquired, “Why don’t you use your abilities for the good of society? Why do you do the things you do?” She met his eyes and stared at him.

“Why not?” He blinked, a little stunned at her answer as she continued, “Not everyone wants to be a hero, Batman.”

“You want to be an anti-hero then?”

“I kinda have the same mentality as Red Hood. Fucking with criminals is so much more fun than working with them. Except I’m not trying to save everyone.” She paused. “And I mean that in a pranking sense not a sexual one.” She huffed and dropped her head back. “I really don’t feel like discussing our moral ambiguities right now, Batman.”

“What do you want to discuss?”

“How you’re planning on fixing my AC for me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll stop sleeping with you.” She raised her head back up and grinned at him. “And I really don’t think you want to stop sleeping with me.” He stood up from his position and stared down at her, then held out a hand; she glanced at it before looking back at him. “What?”

“Want to get out of the heat?”

“And where is ‘out of the heat’?”

“My apartment in the city.” He flashed her a smile. “AC keeps the place a solid sixty-five.”

She arched an eyebrow at that. “We’ve never tangoed in anyone’s apartment other than mine.” She peered at him, suspiciously. “What’s your game, Batman? You gonna tell me who you are or something?”

He said nothing, just kept the hand out until she rolled her eyes and reached out, taking it. His hand curled around hers and he tugged her up; she hit his chest, her other palm going flat against it.

His arm wound around her waist holding her close and he murmured, “If I told you who I was right now, without taking off my cowl, would you believe me?”

She gaped at him before recovering and flirted, “Hold onto your secret for a little while longer, Batman…I like the game we have going.” He smirked and she wiggled in his grip. “Either get me somewhere cold or let go. I’m starting to sweat again.”

He released her, stepping away and motioning to the apartment complex off in the distance. “Blue building with the neon billboard on top.”

She nodded and leaned down, slipping on her clothes, then slipping on the metal cuffs around her wrists. She walked beside him, letting her hand come up the back of his thigh as she murmured, “I’ll see you there, Batman.”

He watched as she rose from the building, making her way across the city before he huffed and jumped down the alley, sliding into the Batmobile and starting his drive towards a pleasure filled night.

[hereforhalstead]

Tell me that when you’re sober

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader 18+

• Requested: Yes:

“I fucking love you”

“Hang up and tell me when you’re sober”

• Warnings: Swearing - PURE FLUFF

• Summary: Jay isn’t happy with you bringing work home but leads to a confession he’s wanted to tell you for a long time.

• Words: 4215

• A/N :I slightly adapted this to fit it better and intended for this to be a short fluff but 4000 words later.. here we are😅Thanks so much for your request and hope you enjoy!

**

You groan and throw your pen down onto the table, this case was really getting the best of you and frustrating you to no end. You look up at the time to see ‘10.30’ flashing in the green light back at you. You run your fingers through your hair which was now borderline greasy with how much you had been absentmindedly running your hands through it as you’re deep in thought. Eyes burning from how much you had been straining them and a slight blister on your finger with how hard you’d been holding the pen as you cross examine the notes intently.

You didn’t realise how quiet the apartment was, the faintest noise from your neighbours TV and the cars rushing past on the street below was all you could make out. This wasn’t like you, you basked in the liveliness and thrived in busy environments, the ones where you barely have time to think so therefore don’t spend much time on the outcome. You picked the pen back up to click it on the papers that were spread out in a manic like fashion in front of you, it made sense to you but if someone else was to see they’d think you’d just picked up the lot and thrown them down in a huff.

You scan over the CCTV stills and traffic cam screenshots, as if you hadn’t been staring at them for god knows how many hours and by a much needed miracle something was going to jump out at you and you’d have your lightbulb moment. Instead, you’re greeted with the same dead end paths and pointless thoughts you’d been fighting relentlessly.

You hear the keys turn in the lock and normally you’d be out of your seat and over to him in a heartbeat, your feet hitting the floor as if you were a kid at Christmas on your way to see what Santa left under the tree but today wasn’t that kind of day. You tried to tell yourself it was just because you were tired and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to admit you’d had another night of little success after being warned about bringing the work home by Jay several times. He always loved to prove a point and you weren’t about to let him get another one over on you, you couldn’t handle those eyes boring down on you as he stands behind you to examine you work, even if it meant lying to him.

You jolt in your seat as you feel him rest his hands on your shoulders before dropping a kiss to the top of your head “why are you still working? How many times have I told you..” he trails off but you’re quick to cut him off with your best ‘I’m fine’ smile “Jay, I’m finally getting somewhere” you falsely admit and feel the pit of guilt instantly form in your stomach as his eyes light up, he probes his thumbs into your skin in a light massage “proud of you” he softly confesses as he continues kneeding your skin.

If you weren’t so determined to get this case tied up this easily would’ve lead somewhere else but you had your focused mind at work and nothing was going to change that. He remains standing over you as you scribble pointless notes onto your notepad, highlighting the odd name and photo as you go as if to convey you had some trail of thought but really you were just buying yourself time until he left your side.

A few minutes go by but to you it feels like hours, you hate what you’ve become in that you find yourself dreading seeing Jay when you bring your work home. Knowing he was right in what he says and that he only says it because he cares but you always wanted to prove yourself and especially to him. He managed to get you into Voight’s good books after pissing him off one too many times, you had a back bone and even though most of the time this was an admiral quality it sometimes backfired.

You and Voight disagreed regularly but you had now learnt how and when to bite your tongue for the best result in cases but there were times you just couldn’t. After coming to blows and being sent to ‘get some air and cool off’ Jay was quick to plead with Voight for your job back and luckily it worked and you were back in the department the next morning. This lead to you now feeling this internal debt had to be paid to your boyfriend to prove you deserved your place and it was worth him sticking his neck on the line.

The pair of you became increasingly serious, starting as partners with the occasional flirty comment or glance soon lead to the regular sting of jealousy or worry which was now the feeling of emptiness when you weren’t together. Some may say you moved on fast, having only been together just under a year and already basically living together. However, due to the uncertainty of your job you decided to not hesitate and wait for when everyone else said it was right and do what felt right for the pair of you. Even if this did mean earning raised brows from Jay when he comes home from a late night to see you hunched over a stack of paperwork that you’d bought home, god knows how many times you’d seen him do it but for some reason it was a different ball game when it came to you.

It pulled at your heart how caring he was, always keeping an eye out for you and sometimes even more for you than himself. As much as there’s endless amounts of perks for dating your partner it sure did come with its consequences and you learnt them faster than you were expecting. Jay throwing himself into danger because it meant protecting you, you leading on suspects on undercover missions to try and get them to confess to which Jay hated and heated debates on the best way to handle a case were just a handful to name a few.

But, despite all of those you truly wouldn’t have it any other way, as you see it as spending as much time with him as possible and being grateful to have him beside you and always in your corner no matter how he feels, he will always back and argue for you.

After Jay strolls into the bedroom to change into some comfier clothes you start to fold some of the papers to create a bit more space, the thought of waking up to this mess wasn’t the ideal situation as you’d find yourself working on them at the crack of dawn and hardly in the right frame of mind to work. That was Jay’s one rule that he never budged on ‘put it all away before you go to bed’, he had hammered this into your head hundreds of times that it became natural for you at this point.

Neatly shuffling the papers to stack them in a pile on the side, helped you to resist the temptation to take a peak at the late or early hours when you should be asleep. He caught you one time glancing at an open file at the dead of night and he was not happy to say the least so knew he had to put his foot down. He knew you were like him and would work until a case was done but unlike him, you rarely knew when to stop.

He would know when his vision starts to loose focus from staring at a screen for too long or he gets a headache from the scrunch between his brows as he examines some notes that it was time to call it a day whereas you, would pop a few painkillers and carry on.

You hear Jay’s phone ring from the other room, not really taking much notice as you continue to fold the papers and shuffle them in a pile but can’t ignore when he comes bounding out of the room over to you “Baby, Adam and Kim are down at Molly’s. You wanna go?” He asks and normally you struggle to turn down such an invite but tonight you just weren’t feeling it and it’s as if you not replying instantly already told Jay you didn’t want to go as his face falls “let me call you back” he mumbles into the phone before shoving it into his back pocket.

He continues in his strides over to you and crouches down in front of you, taking your hand in his as he places a light kiss to your palm “please don’t tell me you’re going to sit here and work and make me go to Molly’s alone?” He pleads, eyes in puppy dog form as by now he knows the best way to get to you.

You run your hand over his disheveled hair as he leans into your touch “I think I’m just gonna have a shower and head to bed” you lie through your teeth, knowing full well the second he steps out the door you’ll be back knee deep in your files with the added extra of knowing you won’t be interrupted by your concerned boyfriend.

He scans your face with a concerned look on his own, lightly running his thumb over your knuckles as he sighs “you promise me you’re not going to carry on working and that you’ll give yourself an early night?” He rightfully asks, you nod in response thinking to yourself that you can’t verbally promise as you were one to never break promises and especially when it came to Jay.

He reaches up to plant his lips on yours, lingering them for a few seconds before standing tall in front of you “give me a call if you want me come home”. He reaches to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and you instantly regret not allowing yourself for be bundled into his arms as you crawl into his lap for the night but you knew you weren’t nearly as done with the case as you’d like and the only way you could continue was if he wasn’t there.

He heads into the kitchen to grab the coat he left on the counter but is back at your side within seconds, placing a glass of water on the table in alongside another kiss being left on the top of your head “make sure you drink that please baby” his voice slightly elevates in concern and you can’t contain the smile that spreads on your face at his worry for you.

“have a good time” you call out to him as he heads for the door “text me when you’re in bed and I want proof!” He yells over his shoulder and without looking you can see the smirk engraved onto his face “get out Halstead” you tease, earning a wink from your boyfriend as he exits the apartment to leave you again in total silence.

You pick up the glass of water he left and take a sip, struggling to think of the last time you hydrated yourself and thankful he knows when to think of these things for you. You lean back in your chair and cross your legs beneath you, slight hunch in your back from the pain of being in the chair for so long and now wishing you were still receiving the massage from Jay that you desperately craved. You shake your head to clear the the thoughts and pour yourself back into the notes. Re reading the interview script over and over again, eventually reaching for your phone to find the recording you’d sent yourself before you left the district to be able to listen back at home.

You chew the inside of your cheek at the sight of your lock screen, a photo you’d taken of Jay on vacation just after the pair of you became an item. His back was towards you and he didn’t even realise you snapped the photo of him looking out from the balcony window at the gorgeous beach front below, reminding yourself that everything you do is for him. As cringy as it sounds, you longed for his approval and praise as he was always so vocal about it, wrapping you in his arms after you finish a case report, sitting you between his legs as you work late on a report with the occasional kiss to your shoulder to remind you her was there or the way he just knows how’s to give you that look that says ‘you’ve got this’ was what kept you going.

You click play on the recording and sink back into your chair as it plays, leaning your notepad on your legs as you listen along. Laughing to yourself when Jay looses his temper or Voight makes a snarky comment to which they both laugh to made the listening all that much easier as it seemed to drag on for hours.

You checked the length of the audio on your phone and the combined clips had only been playing for just over an hour. With the faffing around when Jay came home and the breaks you took to replay certain parts, the time had soon passed. The clock now beaming down on you with the time flashing ‘12.45am’ made you toss your head back in frustration. You’d been round and round in circles, still getting no where and conscious of the fact Jay would be home soon.

You certainly didn’t want him to find you like this as you’d never hear the end of it, you have a stern word with yourself and play back Jay’s warning of packing everything away as you finally close the files you’d been staring at for far too long. You push them to one side and prop your head on your elbows on the the table, you finish the glass of water that had been sat at your side that was truly collecting dust at this point due to you forgetting about it. You glance down at your phone to see a text from Jay flash up on the screen

‘You in bed yet baby? Not seen any proof..’

You roll your eyes as you just know he’s been impatiently sat there waiting to hear from you ever since he left just a few hours earlier. You stare at the screen to debate whether it’s best to ignore it and pretend you’re already asleep or to lie to him again for the second time that night. You’re soon interrupted as his name lights up the screen, his toothy grin staring back at you from the contact photo he had set for himself after a night out reminding you how ‘you always make me smile so you deserve to see it when I call you’.

You hesitate to pick up but know he won’t stop until you answer, after having a few drinks the last thing you want is for him to bound home to you in a mood about how you didn’t answer his call. You sigh and slide the button to answer the call and can barely contain your laughter as you hear his drunken slurs on the other end of the line

‘You haven’t answered me you know?’ he moans, annoyance in his tone but also sounding like a child who hasn’t got their own way at the same time. You laugh to yourself but careful to not let him hear as this wouldn’t go down well “ was asleep” you hang your head in shame as you yet again lie.

‘Why are you lying to me? You were working weren’t you?’ He accuses and you’re stumped on how to reply, even without being with you he knows you better than anyone to which you always seem to forget. He huffs on the other end of the line after he doesn’t get a response, knowing he has you cornered. ‘Y/N please, just get to bed and I’ll be home shortly’.

“I’m just packing it away Jay, I only had a few more bits I wanted to do. I promise” you nibble on your fingertips in slight nervousness as he continues to groan down the phone.

‘What, like how you promised me you were gonna give yourself an early night you mean?’ He questions but you’re quick to reply “well actually, I never promised I just nodded” you chuckle to yourself, feeling clever with your response but Jay isn’t happy.

“Y/N I’m just looking out for you, I care about you too much to see you draining yourself over these things” he begins and before you can get a breath in he carries on his drunken rambles “I love you too fucking much to watch you not look after yourself, as much as I love to be the one who takes care of you I can’t be there all the time so I need to know you can put yourself first baby” you’re silent after his admission, unsure if he’s even aware of what he’s just spilled out

“Do you know what you just said?” You tease, trying to lighten the subject but the sigh on the other end tells you he was still in a mood.

“Yes Y/N, I said I love you too fucking much to watch you destroy yourself” he expresses in outrage but you were in too much of a shock to think of a clever reply “hang up and tell me that when you’re sober Jay”.

“I’ll be home soon” he cuts the conversation short before ending the call, you take a moment before placing your phone back on the table and you try to comprehend what just happened. He said I love you.

Fair enough it wasn’t in the way you had envisioned, him confessing his love for you as you lay wrapped within his arms or him accidentally spilling his admiration during a teasing session you often had but he still said it. Whether he meant or it was just a drunk slip up was another question. You couldn’t let yourself say it back in case he woke up tomorrow and didn’t remember, it would pain you to let the last piece of your guard down for him to take it all back the next morning and the whole thing becomes a distant memory.

You finish tidying away the papers, patting yourself on the back for the great job you’d done of making it look like you hadn’t spent hours on end sat at that table, it now gleaming the exact way it did this morning. You place the glass back onto the kitchen counter and trudge into the bedroom, thudding down onto the bed as you lay staring at the ceiling. Wrapping yourself in the comforter and attempting to close your eyes but nothing was enough to push down that anxious feeling in your stomach. This isn’t how you should be feeling after your boyfriend says I love you for the first time and even though you’d both wanted to say it for a while it still didn’t seem real. You didn’t deserve him, all the things he does for you and the way he takes care of you didn’t seem feasible in your mind that it would happen to someone like you.

Moments pass and you hear the front door shut, his attempts to be quiet made you laugh into the pillow as you hear him lightly walk across the hardwood floor. Bumping into the doorframe as he enters, grateful the comforter covering your face to avoid him seeing your amusement of his drunken self trying to be quiet and navigate his way to the bed. You stay laying on your side, hand tucked under the pillow beneath your head and the other resting on your stomach. You hear his belt unbuckle and watch hit the beside table as he gets himself undressed, tempted to turn over and help him but knowing he would still moan at you for being awake no matter what state he was in.

You force your eyes closed, keeping your head slightly buried into the pillow as you feel the bed dip beside you. Within seconds you feel the all too familiar comfort of his arm latching around you, pulling you into him in one swift motion as he tucks his head into the nape of your neck. Your heart flutters as you feel him place a kiss to your back before further pulling you into him, any chance of a gap between the pair of you was well and truly diminished.

You stay facing away from him, now far too comfortable to move and knowing he will be asleep within seconds, as long as he was by your side and you were wrapped tightly within the safety of his grasp he would sleep anywhere. You soon feel the light puffs of air to your skin as he falls into a sleep, the occasional nudge into your back as he gets himself comfortable but after a while he lays still to signal he was finally asleep.

You lay there trying to ignore your thoughts, cursing yourself for being such an over thinker as the one who had sent you into this spiral now laid passed out beside you, unbeknownst to the panic he set off inside you as he falls deeper into his slumber. You run your hand up and down his arm to sooth yourself to sleep, thinking to yourself of how you’re going to forget what happened and tomorrow will be a new day.

***

You awake to the sunlight peering through the window, annoyed at yourself for not closing the blinds before you went to bed as the rays shine in your eyes. You turn in Jay’s grasp and jolt in his arms as you’re met with him softly smiling back at you “morning” he groans, his normal groggy morning voice now made more intense with the slight hangover he would soon be facing. You drop your head to lay on his chest, pressing your lips to his skin as he runs his fingertips up and down your spine and resting his head on top of yours as you lay in a comfortable silence. “Good night?” You break the air, knowing he certainly wasn’t in the mood to be talkative but if you didn’t have some form of interaction from him you’d go insane.

“Wasn’t the same without my girl” he tightens his grip on your waist, a soft pinch of your skin as he teases “but she was at home working when she promised me she wouldn’t, clearly choosing work over her boyfriend” he huffs into the top of your head as you bury yourself further into his chest.

“don’t go there” you warn as he chuckles in response “choosing to look at old case notes than spending time with your boyfriend, that’s a tough one” he continues to ramble, you detach yourself from him and turn to face him with stern look “I said don’t go there”you warn but he pouts his bottom lip at you as he raises his brow. You narrow your eyes at him and he cracks his serious exterior, bringing his hand to the back of your head as he brings it to him to connect his lips to your temple “It’s a good job I love you” he mumbles into your skin, pressing his lips onto yours for a brief second before allowing himself to pull back and admire your expression of shock.

“You remembered?” You question, still nervous he wouldn’t have a clue what you were talking about. “Of course I remember, you think I’d forget when I first tell my girlfriend I love her?” He tilts his head as he asks, you lean your head down onto him as he clears his throat “would help me if you said it back though, bit embarrassing if I’m the only one to say it” he jokes, grin encompassing his morning glow as he gloats “I love you too idiot” you roll your eyes at him, bringing your lips onto his for a chaste kiss. He brings his hand up your back and tousles it into your hair, keeping you in place as your lips intertwine before pulling back and running his eyes over the happiness beaming from your face “you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that”.

**

inbox and requests open🥰

[cjsinkythoughts]

FATWS One Shot #6 - No One Said Anything About a Metal Arm

Word Count: 2011

Warnings: Explosions, Gunshots, The Winter Soldier, Implied Death, Stevie Almost Crying

Setting/Characters: Towards the End of Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Reader, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, Bucky Barnes; Mentions of Alexander Pierce, Arnim Zola

A/N: This one took me a while to write and I’ll tell you why. Rewatching this movie made me want to do a complete rewrite of it. I had so many ideas of where the reader could be and why and what she was doing then and all that. But…I told myself this is a One Shot of her unofficially meeting Bucky for the first time. Which is why it seems incomplete - because it kinda is - it’s just that scene picked from the movie. Am I happy with it? Eh. Am I holding back from writing more parts and just saying “forget this piece, it never happened”? Maybe. But, I can’t. I wish I could. But if I were to rewrite this movie, I’d rewrite the next one. And the next one. And it would take me months to finish these. So…this is what you’re getting.

Also, NO ONE MENTION WHAT’S ABOUT TO HAPPEN IN A COUPLE HOURS! I’M THIS CLOSE TO FREAKING OUT!

Thanks! As always, it’s not beta’d, so please excuse mistakes! Enjoy reading, be kind to yourselves and others, and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

********

Sitting on the edge of the old dam was calming. Peaceful, even. The constant sound of the flowing water, the trees swaying in the slight breeze. It was nice to take a breath after everything that had gone down the past week.

To say you were worried was an understatement. The last time you saw Steve was the evening after you met Sam. He dropped you off at your place, refusing your invitation to stay saying that he should probably check on his apartment since he hadn’t been there in a while.

A lot had changed since then.

Steve was wanted by SHIELD, along with Natasha. Fury was considered dead, but was actually still kicking in the structure beneath your feet with the help of you and Hill. You had tried to go after Steve, but it was too risky. Pierce - who you were almost 100% certain was behind this whole thing - had been keeping a close eye on you since Steve ran away, knowing you’d be behind him. You tried to catch the blonde at the hospital, but you were seconds too late, meeting up with Natasha who told you STRIKE already took him away for questioning.

You had been called by Hill and she told you what had happened. Fury had asked for your help specifically, considering the amount of times you’d had to fake your own death while being undercover. And you’d been dealing with that ever since.

You had wanted to go get the three of them - you learned Sam joined Steve and Natasha, which somehow didn’t surprise you - but Hill refused, saying you needed to stay there just in case.

But Fury was fine, no one was coming, which is how you found yourself swinging your legs above a hundred feet of rushing water.

It didn’t last long. A car pulling up to the side entrance caught your eye and you immediately swung your legs around to rush towards the stairs. It’s not like you haven’t gone longer without seeing Steve before. You’d gone months without seeing him. It was your job. But this was different. Whether it was because for the first time he was the one who left or because he was on the run from the organization you worked for, you didn’t know and didn’t care. All you knew was you needed to see him. Make sure he was okay.

It took you a while to get there, all the stairs and corners and twist and turns. You got there just as Fury ended his explanation, hearing him tell the trio, “can’t kill you if you’re already dead. Besides…I wasn’t sure who to trust.”

Your footsteps were echoing and you were sure Steve heard you but when you entered the room, his eyebrows shot up, his eyes widening. “Honey?”

“Oh thank fucking God.” You breathed out, jogging over to squeeze him tightly. 

“Y/N…” He murmured in your hair, hugging you tightly back. “What happened? Why are you here?”

Pulling back, you jerked your thumb over your shoulder to the director. “I’m saving his ass.” Your finger then jabbed into his firm chest, your lips falling into a frown. “And worrying about yours. Are you okay?”

“I am. Natasha got shot, but she’ll live.”

You looked over at Natasha, who nodded in confirmation, before looking back into those azure eyes of Steve’s. “What happened? Pierce is keeping a tight lid on everything. I was gonna come find you, but I couldn’t because he was watching me. It’s a miracle I got away from them to help Nicky boy. I haven’t gone out since. But, honest, I was gonna-”

“Honey, honey. You’re rambling again.” Steve chuckled, hand resting on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. “It’s okay. I’m glad you’ve been safe here. Pierce is behind this whole thing-”

“Yeah, I figured that-”

“-It’s HYDRA, Y/N.”

You froze. “What? HYDRA? Whaddya mean?”

Steve nodded. “HYDRA’s what’s been infiltrating SHIELD. It’s a long story, but Zola continued it when he was hired for-”

“Operation Paperclip. Yeah, I remember learning about that.” You ran a hand over your face. “Okay…” You hummed, looking at the three of them. “Let’s…talk about it more in a little bit. I know we gotta act soon, but Natasha and Fury need to heal a little bit longer and you should get some rest. You look tired.”

Everyone seemed to agree with your statement, starting to disperse from the room. You started walking out, too, when Steve grabbed your bicep and pulled you aside, down the hall a ways away. You opened your mouth, only for him to pull you into his chest.

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

You nodded, lightly scratching his back, your arms around his slim waist. “I’m glad you are too.” You could feel how tense he was, which was understandable considering what he’d gone through the past couple days. But there was something else. Something in the grip he had on your shirt. The way his heart was hammering against your chest. His erratic breathing and his ducked head. You pulled away to catch his jaw between your fingers, eyes scanning the anguish in his own. “Bubba? What’s wrong?”

It took a moment for him to answer, his eyes growing sadder with every second that passed. “It was Bucky.”

“What?” You felt like the air was knocked out of you. “What do you mean?”

“The Winter Soldier. The assassin who shot Fury. The one who tried killing us on the bridge. It was Bucky. It is Bucky. I saw him, Y/N. I saw his face. It’s him. He survived. When they experimented on him, it must’ve…God, I’m so…I didn’t even notice…I didn’t even check…I left him…” he shook his head, which fell to your shoulder. “Stupid. I’m so stupid.”

“No, no.” You shook your head quickly, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you twisted to kiss the hinge of his tense jaw. “It wasn’t your fault, Steve.” You mumbled softly, lips brushing over the shell of his ear. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. He fell thousands of feet, Stevie. You wouldn’t have found him even if you did.”

HIs grip on your hips tightened. “But I didn’t even try.” His voice broke on that last word. “And how could I not notice something going on with him? There were two years between being experimented on and falling. How-?” Voice catching in his throat, he stopped talking to stop himself from crying. You knew he hated crying.

“You can’t do anything about past Bucky.” You reminded him gently. “But you can help him now.”

“He didn’t even remember me.”

“Then make him.”

********************

To say you were pissed was an understatement. “I’ve been doing undercover stuff for years! This is a piece of cake!”

Steve shook his head. “You’ll be more helpful with Hill. You know more about Project Insight than me, Sam, and Natasha.”

“Bullshit, Steven! You just don’t want-”

“Honey, please.”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him as he gave you those fucking puppy eyes, his dumb pink lips stuck in a pout. Letting out a rather aggressive puff of air, you looked away. “Fine. But I hate you.”

He beamed and nodded. “I can live with that.”

“Okay.” You glanced at the others. “You all ready?”

“Let’s get these sons of bitches.” Sam stated, making the final adjustments to the wings.

Natasha gave a smirk. “As long as you are.”

Turning back to Steve, you raised an eyebrow, waiting for the captain’s orders. He nodded. “Let’s head out.”

****************

“There’s a problem on the flight deck.” Hill informed you, looking at the alert. 

“Alright. I’ll-”

“Stay with Hill!”

You rolled your eyes at Steve’s voice through the comms. “Sorry, Cap. You’re breaking up.”

“I know I’m not, Y/N! I’m serious! Stay there!”

But you were already moving towards the flight deck. “I’m not gonna sit on my ass here, Rogers! Hill’s got it covered! I’m just gonna go check it out!”

“Honey-!”

“Bubba!”

The line went quiet and for a moment you thought you lost connection. “Please stay safe.”

You let out a sigh at his quiet pleads, nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “That goes for you, too, Steve.”

By the time you got out there, most of the jets were in flames, pilots and crew members scattered around the deck. You scanned the wreckage, trying to find the source-

A gunshot made your head whip to the side. Found it. Or, more accurately, him.

He was standing on top of one of the jets, gun pointed down at the pilot that was sitting in it. Before he could slip in the cockpit, though, you took out your gun and fired at him. Even though you knew who he was, when he looked at you it made your blood run cold. It was confirmation - not that you didn’t trust Steve - but still. Seeing is believing. yet seeing the same eyes you’d seen sparkling up at you from pictures now staring you down, void of any emotion? It was hard to believe it was the same person.

“Oh shit. Bubs?”

“What?! What’s wrong?! Are you okay?!”

You took a couple steps back as the Winter Soldier, no. Bucky - Steve’s Bucky - strode towards you. “Uh…nothing, nothing. I just I, uh, found your Bucky.”

“Y/N, get outta there now! I told you to stay with Hill!”

“Fuck!” You dove out of the way as the assassin started shooting at you. “Now’s not the time for reprimanding, Steven!”

You tuned out his cursings so as to not get distracted when you became engaged in a hand-to-hand fight with the fucking Winter Soldier.

“Hi.” You grunted, ducking under his arm and throwing a kick at him, faking it at the last second. Except, he’d already grabbed your ankle. But you did kick him with your other foot. But…he didn’t really move and it made you fall back, so…fail. You let out a grimace when the wind was knocked out of you, but you couldn’t lay there for long as he moved to slam his foot down. You rolled out of the way, swinging your legs up to hit him in the back of the knee. “Nice to finally meet you.”

He growled as Sam exclaimed, “are you seriously chatting with him?”

“It’s mostly one sided - dammit!” The both of you had gotten on your feet again, and you tried hooking your left knee around his left shoulder to tug him down, but he had slammed you against a jet, your leg stretched in a very uncomfortable position as your free foot stood on your toes. He had his metal arm - which no one had informed you about and you were kinda salty about it - against your throat, his other hand coming up in a fist.

Bouncing on your toes a bit, you finally lifted your free leg up to knee him in the side of his face, making you wince slightly at the stretch and the burn in your left thigh, which was the only thing besides his metallic limb holding you up against the jet.

He stumbled to the side, throwing you by the leg on his shoulder. You went sprawling against the pavement, a hiss leaving your lips at the serious roadburn you no doubt just got. Sitting up quickly, not wanting him to get the upper hand, you let out a breath seeing him swiftly moving into the cockpit of the jet he just had you pinned against.

“Guys…he’s…heading your way…just a…heads up. Also…thank you. It was nice…to fucking know…about the metal arm…beforehand. I’m just gonna…rest here for a minute…”

“You’re not hurt too bad, are you?”

“No, Cap. No, just…gonna be aching for a while. Ugh…” Begrudgingly, you got up to your feet. “I think I’m gonna…go back and chill with Maria.”

“Told you so.”

“Shut up, finish your job, and don’t die, Rogers! And next time, please, for the love of God, mention the metal arm!”

****************

****************

****************

All Works Taglist (Open):

@happygoreading​ @bibliophilewednesday​ @breadqueen95​ @marvelettesassemble​ @w-wolfhxrd​

[arrowflier]

Breaking Shit (before it breaks you)

Here’s scene 2 for yesterday’s comfort!anon:

"I know it doesn't make fucking sense!" Mickey shouts brokenly, voice garbled by the tears he’s frantically trying to wipe away.  "You think I'm doing this shit on purpose, asshole?"

Ian sighs.  "Course not, Mick.  It's just--," he breaks off, biting his lip and considering.

No one would ever argue that Terry Milkovich had been a good man, and it killed Ian to see his husband waste tears on a father that hated him, beat him, and would happily have seen him dead.  A father that had been the driving force behind the vast majority of the obstacles Mickey had faced alone, and the ones they had faced together.  One of the reasons they had fallen apart so many times, back in the beginning.

But clearly, that isn't what Mickey needs to hear now.

So, pushing his own feelings back, Ian switches tactics.

"Come on," he says, turning around to scrounge through their dresser for one of Mickey's signature vests and an old shirt.

"What are you--" Mickey starts, and is interrupted by Ian tossing the clothes at him.  The shirt lands half on his head, covering the streaks of tears on his face, and he claws it off with a scowl, balling it up in his lap.

"Put it on," Ian urges, "and get your ass out of bed.  “You don't stop wailing soon, everyone's gonna think you're going soft."

"You're soft," Mickey grumbles under his breath.  "And I told you, I can't fuckin' help it."

He does as he was bid, though, tugging off his stained sleep shirt and pulling on the new one after a quick sniff check.  He holds out a hand and Ian throws him the deodorant, and a pair of not-quite-dirty jeans off the floor.

"So what'm I gettin' dressed for?" Mickey asks.

"We're going out," Ian answers.  "Find a distraction."

"Yeah?"  Mickey stands up from the bed, using his discarded clothes to wipe his face clean.  The tears had at least stopped for now.

"How're you plannin' to distract me from my dead fuckin dad?"  Mickey attempts to give suggestive eyebrow wriggle, but with his red eyes, it looks more like he’s going to start crying again.

"You'll see," Ian replies vaguely.  "You'll just have to trust me."

---

“Where the fuck are we?” Mickey asks about thirty minutes later.  They’re standing outside a nondescript, warehouse-like building off a run-down side street, and Ian seemed way too happy about it.

“Just come on,” he commands, shoving Mickey toward the door with a hand low on his back.  “Let’s go inside.  You’re gonna love this, Mick.”  He’s practically vibrating with excitement.

Mickey shakes his head at Ian’s enthusiasm, but goes in.

They’re greeted just inside the door by a large man holding a clipboard.  “Gallagher, party of two,” Ian tells him, and the man nods, checking something off.

“Alright, looks like you’ve got our rage room package,” he says cheerily, setting his papers on a counter to the side and grabbing up a mess of protective gear that he thrust into their arms.  Mickey holds up a plastic face shield and stared at it, then stared at Ian.

The sneaky bastard just grins.

They’re led to a cage-like room in the back of the building, filled with vases, fine china, and old electronics set up on pedestals.  Bats and hammers are lined up against the wall, each one scarred from extensive use.

“Alright,” the man says, “you signed the waiver online, so you’re ready to go.  Gear up, you’ve got thirty minutes before we reset for the next group.”

Mickey raises his eyebrows behind the man’s back as he walks away from them.  “I definitely didn’t sign a fuckin’ waiver,” he points out to Ian, who shrugs innocently.

“Might have involved some mild identity theft,” he offers casually, and Mickey snorts.

“Identity theft?” he questions.  “Thought we were goin’ straight, Gallagher.”

Ian smirks.  “Well, it is Mr. Milkovich, now, isn’t it?  Besides,” he adds with a nod to the room, “this is our version of going straight.  No guns, no stolen goods, just us and a bunch of shit we get to break.”

Mickey’s smile is slow, but wide.  “Yeah?” he says lowly.  “Then lets go break some shit.”

Ian gives an awkward whoop that sends Mickey into a fit of giggles--”You’re such a fuckin’ dork, man”--and beelines for the tools.  He picks up a hammer for himself, then pauses to consider the choices before picking out a solid black baseball bat for Mickey and passing it over.

“Suits you,” he offers by way of an explanation.  “Been wanting to see you swing one since you got kicked out of little league.”

“Sure that’s what you wanna see me swingin’?” Mickey teases, tongue between his teeth as he takes it.  He gives it a few experimental swings, feeling it out.  “Could break a leg real good with this,” he muses, and Ian reaches up to catch his next swing in one large palm.

“Why don’t you go break that TV, instead,” he says dryly, nodding at the big-ticket item in the center of the room.

Mickey shrugs, and goes for it.

He takes a good, solid swing, sending the matte-black bat into the side of the TV with a bang.  The plastic side, dark grey and scratched from years of careless use, cracks and pops off, falling to the floor and exposing the guts of the machine.

Mickey breathes.  In.  Out.  

He stares at the broken television, so similar to the one that had been in his own house growing up.  Not his home, he hadn’t had one of those, but the living room of his father’s house where he had tried so hard to live by another man’s rules.

The TV he had been watching the first time Terry hit him for leaving a girly show on too long.  The TV that he had seen Mandy’s reflection in the first time Terry grabbed her a little too hard in the kitchen, stayed a little too close while he drank his fifth beer,  The TV that had been on in the background while he and Ian made out on the sofa for the first time, the one that was too quiet the next morning to hide the sounds his father made when he found them there, together.

He takes another breath.  In.  Out.

Then he releases an embarrassingly loud war cry and swings again, and again, and again, pummeling the thing until it’s all in pieces on the floor. He thinks he might be screaming--”Fuck you Terry, fuck you, you fuckin’ useless piece of shit, see how you like it you goddamn fuckin’ bastard”--but he isn’t sure.  He hits the largest piece one more time, then kicks at the rest, sending plastic fragments scattering over the concrete floor.

When he looks up, Ian is watching him, and for a moment Mickey is worried.  But he doesn’t look scared, or horrified, or even concerned.  He looks almost...proud.

Mickey is panting.  He waits for Ian to say something, but he never does.  He just smiles, picks up his hammer, and smashes a plate.

“That one looked expensive,” he finally says.  “Like something Frank would try to sell.”  He spits on it.  “Fuck you, Frank,” he says to the shattered ceramic pieces, and Mickey starts smiling too.

They have a go at everything in the room, shouting out insults against their fathers, authority figures, and that one punk at the grocery store last week.  They even take their tools to the pedestals themselves, managing to dent the heavy-duty supports, laughing as they almost fall over when their weapons ricochet.

Mickey knows his face is stained with tears, again, but Ian’s is the same.  He feels a weight lift from him that he hadn’t known was there, and as he braces himself for another crack at the pedestal in the center of the room, he smiles.

---

When the man from earlier comes back, it’s to find them holding each other up in the middle of the room, laughing through tears as they look at the sheer destruction surrounding them.

He wisely doesn’t comment on the state of their faces, or the state of the room.  Instead, he just checks that little clipboard, and asks, “Are we ready to move on to the axe throwing?”

Mickey straightens, though he doesn’t pull out of Ian’s hold.  His eyes are wide, and his teeth flash as he grins.  He glances at Ian, who nods with a smile, and then looks back to their host.  

“Fuck yeah, we are,” he confirms.  “Let’s go throw some shit.”

[cdroloisms]

Do you think c! Quackity are skilled on the mastering of "necessary convincing" on a person? And man the stream yesterday was so intense dark theme.

hello ! 

this is testament of how behind i am in asks, haha, considering this was sent basically at the beginning of q’s visits and it’s been ,, uh ,, several months since then ASJKFLJAS - but im going to try to answer it now while pretending that we dont have months proving that c!quackity is very willing to do whatever the hell it takes to get the revive book from someone.

i think that the ,, technicalities? of the torture were never an issue - everyone in the dream smp universe has to know how to use a weapon in its most basic form, after all, just to defend themselves from mobs and stuff, tho some people are clearly more adept at using them than others. torture is ultimately just hurting someone until they do what you want them to do (way oversimplified, but this definition works here) - physically, if you’re able to kill a zombie, there’s functionally little different with inflicting harm on a defenseless unarmed human with no means of defending themselves.

the real challenge, as with most things in the minecraft roleplay, comes from the mental side - how far is c!quackity really willing to go? obviously he *can* hurt someone, but doing so also tends to go against a lot of our most basic instincts as humans. defying that becomes the real question to consider - and c!quackity, in his increased willingness to hurt not only c!dream, but everyone as he’s manipulated people more and used people more for his own gain in the last few months, seems to providing as much of an answer as we’re going to get. 

this obviously isnt to say that he isn’t conflicted, or that he’s pure evil !! but c!quackity, by his own admission, seems to hold little trust for other people and ideals anymore. his main goal is Las Nevadas and whatever he needs to make it great - anything and everything else is either a means to his end or an obstacle in his way. i dont doubt that there are chinks to this mindset to exploit, things that he cares about enough to take his single-minded focus off of Las Nevadas. as of now, though, i don’t think that torturing c!dream and the violence it’ll require of him will be that breaking point.

anyway, have a really dark snippet exploring c!quackity some more !! he’s really fun to write, though i don’t think i’ve really mastered his voice yet - practice makes perfect, i guess. heed the warnings and hope you enjoy! 

tw: torture, abuse, blood, injuries, branding, violence, death mention, abuse apologism, mental deterioration, dark content, dark imagery, very dark portrayal of c!quackity, pandora’s vault/prison arc

There’s a certain learning curve that comes with torturing someone.

It sounds obvious, thinking back, as much as it sounds morbid as all hell, but it’s not like he’s in any position to judge. Quackity swipes another stack of iron from a chest, momentarily grumbling about the cost, before melting down three ingots for the blade of his next axe. He could just do it in a crafting table, but there’s a degree of calm in the monotony of doing it all by hand, slowly watching as the iron begins to glow red hot in the heat of the furnace and then hammering it into shape on his anvil. He hadn’t been good at it before, had let Sapnap do the majority of the smithing for the three of them in the past, but. Well.

When you’re eating through several sets of iron tools a week, either from bending them out of shape against unforgiving obsidian or melting the blades past saving in lava or burning them all entirely, when he’s too tired to be bothered cleaning off the blood and simply chucks the used tools after a session into the molten rock outside the cell, you kind of have to figure out how to make your own shit so others don’t get suspicious.

He beats the metal into a block, humming softly over the clangs of his hammer. There’s definitely a learning curve to crafting weapons, too - he’s pretty proud of the ones that he can make, now, even though he’s still no good at any of the fancier furnishings and finishes (nor does he particularly care about them). Figuring out how to torture someone effectively was a similarly slow process - finding their limits and how far to push before something, inevitably, gives. He hadn’t exactly handled it the best in the first few visits, usually retching into the nearest wastebasket at the smell, at the feeling of blood coating his fingertips, at the screams ringing incessantly in his head. It wasn’t all that long before he forwent sleep altogether, devoting all of his time on paperwork and calls and anything that would deafen the cries that would’ve haunted him otherwise. He was no good with his tools, either - more than a few times, in those early visits, did he end up slicing too deep or going too far and needing to cut the session short for Sam to come in and administer health pots before Dream died and rendered all of their efforts useless.

(Sapnap had been the one to first teach him how to wield an axe, correcting his stance and his grip with gentle, calloused hands. He remembers them training on the newly laid dirt surface of Mexican L’manburg, sweat dripping down his neck from the sun beating against their heavy armor, Sap laughing at his unbalanced, heavy-armed swings and demonstrating with his own weapon, movements fluid and graceful as if it was an extension of his own arm. In the cell, he thinks of Sapnap’s voice, firm in his focus - feet at least shoulder width apart, hands braced on the axe handle, left sitting just above the end and the right just a few inches below the head - and swings.)

It had been...a process. A bloody, often painful process - his hands are calloused, now, in ways they never were before, from the constant handling of his many tools. His back aches constantly from bending over, and his shirt - more often splattered with blood than not - now bears some permanent pink stains that he can’t get out no matter how hard he tries. (The laundry, he thinks wryly, had been a hell of a learning process as well.) He picks up the metal with a pair of tongs, easing it back under the fire’s heat until it glows a soft pink, and then places it back onto the anvil to work - slowly beating the metal into shape.

He’s had to learn a lot. The lessons are fascinating, in a gruesome, morbid sort of way. He’d brought a brand the other day, painstakingly carved into a fancy, curlicued Q all on his own, used in his work at Las Nevadas originally to finish furnishing a few pieces of leather furniture he had scattered around the city. As Dream struggled under him, skin blackening under the white-hot metal, he’d immersed himself in the sight, far more similar to his past leatherwork than he might’ve originally expected. He almost wanted to do it again, just to compare, but the stress of it all had been enough to knock the prisoner into shock, which had put a significant damper on the rest of his visit. He watches the iron glow contemplatively from his anvil, not nearly as hot as he works at it.

Another dip in the furnace later, it’s heated just enough to work out the finishings, and he carefully knocks the ends into a blade. Picking it up with a pair of tongs, he holds it up to a nearby piece of glowstone, grinning at the finished axe head. There’s still quite a bit to do, technically - he still needs to sharpen it along with the other ones he’s finished, as well as fasten them to their handles, but even so - it looks good. He examines it, back and front, against the light. It’s probably his best one yet.

Quackity smiles to himself as he puts it down with the rest, pulling out his calendar from behind him and carefully marking another red X over the date. Learning to torture someone takes a hell of a lot of time, but. Well.

He has all the time in the world.

[serpentinesarang]

the rest is a secret

pairing: hyunjin (hwang hyunjin) x fem reader

genre: relationship!au, detailed smut

word count: 1983

content warnings: first-time sex (virginity can be implied if desired), unprotected sex (reader on contraception), mild swearing, lil bit of dom-y hyunjin

summary: it’s been three months with your boyfriend hyunjin, and he’s been patiently waiting to spice things up. when he accidentally encounters post-shower reader, he seizes the opportunity to do so.

a/n: requested by anon. thanks for your patience :)

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

I can’t believe he’s taking me somewhere special for dinner tonight! you squeal in your mind, wrapping up a hot shower. You wring out the remaining soap from your loofah before turning off the water and drying off.

You think back to the text from Hyunjin you’d woken up to: Dress up for dinner tonight... the rest is a secret. Have a good day, baby. Sighing with delight, you wrap your hair up and go about your body lotion routine, making sure to use the one Hyunjin had gifted you on your two-month anniversary. Might as well go all out... you think.

Just as you’re reaching for your face products, you hear a sharp knock at the door. It’s the middle of the afternoon, and you’ve got nothing on the agenda besides dinner with Hyunjin, so who the hell is trying to bother you?

With an exasperated huff, you throw on the thin robe hanging off the bathroom door and step into the hallway, but your heart nearly drops to your intestines as you hear the electronic beeping of your front door passcode being punched in. The keypad sings its little opening tune, and you’re too frozen with panic to process the door swinging open and showing none other than your sweet boyfriend.

Oblivious, Hyunjin closes the door behind him like business as usual then glances up and locks eyes with you across the way. His mouth falls ajar, his spine shifts up, and he stops himself from getting closer.

“Y-you gave me the code last week... Remember?” he asks in a soft, almost scared tone. 

You let out the breath you’d been holding this whole time, your hands uncontrollably flying up to fist your hair out of sheer relief. “Yes!” you reply breathlessly. “I just... forgot about it, I guess...”

Smiling, Hyunjin pads over, stopping a few feet before you. “You freaked me out with that look on your face, baby.”

You pause for a moment, still trying to piece together why his presence doesn’t quite feel right. What’s he doing here before dinner? He’d disappeared after that text anyway, so you’d figured he was just gonna spend the day working.

“I’m sorrrry,” you chuckle sheepishly, bouncing a heel against the floor. “I wasn’t expecting to see you for, like, another hour or two.”

Hyunjin takes your hands in his, thumbs stroking your knuckles. “This was part of my plan: surprise you before dinner.”

Oh. Shit. He did explicitly allude to that in his text this morning.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here then,” you reply with a sweet smile.

His eyes do that adorable crescent moon thing as he matches your grin while squeezing your fingers in random patterns. “Dork. You smell good, by the way.” 

Then his eyes flick downward to the white robe you’d haphazardly tied around yourself. This is the first time in your relationship that he’s seeing you wearing something more revealing than work or street clothes or pajamas. And he digs it a lot so far.

Resuming eye contact, Hyunjin asks with puppy-dog eyes, “Did I interrupt anything?”

Missing his well-veiled insinuation, you answer, “Not at all. I just got out of the shower, actually.”

Dropping your hands and instead placing his on your waist, Hyunjin says in a hushed voice, “Do you know how sexy you look right now?”

You gently grasp his forearms, feeling a tingle of excitement course through your nerves. “No... Tell me more.” You stare up at him with growing determination, your intuition screaming that this is a make-or-break moment, and god are you ready. Three months of just making out and dry-humping is torture.

“Nah,” he murmurs before craning his neck to plant a long, deep kiss on your lips. He pulls less than an inch away, his lips literally still atop yours. “You already know.”

At that, you cup his cheeks and mash your lips back together. A pang of desperation flashes within your chest as he molds his torso against yours and wraps his arms around your back, so you part your lips to meet tongues.

You’ve wanted this since the one-month mark because you and Hyunjin just click, and the level of physical magnetism between you has always been unbearably high. He’s truly your best friend, more so than your few girlfriends. You don’t need to think this through because now it feels right.

A few moments have passed. Hyunjin has carried and plopped you dead center on your bed. Looming over on all fours, he bores his eyes into yours with a nearly palpable kind of lust.

“Do you want me to undress?” he asks.

You smile. “I don’t care either way, baby. I’m just thrilled this is happening.”

Hyunjin smirks before tugging off his hoodie (no undershirt, that lazybones) and coming back down to tenderly kiss you. You feel the knot around your waist loosening, but he only moves the robe off your chest. Oh so delicately, he palms the underside of one of your breasts while bracing himself with the other hand.

You whimper when he kisses a sensual, painfully slow trail down your neck, stopping near the top of your other breast to gently suck and kiss. Both hands greedily rolling your breasts now, he slithers back to your lips, being a little more careless this time around.

Feeling your hunger exploding, you undo his jeans and slide a hand in, grasping his throbbing, girthy dick. Hyunjin groans into your mouth and thrusts his hips deeper into your touch, begging you wordlessly. So you oblige by slowly pumping his shaft and snaking your free hand in and around to grab a supple butt-cheek.

“Baby,” he whispers between kisses. “Harder―please.”

Trying not to smirk too much, you grant his request, maybe just a liiiittle too much pressure, but you reason that he’s way too turned on at this point. You even pick up the pace to a steady rhythm, occasionally caressing that butt-cheek.

Still feverishly making out with you, Hyunjin emits a deliciously drawn out moan against your lips, and he switches to tenderly pinching your nipples between his fingertips, which causes you to moan too. Now you can feel the precum gathering on your palm.

“Jinnie,” you pull away, “I’m as ready as you are.” Your eyes dart down to his dark pink tip bobbing in and out of view then back to his flushed face.

“Good,” he breathes out. “’Cause I want you bad.” 

With that, he pulls himself upright, forcing you to stop pumping him, as he scoots down your thighs to move aside the rest of your robe, finally giving him what he wants: your nude, freshly showered body all for him.

You can see his eyes actually glazing over with desire as he shamelessly assesses you, his hands trembling over you as if he can’t believe this isn’t his nightly handjob fantasy.

“Hyunjin, why are you shaking? Are you nervous?” you ask, starting to doubt yourself.

“No, I’m so fucking over the moon right now I don’t know what to do,” he replies, a seductive airiness in his voice.

You pause, taking his words into consideration. “That’s okay, babe. Why don’t we take the rest off?”

Within seconds, your robe is chucked to the floor along with his jeans and underwear. You climb on top of Hyunjin and sit on his thighs, his beautiful erection lying like a stone against his flat stomach as he strokes your own thighs with his moistening palms. 

“Can I touch you?” you ask, doing your best to keep your excitement from bubbling over.

“Please touch me,” he murmurs with expectant eyes, bringing his hands to your hips.

With the pad of your index finger, you trace a line up his veiny shaft from the base, and Hyunjin loudly exhales when you graze over the sensitive frenulum. Now, you lightly run your dominant hand up his shaft, pausing to dig his tip in circles against your palm.

“You’re teasing me...” Hyunjin whines, gripping your hips even tighter in his big hands.

You smirk. “What should I do then?”

He simply burns you with a narrow-eyed gaze, either mentally swearing about how ridiculously hot you look on top or carefully choosing his words.

Completely flipping the situation, though, he overpowers you with zero struggle, barreling you both over so he can loom above you again.

“I’ll tell you what you can do,” he responds in a dangerously husky tone while he captures your wrists in one of his hands and roughly pins them against the pillows. “You’re gonna have the best night of your life,” he growls, knocking your legs apart with his knee.

And without skipping a beat, Hyunjin pushes into you with his other hand pressed horizontally against your abdomen to feel his length poking upward from within your flexible, very aroused walls. And it does, causing an uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp to escape your mouth.

Hyunjin freezes, bringing that hand to your cheek, still tightly clutching your wrists in the other. “Tell me when,” he whispers, eyes roving all over your expression of combined surprise and newfound pleasure.

You take this moment to push your chin up and open-mouth kiss him a few times before whispering your permission while he tries to palm one of your breasts: “Go, Hyunnie.”

Off he goes into a decent, far-from-slow pace, rolling his hips effortlessly into your wet core just enough to avoid slamming your cervix. Luckily for him, this is exactly where your G-spot rests.

“HYUNjin,” you huff as he adds more pressure to his thrusts, bumping into your spot every other second.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks in a breathy voice.

You can’t control your eyes rolling back in their sockets when he finally increases his speed, full-on hammering into your pussy now. “Nothing—oh fUCk—”

“Ohhh okay, that means ‘don’t stop,’” Hyunjin interrupts, looking at you smugly.

You regain control of your eyes long enough to meet his devilish expression with your own. “You can do better.”

The very millisecond his brain processes those haughty words, his eyes nearly boggle out of his skull before he laces his hands with yours and throws them down parallel to your shoulders. To sweeten the deal even more, he uses the same knee to slide under your thigh and push your leg up as far as he can press with his torso, which—at the marvelous new angle Hyunjin’s even harder dick is kissing your sweet spot now—sends you into your first vaginal orgasm.

Watching your chest uncontrollably convulse with euphoria, Hyunjin open-mouth grins out of both pride and arousal, pushing himself to let up on the speed but max out on pressure, definitely slamming your cervix with each purposeful thrust. At this, your own mouth flies open in a silent scream, and you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

“BabyIneedtocum,” Hyunjin groans in one mashed-together word before conjoining your mouths with messy kisses and tongue-sucking straight out of porn.

“I’m on birth control,” you sigh against his hair as he licks your neck. “Cum in me, Jinnie.”

You hear the most guttural, pussy-throbbing groan from him because that’s all he needs: your sexy, fucked-out voice (as if it wasn’t already naturally sexy to him) telling him to go ahead and paint your tight cave of wonders white. 

All in less than a second, Hyunjin releases your hands, wraps his arms around your body, presses himself against you with all the energy he has left, and digs his already pulsing dick as deep as possible. You’ve been unknowingly clenching on him this whole time in the wake of your heart-stopping orgasm, so he spends a good twenty seconds holding you, taken hostage by his own unbridled pleasure.

Panting as if he’d hiked five miles in the mountains, he pulls himself off of you, cups your flushed face in his warm hands, and says, “And it’s not even close to dinnertime.”