#thinking bout that black on black suit again

[saturnbourne]

Me waiting for the one (1) person who writes fanfic for this obscure character to release another fic like a crack addict

[tan1shere]

Bent Over

Ellie williams x female reader !

A/n: YES ANOTHER AM SONG INSPIRED FIC !! but I was listening to teddy picker and the lyrics are just 🤌🏻 and I ofc had to do this with Els cuz she fits Arctic Monkeys the best

Summary: you have to go out for a small family dinner with your girlfriend, Joel, Maria, and Tommy.

Warnings: smut ! Mdni. Bratty reader ? The reader just doesn't give up on trying to tease Ellie. Soft dom Ellie yall !!! 🥰 (I'm so obsessed with soft doms oh my) sub reader, oral (r receiving) swearing ?? Orgasm denial - think that's it <3

Masterlist

You wouldn't consider yourself a very fancy person, but considering you and Ellie had only been going out for 4 months, it was probably about time you met some of her family. The flowy black dress that hug your curves was gorgeous, you had to admit but you weren't use to it at all. Even tho this was Ellies family she still wanted to dress right. She had a lovely suit on. Its one thing you loved about her, how comfortable she was. It's not that you didn't feel comfortable in this dress, you loved it. You hardly got to wear them. You just felt a little unusual. "You look-" Ellie couldn't find the correct words. Beautiful, gorgeous, stunning? She wanted to use them all quite frankly.

"Els you look even prettier." You say sweetly, going over, fixing her tie and her hair just a little. "Youre perfect." She blurts out. And thats all it took to ease all those nerves in you. You had made a plan not to drink too much tonight either. Lightweight was an understatement, one drink and you were gone. So you had to be careful you couldn't fuck this up. Especially when you could get a bit intense when you were drunk, even a little bratty. So it was a must that you didn't do that infront of them.

You and Ellie had arrived to the restaurant not too long after. Seeing, Joel, Tommy, and Maria already there and seated. "Sorry if we are a bit late." Ellie says apologetically, hugging Joel first. "We were just early kiddo, no need to be sorry." He says hugging back. "Well guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/n." She says motioning for you to go over. You give them a smile, giving each a polite hug. "It's nice to finally meet you." Maria smiles. "It's nice to meet you all too." You begin to sit down looking at the menu. "Ellie wouldn't stop braggin 'bout you, didn't even know if you were real." Tommy states, to which Ellie kicks his foot under the table. "Ow-" "But it's so good to finally meet you hun." Joel gives a kind smile. You return it but your attention turns to Ellies you could tell she wanted this to go smoothly.

The drinks were coming around, and it's not like you weren't going to have atleast one. Ellies mistake, which she was going to do was monitor it. When she soon saw how fast you were drinking on your second one her eyes widened, grabbing it and setting it down. "Slow down there babe." She whispers slightly, then giving you quite the look. You blink slightly, hadn't even realized the pace you were going at. Oops. "So Y/n, how long have you been living here." Maria asks, to which your beginning tipsy self, didn't hear. "Ehem." Ellie coughs out, bringing you to reality again. "Oh- pardon, uhm since I was about 2." You smile at her. "And have you always lived around here?" Tommy pipes up. "It differs, I haven't lived around here my whole life but different areas." You go for another sip of your drink.

That feeling started to creep up on you, and you hadn't really shown it. Making Ellie oblivious. But you had no control over your next move. Your hand moves to hers that's resting on her thigh, you go to grab it placing it on yours instead. Normal right? Until you smirk slightly. Your hand moves up, and up- "Ellie?" Joel inquires as she suddenly chokes slightly on her food. "Im good I'm good." She gives him a reassuring smile. "But you're not. - Y/n. Stop it." Ellie whispers in your ear, trying to get you to stop drinking anymore, you knew you'd hate yourself tomorrow. She looks at you, her whispering got lower. You just shrug. "Don't." She mouths. But that only made you want to do it more.

Next move was to put your own hand on her thigh, it flexes as soon as she feels it. She lets out an annoyed breath. "How's everyone's food?" Tommy then asks. "I love mine." You say in the most sickly sweet voice. This makes Ellie bite her cheek. "A word?" She begins to get up, grabbing your hand. "Excuse me, you guys. I forgot to ask her something before we left." They all nod. "Alright babygirl, take your time." Joel gives a sweet smile yet again.

"What the hell are you doing." She speaks, all too calmly for your liking, figuring she'd be more pissed off. You knew that's not how Ellie was. She never had to yell to get you to shut up. "Huh?" You think. "I dunno." You smile at her. "You just look so good Els." She scoffs slightly. "Behave." She goes to walk away. "Well maybe you should've kept an eye out." Her movements still, she doesn't say a word. Uh oh. You shut up for a second til her head turns. "Hey baby?" You hum. "Dont be surprised when you get bent over."

Your hands scramble to grip the couch. "I-" She tuts. "Nuh uh, you started this pretty girl. Why don't we just finish it." You go to sit back up but that was clearly no use. "This is basically your fault." You speak, voice muffled by the cushion. Her laugh echoes throughout your guys living room. "Oh, baby, baby baby. I wasn't the one making a fool of myself was I? Hmm?" You stay silent, unable to find the words, as you feel her hand come in between your thighs. Your mouth hangs open slightly. They squeeze together, making her hum. "I told you, but you were dying for it-" "No, i-" her finger slips inside your underwear, slipping into your entrance making you shut right up. "What was that?" Her tone was soft, but her intentions were definitely the opposite. "Nothing, I swear." You let your eyes shut, letting out a slight moan as her finger goes deeper.

"That's what I thought." Then all of a sudden her finger was gone. And just like that, she had you wrapped around her finger. You curse at yourself but it turned you on more how easily she could shut you up. It was hot nonetheless. You sit up, facing her now. Grabbing onto her collar and bringing her in for a kiss. Falling backwards her hands land beside your head, keeping her upright. The kiss got more heated by the second. You slowly begin to grind up into her, knowing she can't resist you. "God you're foul." She smirks against your lips. It only transfers to your lips, but wider. "Know you love me." She just shakes her head, that smirk never leaving.

Her hands pin yours above your head so effortlessly, keeping that kiss going. Until she moves to your neck, then lower. Reaching your cleavage. Her soft fingers go for the straps of your dress and pull them off your shoulders. They move down to the bottom, getting a good grip and tugging it off you. Your nipples harden at the cool air. Ellie bites her lip slightly. "This should be fun." That confused you tons. But oh boy were you not ready for what she had in store.

"Ellie.." You breathe out as you arch your back. "Hmm?" She was antagonizing you. The need to cum had been relentless and she denied it everytime. You were overstimulated to the max, making her enjoy eating you out for the longest time. "Do you know how much-" Suck. "I fucking love you and-" Suck. "This God damn pussy." Your head falls back at her words, her movements. "Ellie just please!" Your begging voice only turned Ellie on more. Her face comes into view. She gives you a fake pout. "But my baby, why should I?" Her smirk was evident and she was awful at hiding it. "Please Ellie just let me cum please." You finally felt slight tears at how desperately you craved it.

Bingo. "Alright, ok. I suppose-" You sit up so fast giving her a look. But it subsides as she almost pulls off all together. Your eyes turn pleading. "You can cum baby, I promise." And Ellie never, broke a promise. You let out a breath of relief as her tongue gets back to work. "F-fuck!" You scream out as you felt your most likely 4th orgasm of that night. But finally she was going to give you that relief. And God did her tongue do absolute wonders. She knew how to get you squirming. "Come on baby, I got you. Let go."

Your breathing was increasing, moans, whimpers were all that could be heard. "Ellie-" You gasp as you feel her fingers enter you. "You're so tight. Fuck." Her words only encourage you more. "Fuck, Ellie!" She hums against you, and youre seeing stars. "There you go good girl, cum on my tongue. Just like that." Your eyes flutter close as you finally do so. Feeling so worn out as you slowly come down from your high. There was some silence as she sat back up. "Gotta say. You were the yummiest thing I had tonight." She smirks down at your tired figure. You let out a dry laugh, having no energy but still finding her funny.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Els."

[ugotcooneycrossed]

get her back! • leah williamson

w/c: ~1.2k

leah williamson is the most frustrating person you've ever met in you're entire life- and you are without a doubt, 100% infatuated with her

a/n: inspired by the idea that boyfriend leah would be so toxic and iwl id happily accept it

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

you’re on a trip with some of the united girls in ibiza- an after-season holiday before the world cup, which turns into you being dragged through crowds and running into what seems like the entire super league.

you properly meet leah there- you’ve crossed paths before in the season of course, it’s hard not to, when you’re trying to score and the blonde absolutely bodies you out of nowhere.

and much like during games- she crashes into you, only this time her drink spills all down your front, and her hands reach out to grip your arms to stop you from falling back.

“sorry ‘bout that sweetheart.”

she’s smiling at you while she says it-  eyeing you up and down, her eyes twinkling with something. and your brain short circuits at the sound of her voice- your mouth going dry at the sight of her abs on full display.

“hey- you play for united yeah?”

all you manage is a nod- brain too preoccupied with the way her thumb brushes your arm occasionally.

“cool- i’ll see you around.”

she winks at you and disappears into the crowd again.

you stare after her- mouth open slightly and cheeks flushed.

“what are you doing standing there like a fish mate?”

Tooney jumps on your back- her arm wrapping around your neck.

“ewww- you’re all sticky too, what’s wrong with you?”

“Tooney- i think im in love.”

-

you’re out at dinner with the girls later that night- and they’re all having the time of their lives making fun of you for your little crush on the England captain.

“you know- if you wanted to make the senior team so bad, sleeping with the captain is a sure-fire way to do it.”

Ella and Mary high-five- their laughs booming, as they fall off their chairs, while you slink further down into your own.

“you know- i really, really regret telling you this.”

the two ignore you- too busy laughing, getting louder and louder the more you complain. 

Alessia pats your thigh, smiling at you sympathetically.

A voice calls out over Mary and Ella’s laughing.

“right- what’s so funny then?”

Leah appears on the other side of the table- arms folded over her chest, and eyebrow quirked up in question at the two rolling around on the ground.

“nothing!”

you’re quick to interject, shouting way too loudly and averting your eyes from everyone when they stare at you.

“hey lee!”

Alessia gets out of her chair to hug the older girl, and the others follow her lead.

you stay in your chair though- eyes on your lap, hands gripping the chairs armrests.

you can feel eyes burning into you and you get up- announcing to everyone you’ll be at the bar.

you take a moment to catch your breath as you walk over, giving the bar tender your order and fumbling around for your card.

when you go to tap your card to pay for your drink, a hand reaches out before you can- a sleek black card shines at you and you follow the arm to see the face of leah williamson, smirking at you.

you finally look at her, she’s dressed in a black suit- her shirt barely buttoned, sleeves rolled up, ring clad fingers twirling her card.

“what’s your poison?”

“huh?”

she nods to the drink in your hand.

“oh- uh-“

she cuts you off before you can speak.

“i’m more of a whiskey girl myself, I must say.”

you nod fiddling with your drink.

“what’s your name anyway?”

Leah looks at you up and down- taking a sip of her drink.

“(y/n).”

“cute- look i’ll be honest, i find you very attractive, so, want to come back to my room?”

-

you wake up the next morning to a shirt being chucked at your head, taking it off you see leah lent against the doorframe, brushing her teeth.

“you should probably go soon.”

she disappears back into the hall without another word, and you throw your hands over your face groaning.

-

you’ve dug yourself into a grave- and every time you think of Leah- it gets deeper, and deeper.

well, maybe not when you think of her- ‘cause you’d have definitely fallen through to the other side of the world by now. but when you think too much about her- it some-how spirals into you sending her a text, and Alessia’s disappointed face as you abandon whatever you were doing in favour of ‘just one more kiss.’  

stupid leah- with her stupid smirk, and her stupid voice, and the stupid way she knows exactly where to kiss you to make you weak in the knees.

stupid leah, and her stupid car, picking up stupid you.

-

“i hate her!”

thrashing around on top of Alessia’s bed you grab her pillow to scream into.

“do you?”

“yes! i do! she’s so frustrating. one minute she tells me i’m the ‘only one’- then i find her making out with other girls?! she only ever calls me when she wants something! i tried  to tell her Lessi i promise- but when she does that stupid little smirk- oh my god! i can’t take it!”

“then why keep going back to her?”

-

you don’t make the squad for the world cup- it’s not exactly a surprise but it still stings a little. another year of “oh, it’s all right.” and “next year you got it!”

swallowing down the hurt you end up going out with the girls to celebrate anyway- throwing your arms over Alessia and Mary you kiss their cheeks.

you're about two drinks and four shots in- when you’ve been left alone at a booth, with no supervision you pull out your phone and text leah.

you hear a voice clear their throat- and you blearily make out Alessia in front of you.

 “don’t tell me you texted her?”

“… no?”

-

“i hate you.”

your breathy voice wavers- brain foggy with the way leah attacks your neck, the older girl’s hands gripping you- one hand tangled in your hair, the other holding your hands together, pushing and pulling you in any direction she pleases. her lips curl into a smirk against your neck and she stops kissing you, and pushes you completely away from her.

“hate me huh? guess we can stop this.”

“no.”

“no?”

you glare at the shit-eating grin spreading on her face- grabbing the front of her shirt and yanking her closer to you.

“no.”

-

leah is fuming, and you’re loving it.

with mostly everyone gone in Australia- you’ve gravitated more to the blonde, much to Alessia’s disappointment, when she saw both of you making out in the back of Alex’s story one night.

tonight though- you’ve been flirting with this one girl, running your hands up her arms, giggling and squeezing her biceps.

you can see leah in the back- jaw clenched, her angry pout fixed on her face.

you don’t even know the other girls name- you just know she’s helping you make leah very, very jealous.

when you go to the toilets- leah follows behind you, slipping in and pushing you against the door.

she doesn’t speak- only gripping your face with one hand and shoving it to the side, while the other feels you up, she attacks your neck, sucking and biting.

“shut up.”

you smile.

"i didn't even say anything."

-

you wake up the next morning alone again- your neck mauled and dignity only slightly gone.

you find a note on your bathroom mirror.

‘you’re mine. don’t forget it.’ – l.w

[johnwickb1tsch]

Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick (AND x Constantine😜) Imagine WIP Part 9

Here we go my lovelies! @treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @tammykelly @lilspookymeh @kurai-hono-blog

Wick could have been an asshole about buying a brand new kitchen, sundries included–but instead he merely shrugs off Constantine's hostile question. "Seemed like the least I could do."

Constantine glares, but lets it go, begrudgingly sitting down to a delectable meal cooked by the man he knows, deep down, that you've never been able to forget. 

At Tex's midday administering of magical medicine, he takes your hand after you finish, refusing to let go. "Set with me a while, Rattlesnake." He pats the couch, on which there is no room unless you were to sit in his lap–undoubtedly his hope.

With a sigh and a knowing smirk you settle back in your chair. Your eyes are drawn to the burn upon his chest. He will carry that mark for the rest of his life, even if the magic is lifted.

You think on what Papa Midnite said to Constantine. "Take some big feeling..."

It kind of floors you, to think of the energy it took for Constantine to conjure that working out of thin air.

For you.

You told him a little bit about the boys. How they hurt you–and, how they saved your life. How you loved them, and how they destroyed you in their abandonment. No matter how you framed it, Constantine blamed them for the bullet wound forever seared in your side.

However, it wasn’t so simple as that. 

"Whacha thinking, baby girl?"

You just shake your head with a tired smile. "Nothing important."

"Hmm. You gonna make me guess? Alright. You're thinkin'...bout that time in Mexico it was just you an me and the stars, out by the pool in our birthday suits."

You snort–quite against your will, it turns into a giggle. 

"No..."

"Uh huh. You’re missin' my wicked tongue up between your thighs. I know that look."

"That's enough of that," you say, trying to stand. But he has your hand, and he tugs you so that you fall down to sit on the edge of the couch–and half on him. Your faces hover just centimeters away. You watch with horror a he tries to lean in, capitalizing on the opportunity. By the skin of your teeth, your heart in your throat, you just barely manage to turn your head.

"Didn't you miss me, rattlesnake?" he asks, his deep voice all sultry and low just wrecking you to the bone.

You dare reach up to caress his cheek with the blade of your thumb. "Of course I did. But there’s no going back, Tex. Maybe...that time is behind us." Just saying it hurts like a knife between the ribs, but you go on, “Maybe you and John did the right thing, letting me go.”

He just narrows his dark eyes at hearing that. You hate the way it gives you such a thrill, to the base of your spine, and lower still. “I thought you were mad about that? Hell, I’m still mad about that. I miss you so much I can hardly think straight. There’s just…” He frowns while he says it, but you know it’s just because he’d literally rather take a bullet than talk about his feelings. His grip on your hand tightens; he glares down at your silver rings like they owe him money.  “There ain’t no point to anything, when you’re gone. Do you know what I mean?”

You close your eyes; for a moment you feel as though the floor has dropped out from under you, because you know exactly what he means. You lived it for months after they booted you, drifting from country to country, an empty husk of a woman, a gaping black hole where your heart used to be. Only after moving to LA, thinking about going back to school, and meeting Constantine, did your life start to feel like it had some meaning again. 

“Yeah. I know what you mean,” you answer quietly. “But how did you think this would go? You’d knock on my door, and I’d just uproot my whole life for you again?”

“Maybe?” The confusion on his handsome face is almost cute. You realize he really did think it would be that easy, and you snort, looking away to a framed Tibetan Thangka painting on the wall. This man. As ever, you’re torn between kissing him and killing him. You have to keep reminding yourself that the former option is not even on the table. 

“At least give me some credit. I coulda come in with guns blazin' but instead I brought flowers."

“You want credit?”

“Yeah. I’m practically a changed man. And I wouldn’t mind an apology from Wizard Boy either.”

"You've got to be kidding me." The pair on this man never ceases to amaze you.

"We were just having a little bit of friendly fisticuffs, but he fucked me up pretty good. That’s called unnecessary escalation.”

He would know. 

"Spare me the macho bullshit. There’s no such thing as friendly fisticuffs. You were going to hurt my boyfriend, and you absolutely deserved what he gave you. You’re lucky he got Midnite to lift it."

Only a beat later do you realize you called Constantine your boyfriend within earshot of everyone, which you never do, because you both hate labels and the word just seems too high school for what you actually are to each other–but there’s no going back now. 

“But–”

At last, at last, you are in a position where you don’t have to swallow his gaslighting. “No buts. You can behave yourself, Tex, or you can go. I mean it.” 

Maybe drawn by the sound of your raised voice, Constantine chooses that moment to intervene, appearing at the foot of the couch with a magnificent frown. 

“Well well, if it ain’t The Boy Who Lived.”

You know he’s just making yet another Harry Potter reference, but considering Constantine’s history, this nickname makes you flinch. Maybe it’s a mistake on your part, but you bristle. “Don’t call him that.”

Constantine, however, betrays nothing, just crossing his arms with that blandly judgy expression. “It’s alright, y/n. He loves childrens’ books–a man has to stick to his reading level.” You don't feel like arguing about the complexity of the later books, so you let the arrow fly.

You lift an eyebrow, side-eyeing Tex. “You do know an awful lot about Harry Potter for a grown ass man your age.”

For possibly the first time ever Tex actually looks sheepish. “Had to read something while I was in the shit.”

Tex never really told you much about his tour of duty in the Middle East. Bradford had intimated that it didn’t end well–but you weren’t exactly keen to take everything that asshole had said with any sort of seriousness. The thought of him holed up in a mud hut reading about Hogwarts kind of pulls at your heartstrings for some ridiculous reason. 

“So what you want, Wizard Boy?” demands Tex, insouciantly refusing to let go of your hand, despite you tugging on it.

“I was going to check your chakras for malevolence, but I'm having second thoughts now.”

“Sounds illegal in five states.”

Constantine snorts. “You want me to double check Midnite's handiwork or not? If there's a trace of darkness left it could spread– and you'll be fucked all over again.”

“Not the way I like, I'm guessin’.”

“Probably not. But then again, you seemed to like Desdemona at the club. You want an introduction?” Constantine has a sly look on his handsome face as he asks this. It must be the succubus you'd run off– the thought of Tex in contact with her again makes you vibrate with jealousy. It is sharp, and fierce, and utterly fucking irrational.

You should encourage Tex to find someone else.

Your heart just doesn't agree.

“I'll…leave you two to it,” you say, reluctantly standing to pull away out of Tex's grip.

Only belatedly, after you've retreated to your room, do you realize that maybe Constantine interrupted your tête a tête with Tex for his sake, rather than yours.

***

John Wick whips you all up a beautiful dinner of sauteed meat and vegetables, complimented with a nice bottle of dry red wine that you're sure did not come from Trader Joe's. You play his sous chef, chopping up veggies, and it almost feels like old times in the kitchen, although he never would have given you access to a big sharp knife before. As though you ever would have had the nerve to stab him. 

Tex was another matter.

At first you all sit down to share a semi-awkward meal, peppered with halting silences–until the second bottle of wine comes out, and then things flow more smoothly. It starts with Constantine cracking a joke at Tex's expense, which is surprisingly backed by Wick with a witty aside. Tex responds good naturedly, for once, and you just sit back and watch with a smile, a warm glow in your chest that feels too close to bliss to possibly last.

You help Wick with the dishes, drying as he washes because your dish rack is tiny. “You look tired, sweetheart,” he says after the last plate, bending down to kiss your forehead. You forget. You fucking forget that there are two other people there, one of whom is your current lover, and out of longing and pure habit you tilt your head back for the second staggeringly sweet kiss on your lips that always followed. 

Only a long beat later do you realize what you've done, with Wick's shining dark eyes looking down on you, missing nothing. You gasp like a scandalized school girl, taking a small step back. “You're right,” you agree. “I am tired. Good night, everyone.” You're such a coward you can't even lift your head to look at any of them, though you can feel their eyes upon you as you scurry away.

Once in the sanctuary of your room you collapse on the bed, clutching the coverlet in your claws for hands, so embarrassed by your slip that you could die. You know that Constantine loves you, even if he’s never outright said it, and honestly probably never will–and this is how you repay him. 

You really are a piece of work.

***

After you retreat, a silence falls over the kitchen, the three formidable men eyeing each other like wolves amidst a power struggle, trying to decide who is the weakest link and who is alpha. It’s Constantine who stands without a word, fetching his green glass bottle of Ardbeg single-malt scotch and setting it down in the middle of the table with a thunk. Then he produces three glasses–none matching–and pours out a finger for each. 

“Gentlemen.” He looks between the two assassins seated at his table, a part of him flabbergasted as to how he’d even ended up in this situation. Before he met you, if someone told him someday he would find a woman he loved more than the air he breathed, he would have laughed them out of the room. 

Not now. 

How the mighty are brought low, and pride goeth before a fall, and all that proverbial biblical bullshit that is old as time and yet somehow still applies. Despite all our advances, humans are still essentially the same animal we were when we first left the cave and started walking upright–or when God created Adam out of dirt, whichever you find more believable.  

“I believe we find ourselves at an impasse.”

“How you figure?” asks Tex, knocking back his drink and helping himself to another. 

“Does being in love with the same woman ring a bell?”

Wick smirks, watching the exchange between the two, sipping his scotch sparingly. He does not contradict Constantine’s assessment, but in his succinct way he drives home the finer point. “More importantly, that woman is in love with all of us.”

The thought pulls something like a growl from deep in Constantine’s chest, but in the end he acknowledges, “Exactly.”

Tex smirks, leaning on his elbows. “Don’t be sore, Wizard Boy. Be grateful we broke her in for you.”

Constantine seems to count to ten under his breath, restraining himself from unleashing a curse on this fucking cowboy again. “You’re gonna have to give me pointers on how you manage not to murder him daily,” he says to Wick. 

“I only listen to about half of what he says,” Wick admits with a smirk, a humorous glitter in his dark eyes.

“Good to know. My point is, if I curse you both into the Seventh Circle, it would hurt her. Likewise, if you two were to dig me a shallow grave out in the desert. You hurt her enough the first time. Do you follow?”

Wick nods, grasping Constantine’s train of thought immediately. Tex, however, has to chew on it a little–maybe because he’d hoped, for once, to finally have this girl to himself. 

“You’re saying you don’t mind sharin’,” finally says Tex with a shit-eating grin, leaning back in his chair. 

“Oh, I mind,” Constantine is sure to clarify. “But it’s up to her, if she wants you or not. If she decides she wants you to go–I will make you go. If she wants you to stay…” He spreads his big hands, as though to say, we’ll figure it out. Somehow.  

Tex narrows his eyes, clearly debating if he should pick a fight over the make you go part, or take it as it sits on the table. “And how do you propose we let her know what we decided about this?”

Constantine snorts at that, draining his glass and standing from the table. “That’s your problem, Howdy Doody. Good night–and may the best man win.” The two assassins watch as John Constantine crosses to your bedroom, and practically shuts the door in their faces. 

***

You are drifting on the edge of sleep when Constantine crawls into bed with you. You smile as you feel the familiar pattern of the depression in the mattress, and moan with surprise as he covers your mouth with his. You taste the Ardbeg on his tongue, which explains some of his ardor, but not all. The fury of his kisses on your lips and neck pulls an involuntary moan from deep in your lungs, his big hands digging into the flesh of your thigh, pulling you on top of him. 

“John…?” Utterly star-struck, you blink down at him, disheveled in your pajama t-shirt and your hair a mess. He reaches up to cup your cheek, dwarfing your face in his large hand, studying you like there will be a test later. He opens his mouth like there’s something he wants to say to you, but he can’t quite get it out, the words stuck in his throat. 

You think you know what it is, and your heart warms for it, that tingling thrill filling your chest and spreading outwards. You’re not even mad, that he can’t say it, because you get him. This is not the week you’re going to push him out of his comfort zone, more than you already have. Most of LA would laugh to hear it, but John Constantine has been a veritable fucking saint the past couple of days, and you’re so grateful to him. 

“It’s ok,” you say softly, tracing the line of his square jaw. “I know.” 

He frowns, almost like he wants to argue, but in the end he just shakes his head and pulls you to him.

You want to apologize for almost kissing John Wick right in fucking front of him–but that sticks in your throat too. You guess you’re both just a little raw tonight.

He peels off your t-shirt greedily as he guides you down. Hungry lips and a teasing tongue find the sensitive tips of your breasts, making you squirm with longing above him. You know you’ve already soaked through the laughable barrier of your panties, and are probably leaving an unsightly stain on his nice (200 dollar, he likes to tell you with a smirk) white shirt–but if the Chinese laundry down the street can get out demon blood stains, what’s a little cum?

You let out a cry of longing as he releases your nipple with a pop; the ache between your thighs is already nearly unbearable, and you can't stop yourself from grinding against his lean torso. You shut your mouth as soon as you open it, conscious of the paper thin walls and the two dangerous men on the other side of them.

“You like that, baby?” he taunts, hooking his fingers in your panties to tug them down.

“You know I do,” you pant. 

“Then let me hear you,” he invites with a wicked smirk, shifting down so that you are nearly sitting on his face. You don’t know what was said out there, but you are starting to get the idea that John Constantine is up to something. But before you can even begin to think what to do about it, he pulls you forward with an undeniable grip on your thighs, and his tongue is laving up your slit.

“Fuck.”

This exclamation is not quiet, and neither are the ones after it. You practically shake the walls with your cries when you cum on his tongue, your body rendered into a quivering mess of over-stimulated nerves. He does not grant you mercy, even when you beg him, and by the time he is done with you, you are halfway to your second orgasm.

“Do you want me baby?” he demands, panting from his champion cunnilingus league exertions as he undresses himself. There is a desperation in his tone you’ve never quite heard before, and you have a feeling he’s not just talking about sex.

“I need you,” you tell him, and you mean every word. It wins you every inch of his hard cock buried inside you, and you can’t stop yourself from moaning, as though there is no room for breath in your body when filled with his impressive manhood. He grips you hard enough to bruise, his face buried in the bend of your neck.

He drives himself inside of you, hips pumping with the fury of his need, but he’s prepared you for it. It’s all you can do just to hold on, to the bed, to him, letting him use you exactly the way he wants to, because you know the past couple of days have been anything but easy for him. 

When his thumb finds your clit you think you might die from the overwhelming sensation of it. “No,” you beg, somehow smiling through your exasperation. “Please. Mercy.”

He just pays you that impish curl of lips that always seriously makes you question which side he's playing for. “You can take it,” he informs you. “For me?” The way he pouts down at you while simultaneously rearranging your insides should be illegal.

“Fuck,” you swear again, and he grins down at you, knowing he’s got you in the bag. With your ankles around his ears he slows down for you, but still fills you to the absolute brim, working you in just the rhythm he knows you need with the tip of his too-clever thumb. There is a heart wrenching beauty in making love like this. The two of you have reached an understanding of each other's bodies, a point of familiarity in which you just know, and yet somehow each time is better than the last.

It isn't long before you cum on his cock with a ragged scream that you know there’s no way in hell the boys didn’t hear, yet you cannot stop it, you cannot care, because the man inside you has rendered you into a vessel for this mind-bending pleasure and in this moment, you belong completely to him. His hips snap against yours, and soon he follows with your greedy little cunt fluttering around him, spilling himself inside you with a loud groan.

He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. You revel in the sticky warmth of his seed seeping between your thighs, his heart a furious drumbeat beneath your ear. “Jesus fucking Christ,” is all you can manage to wheeze against the warmth of his chest.

“Right initials,” he pants, pressing lips to your hair. “Wrong guy.”

Thinking you really might have lost your mind, you start to cackle, and you can’t stop until you literally can’t breathe. You do not even have the energy to clean up, falling asleep in the beautiful mess John made of you, and maybe it’s just you, but even in his sleep John Constantine seems to hold you more tightly than he ever has before.

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

😬

it's on? 😈😈😈

@sweetwolfcupcake @treedaddymcpuffpuff @tammykelly

[strawberrylips-1211]

Bittersweet

Hobie x reader

Pt 2

Hurt/comfort, angst

Mean hobie >:)

Sneak peak? Kind of?

warnings: bad English (not my first language mil disculpas), not proofread T^T,

based off this post.

let me know what you think so far please :)

You've been pacing around your cozy apartment, for the past hour, your mind racing, your stomach in knots. It wasn't unusual for you to stress over Hobie's absence or wellbeing, but tonight was different. You hadn't been able to contact Hobie two nights in a row, normally he would shoot you a text throughout the day letting you know he was alright and when he'd be home by, but not a word from him. Despite all the bruises and cuts that he'd sustain from his fights, he always came home to you. Though he hated consistency, you were the one thing he'd rely on, and the little routine (of you complaining bout his injuries while you fixed him up and him kissing you telling you he'd be more careful next time) he'd created with you.

The anxiety got the best of you, as you tried calling him one more time, the phone was ringing when you heard a loud thud coming from your shared bedroom. By instinct, you knew who it was, you recognized the heavy footsteps, and the loud distinctive accent as he cussed. Your heart racing and relief flooding you as you ran to the noise. Though the lights were off Hobie's outline was clear from the moonlight shining through the open window, he was slightly hunched, hand over his stomach as he glanced at you. He rolled his eyes, 'i don't have the energy for this'. He didn't have the energy to explain the mess he got himself into.

“Hobie? babe?" No response, there's only shuffling and grunting heard from him moving to the bed, "are you alright? I was so- " you turn on the light, stopping midway as soon as you registered his current state. Your eyes scanning his full body. He had a black eye, a busted lip, his knuckles bruised and it was impossible to miss the large open wound across his abdomen with blood soaking his suit.

He was beaten and bloodied, it always pained you when you saw him hurt, but it was never like this. He cut you off before you could even speak again, " I know what you're gonna say, but just let me handle it, yeah? Its nothin." You had so many question, to say you're shocked is an understatement. He's clearly in pain, what did he mean 'nothing'.

"Hobart Brown, this is clearly not nothing. What happened?," you questioned him but again not a peep from him, your tone sounding a bit harsher than you meant for, your worry was slowly turning into something else once you heard his words.

You sighed as you walked to the bathroom to grab your first aid kit, " Here let me grab the kit," but Hobie stood up from his spot and stopped you, "I said its nothing, just drop it." He hissed.

his head was pounding and his body was aching all over, he knew how much you worried, but he couldn't be bothered by anything at this point. He just wanted to get himself cleaned up and sleep. He really didn't want to hear any of your nagging tonight.

"DROP IT?? Hobs look at you, you're in no condition to do this yourself, What happened to you?" You asked looking up at him, once again scanning his face, he sighed out of frustration, "look I'll tell ya tomorrow." He brushed past you, now beginning to remove his jacket and studded bracelets. Your frustration also growing with his every word, you stayed up all night waiting for him, all you want to do is help.

"No, you're letting me help you, you not even answering my questions properly. I want to know where my boyfriend has been these past two days, I want to know why you're sitting here with all these cuts, Hob-" before you could finish, he stood up and grabbed both your wrists in his hands, "JUST SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE, WILL YA? I said I don’t need your bloody help." He yelled, his pretty face contorted in anger. It was accident, he was just fed up with everything, he was exhausted and your constant questioning wasn't helping. He never yelled at you before, no matter the situation he's always been understanding and sweet towards you.

You were shocked, and though you hated to admit it, scared of him. You couldn't do anything, but just stare at him wide eyed, you whimpered a little from his volume and how strong his hold was. He'd truly scared you.

Even he was surprised at his own outburst. As soon as he saw your expression, he was slightly brought back to reality, "Tch, I ain't got time for this." He sighed as he let go of you. Guilt slowly creeping through, he really didn’t mean it, but didn’t apologize for it right away, he simply continued prepping to clean his gashes.

You stood there for a bit, so many emotions coursing through you in that split second. You collected yourself quickly and left the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. Angry tears running down your face. You mumbled to yourself to keep yourself from completely bursting at the seams, 'Fine, asshole. Be like that then.' You grabbed your stuff and made your way to the room. No way were you going to be in the same room as him.

Should I continue this??

I have never tagged anyone before but here ya go

@bleuatlas

@spedermannmorales

@luujjvi

@buddhapooksrealwife

@denuparxoume

@archiviststar

[judesmoonbeauty]

Black Wedding: The True Vow For A Jet-Black Bride - Jude Jazza

This is a repost. Due to the original being deleted, CGs will not be uploaded per my announcement. This is a fan translation only, so please expect grammatical errors and lack of nuance. While I appreciate your support and welcome re-blogs, please do not repost my translations elsewhere. Thank you for you support! ☾.

Jude: ….A woman with bad taste.

Flash of light

As I was taking deep breaths, I suddenly remembered the dream I had this morning.

(I dreamed that someone with a grudge against Jude came to my wedding….)

It seemed terribly realistic because he was always incurring grudges wherever he went.

(The only reason I think it might really happen is because of this situation….)

Standing in the deserted hallway, I exhale again and remember how it all began.

It was only a week ago that he suddenly decided to hold a wedding ceremony.

Flashback -

Jude: Oi, We’re gettin’ hitched.

Kate: What?

Jude: A weddin’. Want one dontcha.

Kate: We’re having……a wedding?!

I can’t help but raise my voice in at the unexpected statement.

(I had always dreamed of a wedding, but I thought Jude wouldn’t like it.)

Jude: What, don’t want it?

Kate: …….If I could, I would like to.

He raised his finger as he spoke.

Jude: In a week, no attendees, ‘n I bought a few dresses, so pick whatever ya like.

Kate: …..In a week?!

Flashback Ends -

(I know it’s nighttime and he said no attendees, but Crown wasn’t even present…..)

(I wonder why he suddenly said he was going to have a ceremony.)

I open the heavy door with my hands.

Kate: Ah…..

Through the veil I see him in an unusual outfit.

Jude’s eyes widened when he saw me.

Jude: Suits ya.

He takes my hand and the corners of his mouth soften slightly.

Kate: Um, Jude…..you look good too.

Old Pastor: Then we will begin the ceremony.

As the pastor was speaking, Jude muttered under his breath.

Jude: You’re goin’ to hell, too.

I was elated to see the somewhat complicated expression on his face.

Kate: Bring it on.

Jude: …..Ha.

Old Pastor: Now let’s exchange the rings…

I feel a sense of tension as I look at two boxes held out in front of me.

(As it goes, I put the ring onto Jude’s finger first…..)

The shiny silver was small but had a strong presence, and seemed to speak to the weight of the promise.

Jude: What a nervous look. Ya scared now?

Kate: You’re wrong! It just, feels very heavy and….

With trembling fingertips, I put the vow on his left ring finger, and for some reason Ellis appeared….

Kate: Huh?

Jude: Enough, just take him with ya.

Ellis: Kate, your dress is lovely. I was just telling everyone how nice it looks on you.

Jude: ….Don’t say anythin' unnecessary ‘n just go.

He walked out of the church with the pastor, who was confused as to what was happening.

Kate: Is everyone…..from Crown here!?

I instinctively grabbed him by the arm, and he gave me a nasty look.

Jude: …..They’re guardin' the venue.

Kate: Why is there security at the venue?

Suddenly remembering this morning’s dream, I choked on my words.

(Maybe they’re standing guard to ensure no one tries to attack Jude?)

Jude: ……Heard ya told Ellis ya wanted a weddin’ ceremony.

Kate: How did you know that….

I didn’t think that my honest feelings I’d blurted out would reach him.

Jude: Seems like ya didn’t say anything ‘bout it ‘cuz you thought I wasn’t interested, but that doesn’t mean I’m not interested.

Jude: I just didn’t do it ‘cuz I knew those idiots would sniff out the ceremony and cause trouble.

Kate: …..My wish, you made it come true.

He burst out laughing, took a piece of paper from his pocket and placed it on the altar.

Jude: I’m sure ya understand, this kind of thing happens everyday.

Jude: I can’t have a normal life, and I can’t have the married life you’re thinkin’ of.

Jude: If ya wanna turn back - do it now.

On the altar, was an open box and a quill.

— And one contract.

Jude: If the pastor was here then we couldn’t do this.

Kate: 1) I don’t object to this marriage. 2) Infidelity is strictly forbidden. 3) The transfer of money…

Kate: Did you make this, Jude?

Jude: Got complaints?

Kate: It’s not like that…..

(A contract for an occasion like this is so typical of you, Jude.)

I already know that he will not break his promise.

(And how much this marriage means to Jude.)

He was probably the person who tried to bring me back to my normal world the most when I came to Crown.

(He’s got a foul mouth, but he’s kind and compassionate…….)

(That’s the kind of person I fell in love with.)

He was taken aback when I signed it so easily.

Jude: …..Don’tcha want time to think about it’?

Kate: No. Isn’t this for you Jude?

Jude: ….hopeless.

The signed contract was placed from the altar into his pocket.

Jude: It’s lifetime employment.

Jude: Even if you cry or runaway, I’ll never let you go.

What awaits us ahead will be thorny, the destination to the deepest hell.

(But you’d laugh if I told you that my joy outweighed that.)

Kate: Even if hell awaits me, I won’t run away.

Kate: Even if I go to the end of the sky……as long as you’re there, that’s all I need.

He bit my finger sweetly and laughed as my nose grew stuffy and I felt like I was about to cry.

Kate: What are you doing….?

His expression was somewhat tender, and tears of joy flowed from my eyes.

Jude: Whatta ya mean, if ya look you’ll see. I put a curse on your ring finger.

Jude: Ha, whatcha cry even when you’re happy? I learned somethin’ good.

When the veil was lifted and I closed my eyes to his approaching lips, I thought I heard gentle laughter and tears started flowing again.

I’m sure that when the last day of my life comes, I will be happy that the curse on my ring finger was not broken.

[Master List] Dividers: @.natimiles

[spectres-n-soap]

The Rain Is Cold and You Are Gone - Soap x Reader x Ghost

Content Warnings - Pregnancy, AFAB Reader, trauma, puking. MW3 is canon.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

"You're sure 'bout this?" Simon asks again for what felt like the ninth time. Truthfully, you weren't sure. You weren't sure about anything anymore since all of this had started. You look at yourself in the mirror and the woman who looked back was unrecognizable. Swollen belly, deep eyebags and a dress that didn't suit you. No, you weren't sure about this but it didn't matter anymore. Johnny's family would be here in twenty minutes and everything was already prepped and cleaned. It would be a waste to call it all off now and send his family back to Scotland after making the drive all the way here.

"I'm sure Simon." You sigh and turn to look at him. Simon looks better than you even if he's a plain black shirt and blue jeans. At least he looks like he isn't going to throw up constantly. Simon looks like he wants to say something, the words right on the tip of his tongue but he holds back. 

"Lass?"

You startled and turned around despite knowing who would call you that. The only person who would call you that. "Soap?"

"What're ye doin' up still?" Soap asked as he settled down next to you. The rec room was quiet and dark, the light from the microwave being the only thing to light up the area. Just the way you liked.

"Just enjoying the night." You said. Partially true and the rest of the truth was obvious, you couldn't help. You hadn't been able to sleep well for the last two months ever since that mission, even after Soap had been released from the hospital.

"Mind if I join ye then?" 

You snorted and rolled your eyes, "I believe you've already made yourself comfortable."

"Aye but ye could always tell me to go away." Soap replied and nudged you softly. You sighed but didn't tell him to go. You never wanted him to go away, selfish maybe. The week he had spent in that medically induced coma you had fallen apart and was forced to find the reason why it affected you like that. Yes, he was a teammate. A person who you had spent the last few years training and fighting beside. 

But you had never been so panicked when Gaz or Ghost got injured. You had felt your blood turn cold and had sobbed when he had started to breathe again. Lying to yourself was impossible when you could see the writing on the wall. You liked him, perhaps even loved him. No, you definitely loved him. You rested your head against his shoulder and soaked in his scent. Tangy, almost citrus with a tinge of sweat. His aftershave, what you assumed was his aftershave at least, smelt like sandalwood. 

Soap's fingers brought you from your thoughts and from the sinking feeling his smell brought. You opened your eyes and stared up into his icy blue ones. Only they never felt like ice to you, only ever warm with life and mischief. "Kiss me." Soap blinked at you. "Please." He hesitated, the only time you can ever recall him doing such before his lips brushed against you. Uncertain. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pushed your lips to his, that seemed to snap his restraint. 

Your lips moved together and his arms wrapped around your waist before he lifted you into his lap. Your fingers found his mohawk and pressed yourself further into his embrace. One of his hands traveled further down, cupped your ass and gave it a good squeeze, hard enough to make you gasp. The moment your mouth parted his tongue slipped in and he groaned at your taste. 

When you finally pulled back for a moment of reprieve and found his eyes again, the words slipped from your mouth before you thought about it. Maybe you didn't need to think about it. "I love you."

The flat is alive with conversation, a pile of gifts sit on the table while the MacTavish family fawn over you. Especially his sisters. It was rather disturbing how much they all resembled each other, the fathers genetics were truly over powering. Blue eyes everywhere with brown hair and a laugh that made your stomach twist. "We never knew John had a bonnie lass." One of his sisters, Winnie, laments. "Always talked about settlin' down but never talkin about a lass."

"Yeah?" You mutter before taking another drink of your juice. You've never wanted a drink so bad before.

"Pregnancy suits you." Another sister comments, Elara. "You practically glow. My pregnancy was awful, just terrible." You smile, your cheeks ache from doing it so much. You glance at Mrs. MacTavish and Mr. MacTavish who sit at the table with Simon and talk. They had dragged Simon over there and you wish you were there, away from all these questions. Away from all these blue eyes and bright smiles.

"You'll have to pardon me." You say while getting up, "I've got to use the bathroom." 

The women laugh about the pregnancy bladder, always needing to pee. You force a laugh before hurrying down the hall to the bathroom. You shut the door and lock it before rushing over to the toilet and puking. Breakfast and lunch rise up your throat and into the toilet until you're completely empty. Your hand shakes as you flush and lean against the tub without the strength to get up. Sweat sticks to your forehead, you close your eyes and find yourself leaning over the toilet again. Blue eyes twisted, turned gray and lifeless. Ashes sitting in a bag and tanned skin pale with death. You grip the side of your head as tears fall down your face.

You look up when someone kneels in front of you. You look with blurry vision to see the door open and then focus on the person in front of you. Simon. "Love what's wrong?" He asks as he grabs your hands. He repeats your name, "Look at me." Your eyes snap to him. Brown. Beautiful brown eyes that turn amber when the light hits them just right. Brown eyes shine with worry. "Slow your breathing." He whispers as he leads by example. 

"Simon." You cry and fling yourself into his embrace. He freezes, only for a moment before his arms engulf you as he keeps instructing you to breathe. "I can't stop seeing it Simon." You whisper and for a moment you remember that you had never seen Johnny's dead eyes. But your brain shoves the image further down your throat. "Oh god." You cry and Simon holds you a little tighter. He cradles you until the tears stop and your breathing slows.

"Do you want to go back out there?"

You shake your head. "I can't. All I see is him. But I have to. I don't want to waste their time or money."

"You don't have to do anything." He says and it's filled with resolve. "If they want to take the gifts with them they can. I'll buy everything the baby needs." You let out an unsteady breath and nod.

"Okay. I'll try." He helps you up from the floor and holds you steady as you walk from the bathroom. Mrs. MacTavish rushes to your side but asks no questions. "I'm sorry." You whisper, head bowed.

"Oh lassie." She whispers and brings you into a hug. "We'll go if ye want. No ill will, promise."

"I'm so sorry. It wasn't supposed to go like this." You whisper, throat closing up once again. "I ruined everything."

"Ye ruined nothing." Mr. MacTavish spoke this time. "We must've overwhelmed ye."

"God would you stop being so nice." You cry and a silence settles over the entire flat. The sisters mutter something about going to a nearby cafe and leave while Mrs. MacTavish leads you to sit on the couch.

"Lassie, what's wrong?"

The words being to pour out of you.

[starry-bi-sky]

for clone Danny, Clone Damian

I give you

Edit Clone Talia as somehow Girlfriend of Danny, just think of the comedy

nah brO BECAUSE LITERALLY I HAVE THOUGHT BOUT THAT. Literally since the conception of Clone Danny, I have thought about it. If only for, as you said, the COMEDY of it all. Plus I love writing romance.

Literally my motto for my aus is: A) is it plausible, B) is it FUNNY (and a secret third option C) is it ANGSTY)

Clone Talia would be an offshoot au of Clone^2 because idk how she'd fit into the original timeline, bUT, she'd exist. And to avoid confusion I'll call her Nasra - I thought about Tameka (which means twin) but I like Nasra better. "Talia and Nasra" just flows so nicely doesn't it?

Idk WHY there's a clone of Talia running around -- maybe the LoA made her, maybe n unknown organization who hates Batman and knows he has romantic ties to Talia, and started making a clone of her to fuck with him and then she got nabbed by a portal when she was still Danny's age and in the middle of training. She might be like Connor (??) and have memories and thus her training is more proficient than baby Dames.

Either way, regardless of how she was made, I think it's hilarious if she, much like baby Dames, immediately attacks Danny on sight. She falls into his city and Danny only has a moment to go "goddammit not agaIN" before he's fending off a very confused, very violent Nasra. Fortunately he's able to actually try and talk to her and be at least somewhat successful -- Nasra knows english. although even if she didn't, Danny would still be somewhat successful since he knows Arabic.

Also Bruce and Danny are the battinson bat because i think that is also hilarious and 'wet rat' is STILL the perfect energy for Danny as Phantom - especially in the early days when he's running around in all but jeans and a hoodie. (and god watch me go on a rant in a separate post about his outfit and reasonings for being Phantom when he has no powers later on because it makes me go FERAL. and his active choice to look as inhuman and ghost-like through his behavior as phantom and the decision to wear such a creepy mask as possible)

(like seriously, imagine walking home late at night while danny was still in his early vigilante days (and even now when he's got damian and a better suit) and seeing a skinny figure in the shadows with sunken in black-and-glowing-green eyes, and a bone white, skull-like face, crouched on all fours like a wild animal about to pounce. THAT is the level of creepiness I was going for for clone danny)

In my head, Sam offers to house Nasra and Nasra stays with her. SAm is able to convince her parents to let her stay, or she pulls a Danny and just straight up smuggles her in and her parents are none the wiser. I also think it's funny if they have unspoken BEEF with each other. Only to later become like sisters. Nasra teaches Sam the martial arts she knows, and also Danny joins in too with Damian because goddamn he needs it even IF he's learning stuff from his mom (as per the most recent snippet post I made).

OH AND DAMIAN AND NASRA. I think it's equally as funny if they ALSO have beef with each other. Nasra is a clone of his mother (of whom he might have complicated views on due to being a clone but still is his mother) and Damian is a clone of Nasra's "son". This beef largely starts from Damian's own refusal to want to share his Danny with another clone, especially with a clone of his MOTHER.

Danny and Nasra don't become lovers for a good, long while I think. They're besties first before they even consider the idea of dating -- not only just because of the whole "uhhh our counterparts dated so it'd feel kinda weird and forced if we dated" and also because Nasra, with her newfound freedom, is busy trying to figure out herself.

A big theme here in clone^2: discovering your identity and who you are as a person when the only thing you own that's unique is your name (which isn't even the case for Damian), and figuring out if your choices are your own or because you're a clone and its something your original would have done. Nature vs Nurture and the illusion of choice and whether it really is one or not.

Also Nasra also becomes a vigilante. Danny appreciates the help but is also tearing out his hair because what the fuck is up with these assassins and becoming vigilantes?! Nasra goes by "Nesha". She's similar to Red Huntress at first where she kinda does her own thing, but is lowkey forced to team up with Danny about it because she doesn't have any proper ghost hunting equipment with her.

And then a duo becomes a trio, and Danny is spending more time with her. And they steadily become friends. Very snarky friends who are very bratty to each other, but friends. Damian still doesn't like her so Danny spends extra time during patrol keeping the two of them from making insults at each other.

"Nesha please stop fighting with a nine year old. Wraith, quit insulting Nesha."

Nasra also uses like, weaponry as Nesha which exasperates Danny a little because why are you using swords??? They're already dead its not gonna kill them,,,, If you cut off their heads its just gonna piss em off, its re-attachable. Let him ghost-proof it first too. But well, its still gonna HURT he supposes. He's still a little exasperated.

And MMM i'm sorry lmao im so focused on Nasra becoming her own person than the actual romance aspect of it all. Nasra cuts her hair short for the same/similar reasons that Danny keeps his long - to try and gain a semblance of autonomy and identity that's away from their original. Danny has his alternative rock-kinda geeky look and Nasra's got, from influence from Sam, a more alternative fashion style. Although she still leans into being feminine, which is a good challenge to Sam's belief that feminity = bad, and gets her to unlearn those bad habits since her new adoptive sister is feminine while still being an unapologetic badass.

And ykw I think Nasra gets into rollerblading and loves it. She rollerblades constantly. Damian is furious because skating is his thing (even if what he gets later on is a skateboard - skater boy damian ftw. i can see him wearing flannels and graphic tees as a teenager. very grungy/skater aesthetic. He also has a much more relaxed and teen-y speech pattern compared to DW's more formal way of talking. He also spray paints as his form of artistic medium.) and he refuses to have Nasra be a copy of him.

They will sort out their differences eventually. LMao.

Anyways they eventually do get together, but not before Danny finally has his run in with Mister Wayne. Which, they only meet because Danny starts destabilizing, and thus needs Bruce Wayne's DNA to help stabilize himself. Which that meeting in and of itself is pretty chaotic on its own, but then add clone Damian and Nasra? Bruce needs coffee.. or alcohol.

Because picture this: its late at night, you're on patrol with the rest of your family. It's like, two in the morning. You suddenly get a call in from your butler, Alfred, informing you that not one, not two, but THREE children -- two of them in their late teens and the other one not even ten yet -- showed up on your doorstep. One of them is unconscious. They are all clones.

The girl and the boy are twins - and are clones of YOU - and the girl isn't even technically YOUR clone she's a clone of your clone - and also this clone of you is your college friends' kid. And then the youngest boy is a clone of your youngest SON. Bruce is running across rooftops when he gets this call and does a literal 180 degree turn and touches the ground because he basically did a figure skating turn, and sprints back towards the manor because what the fuck? He needs to check this out.

And then half a day later a clone of your fucking ex shows up on your doorstep demanding to see the clone of you - the boy that is, not the girl - and then immediately gets into a verbal lashing with the clone of your son. Like what a fucking DAY. Your kids are equally as baffled but also laughing their asses off -- except your bio son, who is very unhappy about this turn of events and keeps getting the stink eye from his clone.

Like??? I'd quit right then and there.

While Danny recovers he's staying in Wayne manor and Damian is very reportedly not leaving his side. Ellie has to leave to help take care of Amity Park with RH, and then Nasra is also very determinedly not leaving his side either. This is her friend dammit. The first thing she does when he becomes lucid is insult him, and he insults her back - they're bantering. It's how they flirt later on. None of the Bats know how to deal with this situation.

[nqmonarch]

hihi! I want to say that I really LOVE the way you write Blade <33 and also what do you think about Blade with a reader who was part of the hcq in the past being reincarnated and joining the stellaron hunters in the present timeline but they don't remember anything from their past such as being Yingxing's lover

Yeah! Of course :) Didn't know if you wanted Yandere Blade or normal Blade assuming the former because it's the only Blade, it's not anything hardcore tho, I've written so far but let me know if this doesn't suit you, and I'll try again :)

Warning: High Cloud Quintet Spoilers,

TW: Kidnapping, Yandere

Note: Reader is a vidyadhara (think that makes the most sense in terms of reincarnation)

You knew everyone fairly well but you knew Yingxing the best. The two of you spending evenings next to each other in the same bed and days by each other's side. You weren't much of a fighter but he made you a weapon nonetheless and you carried it everywhere.

You would laugh as you saw Jing Yuan and Yingxing train while Jingliu would make them run laps every time they messed up their stance. You would stare at the skies with Baiheng and speak about worlds you'd only heard of in stories. Dan Feng was the one you knew the least but as everyone else became rowdy the two of you would stand in silence, both of you smiling with equal understanding of each other.

Then Shuhu, an emanator of abundance, attacked and those happy moments drifted off as dandelion seeds in the wind. You focused on evacuating citizens, fighting off mara struck with the knowledge you'd gained from watching Yingxing train. Your eyes were always on his body. Jing Yuan had been with you initially, the two of you had been talking about what to do for Yingxing's birthday. Beneath Jing Yuan's aloof exterior there was still a child, he was young after all.

You weren't sure where everyone else was but you only hoped they'd be okay.

Baiheng died. Dan Feng and Yingxing committed a sin, which would lead to both of them being banished. Jingliu returned but was struggling with mara. Jing Yuan was left to deal with the consequences as you left. You couldn't leave your lover on your own could you?

So you followed the mess that Yingxing was, making sure he never got hurt too much, trying to keep him safe. He didn't look the same, white hair turned to a blueish black and cool gray eyes turned a burning hot red. You still loved him, he didn't remember you, and whenever he did it was followed by a bout of pain. Part of you didn't want him to remember, if it was that terrible.

For the majority of the time you stayed by his side he was in and out of it, struggling to even move at points. You weren't around to see when he was able to fight time and again, when he went and hunted after Dan Heng, and how every time he was slain he came back stronger anew.

You had to leave, otherwise you likely would've died. You did it while he slept, otherwise he would've realized and maybe you would've felt too guilty to leave. But you had to go through the rebirth process. You left behind a journal for yourself to read and so you would go back to Yingxing but you never got the chance. After all if anyone else read it, why would they want a Vidyadhara leaving and risking their life, when population numbers already dwindled? Especially if they were risking their life for someone who almost ruined everything.

You were told you took a hundred extra years to hatch. You learned everything anew, deciding to pick up a weapon, it felt comfortable in your hands. Sometimes you'd dream of fighting mara struck off with it, sometimes the weapon was idly by your side as you felt joy course through dream you's body as you spoke to a friendly white haired male.

The thing was throughout a hundred years of living you'd never found a reason to live. The only thing you longed for were your dreams. You'd heard of a land called Penacony, where you could live in your dreams, and you'd smuggled your way in but it wasn't what you thought. You wanted to live in your memories, not some idealistic world. So you wandered planet from planet in search of something, anything. Your only purpose became finding a reason to live.

Everything changed when a woman called Kafka recruited you, she was all smiles and charm, and promised you the thing you were looking for. You'd been skeptical and challenged her but when she elaborated that you'd be able to live within your memories, you decided to join her. Whether Elio's plan worked out or not mattered naught to you, so long as you were able to live in your memories again.

Your dreams got fuzzier harder to reach with time, as if your past life was slipping away from you. This wasn't supposed to happen. But things improved slightly when a man with long navy blue hair eagerly joined the Stellaron Hunters. He looked at you with a strange longing gaze, it was honestly rather pathetic. Pathetic looked good on him though, well he looked good in general.

"Blade," Your voice held no extra emotion to it as he walked over to you, he felt strangely familiar, as if existing by his side wouldn't be that bad.

So you hung around him often, you weren't sure why he hung around you but he didn't speak much to you. It wasn't that there was nothing to say but too much to say, to the point he couldn't say anything. Instead he often clung onto you like you were his lifeline, in bouts of mara, his grip hurt but it wasn't the worst pain you'd experienced. Being a Stellaron Hunter meant you'd faced your fair share of fights. Now that Blade was here, you got hurt less and less, he'd tank blows for you and annihilate whoever you were against. There were always large stains of blood left in the place of your battles but you never got dirty.

You wondered what he would do if you died, go insane? From the little sanity he had left, "What would you do if I died?" You asked a slight smile on your face before returning to your usual silence.

You didn't have a moment to speak before you felt your back crash against the cold, hard floor knocking the air out of you. Normally you'd be able to keep up with Blade while sparring, although you doubted he had the heart to go all out against you. Now he gripped your biceps with no regard for your feelings, yet, it only lasted a few seconds as he loosened his hold to remove the pain yet keep you still. His knees rested next to your hips, and you could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes.

"...You don't like that question?" You spoke with a grin on your face, was he really so attached to you?

Hot red eyes glared at you, as if you'd just committed a sin, "No. You... don't understand anything now. You... you've done far more than you should've." He forced himself to let go of your arms, standing up and walking away as stiff as a board. It was as if the very process was agonizing.

You stared at his back in puzzlement, "...Blade did you know me?"

He didn't answer.

Which led to your turn to chase Blade, always a step behind. When you weren't following him, you knew he was nearby, somewhere you couldn't see him. You could feel his gaze rest on your head, it felt very unique. You'd beg Blade for any clue about your past but he would remain quiet, as if ignoring you. He'd still step into all of your fights, blade itching to be used.

You only made progress on the mission where you'd been ordered to go to the Xianzhou Luofu, as someone who'd been raised there you happily snuck along even if it wasn't your mission. You were sure Elio knew anyway. Blade was on his own mission and for once you were alone. On the Luofu you met a man that gave you the same familiar feeling as Blade, a young fellow by the name of Dan Heng. He didn't recognize you at all though, so you assumed you didn't know him. He was the only one to catch a glimpse of your face without your cloak.

You traveled with him, Luocha, and Sushang for fun before dashing off to the streets, cloak covering any distinguishable part of your body, to buy some snacks. You ran into a short dragon girl, who felt somewhat familiar, but you doubted you knew her too. But then there was the general of the Luofu, a well spoken man, who put on the appearance of a slacker.

Did he sleep because he could no longer stand life? He felt familiar as well but you also empathized with him and that was why you went up to talk him. Putting on the act of a fortune teller, you saw a hint of recognition when he heard your voice. He agreed to let his fortune be read, and you did so staring at him for any other hint of your past. He looked at you very sorrowfully.

You weren't sure what compelled you to say it but you shared some thoughts with him, "I sleep a lot too," you suddenly remarked, uncaring that it gave away you having watched over him for a while, "Less now. But in the past the only place I could live was my dreams, memories of my past life. I yearn for them, dearly."

The general looked at you his smile waning, "Then perhaps one day we can discuss them." So he did know you. Who... exactly were you in the past? How did you find so much happiness, in the simplest things? How could you do that now?

But the two of you were never able to discuss that as the final act of Blade and Kafka's plan came into fruition you found yourself between a mournful Jing Yuan and Blade, who'd reappeared. You didn't mind Blade's company, he just got in the way sometimes.

Especially when he was holding the blade of his sword to the only person who'd been willing to help you recover your past. Jing Yuan didn't put up a fight, it was rather strange, instead he spoke in a wistful tone, "The two of you found each other again." Perhaps you'd been closer to Blade in your past life than you thought.

You'd unceremoniously been brought back to the ship the Stellaron Hunters were currently using. It was not by choice. Blade held you in his arms as you kicked and bit and scratched. He didn't mind in the slightest. He may have even liked it which dissuaded you a bit from continuing. You didn't scream, he'd probably kill any bystanders who cared anyway.

It was annoying. Even once you were back on the ship he was always by your side, literally. One part of his body had to be touching yours at all times, otherwise he'd begin to panic.

"...Tell me about my past." You demanded, glaring at him, concerningly more upset over this matter than him kidnapping you and his constant clinginess.

"Of six people, three must pay the price... why did you waste your time caring for someone like me? You love me..." then in a pitiful voice, seeking for confirmation he asked, "right?"

You looked at the mess of the man before you, had you loved him in your previous life? If so, then wasn't he part of your happiness... So you'd have to learn to love him again, "Right," You lied with a smile, resting a hand on his back as he embraced you burying his face in your neck.

The moment Blade couldn't see your face the smile dropped from it.

Imo Blade would hide his own sinful past and actions from the reader and not want them to have to embark down the road of pain, since he knows how terrible it is.

Reader is also lowkey a two faced person, don't know how much you guys noticed, but they put on one of those facades but inside they're like i'm dying inside yay... ._. i like two faced characters :) they're so fun to read in stories, haven't really written one before though

I honestly think reader is more unhealthy than Blade like yeah he's kind of obsessed with you but at the same time reader just concerning like highly fucking concerning. Did not mean for reader to be so concerning just happened.

Anyway as much as I love like that I waited 800 years for you troupe! I'm not a big fan of it, personally, with Blade's character just because he's a very big red flag for a relationship even as a non yandere. Being in love with someone from the past can turn out good but I feel like with Blade it would turn out so horribly and he would just see a memory as opposed to the past, present, and future of the reader.

I like the idea of him falling in love with someone while he's Blade because Blade feels like a very different person from Yingxing.

That being said the idea of reincarnated lovers always has its own kind of charm :)

[captain039]

PART 5 WASTELAND HEAT (REDONE)

Cooper Howard(The Ghoul) x reader 

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, AOB dynamics, heat, oral F receiving, smut, swearing, fallout stuff, implied cousin incest, virgin reader, drug usage, needles, plus size reader, sexual assault

Previous part <-

The next time you wake up is worse. Whatever week long pre-heat your teacher was on about was wrong, it’s been a day max. You tremble every five seconds, the mess between your thighs makes you grimace, the pulsing need makes you whine. You’re not sure where the alpha went, not even sure if he stayed to be honest. You were struggling with this sad excuse of a nest, you’ve thrown a few purified water cans in anger by accident by how pitiful your sleeping station was. You cried a few times over it, moved to the other corner and stared at it in anger hoping it’d go up in flames.

A knock comes and you jump from your spot at the other corner away from your nest.

“Omega?” The alpha calls and you glare at the door.

“I have a damn name!” You snap before realising you yelled at an alpha. He laughs though, lets out a small chuckle and you feel yourself relax a bit.

“You best stop throwing them cans” he says voice a little annoyed and your glare returns.

“You try being in here!” You snarl at him kicking the cupboard for emphasis only to wince at the pain flaring through your toes.

“You try not having enough things to make a good nest with!” The words sound silly as soon as they leave your mouth and you feel like crying again. No where in this room was there any repellents.

“Go away!” You end up saying in your over emotional state, wishing you could either bash your head against a wall or magically teleport home. The other option going through your mind is to let the alpha in and have his way, it’s been a constant thought in your brain, it makes your thighs clench together in need. You hear shuffling outside, things being placed before a note is slipped under and footsteps leave. You frown grabbing the note seeing the word supplies on there. You wait a few minutes hoping he’s truely gone from the doorway and slowly move the gurney away from the door. You open it slowly catching his scent but he’s not nearby. You see more food and water, what you don’t expect though is blankets, foam coverings, couch padding too. Your lower lip trembles and you grab the items he’s supplied and go back to your nest. You forget the door, forget the food and water you make a semi appropriate looking nest and sag in relief when you’re finished. You forget to close the door but it allows you to hear the voices outside, ones that aren’t your alpha. You tense as they speak something about it being illegal to kill a business. What sort of business was this? Organ harvester? Surely that wasn’t legal. Too caught up in your mind you don’t hear the approaching steps before it’s too late. Someone whistles and makes you jolt, you hear grunting and snarling outside as the man in a sheriffs outfit stared at you with a wide grin smirk.

“Boss’ll be happy bout this” he says as two more men join him. Despite jolting up and going for the gurney to ram into them it does very little, one wraps his arms around your arms and middle, caging you against him and it sets your body on high alert. He feels wrong, feels gross against your skin as you thrash and struggle.

“Keeping this for later ghoul?” The man in the sheriffs outfit asks. They’ve got him tied up a piece of cloth tied around his jaw and mouth hands tied behind his back. He’s got a crazy look in his eyes as he sees you before he’s death glaring the man in the sheriffs suit. You’re dragged along by the sheriff, exposed in a white singlet and black tight shorts, no shoes or boots. Your feet are killing you, you think there’s cuts and bruises now on them. You struggle to walk, struggle to do anything with your heat hitting you fully now. You walk for hours before you finally see a building a head and hope that’s where you’re going. You always try to glance back at the tied up alpha, but you get pushed over if you do.

You finally arrive at the place, being forced on your knees between two men while the alpha is forced to sit down in front of the stranger.

“Two gifts” the man laughs as the man in the sheriffs outfit takes off the alphas bindings. He sits perfectly still and calmly making you more nervous.

“Never seen one so fresh and untainted” the stranger eyes you, licking his lips like you were jello cake.

“Now ghoul, says here you’re wanted” he laughs and slides across a piece of paper. Ghoul, you didn’t know what it was, was it his name? What he was? It didn’t sound very pleasing.

“For?” Alpha asks leaning back in the chair.

“For the helping of getting the bounty to where it needed to go and not eliminating it” the man shrugs following with a causal lean back.

“Hm” is all he replies.

“See now, I was tryna get the head” you see him shift ever so slightly, hand on his gun subtly and you suck in a breath.

“But thou shall get side tracked by bullshit every time” he mutters before shots ring off. It’s like a slo-mo the man behind the desk is dead, head blown off and then the sheriff behind him, before the two standing by you go to rush him full force only to end with holes on there chests. You don’t move afraid to move, afraid to open your eyes till a hand smooths your hair and your alpha cuts your ropes. You rub your hands together and sigh a bit finding your legs numb and not moving. You see him kneel by you, glove hand brushing your cheek, making you look at him. You blink too slowly, you are achey and needy at once.

“Legs not working?” He cocks his head to the side and you look away cheeks a flame. You try not to breathe while he’s this close. You’re surprised by how much restraint he has too, from what your teacher said natural born alphas turn into mindless, rut mind filled, beasts according to her.

“I’m fine” you mumble having to take a small breath and regretting it. You bite your tongue so you don’t make a sound and force your legs to move. You don’t get far, the cuts and burns on your feet making you stumble back to the ground and you lean your head against the wall.

“Just leave me here” you mumble glancing at the dead bodies before closing your eyes. Damn it you wished he’d get out of your breathing space.

“Fraid I won’t do that” he says and you look to him.

“You wanted the head sure you can chase after my sister” why were you being so annoyed and pushy? You glance to your pip boy seeing the flashing image of vault tech bobble head moving slowly. You feel a gloved hand on your face again and you’re forced to look at him, face inches from yours. His pupils are blown, his mouth slightly open eyebrows narrowed down. He growls letting your chin go and lifting you up with surprising ease. You cling to him not wanting to fall arms around his neck as he carry’s you up the stairs.

“Put me down- what-“ you stutter out words as he kicks open a few doors, grunting annoyed before kicking the last one open. He smirks in victory and you see the double bed there. You almost sigh in relief at the look of a real bed, he lays you down on it and you sigh instantly turning to your side and curling in on yourself, head on the comforting pillow. It smells like the beta downstairs though and you huff slightly. You think he’s gonna leave, but he kicks the door shut and locks it before pushing the dresser in front of it. He opens one of the other door and you see a bathroom in there which he hums too. You watch him like hawk would, unsure of what he’s doing locking himself in a room with an omega in full blown heat. He checks the windows, closes the curtains before he’s kicking off his shoes, tugging off his gun belt and bandolier and chucking them on a near by chair.

“I don’t-“ you don’t understand what he’s doing. Before he’s crawling on the bed and over you staring down at you intently after he slips his hat off.

“You’re mine” his voice is low and breathy making you tense and gulp. You nod without thought unsure of what it means. He coaxes you with a hand to lie on your back and you do avoiding your legs touching his. He’s on his hands and knees above you, duster coat drooping off his sides. He watches you and you watch him intently breathing a little heavily through your nose. He leans down carefully slowly, before his lips ghost over your neck. The fan of breath makes you shudder and open your mouth to breathe properly you hear him inhale deeply before sighing out loudly. You tilt your head to the side hands gripping the sheets under you. He hums approvingly and it makes your stomach clench before lips are pressed against your pulse point.

“200 goddamn years” he mutters sucking harshly on the spot he just kissed and you frown a little at his words.

It’s sickly sweet her scent, like apple pie and ice cream on a Saturday night mixed with whiskey. Her skins smooth all over from what he can see, exposed legs and arms, neck and collar bone. It’s been dizzying the past goddamn days as soon as she charged at him and struggled on top he knew what was happening. Could smell the change in her scent, feel her body heat way more. You’ve never been in heat, he can tell, with Barb she’d always been prepared and less chaotic than this. You’ve probably been forced not to have one, forced into their little fucked up experiments, it makes him growl at the thought and makes you whimper in response. He’s quick to hush you, enjoying the way he can feel your pulse hammering against his tongue, the way your sweat tastes better than any liquor or meds he’s ever had. He wants to bite, wants to sink his teeth in as you cum around his knot like a good little omega. The thought makes him hard as a rock but he can’t yet. You’ve never been touched and he doesn’t want to hurt you, he never meant to hurt you. He hates himself every hour for how he hit you with his gun and lassoed you. Hates that as soon as he smelt you in Filly he’d been set a stray from the bounty, now on his own personal bounty to have you. Course you didn’t even know what or who he was, he never spilled his name or nature till the bastards down stairs did. He saw red the whole time they were walking, your scent hitting him harder when you were being dragged out front then forced on your knees. He would’ve killed them sooner if he didn’t keep his wits, would’ve probably used tooth and nail to tear them apart. His gloved hand eases to caress your side while the other holds him up, he can feel you radiating with warmth from here. He forces your legs open as he shuffled and moves knees between your legs before kissing up your neck and jaw. You’ve got a lust filled glaze in your eyes and he smirks at the red flush of your cheeks, the way your mouth is slightly parted from a little foreplay. It’s been 200 years since he’s felt like this, he misses it. With barb it was sickly sweet but not the nice sickly sweet, the kind that keeps you up at night. Barb wasn’t his, despite having Janey he never claimed her, they’d argue over it every night before he’d end it with mindless sex and hope it’d be ok.

He presses his lips to yours a little harshly, he doesn’t know any better and you moan into him. It’s teeth and lips with him, but you take it he knows you can. Your hands finally leave the bed and grip him, you don’t know where to hold so you just hold his shirt tightly. He feels bad and wrong about doing this but he needs it, he needs it more than anything.

“Alpha” it slips from your lips to his and his whole body alights. He stalls for a little bit before crashing his lips back to yours, he lays his lower half down, pressing himself into you and you whine. He needs you to know his name, you need to know but it doesn’t come no matter how hard he kisses you. Your hands move from his shirt to his face stopping the kiss, your panting lips red and swollen, face beautiful flushed. He falters feeling your warm hands against his leather scarred face, he won’t ever admit it but he’s scared to look in a mirror, afraid to see what he’s truely become. Sometimes he swore your not blood sister figured him out, her intense stare offs with him. He doesn’t understand gently as he goes to kiss you again but you move your head back. He frowns at you watching your eyes dance over his face, feels your fingers go over every grove and dip of his face, you trace his cheeks, around his eyes, his forehead, jaw, over his lips too. He finds that his eyes close mind slipping to a past life of when Barb used to run her hands over his face, usually fussing about makeup or hair. Never this gently though, it’d never be this gentle.

“Cooper” he mutters waiting a moment before opening your eyes, you’re frowning slightly before muttering his name with a small smile and he forces his lips back to yours.

Next part ->

[steviestits]

In The Family Way - Part 2.1

Written for an anon prompt, which can be read in its entirety on this fic's masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Background Argyle/Jonathan Rating: T (E in later chapters, the part after this one to be precise) Summary: The Munson family has never had the typical values that most modern Americans have as they find thrill in all that's mysterious and spooky. Steve Harrington, a black widow omega, hadn't known this when he mated with the family's eldest alpha, Eddie, and thought that he'd be another easy mark that he could kill to inherit the millions that Eddie owned. However, not only do all his murder attempts fail, but Eddie actually enjoys them! And to make matters worse, the alpha wants to try for a pup! Steve has to find a way to off Eddie for good, before he gets pregnant and maybe actually falls for the death-crazed alpha. (Addams Family Values au set in the Omegaverse after the events of the movie with Steve as Debbie and Eddie as Fester) Trigger Warning: Attempted Murder as a love language, Mpreg

(Link to previous part)

The first time Steve saw Eddie Munson was on the cover of Forbes magazine, covering the bout of amnesia he had before he regained his memories and his wealth returned. It was a dry article about a riches to rags back to riches again, but Steve did gleam two important pieces of information after reading the piece. The first was that Eddie Munson was as rich as an alpha could get, even richer than Steve’s two previous inconsiderate (and very dead) mates. Then the second was that Eddie was a complete idiot who answered every question in a strange, off-putting manner that made Steve certain that he’d never been with an omega, as one would run in the other direction the moment he opened his mouth. In other words, Eddie was desperate for a gentle touch, making him an easy mark.

Steve decided to play the role of affectionate caregiver after a few weeks of doing research and learning that the Munsons were having trouble keeping a nanny. From the moment he showed up on their doorstep, the obviously virgin alpha was putty in Steve’s hand. All Steve had to do was bat his eyes in the right way to have Eddie falling all over himself with an eagerness to please that Steve would’ve found cute if he actually cared about that sort of thing.

Everything had been going to plan. Sure, the children had caught onto his fake interest in the eldest alpha of their pack, but his position as nanny gave him an extra amount of leverage, allowing him to convince Argyle and Jonathan that the two wanted to go to summer camp. It had worked perfectly, and the kids were whisked away almost the next day, but even without them, Steve hadn’t foreseen what would happen on their honeymoon.

Eddie was apparently in destructible! Steve had planned to electrocute him in the tub of their suite to make it seem like an accident, only the bastard survived. No, not just survived, the fucker enjoyed it! He even thanked Steve for trying to make the vacation more fun for him, as if Steve hadn’t obviously tried to murder him by dropping a whole stereo into the water with him!

It only got worse from there. Every murder attempt failed and was met with enthusiastic praise from the alpha, who thought Steve was spoiling him. The more Steve tried, the more it became clear that he’d clearly made a mistake in thinking that he could simply do away with his mate like he did with his two previous ones. He thought to try to do away with the whole family. Surely, he’d be able to kill one of them if he tried to get them all at once, but they only welcomed Steve as a fellow Munson when his attempt ultimately failed, as well.

That didn’t mean Steve was going to give up, though. He wasn’t a quitter. Every day, he went up to the attic to try to think of new and inventive ways to murder the alpha and claim the Munson fortune for his own. He tried every combination of poisons he could find and caused accident after accident, even going so far as to try to stab Eddie in order to pass it off as a mugging gone wrong, only he still survived!

Even now, Steve had cut Eddie’s breaks before the alpha had gone out to visit his brother, but he returned in one piece, despite running into a lamppost on the way back. It was getting to the point where Steve thought that maybe he shouldn’t make it look like an accident. Maybe he’d just chop the bastard into tiny pieces then bury him under concrete after constructing a new swimming pool and guest house in the backyard.

Though, that would have to wait, as Steve was currently relaxing in bed, winding down for the day after another string of failures. He was reading his favorite fashion magazine and had just turned the page to check up on the latest fashion trends when a squeaking caught his attention. Steve glanced up to see that Eddie had opened the door to the bedroom and was nervously making his way inside, wringing his hands.

Whatever the alpha had to say, Steve didn’t care. He returned his attention to his magazine, which usually signaled to the other that he wasn’t in the mood to talk. Eddie didn’t leave, however, he continued to stand in the doorway of the omega’s private bedroom, so Steve decided to ignore him, hoping that Eddie would get the message to go away on his own.

“My love,” Eddie called. “My beloved mate. I don’t mean to bother you, my sweet pet, but I was hoping that I could ask you something.”

“I’m a little busy,” Steve replied with a scowl.

Steve continued to read the article that declared that pastels were last season. Obviously, the writer didn’t know what they were talking about, and Steve didn’t know how the editor could allow such blatant lies to be published. It was clear that neither were qualified to be employed at such a prestigious fashion magazine. He doubted the two would be fired if he called, but he figured he could do the firing himself with a well-placed car bomb.

“I know, sweetheart. That’s why it won’t take a moment of your time.”

Steve glanced up reluctantly from his magazine. “Spit it out then.”

“I was wondering if I could pleasure you this evening. I’ve been practicing. I swear I’ve gotten better. It won’t be a repeat of our honeymoon, I promise.”

Raising an eyebrow, Steve stared at his mate curiously before he said, “Fine, knock yourself out.” Then he went back to reading his magazine. He remembered their honeymoon very clearly as the virgin alpha had no idea what to do with a young omega like himself, so Steve ended up doing most of the work that night. Steve honestly didn’t believe that Eddie had improved, but he figured that he’d fulfill his marital duties if it allowed him to finally finish reading.

Part 1.2 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 2.2

[badbitchandrea]

Fuck Enemies

— pairing : HOOD!MidProtective!bitchy!Stud!Riri Williams x cocky!black!fem!reader

— word count : 2.4k !!

— synopsis : y/n and riri grew up in Chicago together at the ages 8-9 but always stayed as enemies and riri never looked at her the same ever since. til one day riri texted you out of the blue trying to take you to the house party that you and her BOTH were invited to, in the pool..plus the backseat of her truck and found you cute for that one night and fucked you while drunk, but while she’s drunk she remembers more than you think. both of your minds were hazy. The next day you acted like nothing happened and acted like enemies again when actually y’all was fucking on the low and never told nobody. might as well take it to the grave, yeah? .

— warnings : Public sex, fingering ( reader receiving ) , humiliation, thigh riding, car sex , dramatic reader , blunt blowing, reader is being called out for something that’s stupid, reader has her n*pples pierced but it’s not mentioned. and I believe dats it, etc.

— taglist : @oceean @all4lovemami @pantherheart @f4t3lunts @jordisblogg @shahanaazsoumah ( I’m open to add more people! )

— authors note — just wanted to say, I stayed up until 12-1 to finish this . 🤷🏽‍♀️

• Riri

• y/n or bold white

• Lo - riri friend also

• Riri’s Boy Bestfriends

• y/n friend - vickey - bold white also ?

you were getting dressed for your friend’s house party shes throwing, it was starting a couple of minutes and you weren’t that far away. a message popped up on your phone “riri😹” you looked confused cause she never texted you. Well, not in years but how she did she text you when you blocked her?

“I’m picking you up to go to the party, be ready in 10.” was she being serious, she texted you randomly now she picking you up? Something fishy and suspicious was going on. you really thought this was a set up or riri was just being nice all out of the blue. but you went with it cause free ride, Hell yeah? so you got ready quick and fast but not that fast to the point where you felt like you rushed for no reason .

••• actually 10 minutes later

she was already outside blasting hardcore rap music, she does that on purpose because when you and her used to talk she knew that used to get on your nerves. And it still does, you got in the front seat and adjusted your sparkly dress, stuffing your bathing suit into it. “what’s in that purse.” She pulled off from Infront of your house .

“none of your business.” You gave her a rictus smile holding your purse on your lap. “I know you, no need to hide things from me.” She chuckled . “now if I had a weapon In here then I’ll be wrong right? Oh aight then.” You snapped back at her . “I got one to, I’m not worried bout that.” Riri tapped on her secret department . “you look- nice today if no one told you that” she smirked, looking down at your shoes . “Today?” You gave her a look. ”you must think you look good every day then, you better be lucky I even complimented you.” She rolled her eyes . “yeah mhm.” you said in guilt .

you and her talked the whole ride their and actually had some good conversations, but that didn’t change anything. but she did open the door for you like she WAS your girlfriend . you and her walked in together and your friend spotted you and her thinking you and riri squashed everything that has been going on for 10 years but eventually you and her went yall seperate ways going to hang out with other people. some people were there before it even started but you were only 2 minutes late because of riri ! “Soo what’s going on with you and ri..” she grinned sipping on her straw .

“Don’t play wit me vickey” you nudged vickey’s shoulder . “I’m just playing im just playing, but forreal are you and her you know…” she whispered the last parts. “nah, she just randomly texted me she was gon ride me here out of the blue.” “hmm, seem like some freaky shit going on.”

She shrugged and walked off to get more of her drink. after she walked off you turned your head to see where riri went, she went to go sit with her home boys and a one girl was sitting right next to her but she was already eyeing you when you turned that way with the joint in her mouth .

she looked away smiling putting down the blunt and laid back on the couch . you didn’t mind her hanging out with other people y’all don’t even talk anyway, right? . “Hey y/n , come here!” One of riri’s friends called out for you . You rolled your eyes walking over there, riri did the same . but you can tell in her face she slowly is starting to enjoy you being around . “wassup.” You tapped on his shoulder. “come have a sit.” He grinned looking up at riri, he knew riri and you were beefing at the time but obviously he didn’t care. “so what’s going on with you and riri.”

He puts down the blunt smacking the ashes off of his hands onto his pants . “no comment.” You pursed your lips nodding slowly. everyone’s eyes were on you making you feel uncomfortable and uneasy. “what? I only said no comment, it ain’t shit to talk about.” the girl that was next to riri had her hand right on her spot, side eyeing you. “you scared to tell us what happened, like?” you could tell she was getting smart because some of the boys were trying to hold in their laugh including her .

but the only two people that weren’t laughing were you and riri. Because nothing is funny when you disrespect somebody you haven’t even got to know yet . “bitch what?” the look on your face was so serious and she wouldn’t take it serious . “Oh I’m sorry I didn’t know that would’ve offended you.”

She said trying to be sarcastic. you expected riri to say something but y’all were ‘beefing’ at the time, and the look on her face you could tell she was high or drunk. but she just sat there letting her talk and talk. You were just about to get up to leave until your heard riri’s voice speak up. “Lo shut up talking to her like that, come on now.” She nudged her shoulder with her hand . “thank you ri, get these bitches in line.” You got up and walked towards the back of the house where you friends were.

— riris pov

“Lo! whyyy? You talk to fucking much you made the girl and everything.” she gave her a stank face . then looked up waiting for her boy best friends to response also. “Forreal-” riri cut off her friend by her getting up and eyeing Lo and her boy best friends, she was getting up to see where you were to make sure you were okay. “Have you seen y/n.” Riri was asking your close friends where you were until she saw you talking to your bestfriend and her brothers . you was just watching you have a good time talking to new people and not starting no drama . She was just about to walk up to you til your other friend got in the way right In front of you, Riri knew you sensed someone presence behind you, which it was her .

•••

“Hol on vickey, I’ll be right back.” You followed Riri with her holding your hand leading you to a more private spot “did you bring any swim clothes?” that was a random question but yes you did bring one because you knew it was a pool in the backyard . “Uhm yes I did..” “okay good, change and I’ll meet you in the pool.”

5 minutes later both of you were dressed in y’all’s bathing suits but she had on trunks and a white plain sleeve-less shirt and tied her braids in a buns in the back of her head . you had a 3 piece on showing your belly button with a sparkly skirt piece hanging on the side you put your braids up in a bun just like riri did . you were moving your arms in the water while waiting for riri, she walked into the pool from the steps to you .

“I’m sorry for what happened.” Riri apologized . “It’s okay just tell that bitch to not talk to me.” You smiled “I gotchu” she laughed and you laughed along with her . Riri looked away smiling before she said something else, she used to always do this when she was up to something .

You were quite scared of what she was finna say because she always up to some bullshit especially when she’s high or drunk. She swayed towards you causing you to back up against the pool’s wall, making you grunt. you were so lucky nobody was in that pool or outside in the back yard no where, but you two and the speakers playing music .”you’ve ever been fucked in a pool before..”

she tilted her head slowly waiting for your response, blinking slowly. making you gulp deeply and loudly eyes getting wider knowing what she’s about to do next . “riri? I don’t- think we should be doing this..uhm” you questioned her, smiling awkwardly then pursing your lips. feeling her hands rub against you so softly and lovely just felt like you were on cloud 9 but without being high at all. “you like that, don’t chu?.”

she whispered in your right ear having a good grip around your waist making you arch your back like a cat . she came up by your mouth kissing you cupping your cheekbones with one hand and the other in your bottoms . the tingles were shooting straight through you, your emotions were everywhere you wanted to touch her so bad.

but riri was in control now. you felt 2 fingers glide into you making you gasp and pull away from the strong sloppy kiss “fuck!” a finger came to your mouth, riri’s finger telling you to shush. But you couldn’t handle it.

you were being fucked like this in a silent and huge pool by your enemie riri williams, who could’ve thought. she was very good with her hands she was curving into your inner walls she kept pushing against the sponge texture inside of you making you shake and bite your finger to keep quiet . “p-please.” you whimpered throwing your heard almost giving yourself whiplash . “please what y/n.”

She said staring into your eyes with her blood shot ones . “more.” You couldn’t even get a proper sentence out by all of the pleasure then she hit your g-spot making you jerk “mhmm, oh fuck I’m-” your facial expressions said it all, you were coming but it washed away on riris wet and wrinkled fingers .

“that’s my girl, you were so good mami.” She smiled kissing your forehead . “let’s take this to my car, yeah?” She got out of the pool helping you get to the stairs holding your hand grabbing your purse so she doesn’t forget it, and brung it to the car .

you and her ran across the street hurrying to open up the back door . She fixed her car so she only has to say car tint but she was so high on sex she didn’t even say car tint so you weren’t surprised if someone walked pasted and saw you getting fucked in the backseat of a truck . “take this off.” She tugged at your bottoms, she didn’t care for the top but the bottoms so she can have more access and view .

“she’s so pretty and wet isn’t sheee..?” Riri complimented your slickness and view . She stared at your pussy admiring her beauty she played with your clit also playing with the slickness from it stretching it across her fingers then sucking her fingers. Just by the taste and sight it made both of you moan.

Your legs were stretched across this seat waiting for riris next move . she lowered her head to yours kissing you once again rubbing your swollen and puffy clit pushing her knee at your wet and throbbing hole putting pressure in that certain spot making you move backwards trying to escape, just by her rapidly rubbing your clit at a dangerous speed . “shitt—” you closed your eyes tears staining your face from all of this over whelming pleasure she was giving you “don’t run now precious .”

then she stopped making you confused but you were to weak to move your head to see what she was doing. she was lowering her head and moving you upward some more so she has space . She licked your clit and cunt clean making you hiss by her stinging touch “mhm.” You gripped at her braids making her grunt follow along with your whined out moans . “oh my- riri!” She slipped some of the tip of her tongue inside of you making you moan more louder than the first time . “you taste so sweet mi amor” the name mi Amor from riris mouth would do it to you all the time .

“you close?.” She asked you, rubbing on your inner thigh Kind of muffled . you heard her but stuttered in your answered and Riri expects fast responses “I asked you a question y/n.” She sent a harsh smack to your ass making you answer with quickness “y-yes.” You nodded fast. the last tongue fuck and finger fuck she did to you caused you to explode onto her backseat she licked you clean once again, giving you kisses all down your stomach. to your lips to your waist line . Soft satisfied moans leaving your lips from her soft and sweet touch.

••• next day ..!

you woke up in the bed hair looking crazy and makeup all over your pillow case. “oh my fucking god bro.” You groaned because you literally just washed your sheets and pillow case the day before last night You checked your phone to see what time it was, instead of you looking straight at the time you saw a “The Shade Room.” Post with you @ed in it curiousity got to you and you put in your password and went to Instagram and you clicked on the notification in your inbox and you were spotted in the pool and car with riri together, who the fuck took those pictures? .

Instagram - TheShadeRoom

caption - they got down and dirty, no tints!! #woah #wow #thisissomerealshit!

“oh you gotta be fucking kidding me.” you were groaning in annoyance. Thinking about who to call. Riri? but you forgot her phone number was blocked. So you unblocked her of course to get to the bottom of this but she didn’t answer until your friend, Vickey called you. “girl..you and Riri are on the shade room! That’s why you and her were outside I was looking all over for you.” “please, I don’t wanna talk anymore or at all I’m pissed and tired. I haven’t even got a good morning start plus look-“ you pointed at your messy ass puff ball on your head it was fuzzy and frizzy all over the place makeup smeared on the case and on the side of your face. “well, okay I hope you’re okay! Call me back when you get yourself together okay? love you boo.” you said love you back and hung up the phone. This was the most shittest morning ever . You haven’t even got up to take a shower yet or brushed your teeth you woke up to be on the shade room with your WORST enemie. Legs we’re shore and you were weak so you fell back asleep thinking everything would go away, when everything got worse. you woke up to a loud call by riri, what does she want now..?

Maybe not doing no Part 2

[hutahuta]

Desparate to get away from a creep that been harassing you, you rush to pavia despite not knowing each other yet saying he is your boyfriend what will he do? Plsss?

P.AGE OO.4 — 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐌 & NOBILITY : 交 ✦ ⏱

GN ! Reader — <3

this is probably gonna be long, who knows. i'm writing before i even started LMAO <3

edit; i dont like the way i wrote this idk,, maybe i'm getting a little self conscious of my writing and jdskkdkdkd i'm so sorry.. ;;

thank you sweetie, ilysm for requesting (๑´ ˘ `๑)

Running to safety hasn't always been your only option. Mostly because your friends encouraged you to carry weapons for your own safety, especially in these streets where you can competently get snatched, stabbed, mugged or any of the sort. In this era? Please. You think people could afford low quality security cameras, with a high price?

Weak hands trembled as you kept insisting that your time was not worth being spent on someone who was firm on the decision that you must simply travel with them to see the city's night scenery.

It's been at least 15 minutes at most with you trying to brush aside him or trying to speed walk out of the way, hoping he wouldn't go bother someone else but at least spare you the chance to get away.

Infuriating.

Fortunately, you were not the gullible sort. Whether you've encountered this for the first time, or you've experienced such shuddersome and nightmarish situations for god knows how long, it doesn't matter. None of this is fucking okay.

And you knew that.

Loathsome hands traced the outer space around your bare back, and much to your disgust, it was unbearable to not break their hand as of this second. You had to wait, just so you could still walk with said person and hopefully get the chance to outrun them when you see a nearby crowd flocking up to the nearest street.

' Come, I insist. '

' You've ain't got nothin' to worry 'bout. '

' Aren't you being stubborn? This is what I get for being a nice guy.. What's so bad 'bout someone tryna' treat you out? '

The same shit you'd hear time n' time again. It isn't always the easiest, especially when you'd think he'd carry a weapon on him just in case.

Think, be smart.

Ah, up just ahead, a crossroad catered towards the corner of your eye. Your head didn't turn around too quick, but you'd have seen the elderly couple steadily cross the walk just then. Following suit, a flock of crowds parked themselves up just ahead to watch the physical activities boarded up for their enjoyment.

Fuck.. Okay. Pace yourself.. Three, two, -

Before you knew it, you dashed immediately.

Wind blew and slashed against your face as you carried your burning legs as fast as you could. You didn't know what the hell this freak carried on him and you weren't planning on finding out either.

The crowd proved no use, as he could manoeuvre his way around, shouldering past people aggressively with the occasional loud grunt you can surely figure out that it etched from him.

Dammit, alright. It's fine. It's totally fucking fine, right? You couldn't tell where you were going. You crossed and turned at every corner, and just beyond your reach —..

Stood a man near the corner shop that sold the usual cigarettes and loaded beverages. Stuff that you'd only resort to having when your shift at work really sucked.

White to black hair, black sunglasses with a lavender shirt that had intricate patterns, but not interesting enough to pay too much attention to as of this time.

Please, for whatever God is out there. Offer you some strength. Fortunately, he was quick to stop you in your tracks by halting his hand in front of you, like how one would halt a nearby bus to indicate you're about to get on. However, he essentially demanded your entire body be impacted against his hand. Regardless, it made you panic in a hurry but your uneven breathing made it impossible to speak coherent sentences.

Pretty sure if you saw someone crying and running away like your life depended on it, wouldn't you stop by to help? Pavia was a mercenary, and a merciless one at that, but he wasn't entirely soulless.

' Now, where are you running off to in such a hurry? ' He had an accent. A lollipop stuck between his lips. What is it? Cherry? Strawberry?

Words. Just use words.

' Help, please.. Creep. Following. Behind me. ' Behind your uneven breaths, and horrid panting that caused a crack in the tone of your voice, he seemed to understand.

Or, somewhat get it. If it's anything staining this world, it's filth like this random person trying to inflict damage on innocent people like you who are just trying to get by their day. You look innocent to him. Exhausted, but innocent. Like a little lamb fleeing the slaughterhouse.

If it's one thing he hates, it's seeing the poor souls who resemble the innocence he once had. The chance that they could have to flee themselves from trauma, is the chance I believe Pavia would be willing to give. He must despise seeing the fear inside eyes that used to resemble his own when he was tucked away from the rest of society, forced to grumble under nothing but the deafening silence within the basement of his aunt's home after wailing out apologies and horrid voice cracks just to plead for his own freedom.

So. Seeing yours is no different.

Regardless, you do know the impact of you being outside.. especially during the evenings where it's dark and the sky turned into a murky ocean blue haze, gradients shifting darker by the hour and minute..

Gripping onto his shirt, your pleas to beg him to act as someone you might be familiar with, or perhaps even wear the stalker off with claiming that he is your temporary boyfriend, might strike something within Pavia..

Standing still, you rested yourself against his steady arm, holding you in place. Swiftly, he moved you against the wall, whispering a soft 'Then forgive me.' And yet, here were the thudding footsteps of your attacker. With a quiet look on your face, he stepped out of the shadow, amidst his hounds that surrounded his feet by seconds.

You couldn't believe it??

' Problem, amico? ' Resonated that voice of his, something to admire. Glistening under such beautiful moonlight, you could tell how the silver lining had outlined the steel plate of the metal cutting into the familiar shape of a pistol embedded within his pocket.. Huh- Shit— was he dangerous too? You only needed protection, not some bloodied out battle to settle for your freedom?? You're not looking to go to jail this early, anyways.

' I sincerely hope that you aren't getting aquatinted with my.. beloved? Huh? Lest I take that pretty little tie of yours to add into my collection. Divertente~ '

You didn't ask for his name, but your slender hands placed itself on his shoulder, still unable to catch your breath beneath these minutes that were unbearably silent to surpass.

Behind him, your body rested upon his, one hand eagerly coiled warmly against his waist like vines on a old pillar.

The stranger didn't wish to be aquatinted with you in any sort at first, but he was a playful hound of a man. With eyes that looked at you, then back at your stalker. Maybe talking with you a little more after this wouldn't hurt, right?

' You know, amico. ' He approached.

' There is something quite thrilling to have the echoes of thuds of dead bodies fall flat against the surface when you hear that deadly gunshot linger in the back of your head, huh.. You know, my boss tried the same thing. '

And yet, it feared him in some way. Your eyes replicated that of a lost puppy. Those puffy cheeks, reddened and exhausted from running ever so much, oh my.. Something sparked inside of him.

Compared to his gaze, that had his pupils dilated so small, it reflected insanity upon them. He whispered a quiet ; ' I suggest you surrender before it gets ugly? aha.. '

All it took—; was the slow movement of his slender, yet ringed hands to reach into his lower pocket-

And by the second.

They left. You heard grumbled apologies.. and shuffling. But that was mostly it.

The stranger dressed in purple didn't bother to turn to look back around at you to see if you're alright or not, but there was a smirk on his face. A smile on it that he could only turn his head to the side which he could witness your breathing slowly starting to become tolerable; that lollipop twirled itself around his fingers.

Maybe a factor of it played into it because he just saved you, but some part of you could tell a fraction of him enjoyed teasing you with his playful gaze. As if you knew what he were to already say.

The public here avoid trouble but when they see terrible news on the media, they flock together like birds to ready themselves into war. It's nearly impossible to fight against society's norms, but you suspect that's why nobody but him offered such help.

And you were lucky.

Seems like it won't be the only time you'd meet this stranger by the looks of it. He said nothing more than patting your shoulder softly, then moving back inside the building.

Pavia wouldn't be the best at trying to offer comfort but he knows better than anybody else on how events like these tend to fuck you over. The shit people put up with on a daily basis makes him want to spit on lowly people for even thinking they have the right to breathe the same air as you.

Pavia merely reached his hand towards your trembling figure. He seemed to contemplate whether it was a good choice to get to know you, but under these circumstances, that stalker could still be lingering about. What better to do than to have him offered to sit beside you until you feel safe to go on your own again.

After all, maybe it's the safest option..

And who knows? You'll become acquainted with this stranger soon enough with time.

[neontoad]

“One soul in two bodies”, people often say about Double Black. Chuuya calls bullshit on that. It’s ridiculous. But then why every time Chuuya comes to work after tossing and turning in bed all night unable to fall asleep, he sees that Dazai has dark circles under eyes as well? Why every time when Chuuya checks his phone at 3am, insomnia eating him alive, he sees that Dazai is online, too? Why does it feel like there is one more person wide awake in the sleeping city when Chuuya’s staring at the ceiling, as wakeful as ever?

One night, a message pops up on his phone.

🐟: You awake?

“Fuck off,” Chuuya mumbles to himself and turns the screen off. The night is quiet. The air still seems to be vibrating after the notification chime. He counts seconds.

Nothing disturbs the silence anymore.

The next day Dazai keeps yawning and stealing glances at Chuuya as they sit in another boring meeting. He ignores him, even though every time Dazai covers his mouth with his hand, Chuuya can’t help but yawn too.

He sleeps well that night. He knows Dazai does, too - he can tell by how stupidly annoying he is the next day. Chuuya knows well that only well-rested Dazai possesses such a ridiculous ability to get on Chuuya’s nerves in record time. He sleeps okay again. And again. And again. Chuuya even starts thinking that maybe he’s finally out of that cursed bout of insomnia. Seems like Dazai managed to get some sleep, too.

Until another night comes.

He’s exhausted - they have just finished a mission, the last one in a strenuous sequence, and the only thing Chuuya wants is to sleep until next week.

He can’t.

His phone chimes.

He doesn’t bother looking - he knows who’s texting him. Dazai’s insomnia is not his problem.

He lies with his eyes closed, hoping that maybe, just maybe he’ll be able to trick his brain into finally shutting down and letting him fall into Morpheus’ embrace, giving him the rest he so desperately needs. He doesn’t know how much time passes until he hears a knock.

“The fuck you want?” Chuuya grumbles, looking at Dazai miserably standing in the hallway of his apartment building.

“Just checking on my dear partner.”

“It’s 4 in the morning.”

“You make it sound like it’s a problem.”

“I was sleeping, you bastard.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Dazai yawns and Chuuya follows suit, stretching his sore muscles. Fuck this, he thinks. I’ll let him be. Without saying a word, he turns on his heel and marches to the kitchen. Dazai follows him and plops on the stool. He probably thinks he looks smug. He looks like shit.

“I’ll have a whiskey,” he croaks and smiles.

“Fuck off,” Chuuya says, pouring Dazai three fingers and sliding it across the table before stopping in front of his wine cabinet. That’ll do, he thinks and pours himself a glass of red.

“You know, chibi,” Dazai muses, watching the ice in his glass bob up and down, “I blame you.”

Chuuya takes a sip of wine. He wonders if he looks as stern as he hopes he is. Or does he, akin to Dazai, resemble a miserable stray dog? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care.

“Whenever you can’t sleep, neither can I,” he continues. “It’s like we have some kind of invisible bond.”

Despite his fatigue, Chuuya can’t help but chuckle. Invisible bond! Dazai sure loves these stupid pretentious speeches. What an emo.

He downs his wine and goes to the living room. “Take your ass with your invisible bond to the couch,” he commands. “Let’s play.”

“It’s not a laughing matter!” Dazai whines but obeys, finishing his whiskey and leaving the cup on the table like the ungrateful pig he is.

Whiskey made him feel warm and fuzzy, making the unwelcoming sleepless night feel slightly less dire. Besides, playing video games with the slug is certainly a better pastime than tossing and turning on his old mattress. They play for a few hours, sleepiness going away as they keep beating each other in a video game, pushing each other with their shoulders and yelling at the top of their lungs.

Chuuya doesn’t care about his neighbours complaining - there’s no one living above him anymore, anyway.

The dark night gives way to the pale morning, timid rays of sun sneaking through the closed blinds. A ray falls on the empty whiskey cup, the last drops of the amber liquid shining like gold under the light. Another one shines on the shattered controller lying in the corner. Another ray of sun caresses the leaves of a half-dead plant on the bookshelf. Another - the picture on the wall, the five people on it forgotten by all but one. Another - the cobweb on the ceiling. Another - the brass door handle. As more time passes, the sun gets more comfortable dancing in the small apartment, its rays travelling across the walls, trinkets and furniture until they reach the boys sprawled on the couch.

Their breath is even, chests rising and falling in unison. Chuuya’s head is resting on Dazai’s lap, his hand against his chest still holding the beaten controller. He squirms when the sun shamelessly goes across his eyes but doesn’t wake up.

Neither does Dazai. He just smiles through his sleep and puts his hand on Chuuya’s back. The rays of sun stall before continuing to move across the room as if taking in the unusual, eerily peaceful atmosphere in the living room, the raging fire turned into quiet embers for a bit.

Chuuya might call bullshit on the “one soul in two bodies” idea.

But… the sun surely knows better.

[johnwickb1tsch]

THE DEVILS' TRIANGLE

A Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick (& now John Constantine) Imagine Part 8 by:

@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch and @tammykelly (with honorary dream weavers / shit stirrers @lilspookymeh & @kurai-hono-blog 😘)

Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘

ALL CHAPTERS

PART 9

Johnwickb1tsch:

Wick could have been an asshole about buying a brand new kitchen, sundries included–but instead he merely shrugs off Constantine's hostile question. "Seemed like the least I could do."

Constantine glares, but lets it go, begrudgingly sitting down to a delectable meal cooked by the man he knows, deep down, that you've never been able to forget. 

At Tex's midday administering of magical medicine, he takes your hand after you finish, refusing to let go. "Set with me a while, Rattlesnake." He pats the couch, on which there is no room unless you were to sit in his lap–undoubtedly his hope.

With a sigh and a knowing smirk you settle back in your chair. Your eyes are drawn to the burn upon his chest. He will carry that mark for the rest of his life, even if the magic is lifted.

You think on what Papa Midnite said to Constantine. "Take some big feeling..."

It kind of floors you, to think of the energy it took for Constantine to conjure that working out of thin air.

For you.

You told him a little bit about the boys. How they hurt you–and, how they saved your life. How you loved them, and how they destroyed you in their abandonment. No matter how you framed it, Constantine blamed them for the bullet wound forever seared in your side.

However, it wasn’t so simple as that. 

"Whacha thinking, baby girl?"

You just shake your head with a tired smile. "Nothing important."

"Hmm. You gonna make me guess? Alright. You're thinkin'...bout that time in Mexico it was just you an me and the stars, out by the pool in our birthday suits."

You snort–quite against your will, it turns into a giggle. 

"No..."

"Uh huh. You’re missin' my wicked tongue up between your thighs. I know that look."

"That's enough of that," you say, trying to stand. But he has your hand, and he tugs you so that you fall down to sit on the edge of the couch–and half on him. Your faces hover just centimeters away. You watch with horror a he tries to lean in, capitalizing on the opportunity. By the skin of your teeth, your heart in your throat, you just barely manage to turn your head.

"Didn't you miss me, rattlesnake?" he asks, his deep voice all sultry and low just wrecking you to the bone.

You dare reach up to caress his cheek with the blade of your thumb. "Of course I did. But there’s no going back, Tex. Maybe...that time is behind us." Just saying it hurts like a knife between the ribs, but you go on, “Maybe you and John did the right thing, letting me go.”

He just narrows his dark eyes at hearing that. You hate the way it gives you such a thrill, to the base of your spine, and lower still. “I thought you were mad about that? Hell, I’m still mad about that. I miss you so much I can hardly think straight. There’s just…” He frowns while he says it, but you know it’s just because he’d literally rather take a bullet than talk about his feelings. His grip on your hand tightens; he glares down at your silver rings like they owe him money.  “There ain’t no point to anything, when you’re gone. Do you know what I mean?”

You close your eyes; for a moment you feel as though the floor has dropped out from under you, because you know exactly what he means. You lived it for months after they booted you, drifting from country to country, an empty husk of a woman, a gaping black hole where your heart used to be. Only after moving to LA, thinking about going back to school, and meeting Constantine, did your life start to feel like it had some meaning again. 

“Yeah. I know what you mean,” you answer quietly. “But how did you think this would go? You’d knock on my door, and I’d just uproot my whole life for you again?”

“Maybe?” The confusion on his handsome face is almost cute. You realize he really did think it would be that easy, and you snort, looking away to a framed Tibetan Thangka painting on the wall. This man. As ever, you’re torn between kissing him and killing him. You have to keep reminding yourself that the former option is not even on the table. 

“At least give me some credit. I coulda come in with guns blazin' but instead I brought flowers."

“You want credit?”

“Yeah. I’m practically a changed man. And I wouldn’t mind an apology from Wizard Boy either.”

"You've got to be kidding me." The pair on this man never ceases to amaze you.

"We were just having a little bit of friendly fisticuffs, but he fucked me up pretty good. That’s called unnecessary escalation.”

He would know. 

"Spare me the macho bullshit. There’s no such thing as friendly fisticuffs. You were going to hurt my boyfriend, and you absolutely deserved what he gave you. You’re lucky he got Midnite to lift it."

Only a beat later do you realize you called Constantine your boyfriend within earshot of everyone, which you never do, because you both hate labels and the word just seems too high school for what you actually are to each other–but there’s no going back now. 

“But–”

At last, at last, you are in a position where you don’t have to swallow his gaslighting. “No buts. You can behave yourself, Tex, or you can go. I mean it.” 

Maybe drawn by the sound of your raised voice, Constantine chooses that moment to intervene, appearing at the foot of the couch with a magnificent frown. 

“Well well, if it ain’t The Boy Who Lived.”

You know he’s just making yet another Harry Potter reference, but considering Constantine’s history, this nickname makes you flinch. Maybe it’s a mistake on your part, but you bristle. “Don’t call him that.”

Constantine, however, betrays nothing, just crossing his arms with that blandly judgy expression. “It’s alright, y/n. He loves childrens’ books–a man has to stick to his reading level.” You don't feel like arguing about the complexity of the later books, so you let the arrow fly.

You lift an eyebrow, side-eyeing Tex. “You do know an awful lot about Harry Potter for a grown ass man your age.”

For possibly the first time ever Tex actually looks sheepish. “Had to read something while I was in the shit.”

Tex never really told you much about his tour of duty in the Middle East. Bradford had intimated that it didn’t end well–but you weren’t exactly keen to take everything that asshole had said with any sort of seriousness. The thought of him holed up in a mud hut reading about Hogwarts kind of pulls at your heartstrings for some ridiculous reason. 

“So what you want, Wizard Boy?” demands Tex, insouciantly refusing to let go of your hand, despite you tugging on it.

“I was going to check your chakras for malevolence, but I'm having second thoughts now.”

“Sounds illegal in five states.”

Constantine snorts. “You want me to double check Midnite's handiwork or not? If there's a trace of darkness left it could spread– and you'll be fucked all over again.”

“Not the way I like, I'm guessin’.”

“Probably not. But then again, you seemed to like Desdemona at the club. You want an introduction?” Constantine has a sly look on his handsome face as he asks this. It must be the succubus you'd run off– the thought of Tex in contact with her again makes you vibrate with jealousy. It is sharp, and fierce, and utterly fucking irrational.

You should encourage Tex to find someone else.

Your heart just doesn't agree.

“I'll…leave you two to it,” you say, reluctantly standing to pull away out of Tex's grip.

Only belatedly, after you've retreated to your room, do you realize that maybe Constantine interrupted your tête a tête with Tex for his sake, rather than yours.

***

John Wick whips you all up a beautiful dinner of sauteed meat and vegetables, complimented with a nice bottle of dry red wine that you're sure did not come from Trader Joe's. You play his sous chef, chopping up veggies, and it almost feels like old times in the kitchen, although he never would have given you access to a big sharp knife before. As though you ever would have had the nerve to stab him. 

Tex was another matter.

At first you all sit down to share a semi-awkward meal, peppered with halting silences–until the second bottle of wine comes out, and then things flow more smoothly. It starts with Constantine cracking a joke at Tex's expense, which is surprisingly backed by Wick with a witty aside. Tex responds good naturedly, for once, and you just sit back and watch with a smile, a warm glow in your chest that feels too close to bliss to possibly last.

You help Wick with the dishes, drying as he washes because your dish rack is tiny. “You look tired, sweetheart,” he says after the last plate, bending down to kiss your forehead. You forget. You fucking forget that there are two other people there, one of whom is your current lover, and out of longing and pure habit you tilt your head back for the second staggeringly sweet kiss on your lips that always followed. 

Only a long beat later do you realize what you've done, with Wick's shining dark eyes looking down on you, missing nothing. You gasp like a scandalized school girl, taking a small step back. “You're right,” you agree. “I am tired. Good night, everyone.” You're such a coward you can't even lift your head to look at any of them, though you can feel their eyes upon you as you scurry away.

Once in the sanctuary of your room you collapse on the bed, clutching the coverlet in your claws for hands, so embarrassed by your slip that you could die. You know that Constantine loves you, even if he’s never outright said it, and honestly probably never will–and this is how you repay him. 

You really are a piece of work.

***

After you retreat, a silence falls over the kitchen, the three formidable men eyeing each other like wolves amidst a power struggle, trying to decide who is the weakest link and who is alpha. It’s Constantine who stands without a word, fetching his green glass bottle of Ardbeg single-malt scotch and setting it down in the middle of the table with a thunk. Then he produces three glasses–none matching–and pours out a finger for each. 

“Gentlemen.” He looks between the two assassins seated at his table, a part of him flabbergasted as to how he’d even ended up in this situation. Before he met you, if someone told him someday he would find a woman he loved more than the air he breathed, he would have laughed them out of the room. 

Not now. 

How the mighty are brought low, and pride goeth before a fall, and all that proverbial biblical bullshit that is old as time and yet somehow still applies. Despite all our advances, humans are still essentially the same animal we were when we first left the cave and started walking upright–or when God created Adam out of dirt, whichever you find more believable.  

“I believe we find ourselves at an impasse.”

“How you figure?” asks Tex, knocking back his drink and helping himself to another. 

“Does being in love with the same woman ring a bell?”

Wick smirks, watching the exchange between the two, sipping his scotch sparingly. He does not contradict Constantine’s assessment, but in his succinct way he drives home the finer point. “More importantly, that woman is in love with all of us.”

The thought pulls something like a growl from deep in Constantine’s chest, but in the end he acknowledges, “Exactly.”

Tex smirks, leaning on his elbows. “Don’t be sore, Wizard Boy. Be grateful we broke her in for you.”

Constantine seems to count to ten under his breath, restraining himself from unleashing a curse on this fucking cowboy again. “You’re gonna have to give me pointers on how you manage not to murder him daily,” he says to Wick. 

“I only listen to about half of what he says,” Wick admits with a smirk, a humorous glitter in his dark eyes.

“Good to know. My point is, if I curse you both into the Seventh Circle, it would hurt her. Likewise, if you two were to dig me a shallow grave out in the desert. You hurt her enough the first time. Do you follow?”

Wick nods, grasping Constantine’s train of thought immediately. Tex, however, has to chew on it a little–maybe because he’d hoped, for once, to finally have this girl to himself. 

“You’re saying you don’t mind sharin’,” finally says Tex with a shit-eating grin, leaning back in his chair. 

“Oh, I mind,” Constantine is sure to clarify. “But it’s up to her, if she wants you or not. If she decides she wants you to go–I will make you go. If she wants you to stay…” He spreads his big hands, as though to say, we’ll figure it out. Somehow.  

Tex narrows his eyes, clearly debating if he should pick a fight over the make you go part, or take it as it sits on the table. “And how do you propose we let her know what we decided about this?”

Constantine snorts at that, draining his glass and standing from the table. “That’s your problem, Howdy Doody. Good night–and may the best man win.” The two assassins watch as John Constantine crosses to your bedroom, and practically shuts the door in their faces. 

***

You are drifting on the edge of sleep when Constantine crawls into bed with you. You smile as you feel the familiar pattern of the depression in the mattress, and moan with surprise as he covers your mouth with his. You taste the Ardbeg on his tongue, which explains some of his ardor, but not all. The fury of his kisses on your lips and neck pulls an involuntary moan from deep in your lungs, his big hands digging into the flesh of your thigh, pulling you on top of him. 

“John…?” Utterly star-struck, you blink down at him, disheveled in your pajama t-shirt and your hair a mess. He reaches up to cup your cheek, dwarfing your face in his large hand, studying you like there will be a test later. He opens his mouth like there’s something he wants to say to you, but he can’t quite get it out, the words stuck in his throat. 

You think you know what it is, and your heart warms for it, that tingling thrill filling your chest and spreading outwards. You’re not even mad, that he can’t say it, because you get him. This is not the week you’re going to push him out of his comfort zone, more than you already have. Most of LA would laugh to hear it, but John Constantine has been a veritable fucking saint the past couple of days, and you’re so grateful to him. 

“It’s ok,” you say softly, tracing the line of his square jaw. “I know.” 

He frowns, almost like he wants to argue, but in the end he just shakes his head and pulls you to him.

You want to apologize for almost kissing John Wick right in fucking front of him–but that sticks in your throat too. You guess you’re both just a little raw tonight.

He peels off your t-shirt greedily as he guides you down. Hungry lips and a teasing tongue find the sensitive tips of your breasts, making you squirm with longing above him. You know you’ve already soaked through the laughable barrier of your panties, and are probably leaving an unsightly stain on his nice (200 dollar, he likes to tell you with a smirk) white shirt–but if the Chinese laundry down the street can get out demon blood stains, what’s a little cum?

You let out a cry of longing as he releases your nipple with a pop; the ache between your thighs is already nearly unbearable, and you can't stop yourself from grinding against his lean torso. You shut your mouth as soon as you open it, conscious of the paper thin walls and the two dangerous men on the other side of them.

“You like that, baby?” he taunts, hooking his fingers in your panties to tug them down.

“You know I do,” you pant. 

“Then let me hear you,” he invites with a wicked smirk, shifting down so that you are nearly sitting on his face. You don’t know what was said out there, but you are starting to get the idea that John Constantine is up to something. But before you can even begin to think what to do about it, he pulls you forward with an undeniable grip on your thighs, and his tongue is laving up your slit.

“Fuck.”

This exclamation is not quiet, and neither are the ones after it. You practically shake the walls with your cries when you cum on his tongue, your body rendered into a quivering mess of over-stimulated nerves. He does not grant you mercy, even when you beg him, and by the time he is done with you, you are halfway to your second orgasm.

“Do you want me baby?” he demands, panting from his champion cunnilingus league exertions as he undresses himself. There is a desperation in his tone you’ve never quite heard before, and you have a feeling he’s not just talking about sex.

“I need you,” you tell him, and you mean every word. It wins you every inch of his hard cock buried inside you, and you can’t stop yourself from moaning, as though there is no room for breath in your body when filled with his impressive manhood. He grips you hard enough to bruise, his face buried in the bend of your neck.

He drives himself inside of you, hips pumping with the fury of his need, but he’s prepared you for it. It’s all you can do just to hold on, to the bed, to him, letting him use you exactly the way he wants to, because you know the past couple of days have been anything but easy for him. 

When his thumb finds your clit you think you might die from the overwhelming sensation of it. “No,” you beg, somehow smiling through your exasperation. “Please. Mercy.”

He just pays you that impish curl of lips that always seriously makes you question which side he's playing for. “You can take it,” he informs you. “For me?” The way he pouts down at you while simultaneously rearranging your insides should be illegal.

“Fuck,” you swear again, and he grins down at you, knowing he’s got you in the bag. With your ankles around his ears he slows down for you, but still fills you to the absolute brim, working you in just the rhythm he knows you need with the tip of his too-clever thumb. There is a heart wrenching beauty in making love like this. The two of you have reached an understanding of each other's bodies, a point of familiarity in which you just know, and yet somehow each time is better than the last.

It isn't long before you cum on his cock with a ragged scream that you know there’s no way in hell the boys didn’t hear, yet you cannot stop it, you cannot care, because the man inside you has rendered you into a vessel for this mind-bending pleasure and in this moment, you belong completely to him. His hips snap against yours, and soon he follows with your greedy little cunt fluttering around him, spilling himself inside you with a loud groan.

He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. You revel in the sticky warmth of his seed seeping between your thighs, his heart a furious drumbeat beneath your ear. “Jesus fucking Christ,” is all you can manage to wheeze against the warmth of his chest.

“Right initials,” he pants, pressing lips to your hair. “Wrong guy.”

Thinking you really might have lost your mind, you start to cackle, and you can’t stop until you literally can’t breathe. You do not even have the energy to clean up, falling asleep in the beautiful mess John made of you, and maybe it’s just you, but even in his sleep John Constantine seems to hold you more tightly than he ever has before.

Sweetwolfcupcake:

The first signs of dawn begin to show on the dark sky, timid but consistent in pushing back the darkness previously reigning over the sky when you open your eyes-- blinking lazily as you register your dry lips and slightly open mouth. You feel parched, but the arms wrapped around you feel like a slice of heaven by your side and you are too lazy, too sleepy. You try to ignore it but your throat feels like it would scream for water any minute.

Sighing, you gently remove Constantine's arms from your body, not an easy task though-- his arms are firm vines around you, holding you close with a distinct gentleness that you've seen so often in his eyes when they gaze at you.

After you are finally off the bed without waking up Constantine (you're surprised), you tip-toe out of the room and into the kitchen for a much needed glass of water.

It's quiet, you notice as you gulp down a glass of water. With the overpowering sleepy haze gone, you grow more conscious of the environment.

Such an hour is supposed to be quiet. But there is a severe lack of tranquillity in the quietness--- it's more of a deafening silence. And you do not have a good feeling about this. Emptying the glass, you put it silently aside and turn around to rush return to the safety of---

Your eyes widen as you blink away the reminder of sleepy haze from them at the sight of John Wick's looming form in the kitchen doorway.

lo spettro

Indeed, he is like a ghost who appears right when you least expect it to. Though at the moment, he looks more like a formidable predator-- or maybe it is you who feels threatened like a prey.

Whatever it is, it does not settle easily in your stomach. There's chaos, flipping and swirling in there. All are born out of jarringly conflicted emotions and thoughts you feel simultaneously.

You stand still, eyeing him warily. He isn't dressed in his classic three-piece. In fact, he is in simple trousers a white t-shirt, that bulges at all the right places. No, he isn't dressed to hunt, but he seems very much ready to with the way his eyes are set upon you. You know the stare all too well. The thought brings back memories that are now the source of your heartache and you stiffen again.

"Had a busy night with your plaything?"

Ah, of course...

"He's not a plaything." You snap without a second thought.

John smiles faintly, but there is no softness to it. Instead, it looks sharp and somehow feels bitter as he diminishes the distance between you both in two strides.

"Was he good enough? Better?" He invades your personal space as smoothly as he invades your dreams.

This time though, you are determined not to back down and bend to his will. You stand-- stiff and with your heart hammering-- but you are determined to not let it show.

"Our bedroom is none of your business."

Oh, you know the way his chocolate orbs darken. Your words have ruffled him. He presses closer and you know, you just know that he can feel your heartbeat, but there is nowhere else to go, and you are sandwiched between the counter and him.

"Yeah? That's a pity, thought I could show this boy how it's done."

You glare up at him.

The audacity.

If this is a game of riling you up, he was unfortunately winning. But being away from them and being with Constantine has evolved you in ways you are thankful for. You are not going to bend easily under his games anymore.

Your glare charges into a sardonic smile--

"Oh, don't bother. It is blissful when you don't feel like a disposable toy."

To a degree, even you are surprised at the venom in your voice. But the surprise is overshadowed by the sight of John Wick faltering. You admit, the sadness do not make you happy, but having gained power in the conversation does satisfy you.

"I am exhausted after a long so..."

With that, you slip away from him and walk back to the safety of your bedroom, there is a rush in your steps, and the moment you lock the door from inside, relief floods withing you.

A part of this whole encounter reminds you of your childhood ritual of switching off the lights before running upstairs to the safety of your room-- but as a child, it was just your active imagination, right now, your heart thunders the same way it would as a five-year-old, running from the 'ghosts'.

Constantine calls your name lazily from the bed, eyes half-open and hair dishevelled. There is a certain domesticity in the air and your heart unexpectedly flutters-- not an anxious, thrilled flutter, but one that confirms what you are afraid to admit.

You fear losing this. This sight of Constantine laying so unguarded, so vulnerable and open on the bed. You are afraid to not feel his arms wrapped around you again. You are afraid not to feel his lips on you another morning.

You are afraid to lose him.

You are afraid to be abandoned again.

In your fear, you find courage. The courage to finally acknowledge this fear of losing him, losing what you both share.

Silently, you make your way back to bed, slipping under the covers and back in his waiting arms.

You know Constantine can probably sense the shift in your energy, but he chooses silence. He puts your comfort before his curiosity, his doubts. That makes you snuggle closer to him, to his warmth.

Tammykelly:

Songs to get in ya feels:

Karma by Summer Walker

Stand still by Sabrina Claudio

You lay awake under the silk covers, with Constantine quietly breathing beside you in a deep peaceful slumber. You shift your focus to his pace of breath so you can match your own in hopes to fall into the calmness of the space bubble around you. The limbs of your body are heavy, and yet your mind is ever so awake, having drifted towards conscious awareness of bitterly sweetened memories, rather than much needed sleep. Your eyelids flutter shut, as a yet another frustrated sigh escapes your mouth. The silence of the late hours is mockingly embracing the racing thoughts in your mind and pumping heartbeat, uncomfortable heat continues to fill every particle under your skin, amplified by the feel of rushing bloodstream, as if no concept of rest exists in this moment. A small furry body curls itself closer, next to your side, and your hand slowly reaches to brush its fingers through Baby Killy’s soft fur, more purring gently filling your ears, as you give into what your subconscious can’t seem to stop replaying, guided by the whisper of the shadows.

- a flashback -

You feel a warm breeze rush past you, carrying the salty scent of the Mediterranean coast, disrupting the shattered shadows. A tiny glimpse of sunlight pervades through the thin crack between your eyelashes, your narrowed eyes taking in the sunny serenity of French Riviera that envelops you again in its natural flow and beauty, before you hear a stream of rapid gunshots that only alert a flock of birds, rising from your garden.

You watch a tall man’s broad back stiffen, as he reloads the gun. You lazily get up, not taking your eyes off his powerful muscles moving under the skin, as he takes the position again. You feel your chest contract, breath caught in your throat, as his whole body seems to have become one with the weapon at the highest alert, before all the motion subsides, and he fires more shots at the moving targets.

You’re not sure whether it’s the thumping of your heart, ringing in your ears, bringing rising heatwave to your body, or it’s the sun that collects the multitude of nervous specks across your subconscious, melting them through all the layers onto the surface, forming a deeper shade of blush on your cheeks. He looks majestic, engulfed by sunlight, a gun in his hand, akin to an innate extension of his hunter-like, perhaps, hereditary nature. Your gaze traces the sweat dripping down his skin, as a gentle sigh leaves your lips, making it hard for you to look back up.

You don’t try to make your presence known, the sound of your steps remaining almost entirely silent, for even your slightest movement echoes through his awareness. He turns around before you reach him, his long hair sticking out from under the bandana.

“Princessa”, - his deep voice greets you.

“John”, - you playfully reply, watching his eyes wash over your silhouette, while you take one more step.

“Skuchala po mne [missed me]?”, - his calloused palm makes contact with the exposed skin below your silk bralette, hiding under unbuttoned oversized linen dress shirt. His fingers snake around your waist, urging you to move closer, slightly dipping under the waistband of your linen shorts. A shiver across your skin doesn’t escape his attentive gaze, a smirk quirking the corners of his mouth up. You look into his eyes, as you feel his hand brush against your back gently, the same fingers that were just holding a weapon, now playing a dirty game against you.

“Vsegda [always]”, - you tease back, your irises catching the way John smiles when you stand on your tippy toes to kiss him, as he melts into your lips, meeting you half way. The scales of gentle and sweet is something you’re unable to control anymore, for the tender anxiety in your heart flutters away with the wings of passionate fire that is the reflection of him.

One of your hands finds its place at the back of his neck, pulling him into you, which he eagerly complies to, as if pouring all the adrenaline of the practice shooting onto your tongue. You gently trail your fingers down his spine, as you break away from his devilish lips, a sly smirk that is a mirror of his, appearing on your features when he lifts you up, walking to the tent, and puts you at the edge of a poolside bed that actually looks like it belongs in a bedroom.

You calmly stare into the abyss of his dark eyes, your chest filled with the scent of excitement and your own game that quickly escalates to something entirely else the longer you hold eye contact. A different kind of heat knocks on your heart, opening doors to a more subliminal feeling. The type of warmth produced not by the midday sunlight, but by the golden hour sun, its muted colors appearing the brightest only for a slight sight, before its remnants reveal their beauty along the way of one’s attention.

His eyebrows twitch, while his eyes search yours.

“Opasnaya igra, malyshka [it’s a dangerous game, babygirl]”, - John says in a raspy voice, seeing the way you let him read you, akin to an open book with no secrets.

“Rasve ya dolzhna boyatsa [why, should I be afraid?” - your hand grazes his cheek, as a feeling that is bigger than your heart settles down in your chest, upon relishing the way he’s sitting in front of you on his knees, looking up at you, as if you’re God’s greatest creation. The fear and sense of uncertainty long forsaken in the tangled forest of what’s left behind.

“No”, - he tells you, his hands on your thighs, “if that’s what you wish for”. A moment passes in between the eternity that stretches across your souls.

“I don’t think I’ve ever hugged you, have I?”, you tell him, suddenly, his fingers freeze in their place. John’s eyes go blank for a split second, before another emotion replaces it, something deep and so raw, your heart almost explodes. An emotion that is swept away by the ever flowing current when his irises go back to that same deep shade of darkness that is the palette of his whirlpool.

“Come here”, you tell him, your hand gently tugging at him. A shallow breath of his doesn’t dissolve away unnoticed, as you get up and switch positions, him - sitting on the bed, you - standing in between his legs, holding his face and stroking his sharp cheekbones. There’s no sense of reality anymore, just his black chocolate eyes, looking up with the devotion of a man found. Time stood still, its heartbeat paving the way just for you two.

You feel him slowly moving closer, as if testing the limits of his own game of chess, before he nuzzles into you. You wrap your arms around him, patting him with all the gentle love you can master, as if not to break a wounded child. Gradually, you sense his calmness unravel itself when his body melts into yours, drinking every bit of peace that you generously get to offer.

A tear rolls down your cheek, the space around you collapsing on itself and blossoming into an eternal tangible softness that revolves around you and John.

John sighs, pulling you closer, letting every piece of your ethereal gentleness and love that is the reflection of you seep into him, beyond the subliminal, into the deepest infinity of his oblivion that is the code of his own sense of self.

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

You wake up with a startled gasp, giving Killy the same little fright. She runs away, bells dangling at her neck, the sound fading underneath the bed where she hides from you.

“Killy,” you groan, “I’m sorry, come back.” You wish you could actually tell her in some way you didn’t mean to scare the shit out of her, but it’s too late. And Constantine is gone, too. There’s a little note on the stand. Something about having to run out for a while on a job.

It’s around noon. Your black out curtains can’t contain all of the leaking sunshine, so you decide to follow that biological clock that runs deep and get up. John isn’t here, either, and Tex is snoring on the couch.

“Tex,” you whisper, nudging him a little bit.

His groggy voice sends a pang of reminiscent longing through you. “Hey, honeypie.” He fades out a little bit, and you have to tug on his arm. “You’re snoring,” you tell him, trying to get another pillow under his head to elevate him. “You don’t snore. Sit up a little bit.” You’re worried that he’s not getting proper oxygen while he’s sleeping because of his recent brush with death, so you use most of your weight and a little bit of his to sit him up and lessen the deep rattle of his throat.

“C’mon,” he lays a big arm around your shoulders, tugging your upper torso down against him. “Lay with daddy, huh?”

You push against him. “Tex, you freaking weirdo, lemme go.” The temptation is definitely there, to crawl on top of him and snuggle in, but you’ve already committed to waking up and doing something on this lazy weekend day, so you squirm out of his heavy grip.

He goes back to sleep with a big, satisfied smile on his face. You resist, with all your might, leaning down to kiss his cheek. Adorable fucking idiot.

You make scrambled eggs, plate some for Tex, and leave them in the fridge for when he wakes up. Then, you get a piece of paper, write SCRAMBLED EGGS on it in big letters, and set it on his now peacefully rising chest.

It’s beautiful out here today, sunny with a tropic, warm breeze that reminds you of beachy days with John and Tex. Although the beach is about 30 minutes away by bus, you hop on with a little bag in tow, sporting cute cotton capris and a flowy tank top over your swim suit.

You spend a few hours at the beach, walking up and down the sand, looking at shells, playing in waves and watching the surfers board out past the break. There’s a little food and drink stand nearby, and you packed plenty of sunscreen, so you can stay out as long as you like.

You enjoy this as long as you can, because you have classes coming up and know you won’t get the free time again until next weekend.

You feel free-untethered. Able to go anywhere and do anything without anyone holding you down. There was such a long time, where you didn’t have that freedom. Over half your life, probably, between childhood and witness protection, where you were trapped. And, now that you have a taste of independence, you’ll never stop injecting it. Of course, with this freedom comes a little emptiness, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You’ve been lonely before, you’ll be lonely again.

Maybe that’s an absurd thought, when three men are waiting for you at home, and for a minute you feel terribly, achingly guilty about wanting freedom and love, protection, shelter-all at the same time. Sometimes women don’t get any of that let alone one. But then, that’s bullshit, isn’t it? The notion that you have to settle and compromise just because you’re a girl. Maybe you want all three of them-no, not maybe. You do want all three, and your independence. And maybe if testosterone wasn’t such a heavy drug, you could mention that to them. But you can already just see John strangling Constantine with his bare hands and Constantine burning John alive if you even dare to mention them sharing you.

Plus, would you even be able to handle all three of them? John and Constantine themselves are insatiable; Constantine, fueled by ancient magic. John, fueled with physical endurance. Tex would be simpler to please, but he’s a wild card of his own.

A group of surfers ride a wave in to shore, and you watch curiously-maybe even a little bit enviously-as they laugh and joke and splash each other in the pink sinking dawn of the day. One of them-tall, broad shouldered, bronze, the god Poseidon himself rising from the frothy ocean bank-makes eye contact with you and you look away quickly, a hot flush that’s not from the late sun flooding your skin.

“Y/n?” You look to the sound, and see a familiar face among the group of ocean dwellers.

Katrina gives you a little wave while she climbs out of one. You tip your chin at her. “Hey, Trine.” She’s one of your classmates, a good friend and study partner. You had no idea that she surfed.

She introduces you to her little group of friends, and one in particular’s name you know you haven’t forgotten. His grin is stark white against beautiful, salt crusted skin when he takes your hand in his bigger one, warm despite the cool water he just rose from, and shakes it. “We meet again.”

“Hey, we were just gonna go to Bodhi’s house for a party. Wanna come?” Trina pulls you from Johnny, giving you a strange, knowing look. You were absolutely entranced by him, staring way too much, still holding onto his hand, so you understand why she’s a little suspicious.

“You alright?” Johnny asks, bringing you back to him.

“Don’t think so,” you say, feeling like you’re absolutely dying.

Now everyone absolutely notices this strange tension between the two of you, and they seem delighted by it. Bodhi, you think his name is, grabs Johnny’s shoulder and shakes him a little. “Utah, you dog. Close your jaw.”

“Seriously, Johnny, stare a little longer,” Trine grumbles.

“Sorry,” he tells you sheepishly.

“Same,” you reply.

“So, you wanna come?” He asks, motioning to the group. “To the party?”

“I would, but I have to take care of something.”

You propel yourself through the darkening LA streets, the bus system, the crowds of people, the bustle of the city. Keep your eyes ahead, focused, goal driven. The big Bouncer in front of Midnite’s is the only thing that stands in your way to the inner club.

He holds up a card, prompting you. Fuck. You have never come here without John. Probably because he forbid it, but that’s beside the point. You have no idea what to say, so you just do what you’re best at and guess. “Rabbit?”

His facial expression reads “are you fucking kidding me?” All he says is “no.”

“Please. I need to see Midnite. It’s about John Constantine.”

He eyes you for a long while, and then motions for you to sit on the bench in the lobby.

•

“How’s my favorite girl?” Midnite takes a seat beside you. “What kinda shit did Constantine get into this time?”

“it’s actually my shit.”

He laughs. “Tell me about it.”

“No, I mean, really, I think there’s something strange happening, Papa. Everywhere I go, doesn’t matter how far, I see this… guy.”

“You have a spirit following you?” He asks, scanning your body with an open palm, tilting your chin this and that way.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what it is-what he is, but there’s many of them. They all look the same.”

“The same? I’m confused, y/n.”

“They all look like… John Constantine.”

•

“Tex, wake up.” John kicks the couch lightly, alerting the snoring Tex.

“What the fuck.” Tex groans.

“Where’s y/n?”

Constantine has tried to call you ten times, texted you at least twice as much, and still no answer. He’s pacing through the kitchen, hand in his hair, debating on whether or not he should tear down LA to find you. You’re never gone this long, you always keep him updated. This isn’t like you.

He walks into the living room, where Tex and John are looking at the note you left alerting Tex to breakfast.

“You just let her go?” Wick demands of Tex, snatching the slice of paper and tearing it in the process. “When did she leave?”

“Fuck, I didn’t think we were dictating her life anymore,” Tex replies, “she came out here once… I think. It was daylight. I was sleepin. Fuck.”

“She always comes home,” Constantine says, more to himself than the two other men. “It’s almost one AM. We have to find her.”

“Tex, are you able to drive?” Wick asks.

“Yeah.. yeah. I’m good,” Tex nods.

“Take the car, go to her school, her bank, her favorite restaurant. Constantine?” Wick turns to address the still pacing man. “Are you able to try and locate her with some kind of magic?”

“The fuck you think I’m trying to do?” Constantine mumbles, eyes on the floor, hand in his hair, damp sweat gathering on his tshirt.

“Keep doing it. I’m going to look on foot.”

•

Maybe it was a bad idea, to drink with Midnite. Not because of him. The morally grey, powerful voodoo master has never been anything but good to you despite his wavering tolerance for Constantine, and he stays by your side diligently while you both sip on steaming, sweetened cocktails.

No, it’s a bad idea because of the shady characters lurking around you and making you feel a little like you just stepped into Mickey’s House of Villians. The lady with purple, slithery tentacles attached to her just seals the deal on that.

Midnite flips over your other divination card, the gold foils of it catching a rogue neon light and flashing bright in your eyes, before you see what it holds; 10 of spiders. “Something is tightly attached to you, something that draws dark energy. I could see it when we first met, you know. Just like the curse on Texs’ chest made him vulnerable to the wicked dark, you have naturally.”

“I’m so confused. Why?” Your words come out a little slurred, and you realize you’ve been hitting the tap too hard. This is your fifth… fourth cocktail? You’re not sure anymore. “Am I in danger?”

He looks at you with a bit of pity in his fathomless dark eyes, like he doesn’t know what to do for you. Like you’re fucked. “Always.”

Before he can elaborate, give you a warning or message, something, a heavy commotion picks up at the front entrance. Glass smashing, screaming, pounding on something metal and floppy. Midnite sighs and puts his hand on your shoulder. “Stay here. I have to deal with this.”

You ask the bartender for a glass of water to help nurse and coat the alcohol sloshing inside of you and making you pleasantly numb and prickly, and try to ignore the other patrons of the club. Kind of hard when one of them, one you very well recognize, takes the stool beside you.

“Where’s your tall friend?” The succubus asks, those bleach pink eyes doing strange, unearthly things in their sockets; changing shape, reflecting colors that usually don’t exist, sliding from side to side rapidly.

“He’s taken,” you tell her, not bothering to hide the scowl on your face.

“Really?” She asks, voice unnaturally low and seductive, titling her head. “Because I could feel the desperation on him from a league away. Most taken men with that kind of need aren’t satisfied at all.”

“I’m not entertaining this conversation,” you tell her. You remember all the anger you felt toward her after she tried to pull Tex away, and wonder where it is now that you need it. Instead, there is a dull, needy, perplexing throb beginning in your lower belly. It’s a strange way to feel arousal, but unmistakable nonetheless. Usually, all libidinous feelings begin in your brain and trickle downward, but this feeling is severed from your mind, spreading through only your lower body and making you twitch and writhe in the seat.

She grins with sharp little bone white teeth. “Interesting.”

You try and open your mouth, tell her to fuck off, but she reaches over and touches your cheek, and any words you could have said die in your throat.

Replacing speech and sense and sight, is a burly heat that rips through you. A desire like you’ve never felt. A claw-your-skin-off, teeth clenching need to be fucked. Debauched. Ruined.

An inner beast guides your way, now, and she’s hungry for cock. Luckily, there’s some place you can get it. Unluckily, it’s a few bus rides away. And you can’t fucking last that long, that’s for sure.

gif from pinterest

You stand up, make for the door, and run into something solid and familiar and warm. Just seeing his angled face make your clit tighten painfully, your cunt flutter around nothing. You jump him. He can fucking take it, and he does, handling you like a champ while you claw up his body and latch onto his mouth with your own.

John Wick doesn’t stop you. Maybe it’s the vicious arousal leaking off you that infects him, too. Or maybe it’s because he missed you, needed you that bad. Either way, he’s kissing you back, picking you up, walking you toward the nearest private place to fuck in, hopefully….

[chaotic-orphan]

June of doom, day nineteen:

That’s going to be one hell of a scar : cage // pliers // scrape

CW: team Whump, leader whump, threats, carving/ cutting ( explicit), blood (explicit), intimate whumper, scary whumper, evil whumper, creepy whumper, defiant whumpees, multiple whumpees, knife mentioned, torture (explicit and graphic), mention of past injury, fear of darkness?, Self sacrifice

Very long and very late I am sorry, enjoy

*~*~*~*~*

Supervillain's Brand (I)

“Leader? Leader!” Medic whispered through the darkness, rousing Leader from their light nap. “Leader?”

“I’m here, Medic,” said Leader, voice reassuring. Leader was sitting with their back against the wall, no, not wall. Leader turned with a groan, their muscles still heavy with sleep and their last fight with Supervillain. Leader’s hand found cool metal bars and that woke them up immediately.

Their last battle with Supervillain… Leader remembers their team sweeping in just in time, just as Supervillain’s fist came down on their temple and darkness swallowed them.

Fuck.

“Supervillain has us?” Leader asked quietly.

“He used you as leverage. Told us to surrender or he’d kill you. I’m sorry Leader.”

“No,” said Leader with a grunt, sitting back against the bars. No wonder they were aching all over. “No don’t be sorry. I would have done the same thing. Where are you?”

Leader squinted against the darkness trying to locate Medic, or anything for that matter. They could barely see their nose in front of their face.

“I’m— I think I’m in a cage,” said Medic. Their voice came from the right. Leader lifted their arm through the bars trying to feel for another cage but felt nothing. They took a sharp breath as the reaching movement aggravated a stabbing pain in their ribs. “Leader?”

“I’m okay,” said Leader through grit teeth. Fuck, Supervillain had gotten a few good hits on Leader. Their upper lip was sticking to their nose from no doubt a trail of blood. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… we’re all good. Supervillain just took us he didn’t touch us, we were just worried about you…”

“We? Supervillain took all of you?”

A blinding light flashed on and Leader shielded their eyes in the crook of their elbow and heard a couple of familiar moans from the sudden brightness.

“I thought I heard voices,” came the rumbling voice of Supervillain. There was a smile in his voice that set Leader’s nerves on edge. Leader lowered their arm, blinking quickly trying to adjust to the sudden burst of light. Their eyes settled, taking in the room they were in.

Leader was right. They were in a cage. Solid steel bars lined every edge except the bottom which was just a thick metal edge. Leader could fit comfortably sitting down but there was no way Leader could even think about standing in the cage unless they were on their haunches or kneeling. Even then they’d have to bend their torso, there was probably room for Leader’s head again above them and that was it.

Bastard, forcing them to sit like dogs in cages. Leader’s hand clenched into a fist at their side, glaring up at Supervillain as best they could.

Supervillain stood in his stupid grey three piece suit perfectly tailored to his muscular frame. He wore a charcoal grey overcoat and a black scarf over it and had his cane in both his hands, holding it horizontal as his cruel grey eyes focused on Leader in their cage. Face as expressionless as always, impassive, neutral… every part he could control except his grey eyes. His haunting grey eyes that showed exactly what emotion he was feeling. The only part of him that gave Supervillain away.

“Hey let us out of here you psycho!” Youngest yelled, kicking at the bars of their cage. Leader’s eyes went to them. They were the furthest from them on the left. There was a cage between them — where Rogue sat, glaring at Supervillain — then Youngest’s cage after.

Supervillain turned their head to Youngest’s cage and Leader’s heart dropped. “Sprightly little thing aren’t you?”

“How ‘bout you let me out of this cage and I’ll show you how sprightly I can be, hmm?!”

“Youngest,” Medic said, warning in their voice, to shut up or else. Supervillain walked over to Youngest’s cage and crouched down, putting their cane through the bars. Youngest scrambled back, but there wasn’t anywhere to flee to and their back hit the bars with a gentle thud. Leader watched as Supervillain’s cane rested easy on Youngest’s throat.

Youngest swallowed, the cane bobbing with the motion and put a hand up to grab it, but Supervillain batted it away and struck Youngest’s cheek with the cane. Youngest’s cheek whipped to the side with the impact.

“Supervillain!” Leader yelled now at the front bars of the cage, while Medic cried “Get away from them!”

Supervillain didn’t do either. Instead they kept their gaze on Youngest and lowered the cane to Youngest’s throat again, digging into it: “How ‘bout I chain you up and muzzle you for your insolence, hmm? Will that put manners on you?”

“Supervillain,” said Leader, voice hard. “Leave them alone. If you want to hurt somebody, hurt me!”

Supervillain turned their head and their piercing grey eyes found Leader’s. “Hush, Leader. It’s rude to interrupt someone. You’ll get your turn.”

Supervillain turned back to Youngest, and Leader and teammates could only watch helplessly from their stupid tiny cages. Leader’s heart was pounding out of their chest through their ears, as Supervillain used the Cane to force Youngest to look at them. An angry red welt was growing on Youngest’s cheek and they stared at Supervillain with a mixture of fear and hatred.

Supervillain tilted their head. Then asked with their horrible, matter of fact way: “Would you like to be immobilised completely and gagged, Youngest?”

Youngest shook their head side to side. “Use your words,” said Supervillain and Youngest swallowed, then spat out a contemptuous no.

“No what?” Supervillain asked, and Youngest’s entire face scrunched up in disgust. Leader saw their hands ball into fists at their sides. Leader also saw the tremble in their hands before they made them into fists. The fear coursing through their veins masked with their anger.

Supervillain pressed the cane into Youngest’s throat and their hand shot up again but stopped at Supervillain’s soft: “ah-ah-ah. No what, Youngest?”

Humiliation burned red on Youngest’s face as they said: “no, sir.”

Supervillain retracted the cane and stood in one swift movement. “Good. You can learn.”

Supervillain then turned to Leader with his grinning grey eyes. “They have a lot of potential, Leader. You should be proud.”

“Let them go, Supervillain,” Leader said.

“Why would I let them go? I have you all right where I want you. Except for you of course, Leader,” said Supervillain, walking towards Leader’s cage. Leader moved so they were sitting on their arse in the cage, legs stretched out in front of them and back against the bars, craning their neck to keep Supervillain in view. Supervillain stood directly over Leader’s cage looking down at them with a subtle hint of a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

Supervillain’s voice dipped, his rumbling deepening as he practically purred: “You I want on display. As a warning and a trophy as to what happens to those who oppose me.”

“In your dreams,” Leader snarled and Supervillain laughed, putting their hands on the top of Leader’s cage. Leader fought the urge to grab Supervillain’s hand and yank them down on the cage just to wipe that smirk off his stupid face.

“Sometimes Leader, if you work hard enough, your dreams can come true. Especially now that I got your little gang here too. You’d do just anything to protect them, wouldn’t you?” Leader’s heart sank at his words, their mouth going dry. That’s why they were here. Because of Leader. Because of Leader’s weakness to them.

“If you touch them—“

“I promise I won��t lay a finger on them,” Supervillain said, “as long as you do as I say.”

“No, Leader!” Rogue hissed from the cage to Leader’s left. “No you can’t let him—“

“You’re not sacrificing yourself for us,” said Medic, tone final. “We’ll get out! We’ll find a way, Leader. We always find a way. He just wants you we’ll be fine!”

“Yeah Leader, I just want you. You gonna make your team suffer in your place?” Supervillain asked with their hideous smiling rumble. Leader stuttered out a breath through their nose, even though it felt like they couldn’t breathe. Supervillain was asking something so impossible of them… and Leader didn’t want to just go along with it as horrible as that sounded.

They didn’t want to be the Leader and sacrifice themselves to Supervillain’s sadistic machinations, but if they didn’t… if they didn’t Supervillain would subject his team to them instead. Their team. Their family.

Leader swallowed hard, eyes focused on Supervillain’s cruel grey ones and nodded, just once. Supervillain’s lips spread into a proper smile now, and they got to undoing the lock on top of Leader’s cage. To the protests from Leader’s team.

“No! Leader no! Supervillain! Hurt me instead, hurt me please!” Medic demanded, pleaded, while Rogue just started kicking at the hinges on their cage and yelled in frustration when they got nowhere. Youngest was dead silent as Supervillain lifted the door of the cage and grabbed Leader under the shoulder and helped them out of the cage.

“Easy. Easy, there you go,” Supervillain praised, letting Leader sit back against the cage, sucking in a sharp breath. Supervillain moved his hand down to Leader’s ribs and Leader shot a hand out, stopping him, breathing heavy and cutting into Supervillain with a glare. Supervillain’s expression remained neutral, yet his eyes were a playful chiding. “I gave you that injury, Leader. Do you really think you can deny me seeing it? Do you really want to risk your teammates getting matching bruises?”

Leader’s glare softened to one of furious shame, as they let go of Supervillain’s hand and allowed him to lift Leader’s shirt up to Leader’s ribs. The cold smile on Supervillain’s face looked wrong. Strange. His hand on Leader’s ribs was surprisingly warm, as he pressed his palm against it and Leader sucked in a breath, clenching their jaw.

“Does that hurt?” Supervillain asked with his rolling rumble like falling stone.

“No. I’m just peachy— ow!” Leader cried as Supervillain dug their fingers into Leader’s ribs. Leader jerked to the side but Supervillain held them firm until Leader was gasping for breath, protesting: “Okay! Okay! It hurts!”

Supervillain removed his hand and dropped Leader’s shirt. “Good,” he said and stepped back. Leader looked at him, then Rogue was shouting in warning as Supervillain’s cane cracked against Leader’s bruised ribs. Leader crumbled to their knees, mouth open in a silent scream as they fell, then gasped again on the ground. They were on one hand and their knees, their other hand cradling their ribs protectively.

“Leader! Leader!” Medic was crying, but Leader just sucked in a sharp breath and raised their head to Supervillain again. Eyes narrowing.

Supervillain let out a loud sigh. “Still so insolent,” he said slowly, and cracked the cane against Leader’s jaw. Leader cried out, struggling to get their balance but it didn’t matter. Supervillain kicked at Leader’s injured ribs again and Leader went down, hitting off the stone floor and curling up protectively around themselves.

Leader opened their eyes to see Rogue reaching out for them between the bars, but they weren’t able to reach Leader. Leader saw a flash of grey fabric before a polished shoe slammed down on Rogue’s hand, driving the heel into it.

“No,” Leader gasped out with a pathetic wheeze. “No…” they said again, getting to their knees and grabbing at Supervillain’s foot. “Me… only… me…”

“Hear that Roguey? Only Leader, so stop trying to help or I’ll just hurt Leader more, yeah?” Supervillain said, lifting their foot from Rogue’s hand and grabbing Leader by the hair. Leader groaned as Supervillain yanked them up to their knees. “Get up, Leader. To your feet, come on now. I have a lesson to teach you all.”

Leader cried out as Supervillain yanked them up by the hair further and got to their shaky feet, holding onto Supervillain for balance. “Good. Very good. Now give me your hands.”

Cold fear washed through Leader’s veins at the command. Not their hands, they wanted to say. Anything but their hands. A punch to their ribs and Leader almost doubled over, but Supervillain used the pain as a diversion and cuffed Leader’s hands together in front of them. The cold metal snapped closed over Leader’s wrists, tightened to the point that Leader wondered if they would cut off their blood flow.

A strong hand under Leader’s chin directed their head up to look into those vindictive grey eyes. “Can you stand on your own?”

“Maybe if my ribs weren’t aching right now,” Leader grumbled, channeling all their pain, all their hatred into their glare they shot into the fathomless steel grey sea. Supervillain let Leader go, but Leader was ready this time. Both feet planted on the ground, knees bent, hands kept low in front of them.

The side of Supervillain’s lips quipped at Leader, as if they were impressed, but Leader could also very well be drunk on pain right now so they weren’t sure if what their eyes showed them were real.

Supervillain took off his black scarf first, then his overcoat and hung them on a hook that was nailed into the door. Next came the suit jacket and he stopped there, hanging that up too. He uncuffed the cuff links from his dress shirt and began rolling up his sleeves.

“Thought you were going to treat us to a striptease,” said Leader, forcing their usual devil-may-care smile onto their face. Supervillain flashed a smile too and then Leader’s head was thrown back, fresh blood dripping down their nose as Supervillain grabbed their hair to bring them up again.

“See, Leader, it’s not your fault per se, but with you being the Captain of your little team, your cute lil quips have spread like a wildfire throughout your ranks. Which means not only do I want to torture you to the point where you can’t even think about any witty comments, but I also want to wring it out of your teammates too.”

Leader’s hands shot up at the mention of their teammates and Supervillain smiled a handsome smile, as if he was happy to have touched a nerve.

“So you think I’m witty?” was all Leader said and Medic let out a tired: “shut up leader.”

“See?” Supervillain said, hand tightening in Leader’s hair. “Even they know when to stop.”

Leader just grinned exposing their bloody teeth. They had gone full feral, anything to piss Supervillain off. Anything to keep him off of their teammates. Just bait him. Bait him. Bait all his anger. All his frustration. Don’t even let him think about touching their team.

“Are you going to put me in my place or is you talking the torture?” Leader asked, tired. Supervillain could still that spark of defiance in Leader’s face and he let his mask of indifference shutter down over his own face.

Supervillain turned Leader and began dragging them towards the darkness behind the cages. Leader dragged their feet, their boots scraping along the ground as they were pulled against their will into the deep dark. Fear clasped their heart in a vice as they went stumbling after Supervillain’s long strides.

Lights flickered on around them and Leader could feel all the blood drain from their face. It looked like a fucked up medical room, with tools and utensils on the walls perfectly hung and cabinets full of god knows what.

And in the middle of the room was a metal table. Leader started struggling more now and Supervillain grinned as he felt the pull become more desperate. Supervillain turned to face Leader and revelled in the panic winding through their features. Supervillain yanked Leader forward and shoved them back onto the table. Leader fought them, trying to push Supervillain away but even on a good day they knew they wouldn’t be able to.

Supervillain wrestled Leader down, yanking their cuffed wrists above their head and hooking them to the end of the table. Leader yanked them down with all their might but they wouldn’t come loose. Supervillain watched Leader struggle until they stopped, lazy grey eyes going to Leader’s, raising his eyebrows, he asked: “no witty remarks?”

“Do your worst,” is what Leader said and Supervillain grinned.

“Oh I intend to,” said Supervillain stepping away from the table and walking over to one of the walls, grabbing a pliers from it and walking back over. Leader felt adrenaline pump through their veins a little too late if you asked Leader, but they tugged on the cuffs all the same just for something to do. Somewhere to put their fear.

Supervillain left the pliers on the metal table then walked back to the cages. The panic seized Leader’s throat as they leaned up, straining against the ache in their ribs, against the strain on their arms and cried out: “Supervillain! Don’t touch them! Just me, remember?!”

The clang of the handcuffs off the metal table was ricocheting through Leader’s ears like a storm of bullets from their struggling but they didn’t care. They saw Supervillain bend and pick up something from the floor and turn to walk back to Leader.

Leader calmed down a bit after seeing it was Supervillain’a cane. “Don’t worry Leader. I only have eyes for you. This just requires a more personal touch,” said Supervillain with his rolling voice, a hint of humour rounding his words. When Supervillain stopped beside the metal table Leader was chained to, he clicked a button on the handle and the hidden blade shinked out of the end of the cane.

The dagger had been a nasty surprise when Leader first felt it slice across his cheek. Supervillain had kept it a secret until Leader finally had the advantage over him in a fight, and then that shink changed the entire pace of the fight. That just seemed to be the general theme of Supervillain and Leader’s relationship.

Supervillain always seemed to have the upper hand.

Supervillain twisted the bottom of the cane and it came loose, the black metal of the cane becoming the hilt of the blade at the bottom. Leader tugged at the handcuffs again. They felt too exposed. Too readily waiting like a lamb for slaughter, they needed to do something.

“Nerves getting the better of you?” Supervillain asked, voice quiet as he placed the cane on a table to the side. “I can always drag Medic over here instead if you prefer.”

“You wouldn’t live to see tomorrow if you did,” Leader hissed and Supervillain smiled down at them.

“Just making sure. Now, to business,” said Supervillain. They grabbed Leader’s shirt and cut it loose with the blade. The cool metal scraped against Leader’s abdomen and chest causing a shiver to run down their spine. Supervillain turned back to face the cages and said louder so everyone could hear: “is everyone paying attention? Good. This is what happens you just don’t know when to stop and piss me off. Pay attention Youngest.”

The harsh tug of metal and Supervillain smiled to himself, turning back to Leader. All helpless and angry below him. Supervillain nearly sighed and stopped his work to just bask in how long it took him to finally get Leader here. Right where he wanted them, to finally hear them scream and not be able to fight back whatsoever.

Not with their hands.

Not with their words.

He wanted them broken, and hollow, to be moulded into something more after Supervillain was finished with them. The potential just sat idle under their skin and Supervillain would be the man to bring it out into the sunlight. That untapped nugget of something extraordinary.

Supervillain walked around the other side of the table, dagger in hand, then hummed, walking to the other side again. Mouth screwing up in concentration. Then, mind made up he sighed and climbed onto the table, straddling Leader’s waist with a knee on either side.

“At least buy me dinner fir— uhst,” Leader gasped as Supervillain pressed their ribs with his fingers.

“I need you to hold still for me now Leader, and tell me when it hurts.”

Supervillain wished he could have photographed the beautiful confusion on Leader’s face before he leaned over them, pinning their shoulder to table and started carving the first initial of Supervillain’s name just below Leader’s right shoulder.

Leader screamed as Supervillain dragged the blade through skin as if it was as easy as paper, thrashing in their restraints and screaming. Trying to loosen the handcuffs from the hook or jab a knee into Supervillain’s side, crotch, leg — anything. Anything to stop the pain that burned through Leader’s shoulder.

“Hold still. Almost there,” said Supervillain and placed a steadying hand on Leader’s bruised ribs to keep them down. Leader opened their mouth in a silent scream, trying to alleviate the pressure by sucking in their stomach and pushing it out. Twisting, writhing, turning— nothing could make them feel better.

Supervillain leaned back and smiled down at Leader. Leader was just happy they had finally stopped, but it didn’t stop the stinging pain from the deep cuts that were still bubbling warm blood down Leader’s torso and onto the table. To Leader’s horror, Supervillain reached back and picked up the pliers they had left on the edge of the table.

Supervillain brought them down to Leader’s fresh cuts and Leader shook their head, tears streaming down their face. “Supervillain— don’t- don’t!”

“Sssh,” Supervillain cooed, pressing a bloody finger to Leader’s lips. “Relax. I just need to make sure it’ll last.”

That sentence did anything but reassure Leader and before Leader could tell Supervillain that they would rate him poorly on yelp, the pliers was in his skin. The metal bites opening Leader’s flesh, ripping them further apart. Leader screamed from their gut, like a banshee, except worse because they knew merciful death wasn’t coming after the torture. It was just more torture.

Leader was in and out of consciousness by the time Supervillain was done, blinking hazily up at the monster above them. “Good. Done. You did so good. That’s—“ supervillain said with a laugh. “That’s gonna leave one hell of a scar, Leader. You’ll die with that one.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Leader croaked, voice hoarse from screaming. Supervillain tutted them.

“Leader. Leader. Leader. Where’s your usual banter, hmm? No funny input? I didn’t expect you to break so soon.”

Leader couldn’t even tug at their restraints in protest anymore. Their body was exhausted from healing and the adrenaline leaving their system. Supervillain lifted the bloody pliers so Leader could see it and sighed.

“You know the pliers was fun, but I think a clamp would be much more effective at ensuring scarring, wouldn’t you Medic?”

Leader barely heard Medic’s desperate reply. “Please… Supervillain. Please, let me look at them. I can heal them, make sure—“

“Enough. I don’t want them healed. I want them suffering. Although I do enjoy this whole family trauma thing, it does spice up the torture a bit.”

Supervillain was off Leader them and Leader nearly passed out with relief. Until their eyes followed Supervillain to the wall again and they pulled out a medical clamp, and the breath was taken from them.

Supervillain wasn’t done with Leader… they weren’t finished yet.

Sure enough Supervillain climbed back on top of Leader in the same position as before with their blood slicked knife in hand and a clamp in the other.

“You… you’re… I thought—“

“You thought we were done?” Supervillain asked and then laughed. A humourless, evil sound. “No. No. That was just the initial of my first name, Leader. How else will people know I tamed you if I don’t write my last name too?”

Distantly Leader could hear Rogue and Youngest shouting, protesting, calling Supervillain ever name under the sun and screaming. Pleading.

It all melded together in the static in Leader’s brain.

“In all honesty, Leader, you should be thanking whatever God is looking down at you that I don’t have a double barrel last name or we’d run out of body parts.”

Supervillain leaned over and pinned Leader’s left shoulder before getting to carving again. Leader screamed and cried and screamed some more and eventually, mercifully, they passed out on the table.

*~*~*~*~*

continued here