#that tried to turn to human trafficking last minute

[leviathanleva]

Cujo

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Supersoldier!FemReader

Description: A monster in human skin, a weapon disguised as a person, no thoughts, no emotion, as per design. He despises you and everything you stand for. He’s tried to kick you out of his squad and failed, he’s made it his mission to break you no matter the cost.

It comes as a surprise when he asks you to lie and say you love him.

[4.4k words]

[Angst, Blood and Injury, Graphic Depiction of Gore]

Chapter 3 "Liquorish"

Heartbeat heavy in your chest, you race up the supposedly abandoned building, finding enemy after enemy.

It was supposed to be a routine inspection, an easy mission, in and out in less than a week. Now everything is turned upside down and being unable to contact or smell Ghost anywhere near has your senses flaring up with the unfamiliar feeling of stress and determination.

Bloodlust hazes your vision, everything has a ruddy tint to it, be it from splattered entrails or rage, it’s beyond your understanding. The memories still linger, the last sentence you heard over the coms before everything went to static:

“Hound! Do not engage! The roof is – ”

You were supposed to be his shield, it’s your job to be ambushed and take damage, you can regenerate, he can’t. But Ghost let either his man pride or his protective instinct overwhelm him, the anxiety still lingered in his gut no matter how many times you came back to him half dead and you were good as new minutes later. He wasn’t thinking clearly when he pushed you behind him and ordered you to watch his back as you advanced through the abandoned building suspected of drug trafficking activity.

He moved ahead without you, for once he wanted to be your protector. Now you can’t sense hair or trail from him and you’re becoming increasingly frustrated.

Easy mission your ass. This was a charade for something bigger.

The mask around your mouth whirls in overdrive, siphoning as much oxygen as possible while you vigorously work your way to the dreaded roof. Straining both muscle and limb in unison, you climb floor after floor, pushing your limitations as vapor froths off your skin and trails behind you like a haunting mirage. Your body is boiling on the inside, having exerted too much energy in too short a time and your muzzle can only do so much to keep you going before you collapse from overheating.

To hell with pushing your bounds when the Lieutenant might be in danger.

Another enemy, seemingly waiting for you, they all have been, a crumb trail of beating hearts the closer you get to your destination. You dive for him as bullets dig into your shoulder, he’s sliding towards the grimy floor and clutching his shredded throat a moment later. You don’t have time for a measly nobody, he chose the wrong side, he suffers the consequences.

The concrete debris crinkles under your boots, crushed to fine dust under the pressure you’ve put on your feet. Clutching and shouldering corners, you bounce yourself off them to retain speed in the claustrophobic corridors. Jump over handfuls of stairs where more hostiles await, you hear them before you see them, distinguishing their heavy breathing over your muffled pants.

Blood painting the walls like an abstract piece of art, death is left in your wake as you rush up another floor. The screams have alerted more people, and so have the gunshots and you bristle at the amount of footsteps echoing in the shells of your ears.

What is going on? Why are there so many of them? Where the hell is the Lieutenant? How did they jam your coms?

The questions are pushed aside as you appear in the shadows of a bare apartment, blending into the darkness and only your irises visible. A menacing sight to anyone, a monster, it’s what you’ve become as you slowly drown in your brutish ways the longer you’re detached from your beloved master.

A hoarse growl escapes you, you’re nearly moving on all fours, prowling low to the floor as you tackle the first enemy target. Flashlights are thrown astray, nearly blinding you as the chaos ensues. You crush bone like it’s toothpicks, rip at flesh like paper, the whirring in your mask overwhelms the gurgling cries for help and call for reinforcements. Bloodlust can be dangerous in the hands of one who is inexperienced such as yourself and you keep walking deeper down that path as no sign of your teammate shines to stifle you back to normalcy.

Strands of hair stick to your face like glue, matted down and drenched in sweat, your gear feels heavy and damp, it’s a sauna beneath your loose, coarse blouse. Your socks are slippery against the inside of your boots and you have half a mind to kick them off and continue barefoot. Juggernaut as you are, your breaking point is nearly reached and you feel the stinging pain creeping up your spine. The idea of rest is forced away, you can’t afford it when you’re so close, you’ve come too far to shut down now to cool off, not when Ghost is unresponsive.

The amount of cocking weapons should be concerning as you near the door to the roof, bloodshot eyes opened wide and pupils dilated as the scent of familiarity finally reaches your nostrils, too intoxicating for your mind to register the plethora of other bodily odors.

You nearly break through the door in your neglectful hurry, gaze harsh and piercing, slicing through the multitude of hostile soldiers only with your oppressive presence. Hunched over, with tense shoulders and pulsing hands that are itching to rip into the men before you, you skim over the roof with vigor, letting your nose guide your vision to a familiar figure standing at the edge of the roof.

“Lieutenant!” Your first instinct is to rasp out, crystalline orbs trained on his battered form strung up by a crane like a piece of meat. A guttural snarl reverberates deep in your throat as you turn to the crowd of armed enemies with malice, ready to shred them to a pulp and eat a bucket of bullets in the process if only to get to your precious squad mate.

Ghost sways above a crater, his secured feet dangling above a deadly drop. You can smell the blood slowly oozing down his knuckles, staining his gloves, and hear his steady heart as he swims in unconsciousness. You nearly whine at the sight, reeling your head towards him with the need to call out again and maybe have him wake up.

No such simple luxury is provided for you, instead you’re faced off with a handful of brutes who believe their chances of survival are higher than zero.

You take a step forward. The weapons train on you.

You’ll rip them apart –

“ – Tut, tut!”

You falter at the voice and watch the nearly unhinged door behind you close to reveal none other than your target – suited and unbothered by your feral breathing and unceremonial entrance. The man you’ve been hunting for an age too long now to admit, a slippery bastard that felt someone breathing down his neck only when you were sent after his trail. Philip Graves stands to your right, the traitor, the absolute menace of a man that has the audacity to flick a smile at you as if you’d just joined his most prestigious party.

“Well, it’s nice to finally see Shepherd’s little experiment in the flesh.” He croons and looks you over in marvel. A bitter frown adorns your features as you abandon your prowling stance and straighten your back, adopting a more human-like pose. “Quite the achievement.” He notices your attention turn completely to him and scoffs before unfurling his fingers to show off a remote of sorts. “Don’t give me that look.”

“And that is…?” You question, words slurred by the confines of your muzzle as your eyes dart from his face to the remote, then you realize and your glare sharpens.

“The remote to the crane of course. I wouldn’t risk being in your proximity if I didn’t have a guarantee of your obedience. I’m confident, not a fool.” You’d snort at his cocky words in a different setting. He gestures at you with his free hand, flicking his fingers casually as if ushering a child. “Now if you really cherish your Lieutenant – remove your mask.”

For a brief moment, you’re left confused, blink at him twice before tilting your chin to one side and crossing your arms, eyes straying from him as you plunge into thought. The audacity was not what bewildered you, but his utter belief in having wrangled you pliant. To think he was willing to so absolutely rely on the dry, shallow information he’d dug up was preposterous. It was also wrong, your instructions were clear and no blackmail or threat was going to weaken your resolve.

You were trained to hunt, complete your assignment at any cost, be put in lethal danger, and come out victorious. Your squad mates were weak to no fault of their own, but their lifeline was something you would risk for the greater good.

This was your duty.

“No.” You answer simply and take a step forward. Whatever justice-fueled speech was circling in your head is silenced by an unfamiliar trepidation in your chest as you see Graves’ thumb glide over the release button on the remote. You swallow something thick in your throat and huff out a breath before straightening your shoulders. “Return the Lieutenant to me and I will leave you to run. I will not pursue you. You have my word.”

What was this…? What the hell were you saying?

He laughs at your words, apparently the contradiction of them to your monotone voice is entertaining. Your jaw clenches at his nonchalant demeanor used to disguise the nervous sheet of sweat forming thickly on the back of his neck. You can smell it even with the abundance of testosterone burning your nostrils.

“You see, I would…but then again, I don’t trust you.”

“I do not lie.” You state with a deadpan look.

“You don’t disobey orders either.” Graves retorts and gives you a challenging expression, pursing his lips to one side and deeming you too untrustworthy for a dealing of a peace delegation. “Mask off. Now.” He snaps when you don’t budge and twirls the remote in his hand before pointing it daringly at Ghost. A moment of nothing passes and instead of the tension you’d hoped to rise within him, he grins and rests a hand on his hip, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Oh? Is this right? You truly don’t care for your teammate?”

“No.” Comes your immediate answer, smooth and soft and lacking an ounce of care for the potential danger it might send your Lieutenant in. You glance at his limp, hanging body with disinterest and blame your palpitating heart to the long and strenuous journey to the roof rather than something else. It couldn’t be anything else, you felt nothing but the aftermath of physical exertion. “Whether he lives or dies, it’s all the same to me.” You’re being truthful yet every single word wrestles with you fervently before being forced past your teeth. Strange and bothersome, but you pay it no mind. “If I return with your head my task is complete. Your death is my mission, casualties are inevitable.”

He doesn’t buy it.

“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” Graves sneers something vile and again points the remote at the crane, toying with you and relishing in it.

Your mask hisses loudly and is tossed on the concrete floor of the roof before you can realize what you’re doing. The lower part of your face – wet from the vapor of your breaths, soiled with a snarl. You don’t dare let the bastard out of sight now that the power dynamic has shifted in his favor.

“There you go. Good girl.” He coos at the sight of your unreluctant obedience and his smug features soften in near adoration. “Seems you still have a heart after all.”

Not fond of his degrading babying, you try to steer the conversation to another, much more vital topic that has been gnawing at your gut since the revealing of his presence.

“Why are you here? What business do you have with me?”

Graves, much to your surprise, obliges your question.

“A little birdie told me I’m being hunted by a whole new predator. A…special one this time.” He begins and motions for his men to make their way to his side, steering them to a safe distance from your vicious paws in case you snap despite the low odds. He reciprocates the eye contact, almost unblinking, not wanting to miss a beat from your uncanny demeanor. “That birdie also told me you have a habit of following orders only from your Lieutenant and I thought maybe…if I manage to string up the worm, I’ll get the fish.” His arms spread wide, his chest expands and you’re almost tempted to lunge forward. “And voila.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.” You cock your head at him and let your arms unfold and fall to your sides.

The corners of his mouth twitch at your disinterest.

“I wanted to see you in the flesh, Hound.” He answers then, changing from his grandiose façade to a genuine and less irritable one. Gesturing towards you, he continues. “Check if the rumors are true. And judging by the fact you even got to the roof – they certainly are.” His hands clasped together over his pelvis, the remote shining still between his fingers, yellow and menacing in contrast to his black cotton gloves. “Quite disgusting what they did to you. Wouldn’t you say?” The nearly heartfelt sympathy in his tone does little to sway your intentions and it shows clearly on your unmoving features. Yet he keeps going, keeps feeding you with conflicting thoughts that fail to take root in your mind. “Countless months of agony just to become a pawn.”

Despite the unpleasant memories flooding your head at his take, you hum and brush them aside without much effort.

“I consented to my augmentations.”

“That you did.” He nods and juts his jaw before flicking the blonde locks away from his eyes and slicking them back. “ For the chance of serving a greater purpose, not being someone’s lapdog and wasting your potential on lowly criminals.” Scorn drips heavily from his tongue, a hidden distaste for his own misfortunes showing, misfortunes much similar to yours. “But I won’t sway you yet. I can’t when your attention is so torn between me and your Lieutenant.”

Maybe his sympathy is sincere, you think. Maybe there’s an ounce of truth in his law-breaking, scummy ways and he sees you as much of a victim as he sees himself. It would make sense why he orchestrated this whole situation instead of simply trying to kill you and rid himself of you.

A part of you believes him, you can tell that bits and pieces of what he says come from a wronged man trying to take revenge for his pain. But you’re no simple soldier, you were built to withstand manipulation, torture, worse. You admit to his twisted honesty but have no intent in following after him and abandoning everything you’ve worked to build no matter how unimportant or unimpressive it was.

“You’re misinterpreting.”

The distinct beat of helicopter wings catches your attention far before the vehicle itself appears in the distance. Graves and his men’s ride, you presume, a quick escape after he got bored of your lack of subordination and bid you farewell.

“Am I?” He doesn’t dare to glance back, instead lets his ears assure him that his escape route is secured and is hastily approaching his location. “So far you’ve completed your tasks well.” A gloved thumb rubs over his freshly shaven jaw, before nudging his bottom lip up in contemplation as he sizes you up and down with a calculative look. “I have one last objective for you, though, just to test your limits. Figure out what I’m up against, you know?”

“I don’t take orders from you.” You hiss, expressing something more than monotony for the first time during your conversation.

His words had struck a nerve somewhere, surprisingly so, yet he took the opportunity regardless.

“This one you’ll have to.” He all but sighs, bored with your resistance and crackling unbothered demeanor. There’s too much peaking beneath it and he wants to sink his teeth into it, yet you continue to deny him. Whether from a lack of understanding over your emotions or a very bad attempt at hiding them, they were visibly showing through and he couldn’t get enough of it. “Tell me, do you think if you jump from this building you can survive?”

“Without my mask, it’s highly unlikely.”

A gust of wind sweeps by you and suddenly you’re painfully aware how it sways the rope Ghost hangs from, still and silent. Sweat forms on your brow, your hands curl into fists, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your palms and nearly drawing blood.

“Interesting.” He hums at your answer, nodding at the new information bestowed upon him – a weakness, a flaw in your design that your makers hadn’t been able to work out. This gave him a useful advantage against you. “So without a steady supply of oxygen, you’re rendered useless.”

“I can still rip you in half.” You declare and lean forward, arms dangling and ready to clutch at the floor and propel you forward. Your patience runs thin and Graves tastes it on his tongue, not much longer before you snap and dash either for him or the Lieutenant.

“Oh, I don’t doubt.” He laughs in your face like your threat means nothing and gestures for his men to board the helicopter before hopping on himself. He grips onto the side of the door and smiles bitterly at you. “Well, it’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance finally after such a long game of cat and mouse. I’m afraid we must be going now though.”

“Do you like hearing yourself talk?” A bark reverberates somewhere deep in your throat, akin to a growl as you lunge towards the helicopter.

No more talking, you’ve given him enough grace. Should have ended everything minutes before, forced yourself to move out of the stupor your Lieutenant’s state had pinned you in.

He doesn’t matter, nothing matters but Graves’ head, and like a scared mutt, you’d let him grow confident in his false influence over you.

“You know, you’re right. I’ve talked enough.” Venom oozes from his smirk as he spits one last taunt your way. “Fetch!”

You fail to realize why he’s so self-assured when you’re still capable of reaching him before the helicopter has lifted off. The slimy smirk doesn’t leave his face as he presses the button and turns away from you with a distinct “Ta!”. It’s sickening. Ghost matters not, your orders are clear and you’re sure the Lieutenant would understand the sacrifice you had to make were he in your stead. It’s a worthy sacrifice, he’d be honored after his demise, renowned for leading you to the den of the enemy for you to demolish and rid the world of their stain of an existence.

“You’re a fool if you think – ”

Your voice hitches as your body involuntarily turns away from Graves.

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING –

You dash across the rooftop and leap over the edge without a drop of hesitancy. A coil nestles in your stomach, not from the sight before you – a height so devastating, the street below so far that the cars look like mere pebbles, but at the thought of abandoning your prospect, disobeying a command, revolting against your upper command.

Too late to turn back now. And even if you could, would you?

No…

You adjust your limbs against the merciless wind, propel your arms forward like a diver about to hit the water's surface, your entire being flattened to endure as much resistance as possible and cut through the air. The cold whips against your eyes, blurs your vision with tears which you rapidly blink away to not lose sight of Ghost’s descending body.

Was it only the cold? Why were the tears so salty then?

Why was your face stuck in a desperate grimace of horror and hope?

Halfway across the building, you manage to snatch the rope around your Lieutenant’s waist. Your victory is shortlived as the earth beneath approaches steadfast and you bite into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and keep your head as cool as possible.

What now?

Even if he’s safely in your arms, you’re still heading for an inevitable death and thinking time is limited. You wrack your brain into turbo mode to come up with something, anything to save him, prevent his fall. The solution comes to you and it’s not all too pleasant, but without an alternative, you relent.

You thrust your arm through the glassy wall of the building, letting the shards shred through your skin, unable to exert your full potential without your mask. You try to regardless and your throat feels like it’s closing in on itself, you can’t breathe in enough air, the oxygen is not nearly the amount you need and you’re left suffocating slowly. Your hand mauls through cement floors and polished windows that shatter under the pressure as you desperately grapple for something, trying to slow your momentum.

Heart hammering in your throat, eyes wide with plea for something to work, for a miracle to happen, but it doesn’t. No fairytales allowed for the sinful and decrepit, for those who’ve abandoned their humanity for the betterment of civilization.

Pain doesn’t register on your features as your arm continues to endure in vain, shredded, sliced, battered to a pulp. But the horror registers when it shatters, the bone and flesh unable to withstand such detrimental amounts of damage, it’s rendered useless. It’s not the physical agony that terrifies you, but the only means of you saving the Lieutenant – now completely obliterated.

What now?

You think while your gaze darts from the bloodied, mangled mess that is your now worthless limb to the hastily approaching pavement below.

DO SOMETHING! ANYTHING! –

“Bloody f – ”

The once-lidded chocolate orbs you’ve grown to cherish look up at you – spastic, disoriented, glued to you as if you could explain your current predicament. You drown in them for a moment, pained, mournful that you’ve failed to fulfill both your duties.

Not a good hound. Fucking useless.

The prey got away, your keeper is soon to be a splatter of intestines on the ground below.

Good for nothing you are. Failed at everything. Can’t even save your own Lieutenant.

“Hound! Fucking hell, we – ”

Your jaw tightens, and your skin crawls once you’re close enough to discern the peculiar cracks in the sidewalk, you’re that close now. Doom, there’s nothing left but to die.

No. You refuse. If not for yourself, then for Ghost. You can’t lose him. You’ll sacrifice everything for him.

In a last attempt at being a hero, you struggle in the air, against the howling wind that screams bloody murder in your ears. You fiddle spasmodically, manage to clumsily maneuver both of you, deaf to the breathless curses slipping past his mask. You thrust him sideways, fling him into a window hard enough to make it give in under his weight. He breaks through back first, you hear him choke as he hits and skids on the carpeted floor with a deft thud.

You nearly smile, a contrast at his horrified expression as he realizes the situation – your maskless face, your bloodied limb, it’s only for a split second before you’re back to hurtling down without him. You hear a scream of your name, the intimate one, the real one.

Your eyes water anew, maybe from the air, maybe from him calling out to you in what sounds like spastic worry.

One good hand was all you needed.

You’re free now. You fulfilled your duty.

Everything hurts, you feel your entire being imprinted into the roof of a car, having squished it in the impact. Blood coats your tongue, your throat feels crushed. You’re choking for air quietly, your body desperately trying to repair all damages but failing because your mouth and nose can’t gulp enough oxygen no matter how greedily you’re breathing.

Sprawled out, the sky swirls high above your head, gazed at through blurry vision. Stars twinkle like smudged jewels, the moon is nowhere to be seen and for a moment you feel alone and at peace. It doesn’t matter that you’re molded into a random car with shattered bones and punctured lungs.

Maybe there are witnesses, maybe the streets are empty, you’re unsure, the screaming in your ears is punching at your eardrums and you can’t make out anything.

A peaceful death after years of war is what you wish for.

The cold creeps over your skin, through your gear, its caress soothing against your steaming flesh.

A splotch of creamy whine enters your vision, poking from one of the shattered windows. A skull mask, you recognize it even with both eyes and mind hazy and drunk on scalding pain. You’d reach out if you could, your first instinct demands you to do so, reach out to Ghost, reunite as leal hound and loving master once more. But you can’t, your body refuses to budge, a twitch of your fingers is all you can muster.

A cough rips through you, excruciating, and more stomach-churning iron rushes over your sticky tongue.

Will he remember you? Will he mourn you if you pass? Will he miss you? Will your absence leave yet another scar for him to nurture? Will he ever forgive you for sacrificing yourself for him?

Does it matter?

Not really…

But it does.

Somewhere deep within the crooks and crevices of your heart, it does matter to you, if only a little.

Your eyelids are heavy and you’ve not the strength to keep them open anymore. The chill air is so welcoming, lulls you and tugs you towards the comforts of slumber.

You hear a rasp, his voice echoing, deep and baritone as he disappears somewhere in the darkness.

You can’t stay conscious anymore no matter how desperately he begs you. You’re tired, just want to sleep, you’re aching, you want out of the pain, out of responsibilities and bloodshed.

This feels nice. Oblivion is welcoming.

The cold dissipates, and everything goes dark. You take one last meager breath and succumb to blackened dreams and fleeting pictures, sprawled vastly on the surface of your mind as your body gives out completely.

<<< Chapter 2

Chapter 4 >>>

Masterlist

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Thinking about Frank Castle x Avengers!Reader

You met him through Bucky because Sam would obviously try and find Bucky a veteran's support group like the one he ran in CATWS but in Brooklyn - which led him to Curtis' group (I've put this HC in previous writing and I stand by it)

You're roommates with Sam and Bucky and occasionally they host poker night with some of the guys and one night you come home from an evening stroll to a kitchen table of vets and beer and cards.

You smile shyly and say hi to the group and Frank is instantly smitten.

But it takes weeks of casual small talk and asking Bucky about you for him to finally pluck up the courage to ask you out.

Once you make things official, he doesn't want anyone coming after you in retaliation against him plus he's so scared to lose yet another person he cares about. So he asks to keep your relationship secret even from the rest of the Avengers, which makes you roll your eyes because you have super powers you'd be fine to defend yourself against any of Frank's enemies.

Frank also worries you might be a little ashamed of him publicly. He thinks it might be harder on you if the world knew you were dating a criminal vigilante. Avengers get lots of press and attention and he'd hate to bring his drama into it and hurt your image and potentially all the good you do in the world even if you don't give a shit about the publicity side of it.

Which means a lot of sneaking around - dates in darkly lit restaurants and such.

Date nights frequently get postponed because you getting called on last minute missions or Frank takes longer hunting down a gang than he was anticipating.

Even if you go weeks without seeing each other because of your busy work lives, the love is always still there and you both do a great job of making up for lost time.

When you give him recaps of your recent missions, he always scoffs and gets worried about your safety and asks you not to go into such dangerous situations but obviously you have to it's your job.

So you at some point have to make a rule that he gets no interference in your work stuff. He can make any request in your civilian life to keep you safe (ie. you can't go out at night without him, etc.) but is not allowed to make any requests about your job.

Until inevitably your work crosses paths with his work because the street level gangs and mob bosses he takes down tend to have ties to bigger things like Hydra and such.

One night you're at a warehouse upstate following a lead on a Hydra weapons facility and bump into Frank who was tracking down a human trafficking ring that was also linked to the same address.

Since he knows you, Bucky and Sam, he agrees to help the Avengers just this one time.

You could never convince him to join up and "go legit" no matter how hard you tried. He liked working alone and with noone giving him orders.

As you raid the warehouse and take down the enemy, he's aghast at seeing you put yourself in harms way so flippantly but you have powers and Shield training, so of course you're fine.

He's never actually seen you in action before and he eventually gets over the fear and is super turned on at seeing you be so bad ass and kick booty.

Yeah, the passionate "I missed you. That was so badass. I was so scared. God I hope we don't get caught." sex you have behind the warehouse as the mission is wrapping up is steamy and animalistic.

Bucky has super soldier hearing so he hears it and figures it out first.

Except Yelena has actually known for months because she's a spy, duh.

Sam is the last to figure it out but isn't surprised, you two are so compatible it seems obvious that you should be together.

[justyanderes]

hii !! congrats on the new blog ! so..seeing as you write yandere hxh (which we always love to see more of!!), could i request some yan!hcs of shalnark and phinks when their darling confronts them about their creepy behaviour? tysm in advance and im looking forward to seeing where this blog goes !

TY! :3 II hope you like these!!

tw: phinks mentions trafficking kidnapping and other unpleasant scenarios)

Shalnark 

*Just like with most things, confronting your boyfriend over the phone was easier. Mainly you decided to do it this way to not see his reaction to your words. 

*"-The point is I thought you only had the two near doors set up, Shal". 

You also didn't want to explain that you have been warned of his behavior for months and didn't consider it more than gossip. Not until you found a camera hidden within your apartment. 

*The camera you had found wasn't anywhere in your bedroom or bathroom but it still deeply unsettled you. Especially considering the fact that was where you spent the majority of your time when he wasn't home. You u doubt you can relax there knowing what you do now 

*"I think you're overreacting". 

Even when you are so sure he is berating you, his cheerful voice is consistent never raising or lowering from shame or anger

*You wish desperately that it would. Just to remind you that he is capable of understanding some human emotion. 

"So you don't consider what you did as a creepy invasion of my privacy?". 

For a moment it's silent, you hope he's taking a moment to consider your words but unfortunately that's not the case.

*"If we had a break in they would likely enter from that window". He explains slowly with extra emphasis on each word

"I never had any ill intention since I only did that to protect you. When I get home you'll have to make it up to me. For calling me a creep".

PHINKS 

*It should be normal for any boyfriend to come quickly after receiving such a call from you-

*You had gone off the road, thankfully managing not to hit anything. A car you hadn't seen coming turned out of nowhere and suddenly you found out that the brakes to your car were not working. 

*Needless to say you were a bit shaken up after the whole ordeal. 

The other driver left quickly after not bothering to check on you. once you were sure you were ok you called your boyfriend phinks- who said he would be there as soon as he could to pick you up. 

*Your house was forty minutes away- so you didn't expect him to arrive so quickly. You called him about five minutes after you crashed- And phinks ended up appearing a mere 10 minutes later, nearly giving you a heart attack when he opens your door and hurriedly checks you over for any possible injury 

*By this point you should have gotten used to this behavior. It still unsettled you. Most boyfriends weren't protective like Phinks, who took the matter of your safety to the absolute extreme. 

*You never were worried about kidnappers, mafia men or murderers and the like until you met him. Before you thought there was very little value anyone could find in you. Phinks would argue otherwise with the fact, whenever he tried to warn you of the topic of danger around every corner . "I think they'd try and take your eyes last once they were done with everything else". His explanation of what that exactly meant haunted you for quite a bit.

*He had been trying to protect you, and likely he had good intentions but still… with such warnings it made you a bit fearful and codependent and at this point you were tired of this whole situation

"I am grateful you came so quickly but it's not necessary…"

For you to keep me watching and waiting for something to happen to me… it's infantilizing and creepy is what you want to say. 

*"Are you sure you didn't hit your head?". Phinks asked, likely too concerned to think of what you were going to say. He doesn't take his eyes off the road. 

*There's no point in voicing your concerns any further, your courage all but dead so you keep quiet. You wish the rest of the car ride would remain silent, just so you could be left with your thoughts of what you could do next….

*Unfortunately silence wasn't something you often shared with Phinks.

*"I hate to say it babe, but I told ya your car was a piece of shit- But don't worry I'll get you a new one like i've been wanting to". 

[boxfullaturtles]

Donnie + gagged and/or drugged

If he ever gets out of this chair, Donnie's going to cut out Kendra's tongue so he doesn't have to hear her stupid voice anymore.

She's spent the last ten minutes gloating and rubbing it in his face that she has him tied up and at her mercy. He's given up interrupting her because the banter's gotten boring. And his wrists are starting to hurt from the bindings holding him to the chair.

"--which means we obviously need you and your dumb brothers out of the way for a while," Kendra's saying, pacing in front of him as she preaches, "So in a few minutes we're gonna have a visitor. They're gonna give me a shit ton of money...and we're gonna give you to them. Don't worry, they take care of exotic animals, I'm sure you'll be fine."

That makes his temper flair, "Animal!? ANIMAL!? I am not some pet! This is human trafficking!" He snarls, wrenching against his restraints.

"It might be...if you were human," Kendra laughs, cruel and nasty and cold. Jeremy looks smug. Jase is nowhere to be seen.

Donnie snaps his teeth in frustration and decides he doesn't want to stick around to play her game anymore. His markings flicker as he calls his mystic powers to the surface. Constructs are clicking into an array of guns around him when a needle bites into his elbows. It breaks his concentration and he whips his head around to glare at Jase, who'd snuck up behind the chair while Donnie had been preoccupied by Kendra.

Fuck.

There's an empty syringe in his hand. Donnie's heart pounds in his chest as his gaze snags on it. He looks up sharply at Jase, who won't meet his eyes, and then turns to stare at Kendra.

"What did you do? What was in that?"

"You need to be less...bitey for our client," Kendra says with that mean smile of hers, "Rellaaaxxx, it'll make you feel good, Von Ryan. It'll be the best trip you've ever had."

Panic is making his breath come faster. Drugged. She's drugged him. And he swears he can feel it surging through his veins, his frantic heart pumping it through the rest of his body. He's never done hard drugs; he and Leo had the curious bit of weed every now and then but even that was a rare thing, done only in the confines of secrecy and solitude when they knew without a shadow of a doubt that they would not need their wits about them for several hours.

"Kendra--" Donnie chokes on his voice. This is ludicrous. It doesn't feel real. Sure, the Purple Dragons have tried to kill him and his brothers half a dozen times, but they're too stupid and incompetent to actually do it.

But now Donnie's tied to a chair, at their mercy, and he--

His head feels strange.

The room has started tilting like the deck of a ship. (He’s never been on a ship at sea. He's never been to the ocean.) He sways, rocks, his body is loosely connected by sinew and bone, wet meat and hot blood. Inefficient and easily damaged.

He doesn't like this. It's weird. Everything's wrong.

The world groans and vibrates with movements and sound. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block it all out. His own breath whistles down his throat and he can feel the creak of his lungs expanding balloons, pushing his plastron, stretching his flesh, muscles flexing and contracting, organs settling, blood racing--

Fingers dig into his face, tilt his head up, and he blinks against the lights. There's someone leaning over him, bigger than Kendra. A stranger. Donnie whines, feels the sound vibrate in his skull (he can count the vertebrae in his spine and so can Leo). His eyes roll. The stranger's touch is poison ivy; it makes his flesh itch and burn. He tries to pull away but they tighten their hold, grinding into his jaw bones. There are voices but he can't remember what sounds words make and he only catches a few things.

"-------old did you------------looks young---------"

"----teen I guess------never asked."

The stranger's thick fingers pry Donnie's mouth open, running a clinical finger over his gums and examining his teeth. He lets out a garbled wretch. He can taste the atoms that make them up, every place they've been sticking to their filthy hands, smearing dirt inside his mouth (stop stop stop stopstopstopstoptstop). But he doesn't have the strength to resist or even spit the horrid flavor out. He's floating a million miles away. There are stars in his bloodstream.

Hands leave heat trails over Donnie's arms and down his plastron. His gear is peeled away, the bindings removed. Some distant part of him screams to run, but his body and mind giggle and remain boneless rubber.

"----like this or------"

"----bites-------dose of some-------"

His body jerks, slumping forward. Someone's trying to pry the battleshell off his back and he lets out a high pitched keen that pops in his own eardrums.

("Don't be afraid, little Hamato...")

No. No no no no nononononono--

("You are not alone.")

Violet neon light erupts around him, blinding and avenging.

The world turns with rapid click click click click click.

A blaze of noise. He's dropped, the stranger's hands are gone. He hits the floor and he can hardly breathe, his head spinning in a million different directions, trickling into electrical outlets and clambering up grounding lines.

He's spread so thin...

...what was his name again? (where are his brothers?)

There's something sticky and warm on his hands. On his chest. It smells like iron. Metal and heat and something grinding to a halt. A dead engine. Ozone.

No one's touching him anymore.

The universe has gone quiet.

[smittywing]

FicBit: Jason Todd/Tim Drake

A little rough but it'll get cleaned up in beta. BRUNCH.

Previous parts: 1 | 2 | 3

~

Sunday rolled around just as Jason was rolling some human traffickers out of Gotham and he loitered in the garden, trying to get blood out of his shirt before going inside. 

“Hey.”  It was Tim. Jason's chest tightened. 

“Hey,” he said. He glanced over at Tim’s bike and the single helmet and said, “No Cannon Fodder today?”

“I'm not sure he's ready for brunch at the Manor,” Tim admitted. “At least not Sunday brunch.”

“Wnat?” Jason protested in mock horror. “You cannot possibly think I - or the rest of this family - would embarrass you, and your little sidekick, too?”

“You? Never,” Tim deadpanned. “But I’m not putting anything past the rest of them. Is that blood on your shirt?”

Busted. 

Tim pulled his purely decorative scarf (it was 70 degrees for fuck’s sake) over his head.  “Here,” he said.  “This will help with both the blood and the outfit.”

“Fuck you,” Jason said resignedly.  Being dead was not great for a guy’s fashion sense, okay?

Not caring also didn’t help.

He didn’t fight when Tim looped it around his neck but swatted his hands away when Tim tried to arrange it.  “I got it,” he said.  Unfortunately he did not “got it,” and ended up with one end unnecessarily long while the other part was choking him.  It wasn’t his fault that was where the blood was.

“Okay, come on,” Tim interrupted after another few minutes of arrangement.  “Let me.” 

Jason held up both hands in supplication because it was fair to say that leaving him to it would keep them outside forever. Tim’s hands were deft and quick and patted Jason on the chest when he was done. 

“There,” he said. “You’ll do.”

Dick and Barbara were the only others there, sitting across the table and caddy-corner from each other and were both staring at their phones.

“Hey, when did you get here?” Tim asked, angling for the coffee samovar.  

“About twenty minutes ago,” Dick said.

“But not together,” Barbara added.

Yeah, that didn’t sound suspicious at all.  They must be shacking up again.

“Hey Little Wing,” Dick added.  “Glad you could join us.”  He sounded sincere but Dick Grayson had virtually no other setting.  

“Yeah, lost a bet,” Jason said, helping himself to some coffee when Tim gave the samovar some breathing space.  

“Hi Jason,” Barbara said, looking up from her phone.  “It’s good to see you.”  

Before he could respond, someone yelled, “OH MY GOD!  IS THAT JASON TODD?” and he turned just in time to catch Steph coming at him with a hug tackle.  

“Argh.”  She was heavier than she looked, thanks to all those deceptively lean muscles - like Tim, Jason’s brain volunteered helpfully, and it took him a minute to make sure he could grab her without any accidental contact that would get his head knocked off.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, hopping off him and confiscating his coffee.  She took a sip and made a face.  “The last time you made Sunday brunch was when Alfred pulled a bullet out of you the night before.  We *missed* you!”

“We did, indeed,” Alfred says, coming through the doors from the kitchen with a platter of fruit. “Strawberries are still your favorite, I hope?”

“Ahh,” Jason said because yes, but the room was skewing increasingly chaotic as Bruce and Duke came in through another door. “Yeah?”

“Jason! Good to see you, man!” Duke gave Jason a fist bump and walked off with his second cup of coffee. 

“What the hell?” Jason muttered under his breath.

He gave up on coffee and got himself a cup of Earl Grey. Alfred was putting waffles on the table - waffles! Wasn't there a rule? - the only seat left was between Tim and Blondie. Jason eyed it warily. He wasn't sure what their deal was now that Tim was dating dudes but it would be really obvious to retreat to the end of the table. 

“I'm grateful to have you all here this morning,” Bruce said, unfolding his napkin. “I'm sure Kate and Cass will catch up with us next week. Tim? Maybe you could finally bring - “

Jason felt Tim tense up next to him. Shit. He owed the kid a good turn. 

“Dick and Barbie are back together,” he announced, overriding Cannon Fodder's name. 

“Oh!” Bruce said, glancing between them like he was maybe being pranked. “Are congratula - ?”

“Okay, well,” Dick interrupted. “Jason wants to know why we care more about who he kills than who he fu - “

“Oh shit,” Stephanie breathed beside him. 

Jason reversed his grip on his fork and raised it far enough for Dick to see. 

Tim piped up, [something to turn back on Dick]

~

Jason passed the last piece of silver over to Tim to tuck back in its big fancy box. 

“Thanks,” Tim said automatically and then looked up at Jason.”Thanks for real,” he said softly. “I know you were covering for me.”  

Jason shrugged. “You were covering for me, too. I didn't expect Barbie to go for the jugular.”

Tim laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looked young and sweet and *happy* and it was a good look on him. “Fortunately, you had a very stylish scarf to protect you.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jason said, pulling it over his head. “Thanks for the loan. Not sure it's my vibe.”

“Not sure anyone besides you still has a vibe,” Tim shot back. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” 

“So, um.”  Tim scrubbed a hand over thr back of his neck. “Look, I know Dick was just trying to rile you up but. If you ever want to talk about…whatever? I know a guy who went through that kind of thing recently.”

“Yeah? That guy have any wisdom to impart?” Jason challenged. 

Tim flushed. “Probably not but he might be able to listen.”

Jason really needed people to stop caring about him so damn much. 

“Yeah,” he allowed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[sapphicsaints]

What about a soulmate au with Tamar and reader?

this is inconvenient

Tamar Kir-Bataar x f!Reader  

A/N: I had so much fun writing thank you for the idea! I might end up adding more to it :)

Word count: ~2.7k

Warnings: mentions of human trafficking, descriptions of violence

Summary: Tamar meets her soulmate in less-than-desirable circumstances.

-Y/n POV-

We both felt the tug at the same time, one glance into her eyes and she knew what it was.  

“For fucks sake.” She said, staring at me. Her knife on my throat. I fought the urge to laugh as the cool metal of her blade pressed into my skin. I’m lucky the tug came quickly enough for her to hesitate. 

“This is inconvenient.” I sighed, trying to push back and put space between us. Her grip on the back of my head, her fist in my hair, tightened. I felt an uncomfortable itching sensation on my forearm. There’s the tattoo. 

“What’s your name?” She asked 

“Does it matter?” I answered. Soulmate or not - the look in her eyes tells me she would still kill me. I carefully move my hands in front of me, yanking up one sleeve to try and show my indenture tattoo, to prove i’m not a slaver, that i’m not here my choice. 

She shoved me down, my back hitting the crate. I wince at the impact but i’m unarmed, caught off guard. Her fist comes up, clenching. I try to roll away but felt my heart rate drop rapidly . ‘A fucking heart render.’ is the last thought drifting through my head before I fall unconscious. 

-Tamar POV- 

“Why’s that one alive?” Sturmhond asks, pointing towards the girl sleeping near the crate, her body bent in what must be an uncomfortable position. I turn my arm, yanking my sleeve up to show the words etched in black. 

“This is inconvenient.” Sturmhond read the them before breaking out into laughter. He continues laughing for a solid minute while I scowl at him. Finally, he takes a few deep breaths and calms himself. “Do you need me to kill her for you?” His tone is light, but I can see the certainty in his eyes - if I say yes he would kill her. 

Tamar shook her head. “She’s an indenture.” she says, having spotted the tattoo on the other her wrist, she couldn’t tell where exactly to but the marking makes it obvious. 

“Grisha?” He asked. 

“I don’t know. It’s likely, considering it’s a Kerch ship.” Kerch Slavers love to indenture Grisha they find, especially Squallers and Tidemakers. That’s one circumstance they don’t particularly care about gender. 

“If she is, we can offer sanctuary, a place here. Get rid of the tattoo.” Sturmhond’s always been generous to indentures they find - giving them a way out, oftentimes the Grisha working on board are former indentures. 

“If she’s not?” I asked sharply.

He turns to look at me, carefully. “Still get rid of the tattoo if she wants. We can drop her off at the next port.” He saw my eyes narrow. “Or offer a space here, your call.” He holds his hands up. 

“To think, I almost killed her.” I murmur. 

“Not the best first meeting, especially considering you’ll have those words etched on you for the rest of your life.” No amount of tailoring can get rid of a soulmate tattoo. About ⅓ of the population actually ends up finding their soulmates - if official reports are listened to. It doesn’t necessarily mean it will make a good match. The core, the Saint given, parts of the person are said to match, but culture and upbringing can change someone. 

-Y/n POV-

The door to my glorified cell opens. I’d tried to get out, but it was locked from the outside, and there was absolutely nothing to pick the lock with - all of my weapons, hair pins, everything had been stripped from my body. My soulmate enters with someone else, a giant man who looks like her. Siblings - or cousins maybe. 

I eye both of them cautiously. My hands are bound, far enough apart they suspect I might be Grisha. They’re right about that. They’re wrong in assuming I can’t summon like this, but I bide my time. I could summon, but I doubt it will win me any favors.

I stay in my seat, although I am tempted to throw the chair at them. They close the door behind them, the giant takes up position in the corner, the woman - my soulmate apparently, leans against the door. She doesn’t say anything, just gazes at me for a few minutes. I refuse to break the silence. 

“Are you an indenture?” She finally asks. 

“You mean glorified slave?” I laugh. “Yes, I am."

“Everyone thinks you’re dead now.” The man answers from the corner. “You’re essentially free.” 

“Are the rest of them dead?” I ask. 

“Yes.” She answers without hesitation. 

“Good.” I say quietly. The only show of surprise is the slight raising of her eyebrows. 

“Are you Grisha?” He asks me. 

Against my better judgment, I clench my fists, swirling my hands to direct a gust of wind at his face. His arms come up to shield, and he ducks. I felt another hand wrench my head back, and the cool metal of a blade against my throat. One well placed knick and my windpipe would be sliced wide open - or I'd bleed out in seconds. I’m surprised she’s going for the weapon instead of just knocking me unconcsious like earlier. 

“If this is how you treat your soulmate, I'd hate to see how you treat your enemies.” I laugh.  

“Who says you’re not both?” She snaps at me.

“The only enemy I have is the one who put me on the other ship.” I say quietly. A moment later my hair is released and I breathe out a sigh of relief. The knife leaves my throat, and her hands unlock the modified shackles. Apparently that was enough to convince her, but again heart-renders can tell when someone is lying. I shake my wrists out, trying to rub away the red marks. 

–Tamar POV- 

I stand at the stern, arms propped up on the railing, gazing out at the horizon as Nikolai joins me. 

“I know she’s your soulmate.” He says, “but she’s a pain in the ass. And unfortunately one of the most powerful squallers I've met.” 

“You like her.” I say, almost accusingly. 

“She’s amusing.” He replies. “And taking quickly to the airboats. Have you spoken to her?” He turns to face me. 

“Neither of us have tried.” I scratch the back of my neck. 

“This is uncharted territory for both of you, but this is your ship.” He comments. It’s not an accusation, and I know that, but it feels like one. 

“You have a point.” I admit reluctantly 

His voice lowers, “not many people get to find theirs. Especially people living like us.” 

We stand in silence for a few more moments before I head off to go start my watch.

“I’ll think about it.” I say over my shoulder. I see his smirk, he knows he’s won. I’m impressed with how quickly she’s integrated herself with the crew and other Grisha. She’s charming, funny, and fiery. Three traits that are serving her well on board. I shake my head, trying to put thoughts of her out of my mind. I grow more distracted by her each day. I didn’t pay much attention to the watch list today - to who would be my partner. I’m surprised to see who meets me up at the tower. I have a feeling it was done on purpose. 

-Y/n POV-

Watch with Tamar, and my first one. I haven’t specifically avoided her, just not started any conversations or stuck around long in her presence. Maybe I am avoiding her, maybe that makes me a coward. But it’s not my space, not my arena, it’s her move. I’m stubborn and patient enough to wait. 

“Kruge for your thoughts?” I hear a voice. I was lost in thought, waiting for her to join. My head snaps around to see her. She’s beautiful,dark cropped hair, golden tilted eyes, bronze skin. My cheeks pink slightly - I can tell she notices by the slight smirk on her face. I’m tempted to throw something at her, just to smack it off. 

“It’s strange being here.” I finally reply. 

“How different is it?” She asks. I was indentured to some Kerch slavers previously, before Sturmhond’s crew attacked the ship. I know my life was only spared because of the soulmate bond, and I'm grateful for it. 

“I haven’t felt the urge to sink the entire ship.” I laughed. “Or murder anyone.” 

“Is that your way of saying you like it here?” Her lips turn up at the corners. ‘Stop staring at them.’ I tell myself, but my gaze hangs a second too long. 

“It’s a strong possibility.” I admit, turning my head back out to sea, to keep an eye out for anything. “Tell me about you.” I say. It came out as more of a question than I would’ve liked, but she obliges. 

“My mother was a Ravkan Grisha, my father a Shu Mercenary. Before she died she made him promise to take us to Novyi Zem instead of being drafted by the Second Army. The day after she died we set off.” 

“How’d you get to sea?”

“Sturmhond found us after our father died, and offered us a chance out here. We were mercenaries before that. Still are technically.” I appreciate how open she is with me. 

“We being you and Tolya?” 

“Yes.” Her fingers tap on the railing. “What about you?” Her head doesn’t turn, keeping an eye out on the Sea, but I catch her watching me through her peripherals. 

I hesitate. There’s a lot, but also almost nothing, to my story. “I fled the Wandering Isle, to Kerch, or tried to. The sailors I thought were rescuing me ended up getting me into that mess. Better than having my blood drained.” I laugh, laughing is the only way I can talk about it without crying - the memories are still fresh. 

She didn’t laugh, or smile. “I can remove it.” She said, instead. 

“Remove what?” 

“The tattoo.” 

My eyes widen. It isn’t the same as getting rid of an indenture completely, but if everyone thinks I’m dead - and the tattoo is gone. That might as well be my freedom. I don’t know what to say, what words to put into it. It probably seems so simple to her, but it means the world to me. She waits patiently for my answer, thankfully not pushing me. 

“Please.” Is all I can force out, my voice chokes up a little and I swallow hard, one hand tapping the railing, the other wiping away the small tears in my corner. 

“Once our watch is up.” She spares me a quick glance. I look back, only to be scolded.

“Eyes out.” She says, and I roll my eyes. We make easy chatter the rest of the time. Talking to her feels natural, feels like I can trust her almost immediately. It makes sense - given the soulmate bond, but maybe we’d still be able to talk like this under different circumstances, I hope so.

At the end of our watch she asks the question I’ve dreaded. “Did you ever try and save any of them?” Her tone is neutral. I feel the familiar ache in my chest, the tightness that comes with the memories of the people enslaved to be sold, their faces cross through my mind - one after the other. I’ll never forget them. 

“Once.” I say, and turn around so my back faces her. I lift the back of my top, exposing a small sliver of skin - enough that she can see the scarring. It took weeks to heal after - even with Grisha healing abilities, a wicked lash can do a lot of damage. I hear her breath catch. “It was worth it.” I turn back around, “they got away.” 

“I’m surprised they didn’t kill you.” 

“I’m more valuable alive.” I say with a smirk. “I’d only been with them two months before you caught them.” I admit. “How long have you been with Sturmhond?” I change the subject. 

“A year and a half.” 

“Is he good to you?” I ask quietly. 

“We chose him for a reason. He treats us well, and gives us freedom, he offers you a spot. Will you take it?” 

“I like flying those little boats.” I pause for a few seconds, tilting my head to the side to gave over the rest of the deck below us. “I will.” The determination sets in my voice, in my tone. I’ve already admitted that to myself - that i’d take the spot - regardless. I’ve held desperately onto hope that it would be offered, working my ass off to learn as much as I can. Even if my mouth has gotten me a few warning glances. 

Tamar grins, her grins are contagious and come easy, I hope it stays that way. “I’m glad.” My cheeks flush and I turn away from her, eyes gazing back out to the sea. 

“How old are you?” I change the subject - again. 

“21. You?” 

“19.” Thankfully we’re relatively close in age - Grisha can look deceptively young. 

After our watch finishes, Tamar leads me back down to her small cabin. She motions for me to take a seat on her hammock, and I sit down carefully, trying not to rock it too much. She crouches in front of me and my breath catches as she holds my wrist, flipping it over so the tattoo is visible. Her touch is light - and I don’t mind the itch, my eyes are transfixed on her as she works but she doesn’t seem uncomfortable under my gaze, in fact her cheeks flush red. I catch a glimpse of the tattoo on her forearm and laugh. 

Her eyes flick up to meet mine. “What’s so funny?”

“You’ll be stuck with those words forever.” I shrug. 

“So will you.” 

“I don’t know which is worse.” I admit. 

“All done.” She says, releasing my wrist. I look down, the tattoo is completely gone, no evidence of the past left on it. I run my fingers over it in awe, It’s unblemished, perfectly back to how it was before. I don’t notice Tamar moving until the hammock rocks slightly and her knee presses into mine, my head snaps to the side, she’s sat down next to me, staring at the tattoo on my arm. ‘For fucks sake.’

“I feel like I should apologize for that.” She chuckles. 

“Don’t. I’ll enjoy telling the story of how we met.” I bite my lip as I realize my mistake, holding my breath. It sounds like I'm assuming we’ll be together - assuming she’ll accept it. My heart starts beating rapidly, even if she wasn’t a heart render I'm certain she’d be able to hear it. Her hand grabs my wrist, her thumb gently circling my palm. I feel my heart rate come back down to normal. She moves her hand back as quickly as she grabbed it, like she’s unsure if she crossed a line. 

“Thank you.” I mumble under my breath, keeping my eyes trained on the floor in front of me.

“I’ll enjoy telling it too.” I turn to face her, the smile on her face is sincere. I’m still biting harshly on my lip when her thumb comes up to my face, tugging it slightly to release it from the hold. Her hand drifts to cup the side of my face, and I lean into her touch, closing my eyes as her thumb traces back and forth over my cheek bone. A knock on the door sounds and my eyes open reluctantly. Tolya’s voice drifts through the door. 

“Time for rations.” He grunts, and I hear his footsteps walk away. 

“He did that on purpose.” Tamar mutters, but stands up and offers me a hand. I laugh taking her hand, standing and tugging her towards me. I let my hand come up to cup her cheek, and lean up to press a gentle and quick kiss on her lips. I dart around her, slipping out the door before she can react. I hear her curse under her breath and by the time she’s out the door I'm halfway up the ladder. I turn over my shoulder to wink, and she rolls her eyes. “Later.” She mouths, and I bite my lip again, climbing up as quickly as I can before I give into the urge to shove her back in her room. Rations are essential after all. 

[helloliriels]

Sleepless (Part 5)

Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | AO3 Fic

Molly felt awful about mailing Sherlock's letter, two weeks later … 

.

The radio program came back on, playing bits of John and Rosie’s conversation, a constant reminder of her betrayal … 

… and Sherlock - too - had appeared in her lab to work out a few details on a pressing case in symphony with the radio timing …

Molly flushed with colour. Unable to turn around and or even to look at him.

.

“Something is bothering you,” Sherlock stated off-hand. As if he didn’t really care about the answer, but was, in fact, annoyed by it … 

.

Molly fussed with paperwork.

"Busy day," she managed, after a moment, then topped it off with a cheery, “what did you think of the program on New Years?” before she could stop herself …

Her voice didn’t even shake.

She was quite proud for this not small feat, but immediately wanted to run and hide … 

.

“Had its moments,” Sherlock acknowledged, reluctantly.

Maybe hiding wasn't necessary ... 

“… but I do wish the host would allow her guests to speak without limitations," he added, offhand.

.

She laughed off her nerves, “it is a radio program for entertainment, Sherlock-? She has to keep it on track?”

“Boring,” Sherlock responded, dully. 

.

He wasn’t looking at her. Wasn’t even looking up.

.

“Will you be writing to them, then?” She asked bravely, after several minutes of uninterrupted silence. Again, forcing the casual note to her voice, “to find out the answers you needed …?”

“What answers?” Sherlock cut her off, “I deduced everything within minutes of the show’s ending. Case. Closed.”

“So you weren’t interested in the Doctor? John?” she prodded, “not even a little? ‘Cause I thought-”

“Molly,” he eyed her suspiciously. Her heart stopped for a second. But then he went back to his research, “I hope I would have more sense than to act like a silly schoolgirl sending notes,” he spat the last word with extreme derision.

.

“... Besides,” he added -

.          A few moments after she had started breathing again -

“... the relationship would never have worked out.”

.

She froze.

.       “And why’s that?” she laughed ... trying not to look too anxious for his reply … 

.

.        Shit. Shit. SHIT!

.        ... Why did she send off that letter???

.

“I’m a detective ,” he barked, startling her,

.     “I chase criminals through the streets of London on a regular basis!

.           I get death threats and have been kidnapped on more than one occasion!

.                    And OH?! Have I mentioned my inability to make or keep friends …? 

.                           Hardly the type of person a Doctor and the Father of a Small Child is going to want as a roommate ... hmmm?"

.

Molly stepped back a pace.

.          “You've been kidnapped?” she asked, horrified ... 

.

He sighed. Rolling back around to face his work.

“Twice as an adult. Once as a child. Risks of the trade.”

.

Molly stood speechless.

He took another deep breath - a calming breath - she thought … and looked away. 

“Now if you would leave me be?” he asked politely, “I have work to finish, and a plane to catch.”

.

“Another? Where to this time?” she hoped her smile was reassuring, but doubted it.

“Amsterdam,” he replied, still not looking up.

“Vacation then?” she tried for a more cheery note, but was shot down.

“Hardly,” Sherlock huffed, and drew out his notepad.

.               The same notepad that he had used to write the letter …

And scribbled a few words before looking back up at her surprised expression.

He took her silence as want of more explanation, and filled her in, “I’m following a trail of bank exchanges that will hopefully lead me to a blackmailer and a potential human trafficker. Teens have been going missing. Will probably be gone a few weeks. Maybe a month. If the trail leads elsewhere … "

.

“Oh.”

. She stepped back a pace, collecting herself,

. “yeah, ‘course. Silly me!”

.

She made her way back to her workstation, and they finished their tasks in silence. Her stomach growing more and more knotted with every passing, guilty, minute … Wondering … should she say something? … Confess?

Half an agonising hour later, he was grabbing his coat,

.        and then he paused - to her surprise - in the doorway …

.

“Besides …,"

. he added, quietly, as if they were still carrying on their conversation from earlier,

.                    “... what would I have to offer him?”

.

.

A stunned and blinking Molly could only watch as he disappeared down the hall and out the double doors. His shoulders slumped. His long, billowing coat, the only thing alive about his demeanour ... 

Unable to answer ...

            All the reasons she had fallen for him, already.

.

... She no longer regretted sending the letter.

SLEEPLESS IN LONDON (continued below!)

Rosie was pulling John along at a quick clip, on their way home from school. “Hang on a mo’?” he laughed, trying to keep up without letting go … “what’s the big rush?” 

“The post, Daddy!” She tugged harder.

“The … post …?” He asked, perplexed. The light bulb dawned, just as she reached their door and was peering in through the letter slot. She slumped in disappointment and looked up at John with huge, almost tearful eyes … 

“No letters?” she whinged.

She was disappointed.

.

John picked her up and carried her, floppy bunny and all, into their tiled entryway, dropping the keys on the side table … “I’m sorry, kiddo? Were you expecting there to be some toda-?”

They heard a shuffle of feet on the front steps, and both turned around to see a postman standing there. Two large bundles in his hands! 

.

“Doctor … John Watson?” 

.

The man was reading off the top letter on the stack.

“That’s me!” John squeezed Rosie’s hand and let go to accept the large bundles of letters. Glancing down to catch the look of barely contained glee in his daughter’s eyes … 

“Thank you!” John nodded, and went to shut the door - but the postman was halting him?

.

“I got two more to deliver? Where ya want ‘em?”

.

“Two more bundles?” John asked, amazed!

“Oh no,” the man replied - John laughed with relief - then the man gestured, “I got two full delivery bags in the van.”

.

John blinked.

. Did he say … two full bags???

.

“You want ‘em in here?” The post man was already eyeing their narrow entryway.

.

“I … uh …,” John ran his fingers through his hair, still processing the shock of this revelation. Even little Rosie seemed overwhelmed by the news! “Yeah, Christ. Guess that … would be … fine-?” 

He met Rosie’s awed expression with a shy smile. She was really getting her hopes up … 

“Right you are!” the man was already off to collect the rest ... 

.

.          ... and all John could do was step back and marvel at the enormous pile it made when they were emptied at his feet.

@johnlocky @fluffbyday-smutbynight @chinike @rhasima @mydogwatson @kettykika78 @mxster-jocale @cupidford @meetinginsamarra @peageetibbs @calaisreno @7-percent @john-smiths-jawline @anyway-kindness @swissmissing @inevitably-johnlocked @totallysilvergirl @kittenmadnessandtea @topsyturvy-turtely @safedistancefrombeingsmart @colourfulwatson @holmesianlove @kabubsmagga @peanitbear @copperplatebeech @tiverrr @pocketwatchofmycroft @mutedsilence @2smach @loki-lock @daltongraham @amyreadsandstresses @raina-at @discordantwords @gregorovitchworld @bluebellofbakerstreet @sarahthecoat @reveling-in-mayhem @midgemao @ileenhaddockhawkins @storytellingdreamer @fuckcannibals @cortinita @marisaysthings @charlies-storybook @salmonsown @iamjustreading @myriath @tinchensblog @iwlyanmw

(let me know if you want tagged/removed anytime)

[darkthingshappen]

Merry Whump of May, Day 3

@themerrywhumpofmay

“You're not looking so hot.”

Lightbulb

Tension

Alleyway

As always, thank you to my whumperful crew: @whumpcereal @oddsconvert @quietly-by-myself and @sparrowsage who did a fantastic beta job on this and tomorrow's entry. :-)

Warnings: BBU Universe, human trafficking, predator and prey, kidnapping, drinking, noncon drugging, drunk whumpee, whumper perspective

The Handler lingered in the shadows of the alleyway.  He knew that any minute the back door of the club would open up and his prey would tumble out of it and he would pounce.  The tension built up inside him like a spring waiting to be sprung, a bomb ticking towards the explosion.  

The lightbulb above the back doorway flickered slightly, causing the Handler to nearly jump out of his skin with anticipation.  But he didn’t.  He held himself in check, waiting, waiting, waiting.  

The door opened and still he waited.  His prey did indeed stumble out of the door and curl over by the wall, retching.  This was going exactly as planned.  The target was alone.  Alone and pathetic, just as the Handler wanted.  Still he waited.  He waited until the metal back door slammed shut, locking the target out of the club and in the darkened alleyway.  The Handler smirked and waited for the realization to hit the ill young man.  

His prey swayed heavily as he straightened back up.  He groaned and reached for the nonexistent door handle.  

“Aw, fuck!”  the target glanced around at the dark alley and then up at the single lightbulb over the door.  “Shit!”  He squinted down the alleyway first one way and then the other.  

The Handler had done his homework.  He was a student of psychology.  In one direction, the alley went on for several dozen meters with no light, so much so that by the time the alley ended, it was completely obscured in inky blackness.  The other direction, the direction that the Handler had hidden themselves, was only a few meters long with the bright lights of the populated square beckoning to them.  Only an idiot would choose the other direction.  

As he predicted, his prey took a deep breath and stepped towards the lighted street and the Handler lying in wait.  

The Handler waited for his target to pass. When he did, the Handler, quick as lightning, stepped behind his unsuspecting prey, wrapping his arm around the man’s middle and pulled him against him.

“Where are you off to all on your own, darling?”  His words distracted the mildly struggling drunk young man as he slipped the needle into his prey’s neck and depressed the plunger.  

The Target grunted and tried to pull away from the sudden prick of pain in his neck, as well as the man holding him

“Shhh, darling.  You don’t look so well.  I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.  You just let go.  Rest now.  When you wake up, you’ll be snug as a bug in a rug.  Don’t you worry.  All those pesky choices that life keeps pushing on you, you won’t have to worry about it any more.  The WRU’s got you.  We got a home already all picked out and waiting for you.  You’ve been specially requested.”

The Target moaned again and slumped against the Handler.  

“We got you, little trainee.”

The Handler turned his target slightly so he could see the last moments that the prey’s eyes were open.  Wide with panic and fear, though fading fast.  The Handler thrilled to it.  That was the exact look he was hoping for; it was his favorite part of the job.  

Once he was sure his target was out, he dragged his prey to his waiting vehicle near the entrance of the alleyway. 

“Hey man, is that dude okay?” a random person passing by asked.  

“Oh, he’s fine.  My buddy just had a bit too much to drink.  I’ll get him home and make sure he’s okay.”

“Ah, so you’re the sober friend.  Glad he has you.  You may want to tell him not to get passed out drunk next time.”

“Yeah for sure, though I think he’s had enough this time.  I’m gonna help him dry out.  I don’t think there’ll be a next time.”

“Good for you.  You seem like a great friend.”

The Handler waived at the bystander as the man walked on, a friendly smile stretched across his face that could fool his own mother.  The Handler laid his target out across the backseat, faced down.   No one noticed as he slipped the handcuffs on nice and snug around the young man’s wrists, rolling him onto his back to hide the evidence once he was certain they were locked on.  He locked his prey’s ankles together in a similar fashion before covering him up with a blanket.  

Moments later he was in the driver’s seat, driving off with his new trainee sleeping in the back seat.  

Tags: Tagging List: @i-can-even-burn-salad @peachy-panic @deluxewhump @arwenadreamer @whumpcereal @melancholy-in-the-morning @dont-touch-my-soup @whumpsday @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @oddsconvert @melennui @susiequaz12 @morning-star-whump @crystalquartzwhump @whump-and-other-things @mylifeisonthebookshelf @reflected-pain @hold-him-down @quietshae @sparrowsage @quietly-by-myself @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @darlingwhump @hold-him-down @quietshae @no-terms-and-conditions-apply (I hope I’m not forgetting anyone - please let me know if I am and I’ll fix it. I’m still getting used to this) 

[unseededtoast]

Rectify | Bucky Barnes

Part 2/37 | Part One, Part Three

Summary: I've lived every day for the past five years looking over my shoulder. I knew they'd come for me, it was inevitable. I was foolish to think I could outrun my past. It's followed me everywhere I go, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Never would I have anticipated that the shadows would lead me to the light.

Bucky Barnes x OC

Series Warnings: Discussion of human trafficking, alcohol consumption, graphic depictions of violence, sexual content, discussion of suicidal thoughts.

a/n: Hi everyone, thank you for checking this out, I appreciate any and all support! This series is also posted on Ao3 and Wattpad if you prefer those formats/platforms! This is a completed series, and it's going to take some time for me to transfer it to Tumblr, so please bear with me!

"That seems like a lot of blood on you, miss. Do you mind telling me whose blood it is and why it's now on you?"

I see the building I need and speed towards the high fences with adrenaline rushing through my veins, the blood beginning to dry on my skin. I'm not sure this will even work but it's my last resort and only hope. I slow down once I reach the security gate and roll down my window. My hands are covered in another man's blood and I'm sure I look deranged.

"Identification." The man with dark sunglasses states. I swallow my nerves and clear my throat.

"I don't have any. I'm here seeking refuge." I say in hopes that he will let me through. I never wanted to be here and never thought I would be here, but if I want to live it's my only option. The man leans closer to me and pulls his sunglasses down to where I can see his eyes peering over. He takes a quick look inside my car and surely notices my blood-stained hands and car. He readjusts the sunglasses on his face and clears his throat.

"So I'm just supposed to let you in? You could have a weapon of mass destruction in the car." In a way he isn't wrong but I'm not about to get into technicalities right now. I shake my head and pleadingly look into his eyes.

"Sir, I am here seeking refuge. You can interrogate me and search my car. I don't have anything on me or in the car that could hurt anyone. Please." My voice wavers at the end sensing that this might not work the way I hoped it would.

What if they don't let me in? What am I supposed to do then? Am I going to have to run and hide again somewhere else? That would be pointless, they would just find me again. They know where I'm at now, there's no hiding by myself anymore.

The man stands up straight and walks back to the small booth which controls the traffic barrier. He speaks into a walkie talkie, I can't hear what he's saying. I pick at the blood-crusted skin around my fingers and watch the man intently, tears burning at the corners of my eyes. After a few minutes of dialogue, the man comes back to my car.

"You're going to drive through and take a left. There will be someone waiting to take you in for questioning and we're going to search your car. If anything harmful or dangerous is found you will be criminally tried in the court of law. Do you understand?" I nod my head with wide eyes.

I can't believe it worked. He walks back to the booth and lifts the bar, I roll my car slowly through and follow the path he told me to. Just as he said, there was someone waiting for me. I put my car into park and turn it off, grabbing my bag I had thrown in the passenger seat.

"Put the bag down and step out of the car." The man waiting for me states with a tone of authority. I do as he instructs and I close the car door behind me. The man approaches and pulls out a pair of handcuffs.

"You are not under arrest, you are being detained for security reasons. Do not resist. Resisting will result in criminal charges. I am going to escort you to an interrogation room and your items will be searched." He rambles on as he tightens the cuffs around my wrists behind my back. I nod my head in understanding and walk alongside the man.

Glass doors part for us as we enter the modern-style building. There are people all over the place, talking, making phone calls, putting projections into the air. I look around at the operations and I'm surprised they would walk someone who is detained through this area, there's so much information that could potentially be gathered. As we walk through the busy room, I can't help but feel self conscious as people stare at me as we pass through.

The man escorts me down a hallway that's lined with heavy iron doors. We stop in front of one and he unlocks it with his card. He pushes me slightly into the room and sits me down in the chair, connecting my cuffs to a metal fixture on the desk so I can't go anywhere.

"Someone will be in shortly." He leaves the room and I hear the click of the lock. I look around the monochromatic room. It's devoid of any decorations or warmth. It's very cold, and I spot a camera in the corner of the room, it's no surprise they're already monitoring my every move.

I anxiously tap my foot on the hard floor, waiting for someone to come and question me. I know once they search my belongings I'll likely be glued to this chair for hours, if not days once they figure out what I have. The book will either be the reason I'm offered protection or I'm turned away, unfortunately there is no middle ground. I'll have to play my cards right and convince them that I'm on their side and worthy of being protected.

I'm not sure of how much time has passed as I'm ripped from my thoughts abruptly when the door opens and a man steps in. He's dressed simply, in a long dark coat accompanied with a black shirt, pants, and an eyepatch. I make eye contact with his good eye and watch as he silently takes the seat across from me. He adjusts in the seat and stares at me, I stare back. From his confidence I can tell he probably has a relatively high rank.

"That seems like a lot of blood on you, miss. Do you mind telling me whose blood it is and why it's now on you? And who you even are?" I swallow and nod my head to the intimidating man seated across from me.

"I am Adalyn Averina and I do not know the man's name, but I am almost certain he worked for my former employer. He showed up at my work and threatened me in the parking lot. I cut his face, and he followed me home. He didn't make it out of my house, it was either him or me." I give him the short and not-so-sweet version of the story. The man nods his head and boldly asked his next question,

"Was that man after the Hydra material found in your bag?" I lick my lips and nod at the man, of course they found it. I decide honesty is the best policy and hopefully transparency is my ticket to being protected.

"Yes." I watch the man's facial expressions, trying to get a read of what's going on in his mind, but his face is a blank slate.

"What's inside that book and why did he want it?" I scrunch my eyebrows together confused as to how he knows the book is Hydra material but doesn't know the importance of it. Or perhaps he does know and is testing me to see if I tell the truth. I realize this is the time to start making my demands in order to secure my safety instead of freely handing over information. I need to play my cards right or else they can take my information and kick me to the streets.

"Sure, I'll be happy to explain and cooperate on the condition that I receive asylum and aid from Shield." I lay out my terms not confident that I have the upper hand in this situation. They could easily just translate the book without my help and have all of the information. My hands are shaking in the cuffs and I feel myself start to sweat. The man rubs his chin and leans forward.

"Why would we give aid to a Hydra conspirator?" He has a valid point and if the roles were reversed I would likely ask the same questions.

"I'm more of a Hydra defector, I did just kill one of their men." I answer quickly, hoping my answer is satisfactory enough to get my wish granted. The man takes a deep breath and nods.

"Alright then. You explain yourself and the material you're in possession of, and in return we will set you up with our protection program. A new life and identity with some conditions." I nod my head eagerly.

"Thank you." I say appreciatively and get into the story I've dreaded telling for years. As I tell the story, I notice the man's subtle body language, insinuating that he's far more interested than he's letting on. I go into detail, but not too much. I tell him the important things he needs to know and nothing more. By the end of my recounting, the man has both hands on the metal table in front of me. He takes a few moments before he speaks,

"I'll be right back." He rises from the chair and walks out of the room. I nod my head and watch him leave, anxious for whatever is going to happen next. I feel the now fully dried blood on my hands, making them feel crusty and stiff. I rest my forehead on the cool metal table and close my eyes, trying to calm myself down.

The adrenaline is beginning to wear off and I recall the events that transpired only a short time ago. I killed that man, stabbed him right through the neck with no chance of survival. I feel myself start sweating more, like I'm going to panic but I try my best to keep my breaths even and deep. Shield doesn't owe me anything, the man can easily go back on his word and not grant me a new identity or not offer any sort of protection. Shield is definitely capable of extracting the information from the book and leaving me for Hydra's wrath.

My panic is cut short as the man walks back in. I lift my head from the table and it feels as though a rock was dropped in my stomach. My eyes are locked on him in a wide panic, eager to hear what he has to say. His next words make or break my future and whether I have much longer to live.

"We are prepared to make you an offer. We offer you a position here, with us. You'll be protected and work in our labs researching what you already seem to know so much about and work on an assignment pertaining to your skillset. If you decline this offer, we'll set you up with a new identity just as promised." I know that the new identity options comes with its own set of conditions, which are uncertain and will likely provide much less protection that what I am currently comfortable with. If I take him up on his employment offer, I'll be under the direct protection of Shield. It's a no brainer to me.

"I'll work for Shield." I confirm and the man nods affirmatively.

"Welcome to the team, I am Director Fury." He introduces himself. I breathe a breath of what seems like fresh air, I will live to see another day.

"Director Fury, it's a pleasure to give my skills to Shield, thank you." I give him my appreciation of the offer. It's likely he will never know that he saved my life today.

I never envisioned myself working for Shield ever, the idea of going from one major organization to another of the same nature never sat right with me, but here I am. It's not like I had much of a choice, it was a life or death situation. However, I intend to make the most out of this and not repeat my mistakes that I made while I was a part of Hydra.

[whumper-whimsy]

Better off Robbed

Ch 2: Welcome to WRU!

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️

kinapping, BBU, drugging, human trafficking, institutionalized slavery

Felix was in a crate. From what he could see, he was caged in by solid walls of dingy white plastic. Light shone from somewhere behind him, glowing dimly on his nude body.

He had woken up slowly, and for a while, he couldn't move. After at least ten minutes, he regained control of his limbs and was able to push himself forward to look behind him.

A metal mesh of bars caged him in the crate. He strained forward to peer through.

His heart sunk to the bottom of his chest.

There were more crates opposite him, and he assumed all around him. Two rows of cages on shelves lined what he could see of the walls around him. People filled each one, most of them sleeping.

"Let me the fuck out!" A man in one of the cages opposite of him cried, making Felix jump. He slammed into the bars of his cage aggressively until he slid off his shelf and clashed to the floor.

Two uniformed men surged into the isle with cattle prods in their hands. Both forced the prods inside, discharging the electricity inside.

Felix winced as a loud cry filled the isle. The protests from the man died down and his crate was hoisted back to his shelf. When Felix looked throgh, he could see the man glaring out through the bars, but his eyes were lidded and dull.

Suddenly, he remembered where he had seen the logo on the workers' uniforms; the news.

The company was controversial, especially in his area. He heard of how terribly the people in his city's hidden WRU establishment were treated; starved and whipped and isolated. He heard of people kept in warehouses- human petshops. He was told of the company's questionable 'rescue policy.'

The managers had come forward to assure that everyone who was there signed up to do it. That it was all consensual and all their 'boxies' were treated well.

That's where Felix was. At the WRU human warehouse. Prisoner.

"... and here we have our newest venture," a smooth voice said from further down the hallway. Two sets of footsteps slowly traveled closer. "These Boxies have never had a day of training in their lives. The ones over here have been here for a couple of months. Fed, watered, but no training. Some of them broke themselves already, if that's something you're looking for..."

"Mmm, no. Looking for something... fresher. These ones look sad. I need something that won't bore me."

Felix pushed to the back of his crate as the voice grew louder.

"Well, here are our newest boxies." The man came into view of his cage. He had a WRU uniform on like the others, but had a clipboard in hand. The man behind him was tall and expensively dressed.

He stopped at the cage of the man who had knocked his own crate over. He seemed interested. "Oh, look at him! " The man stuck a finger through to touch the boy, pulling his hand away as the boy snapped forward to bite him. "Ugh. Fiesty. Ill pass."

Felix made himself as small as possible, shrinking away until his back ached. He had to make himself as small as humanly possible so he wasn't noticed.

"Aww, who's this?" The voice was right next to him, much to his dismay. "Look at me, dear."

He peeked out, meeting clear, heterochromic eyes. He gasped softly, tucking his head back away. He tried to seem unappealing.

"Shy thing, hm?" He mused.

"Looks like it," the employer replied, and rapped on the bars of his crate. "Come on, stop doing that. Come forward."

Fearing the cattle prods he had seen earlier, he turned to face the two.

"Oh my god," the nicely-dressed man exclaimed, and Felix winced. "He's absolutely adorable!"

"We just got him in last night actually." The uniformed man scanned his clipboard. "Are you interested?"

"Last night, huh?" The tall man muttered, peering in and smiling softly. He seemed to ignore the other man's question. "Hey, there. What's your name?"

Felix leaned away, his heart thundering as he looked into the man's green and brown eyes. "Uhm, Felix?" He couldn't help how his voice shook as he spoke.

"Hi, Felix." The man replied like a kid cooing at a puppy. "Im Colton."

Felix didn't reply, shying away. His heart was pumping so fast he thought he'd go into cardiac arrest.

"I'll take him," Colton announced to the employee, grinning charmingly. He pulled out his wallet, filling through several cards and pulling one out. Felix wanted to scream.

"Oh, alright!" The employee regarded his clipboard again, a little surprised. "Lets see... since he had no training, we can't guarantee he won't hurt you once he's home. This puts him, and the other Boxies in this section, at a discount."

Im being sold on discount.

I'm being sold.

"That'll put him at about... a hundred thousand. We offer crates for another 200 bucks, our high-quality collars for 75, and leashes for 30." The man with the clipboard took the card. "We'll help load him into your vehicle for no extra fee."

"Sounds good, I'll take a collar aswell, please." Colton glanced back at Felix. "I have a cage ready in my car."

"Alrighty! We'll get a vet to put him to sleep for a bit, you'll sign the paperwork, and he's all yours." The uniformed man held up a card reader and scanned Colton's card, handing it back.

Felix sat up. "What? No, not again! Don't drug me!" He stared out at the two, wide-eyed.

The employee ignored him, pulling out his walkie-talkie and mumblimg something. A minute later, two more employees showed up. One unlocked his crate and grabbed his arms, dragging him out.

He shrieked and flailed as he was pulled to the floor, struggling more.

"No!" He cried. Stop it stop it, please!" Felix kicked his feet frantically.

"May I help?" Colton asked the employees, still smiling.

"Of course," one invited, stepping off just long enough for Colton to grab Felix's arms and straddle him, pinning him down.

"Dont struggle, Felix. You don't want them to have to knock you out manually, do you?" Colton's voice was like warm honey. He held Felix's wrists in one hand, stroking his cheek with the other. "Just relaaaaax, dear. It'll barely even hurt."

He whimpered softly, shaking his head, though he slowed his efforts. He spotted the needle coming towards his neck and began whimpering again, squirming.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Colton tapped his cheek, getting his attention. He felt the other man tilt his head up and rub his neck gently.

Felix gasped softly as the needle pushed into his neck, trying to keep eye contact with Colton. He felt his heartbeat slow as Colton continued to stroke his cheek.

His vision became blurry and dark at the edges as he struggled to stay awake. He fought for as long as he could, then finally lost the battle to a deep sleep.

[waitingformyfavoritesongs]

5 may 2023 Friday 1:18 am pt

I told a professional person about Brendan Lean months ago but haven’t heard back from them since. I was hoping that they would help me out about it Bcz I’m obviously too sick to do anything about it myself. Green auto save 1:20 am pt usually this person calls back every month but I think they have not called me back since I told them. Weird. But also not a surprise by now Bcz of the way everyone has been to me. 1:21 am pt

1:22 am pt probably more proof that the government, fbi, police, hospitals are all s*x human trafficking. 1:23 am pt and that Brendan Lean is a big piece to the puzzle of Sierra LaMar’s disappearance. 1:24 searing pain left. Hip bone 😖😭😤🥵😫😩

3:18 pmpt honesty doesn’t matter to incubus. I was upfront about not wanting to buy my cousin’s dinner and that her dad should do it. And I’m being given a hard time about it all the time. I discovered hot pockets for children 👶 who need free lunches from school 🏫 have no fillings yet I cannot find the articles anymore about Oklahoma cheating them on their lunches 🍔 - seems like gaslighting if you can’t find it again - as if to pretend it didn’t happen - they seem to be able to get away with it? If I’m not seeing news 📰 on it. 3:22 pmpt yet incubus keeps giving me a hard time about it over and over and over again. 3:23 pmpt

5:10 pmpt I thought 💭 this saved and now I see it here. Incubus, you made every one not care about me. I don’t want to commit suicide. Please just cut off my head your self. No one cares about me. Everyone does what you want. They probably won’t care if you wield a sword ⚔️ and do murder. The police 👮‍♂️ do what you want. The medical 🏥 professionals do what you want. Garrido does what you want. Scott does what you want. Carter does what you want. What is stopping you from just taking what you want? You want my bones 🦴 for your children 👶. Please stop 🛑 torturing me. Just kill me! 5:17 pmpt

5:40 pmpt cramps. 😖😭 Bcz he burned me, I have to accept that all he did was flirt with me and that he regretted it. That’s what the flame 🔥 with his face turned away showing the word true on his hand 🤚 means. 5:42 pmpt that there was not any more to it. It took me forever to get it. I only realized it recently. 5:43 pmpt. It doesn’t matter that I was under the test like he wanted me to believe that he wanted me to write ✍️ when I (vag pain 😖😭was that bone 🦴??? 5:45 pmpt) wrote about Nick V./B. Earlier. I did not originally believe that I was under the test. But if I was, then that would be bad for him. Right hip bone 🦴 pain. Bcz then he was leaving it open for me to say yes maybe when I was having phone ☎️ s*x that I could have said yes to the plane ✈️ tickets 🎫 he offered. That would have meant he wanted me then? Possibly. But not anymore. And he wanted to see if I trusted and wanted him enough. If so, probably so he can feel chosen/wanted/desired without knowing what he really looked like. 5:51 pmpt I don’t believe that he likes me at aall. 5:51 pmpt 5:52 pmpt

6:02 pmpt please don’t make me fall. Please don’t hit me with a car 🚗/vehicle/bus/truck. Please end my suffering. I don’t want surgery. Please end it. 6:04 pmpt

7:22 pmpt I’m almost out of hip bone 🦴. Incubus keeps on picking it apart. 7:23 pmpt I have asked the doctors 🥼 to do X-rays of my bones 🦴 and have been complaining of 🦴 bone pain for years. They only did X-ray of my lungs 🫁 and they said every time in the last 6 years that the lungs 🫁 are clear even though I was coughing with difficulty breathing. They used it as an excuse to not give me anything for a while I think 💭 I’m trying to recall. Then I recently tried oxygen tank with liquid in nebulizer and that stopped my cough and I was able to breathe 🧘🏻‍♀️. And then the doctor 👨‍⚕️ said I couldn’t take it home Bcz I wasn’t dying even though I couldn’t breathe 🧘🏻‍♀️ for probably whole minutes at a time. I had been suffering for years since 2019. 7:28 pmpt they also said my kidneys were fine. Now when I breathe 🧘🏻‍♀️ Minutes ago I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ if I’m confused 🤷🏻‍♀️ but he started trying to pull apart the last of my hip bone 🦴. 7:29 pmpt cramps. I lost a lot of bone 🦴. 7:30 🕢 pmpt. The doctors 🥼 believed it was really the apocalypse. That’s why they said it was all in my head =due to my thoughts 💭. And that they could not see anything in the mri that was causing it. 7:32 pmpt so it’s not only me that heard and saw the apocalypse message. It was the hospitals 🏥 too.

7:34 pmpt I cannot do much now. Bcz I cannot breathe 🧘🏻‍♀️ for long. Bones 🦴 start to be attacked by the incubus with acid or heat and sharpnano? tools 🛠. 735 pmpt doctors 🥼 are very uncaring until they think they can get in trouble. The last doctor 👩‍⚕️ I talked to tried to change the subject after I told her I had acid pain in my brain 🧠. Then I got mad/angry. And she made an excuse something like us doctors 🥼 we don’t understand brain 🧠 pain only headache 🤕. Literally that’s pretty close or exactly what she said. That was her excuse after I got angry at her. 7:38 pmpt that was her trying to cover her *ss. Bcz I threatened to sue her if she disregarded what I said. I told her that I told someone at her hospital that the finger clip oxygen detector machines didn’t work/fraudulent. I think 💭 that maybe changed her tune. 7:40 pmpt

7:42 pmpt doctors 🥼 are only motivated by money 💰. Bad things really happened to people. Incubus god allowed it to happen. He shows consequences for neglect. But everyone wants to say god this god that. I guess god isn’t really tired 😓 of every one misbehaving. And not caring about the consequences of their negligence I.e. garrido and dugard. 7:45 pmpt unfortunately they always get rewarded. And they thought 💭 they could keep doing things the same and continue to be respected for negligence that leads to garrido and dugard. They like child death ☠️ and child rape. It’s more business 👨‍💼 for them in a capitalist economy. More mayhem = more money 💰. More rewards. I guess god trusts them more than anything anyone. He can trust them with his children 👶. 7:49 pmpt why would you continue to ignore garrido after kidnapping and raping a 14 year old and masturbating next to elementary schools 🏫? 7:50 pmpt doctors 🥼 are indecent. If someone has power and money 💰 they won’t reject them even if they kidnap and prostitution/pimp. Ugly reality. 7:52 pmpt

7:54 pmpt unfortunately this ugly reality is the way the incubus god likes to run things. He likes men enjoying theirselves to s*x trafficking of minors. 7:55 pmpt

7:56 pmpt he could stick every little girl 👧 with a man 👨 with a p*nis and watch them get raped. But what about me? Why do rapists of Ramsey not get caught? I’m assuming they have the wrong guy Bcz of dna 🧬 stuff this time. And the last one I read was becomg transsexual? Makes me think 💭 he’s really messed up 🆙 in the head. I wonder 💭 if he cut it off? 7:59 pmpt no one wants to get to know me. It’s hard for me to even know myself. So many people are confused 🤷🏻‍♀️. 8:01 pmpt I feel searing pain for several minutes now. They don’t want to know me unless I got money 💰. Seems shallow. I should probably read more about robber barons. 8:02 pmpt people could have gotten worse than me to deal with. They did not count it as a blessing that they got me instead of someone who would deal something worse to them. 8:04 pmpt

maybe all the doctors 🥼 should spend the night with carter. Maybe 🤔 they would like 👍 that. 8:05 pmpt

8:20 pmpt incubus simulates the consequences of head trauma, in his own way I guess. Examples are mike Webster and other nfl players. There have been arguments about whether children should be allowed to play and how to make the game safer for the nfl, Bcz of head trauma. Incubus likes to challenge me on every thing. 😑 I need to stop 🛑 but every time I tell myself this, he (bone collar pain 8:23 pmpt) makes me forget. He justified s*x trafficking. He makes me think 💭 I’m a horrible person. When I was a kid. He already thinks he knows me at age 4? That’s why he tickled my vag and made me hump toys 🧸 . 8:26 pmpt I think guys get to have too much fun 🤩 at the expense of women. 8:26 pmpt

8:39 pmpt if I didn’t have eczema I probably would have found a challenging job using my hands 🙌. Intaglio printmaking, assembling ikea furniture 🪑, washing dishes in very hot water 💦 with lots of soap 🧼, vacuuming in the summer no air conditioning, carrying groceries even very heavy packages of bottled water 💦. There’s probably more . I’m not going to think anymore. 8:42 pmpt they slammed the door 🚪 means they are going to poison me more to take more bones away. They do weird things like put towels on the floor in the hallway. To erk me. 8:43 pmpt this is goodbye 👋 bye 843z 8:44 pmpt I am a hard worker. But no one likes me or appreciates me.

8:50 pmpt they’re very desensitized to my pain. Pain! Left side bellybutton. 8:51 pmpt water is probably easier Bcz it moves? So the weight probably moves. 8:52 pmpt

8:53 pmpt they want me to keep calling them out on things so they can punish me. Keep telling me I’m crossed 🤞. Ok 👌. 853 pmpt only to people who treat me badly/misbehave. 8:54 pmpt

[seijorhi]

The Hand That Feeds

Commission for the lovely @tink2kagome I hope you like it bby! <;33 Oikawa Tooru x female reader x Iwaizumi Hajime w.c 5.3k tw: a/b/o, non/extreme dub-con, smut, murder/minor character death, human trafficking, blood, yandere vibes

Measured footsteps echo across the concrete floor of the old, decommissioned factory. Iwaizumi Hajime, features set in a scowl, eyes the line of men forced to their knees before him. 

Five in total; thin, filthy, their faces bruised and bloodied courtesy of the soldiers standing at their backs, the last alone dares to meet his eye. Iwaizumi figures him for the leader, the oldest of the bunch by at least a decade.

Walking forward, he comes to a stop before him and drops into a low crouch.

The acrid stench of Beta fear permeates the air, blocking out almost all else. Yet the man doesn’t break the stare, even as his hands begin to tremble.

“I’ll ask only once,” Iwaizumi says, his voice cold and clipped. Impatient. “Where’s the Omega?”

The man swallows. Licks his lips nervously. “Gone. We lost her during the transport, she escaped. Didn’t– she didn’t understand that we were trying to help her.”

Iwa sighs, the muscle in his jaw tightening. 

He doesn’t have time for this. In a single, ruthless motion, he whips his gun from its holster by his thigh and pulls the trigger.

The Beta, a bullet between his eyes, slumps to the floor – dead before he hits the ground. 

He turns his attention to the next in line, quaking now as Iwaizumi steps in front of him and firmly digs the barrel of his gun against his forehead. “That Omega’s at least six hours into heat. She isn’t running anywhere.”

And true to his word, Iwa doesn’t ask again. 

“She’s long go–” 

Another ringing shot. Another dead body – blood and brain matter splattered across the concrete floor and the unflinching soldier stood behind him.

He has his orders from above; capture and retrieval first and foremost, but they’ll want captives to interrogate and make an example of. This wasn’t a simple snatch and grab, the plan too sophisticated, too many working parts to be solely the efforts of these five. Other Omegas are at risk, and the Commission cannot allow that. 

Iwaizumi has his orders, yes. 

He also has his priorities. 

The third does not sob when the muzzle of Iwa’s gun turns on him. Staring resolutely at the dusty floor, his shoulders rise and fall with a resigned sense of finality. “We’re dead men anyway.”

Under other circumstances, Iwa might be tempted to find the defiance in the face of death almost admirable. As it stands, though–

He lowers his pistol, fires it again. This time, the shot ripping through the Beta’s thigh rather than his head.

He screams, howling in agony as the bullet hits bone, and it’s purely due to the soldier seizing him by the shoulders that he’s kept upright at all. 

“Stop! Please–”

The cry doesn’t come from the injured Beta. Iwa’s head snaps to see the last in the line stumbling to his feet, flinching when the soldiers instinctively turn, guns trained on the perceived threat. Only by the fingers he lifts do they stay their hands. 

“They’re lying. I’ll… I’ll take you to her if you promise you won’t kill them,” he stutters, shaking off the hand that desperately tries to pull him back down. “No more killing, please.”

He’s short, no older than nineteen or so, his frame lithe in a way that borders on soft, and it takes a minute for Iwa to notice that the scent that surrounds him isn’t quite right. 

Not a Beta, as he’d first assumed. An Omega on scent blockers. His eyes narrow, but he agrees with a short jerk of his chin, following with two of his men as the teen leads them down into the maze-like complex.

Groups like these operate under the assumption that they’re helping the Omegas they steal. That a life in fucking squallor, hungry and fighting for scraps, defenceless against any Alpha who might look their way is better than being trapped under the Commission’s thumb. 

They think themselves white knights. Liberators. 

That hypocrisy begins to fall apart the moment they stop in front of a locked, windowless room. 

“I-I don’t have the key, I’m sorry,” the kid mutters, eyes flickering between Iwa and the soldiers, looking half terrified that they’ll lash out and hurt him over the revelation. “The others hid it when they knew you were closing in.”

Iwaizumi’s patience runs thin. 

“Move,” he growls, barely pausing long enough for one of his men to tug the nervous Omega out of the way before using his full bodyweight to kick at the door. The metal groans loudly in response. Gritting his teeth, the vein in his temple jumping, Iwaizumi kicks out a second time.

This time, the lock splinters, the door ripping from its hinges under the force of the blow. The very moment the door gives way, he’s hit by the smell of an Omega in heat. Simmering and heady, sweet and so fucking tempting, it washes over him in a heavenly wave that’d drive lesser Alphas to their knees.

His pupils dilate, heart spiking as the mouthwatering aroma curls around his throat like a noose, overwhelming his senses. Behind his lips, his teeth itch to sink into supple flesh, to mark. Claim.

Even his soldiers stiffen, the sharp intake of air behind him evidence that they’re not as unaffected as they’re trained to be. 

Still, nothing can prepare him for the sight that awaits him when he finally crosses the threshold.

The room is barren save for an old, worn out mattress, a few blankets and an IV hooked up to your shivering, half clothed form. And it’s rage that he feels, pulsing hotly through his veins as your eyes struggle to open, a pained noise leaving your lips. 

“It’s only a mild sedative, we– we had to, her heat–”

But Iwa’s beyond listening. Beyond caring. They’ve taken you. Touched you. Drugged you. 

Dropping to a knee beside you, olive eyes are quick to assess your condition. 

There’s an Omega’s heat and then there’s this. 

Your skin’s pallid, sweat slicked, yet it burns beneath his fingertips when they brush along your neck to check your thready pulse. Drifting between consciousness, you whimper like a kicked puppy in shallow, trembling breaths – the noise ripping at the fraying threads of his self control.

“Take the Omega,” he snaps, tugging out the IV in your arm with as much gentleness as he can manage. “Kill the others.”

You flinch, crying out incoherently when he scoops you up, cradling you to his chest. That lovely, Omega scent wrapping around him like a cocoon. It calms the roaring beast that lurks in his blood somewhat, and Iwa cannot resist dropping his nose to the crown of your head and inhaling deeply, relishing in it.

Home, he thinks, clutching you tighter against him. 

—

They talk about you as if you don’t exist.

Your behaviour, any outbursts. How many days it is until your next heat, that’s all they truly care about. Not you, and certainly not your happiness.

Physically speaking, you’re the healthiest you’ve ever been. Years have passed since the days of starving, of having to hide yourself like a stowaway and steal what you could in order to survive. 

Your hands are no longer calloused and rough, nor your fingernails brittle. Your hair shines and bounces with movement. Even your skin carries a healthy glow. 

Not for your own sake, of course. Nobody wants a sickly, underfed Omega. 

Even with the scars of silvery bite marks on your neck, you still carry some use. Sure, the Commission can’t sell you off to the highest bidder to be mated, they won’t breed you, but the rights to an Omega – even for a few hours – is still a prize worth fighting for, and the Commission knows how to leverage that all too well. 

The soldiers, the higher ups, anyone whose pockets run as deep as their generosity can earn the privilege of fucking an Omega in heat. Out of it, too. 

There’s a new Doctor today, a tall, wiry man with glasses and dispassionate, hazel eyes. Bare as the day you were born, you stand stiff as a rod whilst he appraises you, making notes on his clipboard, occasionally telling you to turn this way or that. 

In the years that you’ve been here, you’ve lost count of how many people have seen you naked, yet under his piercing, analytical gaze, your skin crawls. It’s an effort not to shrink away when he touches you, not to cover yourself with your arms to preserve what little dignity you have left. 

When he notices the smattering of bruises along your throat, the corners of the Doctor’s lips twitch downwards, and he shoots your handler a raised eyebrow. 

She shrugs, the back of her knuckle trailing slowly down your cheek, “The Captain was a touch overeager. He has been duly reprimanded.”

He hums, a short, dissatisfied noise, but makes no other comment. Bruises will heal, after all. 

You’re not one of the prized ones anyway.

—

He’s been watching you for weeks now.

No doubt you think yourself quite the adept little thief, stealing away after the lights of the factory shut off and the last whistle blows. But you’re not as stealthy as you think, and Oikawa would know the scent of an Omega anywhere.

Knows yours now by heart, etched into his very being. 

It becomes somewhat of a game between you two. Whatever he can spare, he’ll leave as a gift, lying in wait for you to crawl out from your secret hidey-hole and steal it away. Mostly it’s rations, sometimes some clothes or a spare blanket. Once, after he’d noticed you creeping around in bare feet mid-winter, a pair of socks. 

(Threadbare and scratchy, but better than nothing, no?) 

Not every night, even you’d get suspicious then, but enough that you keep cautiously coming back. 

And if Alphas are hunters by nature, Omegas are most certainly prey. Watching you stay low, every footfall so carefully placed as you glance furtively around for your mysterious benefactor – or anyone else who might stumble across you – serves as an endless source of entertainment for the man. 

You really are too cute when you think you’re being sneaky. 

“She’s going to get caught,” Iwaizumi mutters beside him one night, having followed him up to the rafters.

The implication of his statement isn’t lost on the brunet. Omegas are rare enough as it is, Omegas running free from the Commission are practically unheard of. Did you slip from their grasp, he wonders, or run off before they ever had a chance to test you in the first place? How long have you been out here, fending for yourself?

“You know what she is,” he continues when Oikawa remains silent. “You keep encouraging her to come back like this and you know what’ll happen.”

Of course, Iwa might just be pissed because this time it was half of his rations he’d left for their lovely little Omega friend. 

Oikawa glances towards him, mouth curling into a knowing smirk, “Would you rather we gave her nothing? You know what she is, Iwa,” he says, parroting his words back at him. “Are we supposed to turn our backs on a poor, defenceless, unmated Omega? Let her starve?”

The glower he receives is answer enough. 

Satisfied, Oikawa returns to his vigil, following you with rapt attention as you spy the hidden food, your face brightening in a moment of sheer, unguarded relief. The rations are hardly more than bread, dried out protein and vegetables – a half portion at that – but you look at it as if it’s heaven on earth, taking a quick nibble of the bread before stuffing the remainder into the pockets of your coat. Oikawa’s coat once upon a time, before he’d left it for you to find. 

Pride thrums through his veins, that baser part of himself preening at the sight. An Alpha’s job is to provide for his Omega, is it not?

“You can’t keep doing this,” Iwa grunts out eventually. “She’s going to get caught one way or the other, either by security, the floor managers, or some other Alpha sniffing after her.”

And there’s enough of an edge in his tone that Oikawa shoots him a curious look, only to find that his attention’s back to being wholly fixed upon you, darting for the exit now that your boon is safely stashed away. 

“Oh?” he quirks an eyebrow, wicked delight tugging at his lips. “And what are you suggesting then?”

You might be light on your feet, nimble and quick, but you’re no match for two Alphas in their prime. 

The deal they propose is simple enough; they’ll give you food, a warm place to sleep, supplies, and in return you won’t run. They won’t hurt you, won’t so much as touch you – at least, not in the way that you’re afraid of – but there’ll be no more night time raids. No more running around on your own. 

They’ll keep you hidden from other Alphas and the Commission. Safe, so long as you stay put and do what they tell you. 

And it’s so abundantly clear from the set of your jaw, the wariness in your eyes as they dart between the pair that you don’t trust either one of them. 

Lucky for them, whether you trust them or not is irrelevant. You’re in no position to bite the hand that feeds.

—

The plan had always been to wait for your first heat.

Slowly work to build your trust, to show you that you’d find no better Alphas to take care of you. By the time it swung around, you’d either offer yourself to them willingly, or they’d wait until your heat truly took ahold of you, and you begged for their knots. 

Iwaizumi could kid himself and say that it was for practicality’s sake. The other workers might not have noticed your scent before, the faint traces that lingered in the room after your nightly break-ins, but having an Omega in such close quarters is a different story.

Their clothes carry notes of warm honey and spice, it seeps from behind the locked door of their room. The others have noticed, their curiosity kept at bay only due to the two Alphas who guard you zealously. 

Violently, in one case.

When your heat sets in, though, and that inviting scent of yours blossoms and spreads throughout the complex, he and Oikawa won’t have a choice but to fight off any who come seeking you out. And they will come, hungry and driven rabid with want. Desperate to sink their cocks into a warm, needy Omega. 

And while the higher ups usually pay little attention to what they do beyond the hours they slave away on the factory floor, a brawl like that certainly wouldn’t go unnoticed. A claiming bite would keep anyone from separating you, even if you were discovered.

Mating you, claiming you before any of that happens is simply pragmatic, but it’d be a lie to say that was the sole reason behind their decision, or even the driving one.

It sings through his blood, the call of like to like. 

There’s a reason Oikawa crawls into the bunk behind you after you’ve fallen asleep to hold you against him, why Iwaizumi himself cannot truly breathe easy until he has you in his sights, safe and sound and tucked away from anyone who’d try to take you from them.

You’re their Omega. 

They planned to wait, to ease you into the bond as gently as they could, but the day the Commission comes looking for you that choice is taken out of their hands. 

“She’s asleep,” Oikawa says, already taking his place on the bed beside you, carefully shifting you into his lap – gazing at you with such blatant adoration that Iwaizumi feels his chest tighten in response. “We’ll do it now. She’ll understand.”

You don’t, and the Commission rips you from them regardless.

—

“If I may, sir?” the woman, whose name Oikawa’s already forgotten, interrupts his perusal of the contract. 

From the crisp, knee length pencil skirt and matching jacket to the slicked back ponytail, there’s not so much as a hair out of place in her appearance. Pretty and bland, a carbon fucking copy of the women the Commission has employed at their various Omega compounds. Not Alpha enough to command any real respect, and lacking in the natural allure of an Omega, she’s merely a shadow of what the Commission can truly offer. 

Oikawa smiles, a genial thing, and sets down his fountain tip pen, gesturing for her to continue. “Of course,” he replies, “speak your mind.”

The woman nods. Swallows, as she carefully mulls over how best to phrase her concern. “I don’t mean to overstep, or to question your… choice in the matter. It’s just that, well, you understand that the Omega you’ve selected has already been mated? She won’t be able to take another’s bite.”

He understands her concern. Truly, he does. 

At his rank, with the importance his name now carries, Oikawa could have his pick, he needn’t be limited to choosing an Omega already bound to another. He could have his own; a fresh faced, untouched jewel, his for the taking.

His smile sharpens. “I’m aware.”

The woman blinks, clearly taken aback by his answer. Quick to remember herself, though, she snaps her mouth shut and offers another gracious nod. “Of course, sir. My apologies. If you’re satisfied then with the contract, we can have her ready and delivered first thing tomorrow.”

He’s waited years for this. Rose from less than nothing to claw his way up the ranks of the Commission by any means necessary, all for the sake of hunting down his lost– stolen Omega. 

He can wait ‘til morning. 

—

Consciousness drifts just out of reach.

There are voices speaking, but it’s like you’re underwater, the words garbled and thick, lost to the ocean that keep you. A pleasant warmth flutters over your skin, dancing along your arms, your cheek, the curve of your throat. As nice as it is, it pales in comparison to the kindling in your blood, the warm, pulsing ache that settles into your core and grows and grows with each passing moment. 

Is it seconds, or hours? 

Thinking hurts, easier just to sleep. Rest, in that lovely, soothing warmth.

… 

……… No. 

No, it’s hotter now. Uncomfortable. You squirm, a low, breathy whine slipping from parted lips, and there’s that sensation again, that feather-light caress at your jaw. 

“You coming back to us, baby?” The voice is deep and rough. You recognize it, though you can’t pull the threads together to remember from where. It stokes the flames inside of you, the fire licking hotter, searing–

Or maybe that’s the scent that accompanies it, deep and rich, like home. Smells so good, you wanna chase after it, bury yourself in it and let it lull you back to sleep. 

The ache between your legs worsens, harder now to ignore. You can sleep when it stops hurting. 

Another whimper, and a soft, pretty laugh sounds on your other side. “Poor thing. It hurts, doesn’t it?” A new voice, this time, sparking that same vague, frustrating sense of familiarity. 

Your eyelids are too heavy to lift, but you manage a shallow nod. 

The voice coos, “Let us take care of you. You want that, don’t you, Omega?”

“Oikawa–” the first cuts in, and your body jostles, the surface you’re lying on – a bed, maybe? Soft and silky, you might actually enjoy the feel of it if every cell in your body wasn’t screaming at you with a desperate, aching want – displaced under a new weight. 

“You need your mates to make you feel better.” It doesn’t sound like a question, yet you find yourself nodding anyway, biting down on your lip to stifle another pained cry. “Good girl, now open your eyes for me.”

Good girl. The praise makes you shiver. It’s an effort, forcing your lids to comply, but eventually you manage. Your vision swims, fuzzy and out of focus, and it takes a few blinks for clarity to settle in.

Gazing down at you from above, you’re met with a familiar, toothy grin. 

Oikawa Tooru. 

And despite the aching, gnawing need inside of you, the fire that burns, seething through your blood, urging you to submit and beg for the Alpha – your mate – to ease your suffering, you still have enough lucidity to recognize the panic that lances at your heart.

“No,” the word slips from your tongue. Your limbs aren’t strong enough to cooperate when you try to scramble away from him, not that there’s any space between you and the headboard to allow for that.

“… When?” your voice is hoarse. Hollow. It’s not that you weren’t aware that the Commission was in the business of selling off prime Omegas to the highest bidder, merely that you never thought it was something that might happen to you.

You were used goods. Useful enough as stress relief, a warm hole to fuck after a long, tiring day, but any Alpha worth their salt wants an Omega they can claim and conquer for their own. The ugly, twin scars on either side of your neck make that an impossibility. 

“Tomorrow,” the Doctor replies bluntly. “Once I clear you medically, you’ll return to your room for the night, and in the morning they’ll transfer you.”

Sitting on the edge of the sheet lined examination table, staring at nothing in particular your mind slowly processes the information. “Why are you telling me this?” 

He’s not usually so forthright, but perhaps that has something to do with the mysterious absence of your handler tonight.

He doesn’t hold you in suspense, shrugging easily. “Because I’m offering you a choice. A way out, if you want it.”

“Oh.” A heavy silence settles between you. Then, swallowing, you ask, “Do… do you know who–” 

Why that’s the first question you have, why it even matters when your freedom’s just been dangled in front of you like a carrot, you can’t say. Only that it does.

And if the Doctor finds it strange, he gives no outward indication. “My understanding is that you’re to be gifted to a young General in the First Army. Iwaizumi Hajime, I believe.”

“No?” he parrots back, settling back on the thighs that straddle you to shrug off his shirt, revealing the taut, golden planes of his chest. He’s so much bigger now than he used to be, muscles where there used to be only skin and bones. 

Years playing the Commission’s lap dog have treated him well, you think bitterly. 

“No, it doesn’t hurt, or no, you don’t want your mates to help you?”

He trails a possessive hand from your throat down the valley of your breasts, coming to a stop just above your navel. And try as you might to hold it back, a keening whine escapes you, the skin beneath his touch igniting like liquid fire.

At the apex of your thighs, thick, viscous slick begins to pool.

More, the Omega within you begs, more. 

“Are you sure?” Oikawa croons, nostrils flaring as your shameful little secret makes itself known. 

“Enough.” 

Your attention darts to your left, where you find your other captor – mate, your subconscious supplies, your gut clenching at the thought – closing in, impatience written across his features. 

Impatience edged with hunger, as olive eyes roam greedily over the bare flesh on display before him. “Enough teasing. I’m the one who brought her home.”

He says it like it’s supposed to mean something. And perhaps it does, because Oikawa sighs, bending down to nip at your mating gland, chuckling lightly when you shiver and whine beneath him. Nevertheless, he lifts himself off of you, settling on the other side of the bed with a half hearted mutter of “Killjoy,” to make room for the stockier Alpha to take his place.

And your heart stutters in your chest when Iwaizumi licks his lips and takes a knee upon the bed. Already, you can see the tenting in his pants, evidence of his own rising need as he coaxes your chin up, forces you to meet that simmering, predatory stare. 

“I killed for you today, little Omega,” he says, neither a condemnation nor a brag. Merely a statement of fact. 

He’d done so before, back in the days before their teeth had bloodied your neck and shackled you to them. He’d looked at you much the same, that day. Eyes too dark, frightening in their intensity.

You should’ve run back then. 

You should’ve run the day Oikawa’s hand caught at your wrist, and you learned that nothing – not even the food you stole to abate the gnawing, endless hunger – ever came for free.

And yet you’re near crippled by the pang of shameless need that surges when large hands take you by the waist, rolling you over and shifting you onto all fours. 

Alpha, Alpha, Alpha, your body sings as he grips your hips, the fabric of his pants the sole barrier between his quickly hardening cock and your wet, needy cunt.

His palms stroke at heated skin. “You’re gonna be good for us, Omega.”

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut to stem the tears that well up and blur your vision. “N-no,” you gasp, biting down on the shuddering whine that follows a moment later when Iwa ruts his hips against your pussy, completely unbothered about the traitorous slick that leaves a wet patch on the front of his uniform. 

Not enough, you need more. Need to be filled, need to be fucked–

You’d crawl if you could, if your trembling arms would support you, if it weren’t for Oikawa, whose hands cup flushed, feverish cheeks, arcing your throat up.

The soft clinking of Iwaizumi unbuckling his belt sounds behind you. 

Oikawa’s thumb drags along your bottom lip, dipping into the wet heat of your mouth and holding you there. “Such a needy little thing.”

Iwa’s cock, thick and heavy, drags along your slicked entrance and your hips buck, chasing the friction. It’s all the warning you get.

Oikawa grins over your shoulder, the grip Iwa has on your hips tightens and in one snarling thrust, Iwaizumi slams his cock home. 

The pain is heaven, the stretch a bliss that wracks your body in waves, the lewd, breathy moan that leaves you near pornographic as your pussy tightens, squeezing deliciously around the sudden intrusion.

And Iwaizumi swears behind you. Curses absolute filth, blunt nails digging crescent shaped marks into your soft skin as he holds you there, grinds his cock deeper, lets you feel it throb and twitch insistently inside of you.

A perfect fit. 

You shudder, every last thought eddying from your mind. 

There’s nothing but you and the Alpha, your mate, and the drag of his dick along your sensitive inner walls as his hips draw back to plunge his fat, heavy cock into your sopping heat. Even Oikawa, fingers still in your mouth, watching with pupils blown wide and a flush creeping along his chest, fades into the background in the wake of quaking, wanton relief. 

At least until those fingers are replaced with the flushed, glistening tip of his own erection, smearing pre along your lips like a gloss until they part with a whining moan and he can force the head of it into your mouth.

Your tongue curls around it, lapping obediently at the salty skin. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, biting down on his bottom lip. “Such a good little Omega.”

Distantly, there’s a twisting in your stomach, a warning bell chiming in some vacated back corner of your mind, but it may as well be a whisper, lost to the cacophony of heady pleasure that pulls at the very seams of your soul.

You rock your hips backwards, desperate to meet the fervid thrusts as you do your best to suck and gag on the cock now steadily filling your mouth. Slick gushes from your cunt, coating Iwa’s dick, dripping from his balls to make a mess on the sheets below – adding to the lewd symphony of grunts and skin papping against skin.

You’re beyond shame, beyond sense. Nothing else matters but your mates and the delicious stretch of being split in two. 

And you’ve been fucked by Alphas before, used in and out of heats for glorified stress relief, but nothing like this. Your whole body hums, electrified and oversensitive. 

More, more, more, you wordlessly beg.

Your mates are nothing if not obliging. 

Stuffed to the brim – Iwa behind you, mindlessly pumping into your guts with an animal pace, and Oikawa, one hand fisting at your hair, using your mouth like his own little fucktoy to a chorus of choked, garbled moans and whimpers – the scent of your own arousal thickens in the air.

Pleasure burns and coils inside of you, every snap of their hips driving you closer to a brink you can’t comprehend. The world could burst into flames around you and you’d go down singing sweetly for them.

His grip holding you tight, Oikawa bullies his cock deeper, bucking now into your spasming throat while he coos and snarls in fervent delight. And as your eyes, glistening with unshed tears, glassy and glazed, stare imploringly up at him, Iwa hits that small bundle of nerves deep inside your pussy and you scream around his length.

Your pussy tightens, convulsing as pleasure explodes inside of you like a thousand fireworks going off at once. The bond between you pulls taut, and you feel them–

That rabid mania, the hot, ravenous pleasure that courses through their veins, urging them to take, take, take–

Your eyes roll back into your head, eyelashes fluttering, and you try to submit yourself entirely to ecstasy. 

It should be perfect, it should be enough, but the fire within you’s only been stoked, not extinguished and the unshed tears now fall in glistening streams as you sob in desperate want.

“Please,” you beg when Oikawa pulls back to allow you to breathe, “I need–”

You can’t force the words out. You don’t have to.

“He’s right,” Iwa growls, reaching around to rub rough circles at your throbbing clit, “You are a needy fuckin’ thing.”

He’s jackrabbiting into you now, driving his cock balls deep with each sloppy, frenzied thrust. Your mouth now free, Oikawa having momentarily decided to take a back seat and watch, there’s nothing to smother the whorish moans that fill the room as his knot swells, fucked as deep inside of you as it’ll go. 

At the mercy of his brutal pace, his fingers still coaxing at your clit, you’re helpless to do anything but collapse against the sheets and hold on for dear life, your cunt fluttering around him.

But it’s the soft, whimpering cry of his name that finally pushes him over the edge.

Stilling with a snarl, white hot ribbons of cum spurt from Iwa’s cock, coating your insides. Pulsing, as the waves of his end wash over you both.

Eventually his knot’ll swell down, enough for you two to separate, and that familiar, gnawing ache will set in once more, begging to be satisfied. 

You have another mate yet to cum, days of your heat remaining, but for now you let your mate pull you into sweaty, strong arms, let him nose at the mark he left on your neck and tell you what a good job you did, taking your Alpha’s knot.

For now, that’s enough.

[sopebubbles]

Chapter Five

Summary: How many men will it take to save you? To be honest, you've gotten pretty used to saving yourself. Even though you're far from a delicate thing, Los Angeles is a dangerous place you can't seem to escape no matter how hard you try. The top 7 members of Bangtan should never have crossed your path, but they soon find they'd do just about anything to help you escape your past and make it safe for you to stay. But will you?

Genre: mafia au, poly ot7, angst, some smut, honestly a lot more fluff than i expected, POC reader/oc

Warnings: HEAVY angst, mentions of human trafficking, violence, implied sexual assault, talking about past physical and emotional abuse, speaking about forced drug use, Taehyung (and Hoseok) being a dumb ass

Extra Warning:

There's implied sexual assault during this chapter as well as mentions of physical abuse--if anyone wants to skip this chapter, I'll give a summary of what happens later this week. If you do choose to read, please pay attention to the ❌ you will see. That's when the material of the story will be the most sensitive. When it is "safe" to read you will see ✅. Please note that a lot of this au involves Y/n understanding and dealing with her trauma. Please make your mental health a priority and engage with this media in a way that makes you feel most comfortable.

Word count: 6.7K

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Jungkook did as he was told, as usual. After catching a couple hours of shut eye, he rolled out of bed while it was still dark and drove over to your apartment. He'd been there once with Taehyung while you were at work and he was just able to find his way back, even in the dark. The eastern sky was just starting to lighten up when he parked in front of the building next to yours. He leaned his head back against the rest and fought the urge to close his eyes. 

Luckily, he didn't have to wait long before you came out. He couldn't help the small laugh that escaped his lips when he saw you walk right past him carrying a duffle bag that looked as if it weighed as much as you did. Still, you didn't seem to be struggling under it. He waited a minute to let you get ahead down the street, before he flipped his car around and followed your direction. Two blocks away he saw you standing at a bus stop, bag on the ground and hands in the pockets of your acid wash skinny jeans. He didn't see a bus in sight, so he hung a left turn and circled the block before parking once again far enough down the street that he could see you without you noticing him. The sky continued to lighten its hues as he watched you.

Jungkook could see why Taehyung was initially attracted to you. You were clearly pretty with your tan skin that was a bit darker than Taehyung's own shade of sun kissed California tan. You released your hair from its bun and it fell in soft, dark waves down your back. As you combed your fingers through the strands, he found himself wondering what it would be like to have his hands in your hair, and he felt himself twitch in his pants before he stopped himself from following that path. He had to focus. You held yourself differently now from how you did the times he'd seen you before last night. You couldn't have gotten much sleep if any, yet you looked entirely alert. Sure, you weren't aware of him, but you seemed entirely aware of your surroundings otherwise. Your posture was ready for anything, and it spoke of an untold strength that wasn't apparent at first glance. He was sure now that you were much stronger than you looked. That would explain how you took down that "fucking monster" —Hoseok's words—last night.

Ten minutes later, a bus came down the street from behind him and pulled to a stop up the block where you were waiting. Jungkook watched as you hoisted up your bag and stepped into the bus. When the bus moved on he let several cars pass between them before he pulled out to follow it. A bus wasn't hard to keep track of, but it would be suspicious to stay too close, so he tried to keep his distance. Eventually, you got off across the street from the greyhound station, and Jungkook parked the car once again. 

The sun had come up over the horizon by then and it was already starting to heat up. The station wasn't too busy this early in the morning. Jungkook watched you walk inside, hoping you'd pick a bus that would leave soon so he could go home and sleep. His hopes were satisfied when you came out on the terminal side a few minutes later. You dropped your bag to the ground at the last terminal closest to him and shifted anxiously on your feet, periodically looking around you or down at the ticket clutched tight in your hands.

Jungkook looked up the bus schedule on his phone to check the details and called Namjoon, who answered after two rings.

"Anything?"

"She's doing what you said. She's at the station waiting for a bus to Phoenix. Should be here any minute," Jungkook informed his boss.

There was an audible sigh on the other end and Jungkook thought it almost sounded like relief. "Good. Stay there until she goes, just to be sure."

"Why do you care so much that she goes?" Jungkook wondered.

"She said she would go, and I think it's for the best, for Taehyung, for us, and for her, too. She said some things last night…it's best if she's out of LA, trust me."

"Sure, Joon."

"Thanks, Jungkook."

"Yeah, I just do-"

"Jungkook?" Namjoon asked after the man on the other end went silent for too long.

"Something's happening," Jungkook mumbles.

"What is it?"

"A black escalade just pulled up to the terminal and some huge mother fucker got out. He's talking to Val."

"What is she doing?"

"She doesn't look happy to see him, that's for sure."

"Are they talking?"

Jungkook chuckled. "She's definitely mouthing off to him."

"So not a friend?"

"I'm pretty sure he just showed her his gun. Shut her up. And now she's walking to his car."

"Damn."

"What's going on, Joon?"

"Can you tell me anything about the guy?"

Jungkook squinted to try to catch any details as the man escorted you back to his vehicle. "Mexican, I think. Big as a fucking tank. Didn't know they made Armani suits that big."

"Damn,” Namjoon said again, harsher this time.

"You got any ideas?"

"Yeah. You think they looked friendly at all?" Namjoon wondered.

"Definitely not. Especially not how he just shoved her inside the car."

"I need you to follow them, Jungkook. You think you can do that?"

"Yeah I'm on it."

"Keep your distance, though. This could get dangerous."

Jungkook smirked. "Dangerous is my middle name."

"That's not encouraging, Kookie. Just keep track of them and call me in a bit."

Jungkook sighed as he started to follow the large SUV with dark tinted windows. As they traveled further west, he was glad he'd filled the tank up this morning before he went after you. It wasn't easy to follow them and remain inconspicuous while they wove through traffic at 90 miles an hour, but Jungkook managed to keep up. Just where the hell were they taking you? Finally, he called Namjoon after he'd followed the escalade off the I-10.

"Where are you?" The leader asked without a greeting. 

"I'm in fucking Malibu."

"Damn. Have they stopped?"

"No, but- god damn it!" Jungkook pulled over and stopped the car, smacking his hand against the steering wheel.

"What happened?" 

"They just drove into a gated community. Where the fuck are they taking her?" Jungkook could see the big mansions beyond the wall, but there was no way to get to them, and it caused a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

"Alright. Come home, babe. I don't wanna risk you out there."

"What do you mean, hyung? What's going on? Who has her?"

Namjoon sighed tiredly on the other end. "It's La familia, and I think they're taking her to Joaquin Moreno's house."

"What the fuck? Why? And how do you know?" 

"She told me last night that she…was familiar with them, in the past. That's why she was running, but she didn't run fast enough."

Jungkook didn't know why anxiety was bubbling in his chest for a girl he didn't even know, but he couldn't keep it down and it showed in his voice when he spoke. "That guy's a fucking psycho, hyung. We can't leave her there."

"Look, I know. But there's nothing we can do right now. Just come home."

"Has Taehyung come back yet?"

Namjoon sighed again. "He just pulled up."

"He's gonna be fucking pissed."

"That's an understatement. Look, I'm not telling him anything right now."

Jungkook nodded to himself. "Good call. I'm gonna go back to her place and see if she makes it home tonight."

"Jungkook, you don't have to do that."

"Yeah, but you kinda want me to, don't you?"

There was a pause as the leader hesitated on the other end. "Yeah. Yeah, go ahead. Thanks."

Jungkook couldn't help a smirk. "There's something about her, huh?"

Namjoon breathed a laugh. "Yeah. I'm glad you see it too."

"Yeah. We're all totally fucked now," Jungkook chuckled. 

"Be careful out there," Namjoon warned, his words heavy with affection. 

"Dont worry about me, Joonie. Good luck with Tae." 

Jungkook hung up the call and shifted the car into gear. If he was going to spend all day waiting for you, he was going to need some food. 

The front door of the mansion slammed shut, rattling some of the fixtures on the walls. 

"She fucking left, hyung! Can you believe that? She just fucking left me sleeping. Not even a goodbye!" Taehyung shouted, walking straight into Namjoon's office just as he was hanging up his phone call with Jungkook. 

"What's that?" Seokjin looked pointedly at the teddy bear hanging from Taehyung's left hand.

"A goddamn parting gift, I guess." The younger man tossed the stuffed toy to the floor like he didn't care, but his eyes lingered on it. He looked back up at the other two men, who looked between him and the plushie. After an awkward moment he bent down to pick it up again. "If I could get her back, I'd fucking kill her for leaving me," Taehyung muttered as he brushed it off.

Namjoon put his hands in his pockets with an annoyed sigh, "I'm sure she had a good reason for leaving."

"Why? Why are you taking her side?" Taehyung held back. 

"I'm not. But I saw her last night and she was scared. Maybe she had no other choice."

"No other choice? She had me. I can protect her. Now that she knows everything, I can do anything to protect her." He raked a shaking hand through his disheveled hair. He looked like shit after his clothes spent all night on your floor and after getting barely any sleep. His red eyes shot up to stare at his leader, the man he knew as his own brother since they'd been raised together after the death of Taehyung's parents. "Do you know where she went? You talked to her last night. Did she tell you where she's going?"

"She didn't say. She just said she had to go, and that you shouldn't stop her." It wasn't easy to lie to Taehyung, but Namjoon didn't want to find out what he would do if he knew where you were now.

"So you knew she was going to leave me and you didn't even tell me?" Taehyung's tired features twisted with betrayal.

"Tae, what was I supposed to do? If she wants to leave, that's her choice. You'll have to accept it."

"It's alright, Taehyung-ah. More fish in the sea, right?" Seokjin tried to calm him down.

"I'll find her." Taehyung turned, determined, even if he knew he'd already lost too much time. He dug his hand in his pockets for his keys.

"No. You won't. Go upstairs and take a shower. Spend the day in. Get some rest. I don't need you out on the streets getting reckless right now." Namjoon's voice was firm, but it only fueled his rage. 

"You may be in charge of this organization, hyung-nim, but you don't control me," Taehyung answered through gritted teeth. 

Namjoon leveled the younger man with a stare that had helped him gain his reputation as a fearsome ganglord. "I told you to tell her what was going on weeks ago, especially with all this going on with the triads, so that you could keep her safe. You didn't, and she got caught in the middle. And now Zhang and his men are dead too. So right now, Seokjin and I have to go do some damage control. And I need you to keep your ass in this house and not cause anymore fucking problems right now. Got it?"

Taehyung couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't get him into trouble, so he just grumbled under his breath and walked away to his room. 

It had still been pretty early in the morning when Jungkook left Malibu with a pit in his stomach. Around 2pm he started to regret his decision to wait at your place to see if they'd bring you back. What if they kept you? What if they'd already killed you? He should have stayed. He was lost in thought when a car pulled up next to him and the door opened to let someone out, so he was surprised when he saw it was Hoseok knocking on the glass of the passenger side door. He quickly got in after Jungkook unlocked it. Whoever had dropped him off was already gone. 

"What are you doing here?" Jungkook mumbled. 

"I was with the boss and Seokjin for a meeting, but I wanted to keep you company." Hoseok slipped an energy drink into the cup holder. "Nothing yet?"

"Nada," Jungkook replied with an ironic smile before he cracked the can open with a satisfying pop. 

"Can you believe this? We've managed to avoid La familia for all these years and now we're getting wrapped up, all because of Taehyung."

"We're not wrapped up." Jungkook didn't look at his hyung while he talked, eyes scanning the streets. 

"Yeah, then what are you doing here?" Hoseok gave him a suspicious look, but the younger man ignored it. 

"I just wanna see if she comes back alive, that's all."

"And if she doesn't?" 

"I don't know."

"And if she does?" 

"I don't know, man! But Namjoon is suspicious and-"

"And you just wanna see her again," Hoseok smirked. 

Jungkook pushed his head back against the rest. "It's not like that!"

"No, I get it. Really. Val's fucking nuts and that's hot. Crazy girls always have the best sex. But they're nothing but trouble and we've got enough of that." Hoseok helped himself to some of Jungkook's chips he'd been munching on to keep himself awake. "But you know, if she comes back, she's still Taehyung's girl."

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying, man! Don't set your eyes on her, cause-"

"No. Shut up. That's their escalade," Jungkook informed him, nodding to the large vehicle that had stopped in front of Yn's apartment building. 

For a moment nothing happened. Then quickly the car door opened and Val tumbled out. A second later her duffle bag was thrown in the ground at her feet. Then the door closed again and idled there.  She gave her middle finger to whoever was inside and then scooped up her bag before going toward the gate. Once she made it past the entrance, the driver of the SUV floored it and sped down the road, tires screeching. 

"Well, she's alive. You ready to go home or you wanna shoot your shot?" Hoseok asked around a mouthful of chips.

Jungkook glared at his hyung from the corner of his eye. "Did you really come here just to bust my balls?"

"Pretty much." Hoseok grinned childishly. 

"Where did she go?" Jungkook looked frantically around. There was no way you could be inside already, but you were nowhere to be seen. His pulse quickened as Hoseok began looking closely, too. Both men jumped, simultaneously reaching for their weapons when you opened the rear door behind Hoseok and threw your bag inside. You climbed in after it and shut the door loudly, both men looking at you with wide eyes and raised guns.

"Take me to Kim Namjoon."

"What happened? Is she-" Namjoon stopped short when he caught sight of you walking into his living room once again. 

"I'm alive, for now," you grumbled, coming to a stop a few feet from him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Val?" Taehyung's voice cut through to you, and you couldn't stop yourself from turning to him, as much as you didn't want to. Whatever had happened since you left him in the morning, your feelings toward him hadn't changed. If anything you felt farther from him than ever. Less capable of loving him. Nevertheless, he wrapped you up in his arms and whispered into your hair. "You came back."

You sighed and pushed gently against his chest to get him to let you go. "Tae, this isn't why I came back." You turned back to the leader, who rephrased his question. 

"Why are you here?" 

"Great question. I should be pulling into Phoenix right about now, but instead I'm still in Los Angeles because of that hijo de puta, Joaquin."

Jungkook and Hoseok chuckled behind you. They couldn't seem to get enough of your ranting and cursing in Spanish. "What happened?" 

"Every time I try to leave this goddamn city he finds out and pulls some shit to keep me here. Like my freedom is some kind of sick game to him."

"Who the fuck is Joaquin?" Taehyung interjected suspiciously. 

"Joaquin Moreno," Namjoon replied. 

"The Joaquin Moreno?" Taehyung's jaw dropped to the floor before he closed it and swallowed hard.

"Yeah. So I'm going to need Bangtan's protection, because this time, he's not going to let me go."

Taehyung raised his eyebrows at you. "What do you mean 'this time'?"

But you ignored him for the moment and focused on Namjoon. "Joaquin's new mission is to come after your organization. But he's only doing it to control me. So I say, we team up and get rid of him instead."

Namjoon put his hands in his pockets and looked you up and down. "How can I know this isn't a trick?"

"I told you," you gritted out quietly.

"You suggested. But you also didn't follow through on what you said you would do and you spent the day with your supposed enemy, so how can I trust you?"

You hadn't seen them come in, but all the members of the inner circle of Bangtan were in the room now, and while they watched on with confused eyes they had you surrounded and you could feel their defenses tightening. You held up your hands in surrender.

"You wanna check me for a wire, boss daddy?" You smirked.

Namjoon returned a tilted smile before he nodded. "Taehyung."

His subordinate made a meal of patting down your body, and you tried your best not to let the way you cringed show through. When he was done, he smacked your ass and you threw him a glare.

"She's clean."

"Look, I have nothing to prove that I'm on your side except for the fact that I hate him more than anyone on the planet and all I want is to see him dead."

"What do you have against the leader of La Familia?" Jimin asked from behind you. You turned to glance at him and sighed. 

"Can someone get a girl a drink?" You asked as you walked over to one of the dark leather arm chairs and sat down. 

Jungkook snorted. "Have you even had anything to eat today?" 

You shot him a sharp look as well. "Mind your own business, stalker." The youngest rolled his eyes. Jimin handed you a glass of brown liquid and sat beside you with his body facing you, cheek against his palm in rapt attention. You took a drink, swallowing the burn before you looked up at the seven sets of curious eyes. 

"My name is Y/N Y/L/N. My father worked for a cartel in Veracruz. As gangsters go, he was pretty much as bad as they come. He was the guy you called when you wanted someone to disappear. When I was fifteen, there was a job that he refused to complete, some kid he was supposed to kill and for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even when the cartel came for me and threatened to take my life, he wouldn't follow through. In the end, my father was killed and the cartel sold me to a man who worked for La Familia. He was just the first in a long chain of men who moved people, mostly women, from central America into the port of Los Angeles. And that was where I first met Joaquin and his father."

❌ ❌ ❌

The shipping container allowed in just enough light to tell the difference between night and day. The wreaking air was stifling, until finally the door opened. 

"Twenty-five women, as promised," the loathsome man who had brought you here informed the boss. "Was almost twenty-four," he mumbled.

"Why?" You couldn't see the man's face, but his voice was one of a man who always got answers to his questions. You didn't need to see him to know he was in charge. 

"This one's a runner," the first man replied, and you knew he was clearly pointing at you. You stood at the head of the pack, the rest of the terrified women standing behind you. It wasn't that you weren't terrified. You were just unwilling to give up until you got away. 

You survive, no matter what, your fathers words echoed in your head.

"Bring her here."

The large man who had so enjoyed beating you each time you attempted to escape came forward to grab you by the arm. You struggled against his grip, but back then you weren't so strong and he dragged you out of the container to throw you on the ground in front of the boss. You scrambled to your feet and moved away from him. Now in the lights of the dock you could see the man and all his subordinates standing with guns. There was nowhere for you to go but back in the container. The boss approached you and grabbed you by the jaw. 

"Huh. She could be pretty, if she wasn't so filthy," a man behind him commented. 

You turned your hate-filled eyes on the one who spoke. He was tall and fit, and truthfully quite handsome, but even from where you stood, you could see the madness in his eyes. You began to wriggle free, jerking your face away from the older man, only for him to grab you by the throat. 

"You see that? The will to live? You can't teach that. And you can't destroy it, either. You can only train it. Channel it." The man pulled you closer to him. 

"She won't do for the whorehouse," the younger man said. 

The elder looked over his shoulder. "You want her, mijo?"

The younger shrugged nonchalantly, but it was clear he was already obsessed with you. "Might be able to do something with her."

"The only thing this one will ever do is fight," the boss told him. 

"Perfect."

"Hm." The boss grunted and pushed you toward his son as if you were nothing. "Get the rest out of here."

Joaquin—you would soon learn his name—caught you by your arms and held you up. His hands went to your face. There was an already fading bruise over your left eye from a beating you received a week earlier, and he hummed as he traced his thumb over it. "Let's see what fun we can have, princesa."

"The night I arrived on the docks Joaquin took me home to his mansion and made me his personal plaything. For three months, I did nothing but try to escape, only to be dragged before him each time and punished. One night he beat me nearly to death, and I knew I'd never get free if I wasted my energy like that. I needed to be stronger, not half dead. And so when he decided to groom me to be a fighter, I let him."

"The scars," Taehyung said quietly. He sat across the room, directly in front of you, and you met his eyes for a second before you looked away.

"Joaquin had me take steroids. I trained half the day until I was ready to fight. Among their many illegal businesses, La familia runs an underground boxing ring, and for nearly four years I ruled it."

Jungkook scoffed. "Are we supposed to believe this?" You glared at him, but Namjoon stepped in. 

"Let her finish." You took another drink and continued. 

"For five years, I was Joaquin's property. I was his fighter, his whore, his thief. All I could do was bide my time until I could escape, but I was watched constantly. When his father died, I knew things would change. Joaquin's a psychopath, and I didn't want to stick around anymore to see how far he would take things as a leader. I asked him if I could fight for my freedom, and he reluctantly agreed. He got the biggest guy you can imagine to beat the shit out of me in a prize fight. I almost died, but I was the one who survived, and he had no choice but to let me leave." You drained your cup and looked down at the empty glass. "It was a lie though. He's had his eyes on me for the last two years, and anytime I've tried to leave LA he had his men catch me and put me right back in my place. And the only way I'll ever be truly free is if he dies."

"And why should this have anything to do with us?" Namjoon finally asked, sitting back in his chair and brushing imaginary dust off his slacks.

✅✅✅

You sighed and set your empty glass on the end table. "This morning his goons picked me up at the bus station and took me to his mansion." Your eyes traveled over Jungkook and he shifted uncomfortably. "Among lots of other gross things, he said if I helped him cut into your counterfeit operations then he would finally let me leave LA, and if I don't help him then he's going to make me his prisoner again."

"So why are you here? Why ask for our help instead of helping him?" Seokjin wondered. 

"Because he's a fucking liar, and as I said, he'll never let me go. So I want you to help me kill him instead, and then we can go our separate ways."

Namjoon shook his head. "We can't just kill a rival gang leader, especially not one as well connected as Moreno. It would be the end of Bangtan when they retaliate."

"I know that. But I don't need you to kill him. I just need you to help me to get in a position to do it myself."

"You were with him today. You were alone with him? Why not try then? How could we even help?" Jungkook asked. 

"It's not that simple. I need time. I'm not strong enough right now," your voice weakened with your admission, feeling disgusted by all the ways he had proved that to you earlier. 

"I thought you said I couldn't protect you. So why are you asking now?" Taehyung interjected, throwing your words back at you. 

"Because you can't. Once he's dead I'll be on the run for the rest of my life," you responded as if it were obvious.

"Then what's the point of killing him?" Hoseok asked, analyzing you with arms crossed over his chest.

"Because someone needs to kill that bastard."

"Surely lots of people have tried. What makes you think you can succeed?" Namjoon pushed. "You're just a little girl."

"Because he deserves to rot in hell for what he's done to me! I won't let him have me again!" You exploded at him, and the room fell completely silent as their eyes stayed fixed on you. The only movement was the agitated rise and fall of your chest as you tried and failed to breathe steadily.

"We'll do it," Namjoon agreed, breaking the tense silence. "We'll protect you until Moreno is dead."

You sighed, letting yourself deflate and pushing aside the embarrassment you felt for your outburst. Normally, you tried so hard to hold on to your emotions, to keep them simmering beneath the surface. Fighting with Taehyung was different. An activity. True anger and heartbreak were things you only let out when you were alone because letting anyone see them would reveal your weakness, but that had seemed to be the thing that convinced Namjoon of your sincerity. Now that he agreed, you put the wall back up. 

"Thank you," you said coldly. 

"Do you have a plan?" The leader got to his feet and you followed suit. 

"Not yet. It's been…a hectic day. But we should find a way to turn his plans against him. I think his ultimate goal is to hurt the Chinese by exploiting your fued with them."

"Why does he care about the triads?" Jungkook wondered. 

"The Mexicans and the Chinese have been fighting over pieces of California for over a century. It's just what they do," you shrugged. 

"We can work it out later," Namjoon interrupted. "We should be smart with our plans. For now though, as you said, it's been a hectic day, and you should rest." The leader looked down at you and you almost thought there was genuine concern in his eyes. You glimpsed a similar look in them the night before when you first revealed your past to him. "Doc."

"Yes, sir?" Yoongi responded, suddenly becoming alert.

"See if you can find her something to eat."

The pale man nodded. "Cmon," he invited as he started toward the kitchen but stopped when he saw you weren't moving. 

"It's okay. Jungkook can take me home. I have work tonight, since I'm staying." You looked hesitantly at Jungkook. 

"No." The short word left Namjoon's lips with authority that even you couldn't question. "You'll stay here from now on. If we're going to protect you, we're going to do it right. Otherwise Moreno could grab you at any moment." There's a pause while he gives you another of his appraising looks. "There's a spare bedroom upstairs you can stay in."

"She can stay with me," Taehyung offered instead. You turned your eyes on him harshly. 

"The spare room will be fine." You could see the anger bubbling in your ex boyfriend immediately. He was about to open his mouth but Yoongi stepped in. 

"Fight about it later. You should eat something now, Y/N."

You flinched at the name and it didn't go unnoticed by the others. You cleared your throat. "If you could keep calling me Val, I'd appreciate it. Y/N is…someone else."

Yoongi nodded understandingly. "Cmon, Val."

After you ate the sandwich Yoongi made, he showed you to the room Namjoon said could be yours. Jungkook had already taken your bag from the car and left it there for you. And for the rest of the evening you were left to your own devices. Without venturing out from the suite that was larger than your whole apartment, you could sense that the house was mostly empty. The members of Bangtan must be out for the night, participating in various nefarious activities. You tried to make yourself comfortable in the new space, but the events of the day kept you ill at ease, so you decided to draw yourself a hot bath in the gigantic tub in the ensuite bathroom.

❌ 8am, Malibu ❌

You knew if you didn't want to end up a dead girl at the greyhound station then you'd better get in the car with that big mother fucker. Neither he, nor the driver,  nor the third man in the car said much as you sped down the I-10 toward Malibu, but you didn't need them to tell you where you were going. You wondered if Jungkook was still following you, but you weren't dumb enough to look behind you to see.

You were led into Joaquin's modern style mansion. Most of the exterior walls that faced the ocean were entirely glass. An odd choice for someone who knowingly conducted illegal business at home, but the beach down below was private and he clearly wasn't bothered. It was quiet in the large open living room and it would have been nice to enjoy the view of the ocean, but you were taken straight to his office.

"The place hasn't changed at all," you remarked as you stood in the familiar room.

"Did you miss it here?" Joaquin asked with a smug smile that made your stomach turn. 

"Like one misses a leech."

"Don't lie, Y/N. You must miss me a little, miss what we had together, since you called me last night," he slowly walked closer to you, "when you were in distress."

"I was angry, not distressed," you corrected.

"Yes, and you accused me of putting you in danger, when you know I would never." He stopped in front of you and looked down his nose at you. "But you've learned the truth now, haven't you? About your new lover?"

You tensed, and of course he noticed, but he switched tracks. "You know, I've been wanting to tell you for months that I love your body now." As he spoke he placed his hands on your hips and reached down to grope your ass. Instantly you raised your hands to his chest to push him off of you, but he pulled you closer and purred in your ear. "You aren't strong enough to fight me off anymore, princesa. And I used to love your strong, firm body. You know that. But this curvier, softer body of yours, well I've been wanting to feel it for a long time."

Your blood ran cold and you could feel yourself become paralyzed, but you fought it off and with it you gave him one last push.

"Still the fighter, I see." Joaquin grinned with satisfaction as he caught himself. 

"I will always fight you. You know that," you growled at him. 

"Not always,” Joaquin corrected. “But lately it seems it’s your favorite game."

"Is that what this is? A game to you? My life, my freedom is just sport?" 

Joaquin laughed. "Yes, Y/N! Exactly that! You get exactly as much freedom as I give you. I let you out of your cage, but you remain in my city, and you cannot leave without my permission."

You groaned. "I'm sick of this, Joaquin. Why must we do this? Why don't you just let me go."

Joaquin tisked at you. "Because you belong to me, princesa. Just as you always have and you know it." His words turned your stomach to lead. "But this time, I have a way for you to earn your freedom for real. If you help me with this one thing, I will let you leave LA and never return."

You looked him up and down suspiciously. You knew better than to trust a word he said. He would never let you go free, not really. Still you played his game. "What is it?"

Joaquin smiled and walked around his desk. "Do you know how the Koreans make their fortune?"

You had a sense of deja vu. Except this time you genuinely had no idea. "Of course not. I only found out about them last night and I didn't exactly ask for the rundown."

"But you did meet their leader, Kim Namjoon, did you not?" He sat down in his chair and waved someone in to bring him a drink. 

You swallowed without knowing exactly why he was making you so nervous simply by mentioning the man's name. "Yes, I did."

Joaquin clasped his hands together and sucked in a breath. "I've never met the man, but I imagine he must be a superior son of a bitch, no?"

You shrugged. That hadn't been your impression but you weren't really thinking about it at the time.

"Anyway, the Koreans think they're something else. They deal in drugs, as we all do. But more importantly, they deal mostly in counterfeit goods and stolen goods on the antiquities market. They compete mostly with the Chinese, but I would like to push them out of LA."

You furrowed your brow at him. "Why? Why do the Chinese a favor? It doesn't seem like the Koreans are interfering with you in any way."

"Does it matter to you why? All you have to do is help me take over their counterfeit operations and when it's done you can escape to whichever corner of the world you choose." He gestured widely with a flutter of his fingers. 

"Why do you need me? How can I help? I'm not involved with them." Hell, you were trying to run as fast and as far as you could. 

"Yes, but you will be. You can do it perfectly. All you have to do is run back to your little boyfriend and ask for his protection. Get close to them, learn about their business and report back to me. You know the routine." 

"But I've broken up with Taehyung. I can't go back now," you explained. 

"Nonsense. From what Mariana has told me, he's crazy about you." He gave you a dark and conspiratorial look. "I'm sure he'll be glad to take you back into his bed. He seemed to enjoy it so much before." The lecherous tone in his voice made your skin crawl. 

"You've had my roommate watching me," you surmised. 

"All along, princesa. I know everything." He walked around the desk to stand in front of you once more. "Including how much you want to be free," he mocked. 

"And if I won't whore myself out for your mission?"

"Then you'll stay here with me, baby." He locked eyes with you and you stared each other down for a long moment. It wasn't a hard choice to make, though. Anything was better than staying with him. 

"I'll do it."

"Of course you will!" He cheered. "Now, someone, bring me some champaign, and then leave us alone. My princesa and I need to celebrate our reunion like old times." He came ever closer to you, stroking your cheek with his hand. 

"Joaquin, no. Send me back!" You pleaded more than you would have liked. 

"I will. Don't worry. But not until you remember exactly who it is you belong to." He grabbed you by your throat and pulled you closer. "Now, didn't you miss me?"

"Let me go!" You tried to break his hold but you couldn't. 

"Oh, I never did like it when you begged," he sneered as he squeezed and started to cut off your oxygen. 

✅ Beverly hills, 7pm ✅

The bath had gone cold while you suffered in your memories. You splashed your face with water to clear away the silent tears you'd cried. Then you got out and wrapped yourself in the softest towel in existence. Quickly, you dried off and got into a warm set of sweats for pajamas. The a/c in the mansion was strong and you were cold in spite of the August heat, not like in your sweltering little apartment. Or maybe it was just the shock of the day. You tried to close your eyes and push aside all thoughts, and you'd almost fallen asleep when you felt the bed dip beside you. Instantly you shot up, but someone dragged you back down.

"It's just me, Val." Taehyung spoke to you in the dark. With your mind suddenly awake you could smell the alcohol on his breath, but you could tell by his speech that he wasn't drunk yet. You knew what that sounded like on him. "I'm sorry if I woke you. But I don't know how you expect me to stand sleeping down the hall from you and not with you. I need you, baby." He pulled your body close to him and kissed your temple. 

"Taehyung, you can't do this. I need some space," you whispered back, trying to push him off of you. "Please," you whimpered. 

To your relief he backed off a bit. "I don't understand why you came back if you don't want to be with me," he moaned pathetically.

"I'm not the person you think I am, Taehyung," you replied coldly.

"You keep saying that. I heard your story today. I understand that you have a dark past but-"

"No, Tae. You weren't listening. I came back because I'll do anything to survive. Anything to escape. I didn't come back because I love you. I came because I had to. And if you don't start accepting that I'm only going to have to keep hurting you. I can't love you. I don't have that luxury."

A whimper caught in his throat and he stayed very still for a moment. "Let me stay. Just for tonight," he begged.

"No. I told you, I need space. I've had an awful day and the thought of your hands on me makes my skin crawl. Leave." Your words were harsh. And perhaps he didn't deserve them. But it got him to leave in a huff, slamming the door to your room on the way out.

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[onmyyan]

“Menace Mode unlocked”

Green Goblin!Reader x Bruce Wayne, more pairings will be added later cuz I have no self control

A/N: cursing, reader straight up hates her dad, Bruce is crushing hard n he don’t even know it 🙄🤚🏼, minior character death no one important dw, slight Yandereness just barely though

Someone new had entered the fray in Gotham’s underbelly, problem was, no one knew what side they were on.

The first sightings were reported a few days ago, people had caught glimpses of a ‘green ghost’ near the docks, an area notorious for its not so secret trafficking ring, everyone knew who ran this joint, one of the city’s more rancid lunatic’s, Roman Sionis, was a special brand of dirtbag, he had his filthy fingers in every human right violation one could profit from, and while vile in every way, he didn’t make many public appearances, be it his fear of germs or aversion to all things ‘gross’ he tried not to dirty his shoes by showing up but this night was special, he was going to make a lot of money with all the goodies he sold here so it only made sense to give his fans a brief speech and collect his checks in person, imagine his surprise when said big speech was coming to its epic conclusion, only to be interrupted by a small blinking ball being hurled at his feet. He didn’t have time to question the object, only enough to barely recognize the pumpkin like face etched into its surface, it lit up neon green and incinerated everything in a five foot radius, including Mr.Sionis .

 Those that survived the initial blast didn’t suffer long as three more pumpkin bombs fell before the connoisseurs of the illegal goods, raining upon them with a hail of sharp, black projectiles, witnesses describe a ghoulish blur of green seen hovering the area like a vulture, what remained of the assailants had to be scooped into bags. 

The local news outlet, Gotham Gazette, had their newest obsession’s blurry form blasted everywhere they could, it was the first time a relatively clear photo was captured of their “Green Goblin” the name had a ring to it you mused to yourself, (e/c) eyes raking over the newspaper for anything relevant, all they had were the usual theories and conspiracies. Ranging from aliens to cultists, both of which could be true but neither were. 

While having the city’s attention wasn’t apart of your game plan, you’d accounted for the possibility, mentally patting yourself on the back for adding that mask last minute. Despite the radar on your back you couldn’t blame em’ for getting excited, and to think all this frenzy was from a few bad guys getting turned into ash, they had no idea what you could do, all you planned to do.

 Gotham had its fair share of freaks and scoundrels sure, but they all(in your mind at least) we’re going about the whole thing wrong, the cat and mouse games the catch and release tango- as a citizen you’d gotten used to it, before you’d changed, before you could defend yourself, you bought into it, that one day something would switch and all the chaos would stop. 

But you knew better now. You knew more. You were intelligent long before the serum, it came with being an Osborn, but now you looked at things differently, there was no problem you couldn’t solve if you really put your mind to it. 

It was almost customary in Gotham that every now and then some bozo in a party city costume  took their shot at the gig, but those stories almost always ended the same, with them running home with their tails tucked between their legs, or dying at the hands of one of the real monsters that roamed your hometown.

You were different from the rest, and you held your head high. You weren’t some adrenaline junkie looking for their latest fix or out for what little glory awaited a vigilante, Your mind worked in its own unique way, which kept a wall between you and the world, especially your family.

 The trains automated voice system began its repetitive warmings, slowly but surely pulling your from your thoughts. Soft (e/c) eyes were always swirling with something, and people found themselves drawn to that something, almost like quicksand. Those tired eyes trailed across the trains LED schedule, only one more stop stood between you and the meeting you’d been dreading since your fathers untimely and frankly self caused death. The official report was bullshit, the only person who ever really knew what was going on with your father was said man, at least he thought so. You were the one who found him, strapped down against his lab table, a broken syringe sat below his open palm, and near his still body, besides the manic notes and data sprawled across every surface, stood one lone syringe, filled to the brim with a vibrant emerald liquid. The sight should have filled you with something, horror or sadness maybe anguish even, no, what you felt in that moment was the crushing weight of disappointment. Now you’d never get to prove to him how wrong he was about you, how foolish he was to cast aside such a gifted child. Now there was only one way to truly get back at the bastard for all he’d dragged you through. 

Beat him at his own game. 

That thought was all it took to lead you where you stood now. 

The Oscorp Corporation and Wayne Enterprises had just recently struck a deal exchanging both information and tech, it was a huge deal for both parties so of course dear old dad had to up and die before he could sign it. Sure your older brother (and his painfully obvious favorite) Harry, should have been here you know, considering he now ran the company, but no. He got to do the fun heir stuff like mourn with your mother in the Bahamas for a month, which left you here, impatiently tapping your foot in the all too clean and shiny Wayne Enterprises lobby. “Hi, Can help you ma’am?” Although the receptionist’s tone was as customer service as one could get, you could still see her smile falter at your appearance. 

Coming straight from your workshop with your coveralls loosely tied at your waist probably wasn’t the socially acceptable thing to show up in, but hey you showed up. Her hand not so discreetly hovered over the hidden security button, to think a little oil and dirt is all it took to be tossed out of here. A smirk grew on your face at her ever growing discomfort. She cleared her throat, as if to silently repeat her question.

”Nah.” Was your simple response as you waited to see how this would play out. After all this was much more entertaining than having to act like your Fathers passing was anything more than an inconvenience.

The universe looked down on your silent plea and instead brought your problem right to you.

A group of tall, sharply dressed, almost square shaped men filed out from an elevator, all talking quietly amongst themselves, the tallest one being non other than the dude you came to meet.

”Ah! Mr. Wayne! I’m sorry I was just about to-“

The now beaming woman behind the front desk not so subtly gestured to you, then the security guards behind him, only stoping by a wave of dismissal from the man himself.

”I’m sure there’s no need for that Regina- How can I help you miss?” His charming baritone voice all but poured from his lips in what should have been a suave smile. 

“You could hand me those papers I gotta’ sign and release me from this poorly decorated take on modernism.” Your mind moved faster than your head sometimes, most times really, and you weren’t about to switch up now that one the world’s most infamous bachelors stood before you, he huffed a laugh through his nose at your blunt response, the people around him never spoke to him like that, hell nobody did, terrified to say the wrong thing before him and face the consequences. Yet here you were. A genuine smirk graced his rugged face, the slight salt and pepper look fit him like a glove and if in any other circumstance you probably would have told him so, but now all you wanted was to sign this thing and get back to work on your board. 

“Norman mentioned his son taking over.” Bruce had all but discarded the party he’d entered with, a silent wave summed one of them over, file in hand. The man handed Bruce the papers before scurrying away, the two of you now walking towards what you assumed was a conference room. 

“He is,” your intense stare had never wavered from his own, until this moment, he could see you go into yourself for the right words. 

“It be a little hard to sign these where he’s at so- I came to the rescue.” This pulled another huffed chuckle from the man, his interest growing with every word from your mouth. “Well  thank god for that right?” His tone held flirtation, eyes never leaving you even as he signed his name.

”You look too young to be in this business anyway.” He said trying to gauge as much information from you as he could, “You still got some life in you.”  He slid the forms over with that. A humm of amusement left you as you quickly penned every line. He realized once you finished you’d have no reason to stay, and for whatever reason, this thought shot panic through him. Not quite ready to say goodbye, he cleared his throat. 

 “You don’t want to give these a look? Make sure I’m not up to no good?” There that tone was again, you sucked your teeth at the older man, a dangerous glint in your smile, “Careful there Mr. Wayne. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”

His response was cut off by a chirp from his watch. A look of annoyance crossed his face as he began to as for your number. “I’d say see you around but that be a lie so, peace.” You awkwardly took his hand in a firm shake before turning and leaving in a swift motion, Bruce could only blink after your disappearing form all to eager to indulge in his urge to follow, only to quickly remember the alert from his watch, Batman didn’t have time for this much to his dismay, while Bruce didn’t get nearly as much information as he wanted, he would in due time. It take some serious detective work to figure out if this was just attraction, or something else burning in his gut, either way this wouldn’t be your last encounter.

[dienamights]

Unfavorable Guidance | H.Shinso

​✎ Mindjack has been doing these kind of jobs since he was recruited as a hero, he is unmistakingly the best at them, doesn’t need anyone butting their noses in his business, especially you, the sly fox in disguise, offering your tainted helping hand.

✎ Protagonists: Hitoshi Shinso x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 6.4K

✎Category: noncon/dubcon, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

✎Caution(!):  noncon/dubcon, Smut 18+ MDNI please, , mentions of alcohol, mentions of murder, minor character death, sex under quirk use, spitting, degrading, swearing, manipulation, unprotected sex. 

✎ Author’s notes: I KNOW I’M LATE EUFGKHDFVBDFXL, but here is my contribution to @daisy-bakugo​ 2k event Vice City! Please take the time to read everyone’s work if you haven’t! Thank you so much for letting me participate.

I listened to this throughout the entire process of writing it, if you’re familiar with Kingdom Hearts, some names will ring a bell to you lol. also I hate the header and the summary but you’re just gonna have to live w it for now cause its 8 am I NEED SLEEP

» Masterlist | Requests | Taglist

The annual auction of Vice City is one of the biggest social events of the year. The wealthiest families and richest people in the world come from everywhere in attempts to win what is secretly considered the greatest treasures of all time. Greatest and most expensive.

Alas, the after party held later on is what people are all secretly actually waiting for, where the most exquisite and rarest artifacts of the year get auctioned off to whoever is lucky enough to even be included in the guest list.

While not all are there for the auctions, it certainly is the perfect opportunity for anyone who's anyone in the world to show off their wealth. Filthy rich people sway all around, laughing and bragging. Venetian crystal chandeliers, velvet carpets, gambling, and alcohol. Men with their cigars, men with their wives, and men with their arm candies, their escorts or mistresses.

Yet, Shinso isn’t here for the luxury, he isn't here for the fame and the fortune, nor the reputation people thrive for when they buy those - meaningless, he calls them - relics. No, he is here on a mission, one he certainly wants to be done and over with because he wants to go home. He loosens his tie with an aggravated sigh before knocking back the last of his only gin and tonic, the bitter taste prickling his throat as he surveys the crowd of people all around him while he stands idly by the bar.

He knew it’d be a pain in the ass the second he got the mission assigned to him from the agency, the words “intel” and “Vice City'' of all places forced a frown upon his face, yet, being the most suitable for this job, he couldn't really decline.

Mindjack isn’t the type of hero you see on billboards and magazines, isn’t the type of hero to kiss babies’ heads that get thrusted at him in meet and greets, he certainly isn’t one to have those adoring fan clubs that follow his every move, posting about his greatest conquests. Oh no, he is a hero that works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, undercover -lie through your teeth throughout the whole ordeal- kind of hero, the kind of hero that goes home at the end of his missions with no gratitude towards his work, because nobody knows who he is or what he contributes to the society.

For the longest time, Shinso accepted the life he’s living, he didn’t look for validation from the citizens, knowing his work is always beyond the scope of their knowledge and their awareness, but sometimes, just sometimes, the sour droplets of envy would foul his mouth when his amethysts for eyes scan over the extravagant heroes, making a show out of saving their cities and getting praised and awarded and loved for doing what they’re supposed to be doing, their job. 

“Squeeze that glass a bit more and you’d break it”

A voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him, Shinso blinked twice before his eyes dragged over to you, oh so beautiful and oh so close. Your nimble fingers wrapped around his fingers, the lacey glove lightly scratches his hand before he lets go of the glass in surprise, dropping it into yours. You giggle sweetly, turning around to place it on the bar before ordering your own, but not without looking at him over your shoulder and sending him a smile.

“What will it be, sugar tits?” the bartender leans over the counter, towel thrown on his shoulder as he sends you what's supposed to be a sultry look. Your elbow is placed on the counter while you rest your chin on your hand, smiling temptingly at him. “Anything that’ll get you to stop staring at my boobs.” Shinso almost laughs at the contrast between your smile and your voice, sharp and venomous, and the man leans back so far from you like he’s been stung. Walking away to work on a drink for you.

Shinso’s eyes rake your body without his knowledge, he admires the dress adorning your body, hugging you in all the right places, cascading down to the floor, and that slit my god, your legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how you can strut so elegantly with them on. A snap of your fingers breaks his trance and he tries - keyword tries - to act nonchalant to his obvious ogling and you only laugh in return.

You hum lowly, “So,” you’re turning to face him as you lean back on the counter, pushing your chest out to grasp even more of his attention, “what's an esteemed hero like you doing in a place like this?” It takes Shinso a good minute before he narrows his eyes, left foot back and ready to either take you down or run away if you were to involve greater forces. No one is supposed to know about his true identity, no one is supposed to know that there is a hero within them.

But what shakes his demeanor is the way you dangle his wallet in front of him, like dangling a stupid feather for some silly cat, waiting for it to jump at you to entertain you. Shinso swallows with a struggle, deciding that using his quirk to retrieve his wallet back will lead to him leaving, and he didn’t want that. He’s been keeping an eye on the wanted man for hours now, and it’ll all go to waste because of your slimy little hands and your-

“Here,” you toss it back to him, and he stumbles a bit before catching it properly, eyeing you for any sudden movements, but you simply turn back around in time to hold the drink from the bartender’s hand with a smile dazzling your lips. “You’re getting intel on The Wise?” you mumble against your cup, sipping slowly, eyes never leaving Shinso’s glaring ones. How the fuck do you know?

“You’re not the first.” you smirk, finger wiping the smeared lipstick against the glass before circling the rim. “You all look the same, thinking you’re better than them because of your position in the society, only for that ego to come and bite you right in the ass.” It’s almost ironic how poisonous your voice could get while still maintaining that mesmerizing smile, and oddly enough, Shinso’s eyes keep drooping despite his desperate attempt to fight against them.

You hum again, the click of your heels sounding muffled to him, eyes blurring when you get so close to him your breath tickles his cheek. “But you’re different, hmm? You’re gonna make the bad guy go away?” 

“Yes.” it's rushed, almost desperate, and the hero is astonished at how he sounds. “Then, lemme help you… Hitoshi.”

A blink, and you’re gone just like you vanished right from under his nose, slipped right between his fingers. A low curse escapes Shinso’s lips and he turns around swiftly to question the bartender, hell bent on getting any information on the girl that just revealed his entire identity and mission to him in a matter of seconds. 

“How can I help you, sir?” the question boggles his mind, the big burly man with an attitude problem wasn’t there anymore, replaced by another sweet woman that held concern in her eyes at his sight. “You’ve been staring at the wall for a while there, need me to call your driver to get you back?” 

“Wa- but I- She,” Shinso’s body started heating up in anger, worry, embarrassment, he doesn’t really know, but what he wants to know right this instant is how long he’s been out of it and for god’s sake, why?

Shinso doesn’t really consider himself to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but dammit did he feel like a complete idiot letting you run off like that, a quick trip to the restroom for a splash of water clears his head enough for him to pull back his wallet from his pocket, flipping through it and finding something he was absolutely sure wasn’t there prior to your visit. A silver card, with ‘Surveillance room’ scribbled on a note behind it.

Caving in and accepting whatever help you were offering him, Shinso slides the card through the reader, sighing in relief upon the satisfying ding sound, followed by the door opening to the surveillance room.

“Now that’s what’m talking about.” life got so much easier now that he could watch The Wise through multiple screens, making it hard to miss a single move of his. The hero allows himself to relax a bit, hand messing with his hair and tired eyes blinking in irritation against the glare of the screens. The Wise was the mastermind of Organization XIII, as their name intel, they’re consisting of the same thirteen members that founded it years ago, nobody really knows how they started, what shocked the whole world is how grand their first crime actually was, bloodbath of the century -they would call it, seventeen slaughtered heroes, followed by their families, including women and children, thousands of millions of ¥ in money laundering atop of it, all within a span of 4 months, that was years ago, back in their prime.

Now, with eight of them behind bars, the remaining five were able to stay under the radar, distributing whatever money they were able to keep between them and fleeing to different parts of the world. Just because they were apart, didn’t mean they were any less dangerous, The Wise is a prime example for that, brutally murdering three of the undercover heroes sent his way to bring him back to justice, but they weren’t Shinso, he’d try to remind himself.

May their soul rest in peace, they were those heroes he felt dissociated from, the type of heroes to flaunt their powers, monetize the peoples’ knowledge of their quirks, uncover the secrets of their job, they were easy targets for people like The Wise, he’d know their weaknesses and how to take them down before they even think about pursuing him. Now, Mindjack was a different story, he wasn’t held on a pedestal by the people he saves, simply because they don’t recognize him, while he would loath that reality sometimes, he thanks the god for it today, as he’s watching the man’s call out for a drink.

Amethyst eyes scan the remaining screens, widening upon the sight of you looking right back at them, you are a vixen to him, eyes half lidded with a smile so intoxicating it does nothing but entrance whoever was lucky enough to catch its sight. Lace clad fingers wrapping around a piece of paper, you are so beautiful, Shinso tries to stop his mind from wandering, imagining what you wore underneath that angel crafted dress, envisioning what those fingers could do to please him, the same fingers that held the unfolded paper, the word ‘RUN’ smeared across it in lipstick.

Wait a minute, run?

Even before the poor hero could react, the similar satisfying -now dreadful- ding rings in his ear, before the door opens behind him, illuminating the room even more. Shinso stands to face two men, both as surprised as he is to see another occupant in the room. Right before any of them move, the hero opens his mouth and prays to god that whatever way he’s winging it works. “You got a permit to be here?”

Jesus one of you answer, and they both do - the left having fingers curving into talons while the right pulled at strings from the tips of his fingers, both ready to attack - and by god Shinso couldn’t be happier upon hearing a sound, because the minute the word ‘yes’ slips through their lips, Mindjack is smiling like a madman, welcoming the look of glossy eyes and heavy heads like a beloved relative’s return back home. 

“Great… Now,” the two manipulated  men face him, unaware of the dreaded fate bestowed upon them, while Shinso just can’t seem to keep the glint in his eyes at bay. “Why don’t you put on a show for me,” he breathes, smiling down at the ground before looking at them. ”Choke the fucking life out of each other.” The men don’t even blink, quick to face each other and jump, hands wrapped around throats like a vice, Shinso only moves away from the men on the floor as they thrash and kick at each other, limbs flailing as they try to force the life out of each other.

Turning his back against them, Shinso eyes the screen he was monitoring before their entrance, ignoring the groans and gasps of air behind him. He curses under his breath when he sees The Wise getting up from his place, heading towards a room that is supposed to be monitored by screen #6, but is purposely out of service. If he isn’t able to question The Wise or even keep an eye on him, then he’s gonna head on over to the next best thing. Gargled screams echo through the corridor as the hero makes his exit, making sure the door clicks shut behind him, he wouldn’t want to cause disturbance to the esteemed guests of the society of lowlifes.

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, killing machines that didn’t spare the live of the innocents, so why should he spare theirs? 

Shinso makes it back to the main event, immediately finding you between guests, sitting so pretty on the poker table, eyes drawing him closer, the grin adorning your lips now wobbly, easy for him to distinguish as fake, forced, a façade kept for the people surrounding the table. He is hasteful in settling himself in the chair near you, shoulders tense when different pairs of eyes fall upon him, the dealer shuffles the deck to draw cards for Shinso, but you hold your hand out with a smile. “He’ll sit this one out, by my lucky onlooker.” A round of laughter causes Shinso to flush in embarrassment, feeling degraded and looked down upon by all these lowlifes, petty thieves and criminals, thinking they’re better than him, oh he’ll show them.(1)

It takes a few rounds for the table to empty out, now occupied by Shinso and yourself, the dealer asks him to move over to the next chair before they start their game. “Place your bets.” you’re quick to slide over a few of your chips to his side - some black, others red and blue, he didn’t really pay that much attention to them- your eyes daring him to reject your invitation to take the money to play.

He only blinks at you, his eyes seemingly never wanting to lose sight of you as he fights with himself to sit straight to face the dealer again, the man proceeds to deal both of you the cards for you to review before placing your bets. “You tricked me.” Shinso is almost appalled at the hurt laced in his voice, as if the two of you had a bond that was never meant to be broken. “don’t believe so, told you to run didn’ I?” The mockery in your voice is a hoax, the single twitch in your brow catches his attention and he can only deem it as you being stressed, whether it be because of the ordeal regarding the surveillance room or not is beyond him. No, he was stupid and foolish and he will not fall for your silly games again. “Exactly, you knew they were coming.” you hum in response to his accusation.

“Call.” Dropping a few of your chips on the table, your eyes shift momentarily to him, “I did, I said I’d help you and here I am.” He slams his bet on the table, ‘Raise’ gritted right through his teeth at your words. “I don’t want your help!” He reveals his cards on the table, a way to show his disinterest in your assistance as the dealer announces ‘Flush’ at his hand. Your eyes meet again from above your cards, now narrowing down instead of the half lidded look you seem to always have “You don’t want it, but you need it.” The façade you held before is slowly but surely breaking, now a deep frown tugging at your lip as you reveal your own hand, brows furrowing even further in challenge as you hum in displeasure when the dealer announces your ‘Full House’ hand to be the winner of this round.(2)

Shinso moves swiftly to stand when he sees you do the same, right before his entire world starts to spin, lights and colors mingling together and causing his head to spin, he sits down again, head between his hands as he tries to calm himself down, it's probably the strain of the mission, maybe it’s the weight bestowed upon his shoulders to finish it up. The hero lifts his head up to ask you, about something he himself isn’t even sure of, he just wants to hear your voice, like a drug to him that he can’t help but ask for more. Except when he does, you aren’t there, the table is occupied by different people, the dealer is another man with longer hair and slimmer figure, and by god did Shinso want to rip his hair out.

The minute he feels like he could get back on his own to feet without falling down on his ass, Hitoshi is quick to check his pockets, adamant to find a clue your sneaky hands slid into one of his pockets while he was out, despite the tantrum he almost threw at not wanting your help nor guidance, and he does find something, a simple metal key, attached to it was a tag with the number XIII on it. 

In his shock, he almost drops the key on the ground but barely holds himself together to avoid any further embarrassment, Shinso takes deep breaths, knowing that the key in his possession is his entry to the heart of the organization, and especially to The Wise. 

Every year, specifically at the Vice City annual auction afterparty, The Wise holds a meeting with the most dangerous men within the continent, the most loathsome masterminds of the criminal world, all in the hopes of recruiting one of them into the organization, to uphold its name and spread its message. Every year, with no recruitment yet. 

With trembling hands, Shinso stuffs the key back into his pocket, eyes on the lookout for anyone who might’ve caught the key in his hand, but sighs in relief when he sees some engrossed in their meaningless poker and absurd talks, while the majority have made their way to the next hall over for the auction that is being held. He takes the stairs three at a time up the floors, facing a red oak double door, the same forsaken number engraved into it. After multiple failed attempts at inserting the key in the lock, he finally does with a huff, hearing the lock echoing in his ears before pushing the door open.

To be honest, Shinso didn’t know what he was expecting to see on the other side of the door, he thought maybe he’d watch weaponry trade off, perhaps people brawling and fighting amongst each other for the title of being the new members. But he certainly didn’t expect to be engulfed in jazz music, men with their cigars laughing and chatting, without a single care in the world, as if their hands weren’t tainted with the blood of the innocents, oh how he loathed them. In an attempt to fit in, he grabs a glass of whiskey from the butler standing by the door, nodding to him in thanks before moseying his way over to the corner in the room, he’d be damned if he got caught in the crossfire of those lunatics.

A stage is set up in the front of the room, and it takes a second for him to acknowledge the pole placed right at its center, it takes him another few seconds to see the beauty dancing on that pole, Shinso’s eyes rake her body without his knowledge, he admires the lingerie adorning her body, hugging her in all the right places, garter snug against her thighs as she twirls, her legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how she can dance so elegantly with them on… wait a minute. 

As if predicting the minute he realized it was you, you twirl to face him, lips pulled into a smile yet again, a giggle interrupting your humming as your body twists and turns on the pole. Shinso isn’t really sure how long he sits there captivated by your body, the only thing breaking his trance is the clap on his back and the heavy weight that sits next to him. “Beauty, isn’t she?”

Bile rises to Shinso’s throat at the mere sound of the person next to him, fear stills him in his place, restricting any movement he’s even thinking of doing, all he could do is sit, widened eyes and sweaty brows at the sight of The Wise right beside him. 

“Don’cha love it when women like her,” The Wise points at you with his cigar, “work to please men like us?” His arm now completely wrapped around Shinso’s shoulder as the hero feels his soul levitating from his body. “Look aroun’ya,” and he does, and only then does he really pay attention, he should’ve seen it all along, the glossy eyes, the droopy heads, it's a sight he was so well accustomed to that his brain normalized it to him. With whatever courage he musters up, he shifts his eyes to look at the man beside him, noticing the ear plugs he wore, and right then the gears start to turn in his head. “My most prized possession I tell’ya.” 

Of course you would be, how else would you have access to all these things, the card, the key, the vanishing from thin air, it all makes sense now.

“Enjoying yourselves, gentlemen?” your words are flowing like honey to his ears, a low buzz ringing in his brain as you spoke to the men in front of you. His ability to frown is nonexistent, a relaxed look adorning his face as he looks up at you, so elegant and beautiful in whatever hugged that miracle of a body.

“Sure are,” The Wise jerks Shinso by the shoulder, and he realizes that was done to break whatever trance he was in, he could only glare back at you when you smile at them, that conniving smile that hosted all the lies you spouted to him.

“y/n,” He calls you and by God if this isn’t the most beautiful name Shinso ever hears, what a shame it's being tainted by the voice of this criminal. “Wadda ya say to takin’ this fine boy to the red room, hm?” The man urges him to stand and take your hand, which he did at the blink of an eye, his body moving on it’s own to graze his lips against your knuckles in a breathless kiss. “Treat’m real nice for me.” The hero’s feet take him to follow you, his steps light, like walking on clouds, the sway of your hips pulling him closer to you until his chest is flush against your back, pushing you to move faster into the room you are pointed towards.

Walking aimlessly through hallways, taking lefts and rights he would never be able to recollect in his current state, you both enter a room, red just like The Wise called it, crimson silk sheets fitted on a king sized bed, maroon loveseats and plush carpets, everything in that red hue that it's almost nauseating. 

Bringing your hands in a loud clap, the fogginess in Shinso’s vision dissolves, your creased brows and frown now more prominent to him than ever, his eyes catch the scar trailing from the back of your neck to your cleavage, confused as to why his usual perceptive self would miss it, but then again, he doesn’t feel like he was ever himself throughout this whole ordeal.

To say he was furious is an understatement, he never felt more played in his life, he is Mindjack, the most conniving hero of all of Japan, he was manipulative and sly , known by his people to get jobs done, no matter who his opponent is, he always comes back victorious. And when his ears pick up your sigh of relief, he could only see red, he is hurt, he is scared, but now its his act, his turn to fuck shit up, he wants to hurt, he wants to scare.

“Fuckin’ lying bitch,” It takes him all but two steps for his body to graze yours, tantalizing eyes boring down into yours as you gasp at the close proximity, “you were workin’ with’em this entire fuckin’ time?”

“N-no that’s not it,” you stutter, flustered at his overwhelming presence, trying to put some distance between you and the fuming man by pushing his chest, “Please, I need you to listen to me.” 

“Oh, now you’re beggin’ hmm?” his firm warm hands circle your wrists, tugging them away from his body and using them to pull you even closer to him, his breath now grazing the tops of your cheeks, “Didn’t your boss tell you to treat me right?” he breathes, “well, get to it, slut.”

“That’s not what this is Hitoshi, just listen-” for the love of all that’s pure in this world, why does the sound of his name exceed his perception of how happiness is supposed to reverberate in his ear? “Keep my name outta your mouth, or I swear,” He hisses at you, the grip on your wrists tightening as you whimper out in pain. 

“You think you can just toy with me? Have me running around and following your orders like a lil bitch!?” He sees you trembling, lips wobbly and in tears, how ironic, he doesn’t know a few words would get you to start tearing up, the change in demeanor from when he first met you confuses him for a second, but only a second, because he’ll be damned if he falls for any of your tricks anymore. “N-no, I swear it isn’t like that, just p-please, please c-calm down! Let me explain myself-” the ugly cackle he lets out shuts you up, teary eyes widening as they fall on his, the aura he’s radiating is terrifying to say the least, your knees shaking in dread at what’s about to fold.

“You think you can play my game and win?”

It takes you a minute to answer, the word no echoing in your head, throbbing in your brain so painfully you forget the words that follow it, but what you can’t forget, what you will never forget, no matter how delirious you feel, is the look of pure sin across Shinso’s face, grin rivaling that of the Cheshire cat, because you were now simply a measly little pawn in his game. 

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, criminals that broke every law in their way to get what they desire, so why couldn’t he indulge even a little himself? 

He lets go of your wrists, watching as your arms sway next to your body like dead weight before he turns around to flop down on the loveseat, legs spread wide as he waves his hand over to you.

“Waddaya waitin’ for,” he knows you can’t answer him, but it feels so fucking good to hold such power over you after all you’ve put him through. “Now, strip.” the surge of power he feels jolts his dick up in excitement as he watches you take off your lingerie, moves robotic and forced, eyes glazed over both with tears and his control over your dumb little brain. Hitoshi is no villain, he is a respectable hero, but he’s been called that all his childhood, he might as well live up to that expectation, one way or another.

Shinso stands when you’re fully naked in front of him, long legs circling you and taking you all in, the back of his hand grazes your nipple and he all but groans as it pebbles at his touch. But god, he was nowhere near being done with you.

“Spread your legs for me on that bed,” he grins at the way you follow his orders even before he asks, “will ya?” you settle yourself on the bed before slowly dropping your weight on your back, hazy eyes staring up into the ceiling as your arms bring themselves down to circle the back of your knees, pulling them up close to your chest to expose yourself to him. 

Shinso’s cock twitches in his pants again at the opportunity to just seath it into you without any warning, but he barely holds himself back, approaching your body and feeling himself salivating at the sight, what a sight it is, your pussy looking so fucking beautiful clenching over nothing, the sight tempting him to just dive his face right in to get a taste of your juices.

Taking off his suit jacket and rolling the sleeves of his shirt, Shinso presses his thumb to your clit, frowning when he notices how dry you are, of course you would be, he chuckles to no one, puckering his lip to spit right at the nub, watching it trail down to your clenching hole, the sight igniting a flame within him, he does it again, simply to watch your spit hide in your cunt, impatient to follow suit and bury himself in there. 

His thumb is quick to draw circles with your clit, needing for your orgasm to wash over you quickly, eager for the things he’d do to you after he preps you enough to take him. The usual comforting silence is thick between you, no moans escaping your ajar mouth as your arousal seeps out of your pussy, he prods your hole with his finger to collect your nectar, smearing it across your clit again to rub even faster against it.

The only indication of you coming undone is when your thighs start to shake, your body curling in on itself as your back arches, your cunt gushing on his fingers, and Shinso is almost disappointed to not hear you moan out his name in pleasure. But he isn’t that disheartened, he’s bound to hear you scream.

You on the other hand, are petrified at the way your body is being handled, feeling yourself looking down at the horror being folded in front of you, this isn’t you, this is a shell of who you are, wrapped around his finger, at his mercy, and you want out, no matter the cost. But, you are to regret these words, because you see him unbuckling his belt, you hear the zipper drilling in your ear, and you watch him lay atop you, feeling your lungs constrict at the weight settling upon it, and to your utmost terror, the only thing that breaks his bind on you is when you feel his warm head prodding at your entrance, right before seething completely in, your throat prickling when you wail hoarsely in pain at feeling like being split into two.

“No, nonononon, st-stop please, please!” You’re crying, legs thrashing and arms flailing trying to push this monster off of you, but you can’t, you think as your walls pulsate in pain at the intrusion, you’ll never be able to with him placing his entire weight on you like that, and the way he pulls out before impaling you again has you seeing stars in the worst way possible. Desperate for an escape, you grab a chuck of his hair, your nails digging into his scalp before you yank, your jaw throbbing at how tight you clench your teeth in pain and disgust and pure panic. The strength you muster to pull his head up is in vain, because it only jerks his face deeper into your neck, right where your scar trails, and he bites, so hard you’re certain it draws blood. 

Only then does he lift his head up, his upper lip smeared with a smidge of blood, your blood, before he spits right into your mouth. Sick to your stomach at the metallic taste invading your taste buds, you spit right up at him, mindless to the debris falling right back at your face, your mascara running down your cheeks as you sneer up at him. Even as he laughs teasingly at you.

“Don’t worry slut,” He rasps, his nose brushing against yours as his thrusts find a pace, pulling out to the tip before pushing himself fully inside, “It’ll feel good in a minute.” and it does, he feels more of your arousal coating his cock as he snaps his hips against yours, your wails and whimpers slowly yet surely are coated more with lust as you moan out his name. “See tha’, almost too easy…” almost too good to be true.

And it is, because when his eyes struggle to find yours, he is reminded by the feeling that overtook him this entire evening, and when he sees the corner of your lips pull lightly does he want to rip your head right out, but the minute he moves his hand, he is overwhelmed by how wobbly he feels, how your face distorts and misshapes before he is met with the sight of the ceiling, the sight you grew accustomed to when he was taking advantage of your unconsciousness. 

He groans when he feels you impaling yourself on his cock, pussy clenching so tight as you bop yourself up and down his shaft, your tits bouncing with you as he looks up at you, so mesmerized and entranced by your beauty all he does is hold your hips, helping you lift yourself up before dropping you on him, the squelching sound that follows it music to his ears.

You plant your hands against his chest, hips rolling as you pant at his lips, both of you so drunk on the feeling of each other and chasing your highs, “You gonna listen to me, when I ask you to?” His hand claps against your ass at your question, “Yes, yes oh God, anythin’ just don’t stop.” He can’t help but want more of you, want to feel his cock push against you even further, so he plants his feet firm against the bed, hand grabbing handfuls of your ass as he starts thrusting up at you, moaning against your neck when he shoots ropes of his cum inside of your sopping cunt, squeezing him so tight and milking him, and all of what Shinso remembers is the way you arch your back, pressing your chest against his as your whimper out his name, as he feels your juices dripping against his balls and down on the sheets beneath you. After that, all he could see was black.

Shinso awakes startled, eyes darting in alarm before he relaxes when he confirms he’s alone, the red silky sheets now draped over his lower body, pooling at his lap when he sits up to look around once more, desperate for any sign of you. Yet he only sees a brown folder on top of the love seat, impressively thick with the amount of papers stacked inside it, and when Shinso reaches for it, he catches the note that slipped off and draped down on the floor, reading it and scowling at it. ‘You promised you’d listen’

And boy is he more than lucky to listen to you when you asked him to. Because that folder has every tiny little detail he needs to know about The Wise, from the quirks of his circulating bodyguards to the keys to his multiple homes within the world. Pictures upon pictures of the man, decoded letters and basically intel on his entire criminal record.

Fucking finally, Shinso gets to just go home no that everything’s over and done with.

Limited Edition Sneak Peek:

It is way too early for Shinso, the sun glaring at him as he makes his way into the agency, the honking cars and chattering people feeding into his migraine so early in the morning, and he groans as he pushes his door open, ready to get back to his regular routine after the incident at Vice City.

It hasn’t been even a week, but it sure was eventful, using the folder you left him, Mindjack was able to capture The Wise the very next day, via the map of the routes he takes that was attached in the folder. They were able to ambush him, easily being able to bring the right heroes for the job to overcome the quirks of both his workers and himself. Now the mastermind of Organization XIII was behind bars, making the job of catching the remaining members now much easier.

It almost felt like child’s play, at least, that’s what the heroes made it out to be, flexing their powers and their potential, when they were well aware that all their efforts would’ve been in vain if you and your folder weren't there to aid them in every step.

To say that guilt ate him up is an understatement, he feels himself decaying from the inside out from resentment, he figures he spent too much time in the dark, that it started to mess with him, manipulate him, carve him into someone he isn’t, someone that isn’t fit to be a hero. He feels like was walking into a tunnel with no way out, engulfed and trapped in pure merciless darkness, that ate away at his soul every step he took further in.

Shinso trudges up the stairs with a heavy heart, the dread at what he did to you, especially that your intent to help him didn’t waver despite his actions loomed over him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt like he didn’t deserve the life that he’s living in right now. 

Yet, the saying ‘there's a light at the end of the tunnel’ rings in his ear, the minute he opens up the door to his office, eyes widening at the sight before him, smile so dazzlingly sweet, a voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him as the words captivated him despite their simplicity.

“Missed me, Hitoshi?”

(1) its common in poker for women to be onlookers, like the wives of the players for example, the jab at him being an onlooker is basically just a sexist joke to make the people around the table laugh to ease their mind.

(2) to help gain more perspective about the poker scene you can read the elaboration here

Aaaand more about the reader’s quirk here!

Hope you enjoyed! Also, PLEASE if you could theorize with me after reading the fic I’d love you forever, ask me about the reader’s quirk, ask me about some hidden meanings between the scenes JUST ANYTHING. MWAH

Borrowers (taglist):

@hanji-is-life @anarchicmartyr @sleepykyan @yourprincess-maybe @wolfygirl1900 @tteokdoroki​

@theehoneybunii @nanamisbento​ (not sure if you wanted to be tagged for bakuhoe only of all my fics, so sorry if its the former!)

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

[cocobeanncteez]

Ateez Hongjoong: Tame (Final Part)

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, mafia au.

Pairing: Mafia!Hongjoong x OC (written in 2nd person)

Word Count: 17k in total, 2.2k in this part. (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Warnings for all parts combined: Mafia themes such as torture, abuse, violence, human auctions, murder, drugs, guns. Mentions of rape, human trafficking, sex slavery, organ trafficking, unprotected sex, pulling out, facesitting.

“What are you guys up to?” you questioned, plopping down on the couch beside Wooyoung. Yunho, Jongho, and San were seated on the opposite couch.

“Just talking about one of our hostages who we will kill tonight,” Yunho replied while playing with a rubik's cube.

“What did they do?” you asked.

“He tried to sabotage our latest drug deal with a secret dealer from Russia. We didn’t know how he found out about it, but he spilled the beans on his gang,” San answered. “So we don’t need him anymore.”

“Well… rest in peace, I guess,” you remarked, making Wooyoung snort.

“Would’ve been better if we killed Yang Daeyoung instead.”

You turned to look at him. “Who exactly is he? I’ve heard his name a few times, but I’ve never gotten the opportunity to ask.”

Jongho gently cleared his throat. “He’s the man who raped and murdered Hongjoong’s sister. Him and three of his men. He wasn’t from a very powerful gang or anything, but he does his work extremely well. He wanted to take us down, and he used Hongjoong’s sister as bait to trap him. Hongjoong refused to give up on Ateez. By the time we managed to track Hongjoong, the damage was already done.” You felt your heart break; you couldn’t even imagine what your boyfriend had to go through.

“Where is Yang Daeyoung now?” you asked.

“Rotting in our torture chamber as we speak.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What?! Why haven’t you killed him yet?”

“We are looking for his child,” Hongjoong replied, joining the conversation. “The man has over five trillion won kept in a secret bank account. He also has information, good and bad, on every mafia gang and the corrupted politicians and locals involved. That’s why all gangs are still on the lookout for him even though we captured him eight months ago. He has a secret place somewhere in the world and only his child can access his possessions as he used iris pattern recognition. He has covered up everything though. We can’t find shit on any of his family members.”

“No amount of threatening or torturing works on him. We even told him that we’ll find his child and torture them,” Jongho added. “But he won’t reveal anything to us.”

“Maybe I can try?” you suggested. You did learn how to torture someone for information, but it wasn’t something you really enjoyed.

“Your chances are extremely low,” Wooyoung remarked.

“I’m aware of that. But even a little information could be helpful, right?”

“Go ahead then, sweetheart,” Hongjoong said with a smirk. “I’d love to see my girl torture that filthy bastard.”

You pecked his lips. “Then let’s go now, shall we?”

You made your way to the torture room, Hongjoong, Jongho, and Wooyoung following you. Seonghwa joined you after finishing his work in the interrogation room, satisfied with how much information he was able to obtain. Jongho entered a passcode for one of the rooms, letting everyone inside.

The room was pretty dark and looked like a jail cell. You saw a plate of untouched food on the floor. There was a chair in the middle of the room and a cot at the end of the room where Yang Daeyoung was sleeping, his back facing you all, long chains attached from his hands to a pipe.

Wooyoung moved to the sleeping form, giving the man a kick on his back to wake him up. “Get up, fucker.”

Yang Daeyoung groaned in pain before sitting up, looking at the faces of everyone in the room. As soon as you made eye contact with the man, your heart dropped to your stomach.

His eyes widened. “Kiah?! What are you doing here?!”

The boys immediately turned to look at you. You weren’t able to utter a word due to how shocked you were at seeing your own father there. His hair was quite long and he had a long beard and moustache. There were a few scars on his face and arms.

“How do you know her?” Hongjoong interrogated.

“Run from here, Kiah! They’re gonna kill you,” your father yelled at you.

“Do you know him?” Seonghwa asked you, but you weren’t able to answer. You felt sick. You felt terribly sick that it was your father who raped and murdered your lover's sister.

Tears rolled down your eyes when you glanced at your boyfriend. How could you ever face him now?

“Kiah!” your father yelled, tugging hard on the chains, grabbing your attention. “Get out of here! They’re gonna torture you in front my eyes! They said they will find you and torture you!”

Hongjoong looked at you with an emotionless expression, finally understanding the situation. “You’re his daughter?” You couldn’t respond.

“Are you this bastard's daughter?!” he yelled at you. Before you could answer him, he rushed out of the room. You couldn’t help but cry, burying your face in your hands, feeling your heart ache.

Your father glared at you angrily. “Why are you involved with Ateez?! What is wrong with—"

“Shut up!” you shouted, cutting him off. “You’re fucking pathetic! How could you r-rape someone when you have a daughter?! How could you lie to me all these years that you’re a cop, when you’re nothing but a heartless monster!” you sobbed loudly, collapsing onto the floor. You felt someone kneel beside you, wrapping their arms around you.

“Get away from her, Park Seonghwa!” your father spat.

Seonghwa turned to glare at him. “Shut it,” he said, before helping you stand up, taking you to your room.

You blankly stared at the window of your room from your bed, watching the horizon darker as night was approaching. It has been four days since you last saw Hongjoong. You felt nothing but emptiness and agony. You didn’t know if he was at the mansion or if he went somewhere as you haven’t left your room at all ever since Seonghwa brought you to it. The girls tried to make you eat, but you barely had the appetite to.

You sighed, forcing yourself to get out of bed to take a shower even though you were going to crawl right back into it.

Stripping out of your clothes and entering the shower, you pushed the tap, letting the warm water soak you. Closing your eyes, you could feel a dull ache in your chest when you began to think of Hongjoong. A sob got stuck in your throat, but escaped a few seconds later. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You sat down, hugging your propped up knees. Your sobs got louder, and your throat was aching, tears mixing with the water running down your face.

After spending a few minutes crying until you couldn’t anymore, you finally washed your body and your hair.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around your body and another one for your hair. You exited the bathroom after putting some clothes on, having no strength to dry your hair with a blow-dryer. You stopped in your tracks when you noticed a figure seated on your bed.

“I'm sorry…” Hongjoong apologized, getting off your bed and moving towards you. He stood in front of you with a pained expression on his beautiful face. You wondered how long he was waiting for you and you really hoped he didn’t hear you cry. Even if he didn’t, he could still tell you were crying as your red, puffy eyes gave it away.

“F-For what?” you stuttered, voice shaky.

Hongjoong sighed, looking down at his feet.  “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have left you alone when you were going through much worse. It was a shock for you too…”

Your eyes filled with tears. “I understand why you did it. It’s okay…”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not okay, baby. I’m ashamed of how I acted. You didn’t deserve that.”

You blinked, causing the tears brimming at your eyes to slide down your cheeks. Hongjoong reached up to cup your cheeks, gently wiping your tears away with his thumbs. He placed a gentle, lingering kiss on your forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

You closed your eyes, shaking your head in his hold. You pulled away from him, taking a deep breath. “Hongjoong, I-I think it’s best if we end things.” His eyes widened, heart aching due to your words. He opened his mouth to say something, but you spoke before he could. “I’m the daughter of the man who raped and murdered your sister, Hongjoong. I-I can’t…” you paused, sobs taking over. “I can’t live with that fact. I can’t look at you without thinking about it.”

“I don’t care, Kiah,” he reached out to hold your hands, his own eyes filling with tears. “I love you. Do you understand? I fucking love you. Yes, I was furious when I found out that you were the daughter of that bastard, but you shouldn’t have to suffer because of him. You didn’t even know what he does for a living. It’s not your problem.”

You sniffled. “You don’t h-hate me?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Baby…” he sighed, pulling you into a hug, his own tears rolling down his beautiful face. “I could never hate you. Never. You’re the love of my life. Fuck, I can’t even live without you. These past four days… I felt like I was gonna go insane if I didn’t see you, but I had to give you some space.” You didn’t know what to say.

“There's no me without you,” he continued, gently pushing you away so that he could see your face. “So please… never try to break up with me again. I’d rather die than live without you,” he cried. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest while you both cried together. Hongjoong placed soft kisses onto your head, trying to calm himself and you down.

When your sobs stopped, he gently pushed you away so that he could look at your face. He cupped your cheek, titling your head back before he leaned in, capturing your lips with his own in a soft kiss.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against you. “I love you,” he murmured.

You smile slightly. “I love you more.”

Epilogue

 “Oh my god! We’re finally here!” Jiwoo squealed, running on the cooling sand. Ateez managed to find out the location of your father's secret hideout in Fiji with the help of Yeosang who used your iris pattern to track the computer. Ateez managed to receive all your father’s possessions and now you all had flown across Fiji for a mini vacation.

“Jiwoo's dream destination is Fiji and now we’re here,” San said, watching his girlfriend with love and adoration. You chuckled, watching San run after Jiwoo to join her little hyper session.

“We’re gonna go rest for a while,” Seonghwa stated, holding Aeji's hand.

Wooyoung smirked. “I know what that means,” he said, earning a smack on his head from the older man before the couple went to their beach house in the chain of houses.

Hongjoong took your hand in his, intertwining it. “We’re gonna rest too. See you all for dinner,” he said, dragging you along to your little beach house.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, sandals leaving prints on the sand, observing the various hues of orange, red, blue, and purple in the beautiful sky as the sun was setting. Hongjoong let go of your hand when you reached your beach house, pausing in his tracks. You gave him a questioning look, wondering why he wasn’t going inside.

He cleared his throat, moving his hands to wrap around your waist. “You’re the only one who could tame my temper, as the boys always say," he started, making you giggle. “The only one who could make my heart beat so fast. I’ve never wanted anything more in life than to be with you. You aren’t just my girlfriend, you’re my best friend and the love of my life. But now I’d like to change that,” he reached into his pocket, taking out a small velvet box.

Hongjoong got down on one knee, and you gasped, realizing what was about to happen. “I’d like to be upgraded from your boyfriend to your fiancé.” You chuckle at that and he opened the box, revealing a beautiful oval-shaped diamond ring.

“Moon Kiah, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“Yes!” you squealed, face beaming with happiness. Hongjoong took your hand in his, sliding the ring onto your finger. He got up and you pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. When you pulled away, he grinned before placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you. Thank you for bringing light to my life.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I love you too, Joong. So much.” Hongjoong chuckled, pulling you into a sweet kiss.

You couldn’t wait for this new chapter in your life, spending it with Hongjoong by your side for the rest of eternity.