#when his eyes are hidden behind his blindfold or his glasses

[ghostbeam]

I think gojo is very shameless about just staring at u and paying attention to u at all times when people notice or say something about how he can’t look away from u he just shrugs cause it’s true he stares at u from across the room and doesn’t take his eyes off u and when u catch him he’s just happy ur looking back at him

[missmyluv]

"her ass is like a boomerang." gojo smiles to himself.

nanami's eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, his veins were one step away from popping. "i don't wish to hear about sex with my co-worker, gojo." he stated. gojo had been going on and on about you since he walked into nanami's office. at first- he didn't mind it.

you were also a special grade sorcerer, who had worked her way up to the top because of your hard work and dedication since your adolescence; he admired you plus you were older than him, if he were to rank his co-workers- you'd be top three.

but this isn't what he had thought of when gojo brought up the topic of "talking about you."

"c'mon, i know you want to hear about it." gojo teases him, poking him in his bicep.

"no. i don't."

"yeah you do, you wanna know all the juicy details about her p-"

"get the hell out of my office." nanami's voice clearly hardened, he had pushed gojo's lanky arms off of him and stopped completely reading what seemed like endless files on his desk. gojo whines, "you're no fun." nanami scoffs, taking his reading glasses off and rubbing his tired eyes.

"anyway, like i was saying, her-"

"satoru, are you in here?" it's like he had been blessed; utterly saving his life from gojo yapping on about the sex he and his wife have. "what're you doing in here lovebug?" he excitedly gets up out of the chair beside nanami's desk, trotting his way to you like he hadn't just spilled the beans on your love life.

"i hope you weren't annoying kento again." you ask in disappointment, already knowing the answer. "maybe i was, maybe i wasn't. no one will know." he shrugs his shoulders in amusement with himself and wraps his arms around your waist. you roll your eyes at his answer. "well, all i know is that you need to leave him alone. you've clearly worked him out just by talking."

gosh, you were so right. nanami thought you were an angel sent from above. you wave nanami goodbye and a sorry for his notorious behavior.

walking down the quiet hallway side by side, you feel gojo's hand creep up on your ass. "y'know, your ass recoils like a wubble bubble?" gojo says plainly, no reaction whatsoever. nothing but a smirk and eyes hidden behind that blindfold.

"what the hell are you talking about?"

[doodle-pops]

Love Language

CEO & Sugar Daddy!Fingolfin x f!reader

Request: Sending you a request for CEO+Sugar Daddy Fingolfin x reader, where reader doesn’t do well on one of her tests at school so he ‘punishes’ her / ‘helps’ her study for the next one? - Anon

A/N: Not gonna lie, it’s such a perfect time to post this fic when lots of you already finished your exams and are awaiting your results. Hehe, enjoy :)

Warnings: female reader, smut, CEO & Sugar Daddy!Fingolfin, dom!Fingolfin, sub!reader, fingering, blindfolding, rough sex, orgasm denial, spanking, daddy & authority kink (used once), punishment, dirty talking

Words: 3k

Synopsis: Failing your exams was one thing, however, lying while keeping it hidden was another, and Fingolfin made sure you remembered that.

Manspreading on the edge of his bed, left arm resting on his knee while the right was busy unfastening his tie, he followed up his actions with the unbuttoning of the first two buttons. A small peak of his chiselled chest as the two buttons became undone, leaving the mouth-watering sight of the neck you so loved covering in hickeys and teeth marks when he took you hard. His sleeves were already rolled to his elbows, veins prominent and delicately wrapping around his arms, leading to his large hands that always gripped you like his life depended on it. A quick shuffle of his arms as he tugged the tie from around his neck, and his biceps curled under his sleeves, looking beefy and sturdy—all his years of hitting the gym paid off wonderfully.

“Do you have any idea how much I invested in your success?” His voice was a low, dangerous murmur, dripping with controlled anger. He slowly rose off the bed and chartered over to his mini bar to pour himself a shot of brandy, something to add heat to the fire already building within his core. The entire time, his eyes never left yours as he tilted the glass to his lips, staring at your meek form across the room. His eyes were filled with disappointment and frustration. “And you dare lie to me, thinking I wouldn’t find out?”

His words cut through the silence, sharp and authoritative. You could barely manage a syllable, much less a guttural sound from the waves of anger rolling off him. You felt the heat in your stomach travelling to regions it shouldn’t, knowing how things were about to escalate. Nevertheless, your panties started soaking as your arousal slowly seeped through your fold and you shifted on your feet, something Fingolfin noticed.

Gently resting the glass down, Fingolfin wiggled out of his dress shoes, followed by his socks and pushed them aside to stand bare feet on the carpet. You weren’t even aware of his presence before you, as he crossed the room with blinding speed to tower above you, intimidatingly. “Strip. Now.” The command was issued with such finality that you didn’t dare hesitate to resist or sass. Your hands trembled slightly as you undressed, feeling the weight of his disapproval heavy in the air.

Once you were completely bare, he circled you slowly, inspecting you as if deciding your fate. Goosebumps appeared in every area his cold eyes fell upon. “You failed me,” he said, his tone cold. “I expected much more from you, and worse, you tried to hide it from me. Such behaviour needs to be rectified, and what better way than to clarify it via my favourite method? Do you not agree?”

“Yes,” you curtly responded, not wanting to bore him with any extra syllables in his current state of dissatisfaction, while further understanding what you had signed up for. Walking for the next few days was out of the question. Thankful, you were on holiday, so you could more than afford to lounge in bed all day and night—just not in the manner he was about to make it.

There was a low grumble in his chest at your reply. His head dipped to lowly his lips to your ear. “Yes, who?”

“Yes, sir,” you corrected your posture immediately at attention.

There was a distinctive clicking of his tongue behind you and the faint whisps of his breath against your neck. Then, very delicately, you felt his fingers pressing against your lower back, guiding you to his pristine sheets and positioning you to kneel with your face pressed into the mattress. Fingolfin’s fingers traced along your spine, a deceptive gentleness in his touch. “You need to understand the consequences of your actions,” he continued, his voice softening just enough to send shivers down your spine and while leaving you anticipating.

Moving behind you stealthy, you missed the sound of his hand slicing through the air yet felt the stinging pain of the contact it made with your ass. The suddenness made you gasp, but there was no reprieve. Another smack followed, then another, each one harder than the last, until your skin was flushed and stinging. His hand placement was strategic as he lowered it with each slap until his fingertips brushed against your wet folds with intensity. Your body naturally recoiled, however, his left hand reached out to entangle your tresses, giving you a slight arch. “No running. Count them,” he commanded with a hint of seduction. “I want to hear you acknowledge every single one.”

Unable to retaliate given the situation and the level it would become should you, your lips parted with a faint whisper that grew into a quiver, under the attempt to not moan. “One…two…three…” Each number was punctuated by another sharp spank, his hand firm and unyielding. Fingolfin’s other hand drifted from your hair to firmly, without aggression, grip the nape of your neck, holding you in place, ensuring that you couldn’t run from your punishment.

After the tenth strike, he paused, his hand resting on your reddened skin, soothingly rubbing the area. There was a moment where he admired the welts of hands left on your ass. You felt the bed dip to your left before the ghosting of his hot breath on the tip of your ear. “Do you think you deserve mercy?” he taunted, kissing the tip of your ear before biting it. “After lying to me, do you think you deserve any kindness?”

In a broken whimper, you managed to stutter out. “P-Please, ‘m sorry.” In return, you missed the way his eyes rolled but felt his heavy exhale before he removed his hand from your ass to dangle the tie before your eyes. You knew what came next.

Not waiting for you to comply, he released his hold on your neck to neatly secure the tie around your eyes, cutting your sight away from the world. The fresh scent of his cologne waffled through your senses and made your head spin. He always smelt delicious—a blend of mint and spices.

Once you were decorated, he pressed his hand against your back, pushing you head first, into the mattress whilst parting your legs to run his fingers through your wet cunt. He wasted no time in executing the second part of your punishment the way his fingers glided through your folds, toying with your clit. Already needy and dripping despite the harsh treatment. “Look at you.” His voice held no form of adoration like it usually did whenever he admired your form. Instead, they were filled with condescension. “Undeserving of what’s being given.”

His words hung over you like threads had woven themselves into each syllable to taunt you further. You felt one of his hands press into your upper shoulder while his other continued working their way through your, avoiding your clit. The sound of his rich laughter ghosted through the air as he mocked the way you squirmed, turned into a hiss as he sunk them deep inside and crooked them directly towards your sweet spot. In no way were you allowed to shift away from his wicked touch as his hand curled around the back of your neck.

“F-Fuck! P–…lease! God I hate you!” you cried out, finally finding your voice to match his tempo. Your fingers curled into the sheets, fisting at it due to your lack of sight and inability to turn your head and glare at him. The immediate trembling of your body as he continued to twist and crook his finger through your slick, releasing a loud and lewd squelching signalled how close you already were.

But Fingolfin was always a mile ahead of you in terms of making a comeback because he wasted no time growling. “That’s a lot of words coming from a smart mouth that was unable to produce a single Valarin lexicon for your orals. Since when did you get so clever?”

Before you could reply, using the grip around your neck, he hoisted you to your knees and pressed the tips of his fingers against your sweet spot, bringing you close to the edge but never allowing you the release you craved. “Go ahead, mumble some more. Be a smart ass for me princess. Show me how skilled your pretty little tongue is!”

As his words left his lips, you didn’t have the chance to respond as his two fingers curled and thrust into you with blinding speed, leaving you trembling. Whining in choked sobs as drool dribbled down your chin as he squeezed the air out your lungs with his actions, you vibrated. There was nowhere for you to escape but his embrace that loomed behind like a menacing figure with purpose. With every torturous rub, your body bowed and buckled like a worm, and he laughed with a deep rumble in his chest, revelling in the pleasure of your reactions. Nevertheless, this was all a walk in the park the more his fingers flexed against your spongey walls, feeling them clamp around him like a vice grip. “‘M sorry, daddy. Won’t…do…again.”

“Sound to me like you would," he scoffed. “Your cunt seems to enjoy my fingers...feel how tight she is around me. Gripping me with absolute want.” Indeed he was right. Your walls clung to him, refusing to let him slip out smoothly and forcefully sucking him back in deeper.

You shook your head as high-pitched squeals slipped out, your hips moving on their own accord, matching the rhythm of his fingers.

“Really? Do you think I should let you cum, hm? After your poor performance that I spent thousands of dollars on for the best results,” he hissed in your ear, nibbling on the lobe and giving it small tugs before dipping his head to bite the junction of your shoulder. “You gave me nothing good in return except a pathetic excuse. Do I not spoil you enough? Answer me!”

Your fingers found a way to dig into his thighs, unfortunately, they were still covered in his pants, reducing your attempts at marking him. However, it provided support for the wicked torment he delivered. You were constantly trapped in purgatory as his fingers provided pleasure while denying you relief. “P-Plea—”

“Pardon? I didn’t hear you,” he reminded in a patronising tone. His eyes fluttered upwards to glance at you through his dark lashes, enjoying the way your face twisted as the waves of pleasure came on harder. “Speak up, loud and clear, or you’ll regret it.”

Choking on a silent scream, your breath came out in pants and broken sighs. “Oh fuck, please! Just let me cum!”

“You don’t deserve to cum,” he taunted, pulling his hand away just as you were about to orgasm. “Not yet.”

Ignoring your pathetic cries, his hand around your neck travelled down your back to position you into a foul arch while he kicked your legs apart. Easily he wasted no time positioning himself behind you, undoing his trousers—erection spring free, heavy with want and anger at the wait—and rubbing the tip of his aching cock through your puffed-up folds, deeply inhaling at the sensation of your wetness coating him. You were dripping wet, just the way he enjoyed having you for every session. All flushed with ache and want, begging him to put out the flames and stuff you till thy kingdom come.

And indeed he loved every second of the torture he took, applying his patience as he rubbed your clit and nudged it with his tip. Your cries went in one ear and escaped the other without care since you didn’t have any regard for the finances you wasted. Then, without warning, he pushed into you roughly, a sharp contrast to the teasing touches from before. “You don’t get to enjoy this,” he growled, not wasting a second to build his tempo, and going directly for the kill. “This is for me, not you. You’re not the one frustrated and in need of relief after your stunt—you could never be.”

It turned out that learning of your failure at the same time one of his clients entered a lawsuit, created a torrent of pent-up frustration. His plan was to spend the entire evening with you—not much had changed, only with a minor adjustment of your orgasmic denial and increase of roughness.

One hand, firm around your neck while the other gripped your hips, you were forced into a profoundly painful arch to take the rough pounding of his hips meeting your ass. Every thrust caused his cock to faintly brush against your sweet spot, tickling your sensitivity and never granting you a reprieve. With great precision, Fingolfin ensured that you felt every vein on his cock and thrust, as he pushed deeper and harder with dominance. You could feel the way his veins rubbed your walls just right, fitting in all the cracks and crevices just the way you were moulded from the start. At the same time, it was disgusting that he hadn’t removed his clothes to grant you the opportunity to let you feel his silky skin on yours.

You wanted to feel the ripple of his muscles as he clenched and flexed his thighs against your body the deeper and harder he went. This materialistic barrier only fuelled your anxiety at the wreck of punishment this was turning out to be.

“Even when being…punished, you’re still wet…and tight. Fuck!” he groaned. “Do you think you deserve to cum?”

“S-Sir, p–…please. ‘M sorry,” you cried out, hands fisting the sheets as you sought after your orgasm. “Won’t…do…again…”

“Of course, you would not perform that same stunt again,” he growled and tightened his grip on your hip. His rapid, deep strokes never stopped as he pressed you into the bed, pinning you under his weight. “You wouldn’t want to miss the feeling of my cock in your pussy, would you? How good it feels to claim you over and over again as mine.”

Squeaking, unable to form a coherent reply, he slowed his pace and pulled all the way out, leaving his tip inside before pushing back in roughly. Your body rattled, the air knocked out of your lungs and the scream lodged in your throat. Soundless sobs were your relief as you prayed he would grant you mercy with each powerful thrust from his cock. And yet, he continued to purposefully miss your sweet spot, aiming to get himself off alone. “Do you understand now? he asked as he leaned down, voice deeply rooted in your ear as he panted. “Do you understand what happens when you lie to me? Failing is one thing, but lying to me…”

You could only nod—or hope that you did—your voice lost in the intensity of the moment. Only the sound of his hips meeting your ass and his cock sliding in and out of your wet cunt echoed. Like music to his ears on a stressful day. His grip was unyielding as he continued to pound into you, slow and deep, relishing in the power he held over you. Each thrust was a reminder of his authority in your life.

The elaborate rolls of his hips and the articulate angle of his cock left you in a frenzy. He did everything to miss your sweet spot, focusing on pleasuring his cock with the softness and warmth you provided. The lewd echoes of his cock penetrating deeper fuelled your pussy to grow wetter, on the verge of squirting, but not quite there. Ever so rarely, he would laugh in your ear as you attempted to squeeze him, wanting him to stay longer. The sweet grips of your lips around him was sinful and made his head spin.

You were going to be the dead of him. No wonder why he picked you at first sight. It was pure instincts telling him how good you would feel wrapped around him even if you were to disappoint. Your pussy had a magic to it that he couldn’t get enough off—the relentless pounding and groans told it all. He’d always choose to fuck you as his life depended on it as a punishment, and who were you to resist.

There was a moment when you could barely keep it together as your head started spinning. Toes curling into the bedsheets, nails fisting the pillows, and head buried into the mattress, you muffled your whines as he finally brushed his tip against you. But you should have known his strategy from the start. Rapid and deep thrusts against it left you fighting for your life as the fire pooled in your abdomen. Your walls clamped harder around him, forcing his pace to stutter and pants to turn into groans.

“You like that...don’t you? You wanna cum all over my cock for free,” he groans, gyrating his hips to rub his tip against your sweet spot. “Maybe I should let you, but not now.”

And with ease, his groans turned into deep grunts before you felt his cock pulsating and his thrusts faltering. The fluid motion of his hips stuttered as he tried to continue the powerful rolls of his hips, wanting the sound of his heavy balls to slap loudly against your wet pussy. Yet soon, with a satisfied groan, Fingolfin’s hips stilled, and his grip tightened around your neck and hips, as he spilled his hot, sticky cum inside you. He was quick and sharp to pull out, dabbing his forehead to remove any beads of sweat while gazing at your trembling, weeping form that held his cum, slowly oozing out.

Straightening his posture and rising to full height, he gave a light tap to your ass and commanded. “Get up. On your knees on the floor, now,” he muttered, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt to discard it, along with his trousers. He observed how clumsy you were as you carefully climbed off the bed and onto the floor to kneel before him. Reaching out to grip your chin, he focused you on his authoritative figure towering above with his rigid cock, pronounced and ready for another round. Even with the blindfold covering your eyes, you could feel the intensity of his gaze burning holes into yours.

“I want you to remember this night carefully because I would hate to repeat this all over again,” he whispered lowly, cupping your chin to tilt your head upwards and running his thumb over your lips. “Now part your pretty lips for me while the night is still young. I have a lesson to teach…”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @aconstructofamind @sakurayaxd @addaigio @elficially-done-with-life @involuntaryspasms @eunoiaastralwings

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Badge Bunny Part III

Find everything in the Badge Bunny AU here.

Summary: The happiness and bliss you've had finally comes crashing down. You never thought being with Gator would have such dire consequences.

18+ Only! MDNI

Warnings: Reader is referred to as "Bunny" or "Bun". Minimal use of Y/N. Angst. Roy Tillman. Reader is assaulted, kidnapped and injured. Blood. Violence. Death (not explicit). Gun use. Soft smut. Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it). Creampie. This is not a happy ending! (Sorry)

Word Count: 8.4K

You began to rouse, with a pounding in your head, feeling delirious as visions of what had transpired come vividly rushing back. Flashes of light move behind your eyelids making that pain almost unbearable. It feels like it's been cracked open with the searing pain emanating from the back of your skull.

On instinct, you try to lift your hand to press against that throbbing, but your hands are bound in front of you, matching zip ties at your ankles.

Lifting them feels like too much of a chore as you let out a small whine, twisting to test them. No way to run.

When you try to let your eyes fall open, you quickly realize they're shrouded. You hadn't gotten a good look at them at the house and now they've got you blindfolded.

Your mouth and throat are dry and sore, making it hard to swallow.

You lick your cracked, chapped lips, wincing when your tongue grazes over a tender cut there. That coppery tang sits on your tastebuds. Still fresh, bloodied and bruised.

You will yourself to stay quiet. Listening to the little sounds around you. A humming of electricity. A distant drip, drip, drip you can only assume is a faucet.

Your shoulder is aching from your place on the cold tile floor. They hadn't bothered making it comfortable for you. Who could blame them, the way you had fought back.

If it had just been the two of them, you'd be home right now, explaining it all to your local deputy who wouldn't bother calling it in, taking matters into his own hands.

You had your gun aimed and ready to fire. But there was a third you hadn't accounted for and then it went black.

It all happened so fast. Gator in that stupid Jack Skellington mask he'd bought at Halloween, only when you opened the door it wasn't him poised there to give you a jump scare.

They cocked their head when you'd said his name, the rest of your words dying on your lips with the realization. He'd always told you to be vigilant, keeping the door locked unless you trusted who was behind it.

You scrambled to close it quickly, but they rushed it, knocking you on your ass from the blow.

You clawed and kicked, giving whoever it was the fight of their life. You wouldn't go easily; it wasn't in your nature. Shattered glass and splintered wood as you crawled to where the spare gun was hidden.

It was too late, as the last intruder snuck up from behind.

Gator was driving home, exhausted after a long day of work barely keeping his eyes open. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed, seeking your warmth as he eased up behind you to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

It was the one thing he looked forward to everyday. Hearing your soft sighs of contentment that matched his own as he pulled you in close.

The trip seemed to be taking longer than usual in his state. He wearily pulled into the drive, with your car parked in the usual spot.

He looked toward the porch as he put the truck in park.

“What the fuck?” He whispered out loud to himself, mouth hung open in shock.

The front door was wide open. He felt like his heart dropped into his stomach. Alarms began to go off in his head.

He quickly moved to jump out, grabbing his gun from his holster running toward the house.

Taking the steps two at a time, he shouted your name while cautiously peeking around the corner. No forced entry, door frame intact. You'd had to have opened it.

Nothing could be heard but the TV low in the background.

Entering the living room made him sick. The place was trashed. Glass thrown about, audibly crunching beneath each step of his boots. The coffee table was in pieces, as if someone had been thrown onto it.

He ignored the pounding of his heart and tightness in his chest as he cleared the rest of the house, room by room.

Finally accepting you weren't here; he holstered his gun and made his way back to the living room.

The first thing he noted was the gun he kept hidden was laid out in the floor, next to what he only could assume were droplets of blood. A wine-colored smattering stark against the light carpeting.

His eye was drawn to something that caught the light, matted into the carpet. His fingers hesitantly pinched it between his fingers as he pulled it up. His blood ran cold, it was the necklace you always wore with his initial.

He held it in his palm, sticky crimson clung to the thin chain, smearing his skin the same. His head filled with all of the worst scenarios as his stomach began to churn.

Then he spotted it. Off to itself, thrown in the corner. A fucking Jack Skellington mask. The same one he had.

The only way you'd open that door is if you'd thought it was him. He knew this was his fault. All of it. He'd been a fool to think he could protect you or that the both of you could come away unscathed.

He looked down at the mask clutched in one hand and your necklace in the other, as the bile stirring within him threatened to rise. He ran back outside, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the frozen ground.

He didn't care how or who he'd have to hurt in the process, but he was going to find you.

Roy soon arrived with a few other deputies in tow.

Whistling low as he stepped through the threshold, hands on his hips, looking around at the damage. Gator didn't bother looking up from his current position at the small dining room table.

“Well, son. Looks like a home invasion. What'd else they take?”

“Nothing else that I can see. Just her.” He was slumped in the kitchen chair, eyes boring into that mask as if it'd give him all the answers he needed.

Andy gave Gator a pitying look, before he spoke up.

“If it helps, it looks like she fought like hell. And we both know she can throw a mean right hook. That blood may not even be hers. I can get it sent off and back in a couple days.”

“A couple days? We don't have that kind of time.” He shot up from his chair, grabbing Andy by the collar taking him by surprise.

“She's out there with the fuckers who took her. We don't have a couple of days.” He forces out through gritted teeth.

Anger flickered through him as he stared the other man down.

“Gator, man I'm sorry that shit takes time. You know we'll do everything in the meantime.”

“Son, that's enough.” Roy's booming voice commanded.

He let Andy go, taking a few steps back bracing himself on the counter.

“Look, I'll put an APB out. You sure you know her well enough that she, I don't know, didn't set this up to look like a break in? Maybe just ran off instead?”

He furrowed his brows, confusion and hurt written all over his face.

“She'd never do anything like that. She lo…” he shook his head. “You just don't know her like I do.”

“No, I don't. Just looking at every scenario before I put any manpower into this.”

“No dad, she's not like that.” He sighed.

“Okay, son.” A wordless nod to the others, and they were making their way back out of the house leaving Gator alone once more with the carnage.

-

As Roy and the others headed to their vehicles, he quickly called Andy over.

“Deputy, don't worry about getting those samples sent off.” He set him with a firm gaze. “They didn't make it for analysis. Got it?”

Andy was going to argue but it was Roy. The gaze he leveled him with sent a shiver through him. He knew better than to question him, so he just nodded instead.

Gator couldn't rest. Not until you were safe and back at home with him.

He drove around the city to clear his mind and to get away from the house. He had begun to clean up before leaving but it was still a mess.

He'd picked up most of the glass, worried some would still be embedded in the carpet and contemplated ripping it all out right then and there. That's when he thought a drive would be better.

It was nearly 1 am when he made it to the Lucky Lizard.

He wearily stepped through the door, quickly gaining the confused attention of Henry.

“Gator? Y/N with you?” He said, eyes darting past Gator but there was no sign of you.

He simply shook his head, taking a stool.

“Jack?” He offered the other man.

“No, I don't think I should. I just came by to… to tell you that she won't be in tomorrow.” He didn't look up to see Henry's face go from confused to filled with worry in an instant.

“What happened?” He narrowed his gaze. Henry liked Gator but everyone in this town knew what getting close to that family meant. For him to come by instead of getting a text or call from you directly he knew it was bad.

“She… someone took her.” His pained expression tore at Henry. He'd never seen the younger man like this, so openly vulnerable.

“What does that mean? Who took her?” Far too many questions floating around and Gator didn't have the time or patience to explain further.

“Listen,” he finally looked up, eyes glossy, shocking the other man just a bit. “I just need you to keep your eyes and ears open. Anything unusual, let me know. If anyone is stupid enough to open their mouth, it's usually when they've had too much to drink.”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, as Gator stood to leave. He wanted to say something comforting, but the words just wouldn't come as he watched him, heavy footfalls and head hung low as he ducked back out into the night.

The bitter cold nipped at his face as he slowly walked to his truck. He sniffed, the air stinging his nose and throat, as he tried to keep his emotions in check. He knew he'd be no use to you if he let his head get the better of him.

He pulled into the Midway, one more stop before heading back to the station. One he dreaded the most.

You and Maggie had gotten close while you stayed here. Still kept in touch.

He slowed to a stop in front of the small office, already catching the older lady’s attention as she sat the book she had been reading off to the side.

He let out a breath and made his way through the door as the little bell above his head announced his arrival.

Maggie raised a brow, “and what do I owe the pleasure of you darkening my doorway, Deputy? Can't be good this time o’night.”

He swallowed thickly as she further studied his disheveled appearance, unkempt hair and the crestfallen look on his face. Her heart sank.

She slowly shook her head, looking down at the desk.

“I told that girl you were nothing but trouble from the very start. Wouldn't listen to reason. Couldn't stay away from your ass.” Scoffing and crossing her arms. “She dead?”

The question caught him off guard. Hearing it out loud made his stomach lurch. Something his own mind couldn't even fathom. He wouldn't let himself think the worst right now.

“Someone took her.” He finally answered, not ready to meet her gaze but looked up anyway. Her eyes were glossy, mouth set in a thin line showing her disdain.

“Took her? What the hell did you drag her into? You and that no-good Sheriff.” She mumbled the last part, looking away from him.

“Look, I wanted you to hear it from me. I know you two are close.” She nodded, so he continued. “Have you seen anything or anyone unusual recently?”

“Honey, look around this place. Almost everyone that comes and goes is unusual, but you bet your ass I'll keep a watch out. You,” pointing her finger at his chest, “need to find that girl. She loves your ass, for whatever goddamn reason.”

He gave her a tight-lipped smile, and a quick nod before turning to leave.

-

The adrenaline wore off as he crashed. He fought off sleep for as long as he could. Not wanting to face what was back at the house or go to Roy's. He parked the truck at the station, opting to get some sleep there.

Every time he shut his eyes, he couldn't help the images of you that passed before him. His eyes burned, stinging from the tears he was holding back.

When sleep finally took hold he dreamt of you.

Smiles and bubbling laughter that taunted him.

When his hand reached for you, you were just out of his grasp. Fingertips grazing featherlight against your skin. Turning to him, smile fading as tears began to stream down your beautiful face.

“Gator, you let this happen. This is all your fault!” You cried. “You didn't find me. Look what they did to me.”

The white sundress you wore turned crimson, beginning at your abdomen as it ran the length of the fabric dripping onto the floor below. Droplets turning into puddles at your bare feet.

He looked back at your face, now ghostly white with dark sunken eyes.

“Why Gator? Why'd you let them do this to me?” Your hands were outstretched, the same crimson dripping from your fingertips as you lunged for him.

He jolted awake. Of course, his mind would conjure his worst nightmare when he wouldn't allow his conscious self to think like that.

“Fuck,” he hissed pressing his palms to his eyes.

“Goddamnit!” Yelling as he punched the steering wheel.

A few hours of sleep were all he could manage, and it was still before sunrise.

He pushed his hair back, lowering his ball cap ready to face the long day ahead.

Upon your initial waking, you flit in and out of consciousness. Your head still feels like someone was holding a jackhammer to it. Somehow, you'd managed to roll onto your back, but no comfort was found in the cold, unforgiving floor.

That incessant slow drip, drip, drip nearby was all you could focus on with no idea how much time has passed and hoping to God this isn't how you were going to die.

Your ears perked up when you heard faint voices.

Making out it was two men but not what they were saying. You decided to roll back on your side and pretend you were still out; hoping they'd leave you be.

A door opened, squeaky on its hinges as they entered. Your skin broke out with goosebumps as a flourish of cooler air hit you.

“Fuck, she's still out? Sure you didn't kill her?” One said.

“No, dumbass. She's still breathing. See.” You were sure they were watching your chest expand, trying to keep your breathing as steady as possible not to give yourself away.

“I mean, shouldn't we wake her up? Give her some water or something?”

“Water or something?” There was a small scuffling sound. “You want to play gracious host after she kicked you in the balls and nearly shot me after clawing my fucking face?”

“We aren't tryin' to kill her. S’all I'm saying.”

You heard the other scoff, footsteps walking away.

“Come on. We'll check back in a couple hours. I've got a few calls to make.” The other footsteps quickly followed leaving you alone once more.

You had a couple of hours to think of a plan. You knew Gator would be knocking down that door if he knew where you were. He'd stop at nothing to get to you, but you couldn't count on it right now.

You were bruised and battered but in no way giving up on yourself, a fighter through and through. You would get out of this alive.

Gator had spent the better part of the morning driving aimlessly around town.

Roy had told him to get his head out of his ass and go on patrol to get him out of his own hair.

They'd had a blowout at the station.

-

“Son, I can't send valuable resources out to look for that woman, not when I've got other shit to clean up right now.” Not even sparing a glance up at him while he said it.

“Dad, she's not just some woman. She's my woman. Mine.”

"She's not your wife though, huh? Not good enough that you'd marry her. She is nothing. Women like that are a dime a dozen. You'll grow out of whatever this is.”

He's sitting across from his father, trying his best to not come across the desk. Fists clenched tightly, resting in the chair arms. Knee bouncing with the words that just came from him.

His mind is currently fixated on the small, black velvet box hidden in the back of his sock drawer. It's a modest ring, but he saved up for it. Went out of his way to pick it out just for you.

Those words echoing in his mind “she's not your wife.”

“I love her.” It came out almost a whisper.

Roy looked up, “huh?”

“I said, I love her.” He spoke louder, meeting his father's amused face.

“Oh, love is it?” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Love is a child's fairytale. Grow up and get out. Get your ass back out on patrol. I don't want to see you near this station today.”

-

He was currently sat outside the Lucky Lizard. He wanted to be somewhere familiar, close to you, but he couldn't face what was back at home. An empty house full of reminders of his shortcomings. He'd failed you.

Another patrol truck pulled in beside him, slowly rolling the window down so he followed suit.

“Gator, how ya holding up?” Andy asked.

“How ya’ think? My girl is God knows where and my dad isn't lifting a goddamn finger to help.” He blurted out, frustration on full display.

“Look, I gotta tell you something man.” Andy looked at him pensively. “I like y/n. She's good for you. I couldn't live with myself if something… Your dad, I know what he's capable of, but he told me to get rid of those samples last night. I don't know what's going on, I don't want to know but I sent them off anyway.”

“What?” His brows creased, a million questions running through his mind.

“I’m sorry man. I'll help you find her, whatever you need. Just give me a call. I'll let you know just as soon as they come back. I… I put a rush order in. I know I'll probably get my ass chewed…”

“Andy, thank you.” He meant it. “Don't worry about Roy, okay? Just go back to work, I'll call if I need you.”

Andy nodded and pulled back onto the highway.

He slowly let out a shaky breath, putting his vape to his lips inhaling as deeply as possible letting the nicotine calm his nerves.

He'd had enough of the bullshit. He wasn't worried about Roy or anyone else standing in his way.

Seconds, minutes, hours ticked by.

You'd managed to pull the cloth from your eyes enough to see you were in a large utility closet. Harsh fluorescent lights above immediately sent a wave of stinging tears down your face.

You were freezing. Muscles aching. Wrists and ankles numb from the zip ties biting at your flesh. Angry, bloodied rings formed where they were bound too tightly.

You quickly looked around for anything to cut them, but nothing immediately standing out until you saw a shovel standing in the corner.

You began to scoot your ass, inch by inch, closing in on your destination. You reached out dragging the tie across the metal hoping it was sharp enough as you began grinding back and forth. It was working, slowly.

You stopped, hearing muffled voices again.

“Fuck.” You muttered, sitting back, then leaning on the wire shelf behind you. You couldn't pretend this time, facing them head on.

The door squeaked open. A pair of boots entered directly in your line of vision. You followed them as they rounded the corner, keeping your head down until they spoke.

“Well, the bitch is finally awake.” He sneered, as you finally looked up. He seemed to be about your age, maybe a little older. Short hair, military style cut. His face had three gashes across his cheek. This was the asshole that had the Jack mask that you managed to wrangle free.

“Great,” the other mumbled, following behind. “Her blindfold.”

He was shorter, softer looking. Kinder eyes when he looked at you.

“Doesn't fucking matter.” The first asshole snapped back. “You know the plan. Let's go call him since she's awake.”

He quickly jogged back out, “c’mon” he yelled when the other stayed behind for a moment giving you a pitying look.

24 hours since you'd officially been missing. 36 hours since he'd last seen you.

-

He'd gotten up like any normal workday. You'd preset the coffee the night before to make sure he'd have a fresh pot. It was the little things you'd do for him.

For some reason, you'd followed him into the kitchen. Bare feet padding across the linoleum, eyes half-lidded as you walked up behind him wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Morning handsome,” you mumbled, pressing your cheek into his back.

He finished pouring himself a cup, smiling to himself when you didn't let go.

“What's gotten into you? Hmm?” He removed your hands, so he could face you, pulling you into his chest instead. “You're usually a grumpy ass gremlin in the morning.”

“Missed you. It's cold in there.” Mumbling once more, burying your face further into his chest.

“I know Bun, I'll get the space heater fixed as soon as I can.” He kissed the top of your head, as you raised up, placing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I love you. Hurry home tonight.” Your last words to him before making your way back to bed.

-

He was staring at said coffee pot. It was full. Brewing a fresh pot for an empty house this morning. You must have set it before everything has gone down.

He wanted to rage and scream, almost grabbing the damn thing to toss it outside, instead he punched the wall. His fist easily going through the sheetrock. It hurt but not enough.

He was about to take aim at the cabinet door, but his phone began to ring as he quickly retrieved it from his pocket.

Henry.

-

Henry gave him the rundown of some sleazeball that was currently at the bar, running his mouth about how he and his brother had struck a goldmine when they were hired to shake some bitch up.

Henry took notice when he'd said, “she sure is a fuckin' mouthy little thing. Lot of fight in her too.”

He'd immediately phoned Gator, who wasted no time getting dressed out of his uniform into some simple jeans with a plain black tee, leather jacket thrown over it with his lucky green ball cap.

Gator called Andy on the way, filling him in. Andy was out the door before they hung up.

He'd broken every speed limit on the way. Parking in his usual spot in the back. He hoped to God no one would give him away as he headed inside.

He caught Henry's attention, who slightly nodded to the end of the bar where an older, gruff looking guy sat with a fresh beer and cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

He pushed the cap lower over his face as he made his way over, leaving a stool between them.

He'd play it off, make himself that obnoxious prick that loves to talk to everyone.

He whistled, gaining Henry’s attention, inadvertently grabbing the assholes as well.

“Slow service tonight?” he asked, half grin plastered on his face looking at the guy up close.

The guy huffed a small laugh, “guess you could say that.”

“Ay, bartender, Jack over here and,” he looks over at the guy, “What ya’ drinkin bud?”

“Another Budlight.” He spoke up.

“Greg,” Gator introduces himself, reaching out to shake the guy's hand.

“Wallace, everyone calls me Walleye.” They shook hands and spoke a couple of pleasantries.

The conversation stayed light at first. Gator keeping his eye out for Andy. He arrived a few minutes later spotting them and sitting at the table directly behind the two men.

Walleye finally started talking about how he’s come into a little money and was out celebrating.

“Cool man, that’s cool. Planning a fun night? A little booze, a little ass?” He chuckled.

“Booze, definitely. Thought about trying to get some ass, but don’t really know anyone from around here. Well, there’s this one chick, but she’s a little tied up at the moment.” He let out a hearty laugh as if he and Gator shared an inside joke.

Gator laughed along, but his eyes never left the other man growing darker.

“She busy or somethin’?”

“Nah man, I really shouldn’t say.” He tipped his beer back, taking a long swig.

“Ah, c’mon man. What? You seemed hyped about it.”

He looked around, as if checking to see if anyone was listening.

“Can ya’ keep a secret?” Gator nodded. “My bro has this little bitch at his house right now that I’d tap but she’s off limits. Sweet little ass from what I could see.”

Walleye whistled, as if to convey how hot this chick is.

“Why she off limits?” Prodding a little further.

“Well, we’ve got her stashed there for a bit. Why I’m celebratin’. We got paid some big bucks. You wanna know the funniest shit? She’s got this dude's name tattooed high on her ass cheek. Gator. What the fuck kind of name is that?” He started laughing again, but this time Gator hadn’t found any amusement in his prior statement.

His facade faded as his smile dropped. It took every ounce of his will power not to take the beer bottle in front of him and smash this asshole's face in.

He'd seen your tattoo. No one else has ever or was meant to ever see that. He was seething. His vision blurred, seeing nothing but absolute rage.

“Well, Walleye, one could question what kind of fuckin’ name that is.” Gator stood from his stool now towering over the other man. “But then again, a stupid fuckin' name to match a stupid fuckin’ idiot.”

Walleye looked up, more dumbfounded than offended. Andy slowly walked up to stand on the other side of him, catching his attention when he gripped his shoulder. Both men now caging him in.

“What the fuck is this?” He tried to get up, Gator quickly pushing him back down.

“This is me telling you we're gonna go for a little walk and then you're gonna tell me where the fuck my girl is.” He spat, almost nose to nose with the man.

He watched the color drain from his face as the realization hit.

“Man, look, she's fine… really…” he started word vomiting, grasping at straws but it was too late.

“Shut the fuck up. Get up or I'm dragging your ass out of here.”

He gulped, slowly rising to his feet. Andy steadied his hold on him to escort him out as Gator moved to go ahead of them, tipping his hat toward Henry on the way.

-

They'd driven him to an old, abandoned homestead not far from Roy's ranch.

Fucker started begging for his life as soon as they got him in the truck.

Gator had leveled him with a gaze before telling him to shut up until they were ready to hear him talk. He sniffled most of the way there.

He would have talked without all the theatrics, but Gator was ready to make it hurt. The way they'd hurt you.

They tied him to a chair, as he started spilling his guts.

“We were paid to do it man. My brother, Jeff, knows who it is. Talked to them on the phone on the regular. Making sure everything was on track.”

“We'll get to that.” He slowly put his black leather glove on his outstretched hand. “First things first, did you put your filthy fucking hands on her?”

“Please man, I…” a punch to the jaw, knocking a few teeth loose in the process. That was all the confirmation Gator needed. He hadn't denied it.

“Fuck, man.” He whined, spitting blood out on the floor. “I'm sorry. I'll tell you where they are.”

“I know you will. Let's just go ahead and get that out of the way.”

He explained that you were at what he thought was an old saw mill out on route 65. He and Andy both knew the place.

Andy would go ahead and get some supplies and weapons. He was going to finish with this asshole and meet up with him.

After a few more blows to the head, he'd gathered the whole picture. He'd admitted he had knocked you unconscious after you'd almost killed his brother. Gator was boiling over at his confession. No number of apologies would save him at this point.

His head was hanging down to his chest, a mix of blood and drool dripping from his mouth onto his lap as Gator grabbed his hair to force him to look at him. His eyes already bruised and almost swollen shut at this point.

“I've got one more question for you. How'd you see her tattoo, huh? I swear to God if you did anything else to her.”

“No… no.” He huffed, trying to pull in a ragged breath almost gasping. “When we mo… moved her… her shorts had come down a little. S’all man. I swear.”

Walleye had fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

He'd made it quick after that. More than the prick deserved in his opinion.

One shot rang out clear and loud in the blank, snowy scape outside. A moment later Gator emerged from the hovel ready to get his girl.

Once they're left you alone for the second time, you move quickly.

Getting yourself back over to the shovel, freeing your hands you let out a small sigh of relief but there was still work to do.

Your wrists ache. Deep, angry gashes in each one. You wince with each movement, but you've got no time to feel sorry for yourself now.

You reached up, feeling the back of your head, hiding away the contact. It was crusted with blood and dirt, with a deep wound.

Your ankles would prove to be a little more tricky so you started looking around the room again. Finally, spotting a trowel on the back of the shelf making quick work with it.

You stood slowly, muscles straining and screaming with each movement. There were no windows. No way to tell the time of day.

You braced yourself, leaning on the metal shelf.

They'd taken you while you were getting ready for bed. You were in nothing but sleep shorts and a thin tank top. Your feet were bare. If you have to run, it crosses your mind you might not make it far in the snow and unforgiving terrain.

Your feet slowly carried you over to the door, taking the handle, but it didn't budge. Of course they locked it. Idiots doing the one right thing you'd hoped they hadn't.

You pressed your ear to the cool metal, listening for any signs that might lay beyond.

Nothing.

Two choices. Try to break the lock, giving yourself away or lay in wait with that shovel in hand getting the jump on them once they come back in.

Your body was cold, yet you were sweating. Heart hammering so hard in your chest it flooded your ears with white noise.

You pressed your back to the door as you slowly slid into the floor. Pulling your knees into your chest, trying to take one breath at a time as your teeth chattered together. Now was not the time to have a meltdown.

You started to get up but heard a commotion that made you pause briefly. There was a loud bang and then yelling that seemed farther away.

You stood quickly then, a little lightheaded but reached for the shovel poised to smash in any head that barged through that door.

Nothing immediately came, but then the knob jiggled. You were on high alert.

Slowly, it turned, and the door opened.

You didn't make a sound, as a pair of black boots stomped into view as you started to swing, shutting your eyes in the process.

The shovel came into contact with the wall instead of a head, causing you to open your eyes.

“Fuck, Bunny. Nearly took my goddamn head off.” He huffed a small laugh, grinning like an idiot. Your idiot, coming to save the day.

“Gator?” You managed to squeak out, coming out as a choked sob. Dropping the shovel and throwing yourself into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you pulling you in even tighter.

Relief flooded your system as you cling to him. Hands fisted into the front of his shirt, grasping on to him as if your life depended on it. Right now, it did.

Burying your face further into him, breathing him in as a mangled sob racked your body.

“It's ok baby, I'm here. I'm here.” He held you. Hands roaming, touching the expanse of any exposed skin he could find checking for injuries while trying to comfort you.

He reached the back of your head, as you whined a little deeper when he grazed the gash hidden under the matted locks.

His heart was pounding beneath your trembling hands. He was ready to get you out of here. Get you home.

“Bunny, baby, breathe for me. Hey, let me see your face. Please.” He pleaded, as you slowly lifted your head.

Tears streaked down your face, clearing a path through the dirt and blood that was caked on your cheeks. His anger growing at the state you were in. The apple of your left cheek had a bloom of purple with a small cut at its center as well as a cut at your top lip that was angry and clotted.

He cradled your cheeks in his large palms, kissing your forehead delicately.

“It's okay, we're going to the hospital.” He stated, releasing you so he could shed his jacket and drape it over your shoulders.

You were enveloped in his warmth that immediately calmed your jangled nerves.

“Look at me,” you did so, trying to stay focused. “We've got to walk past some things that might be unsettling, focus on me. Don't worry about the other shit.”

You nodded, as he pulled you close, walking side by side out of the closet, arm slung around your waist to help guide you and letting you lean most of your weight on him. He took it slow, praising you along the way.

“That's it baby. You're doing good.”

It was hard to focus once the space opened up to a larger room. Your head snapped over when you heard muffled voices.

Andy had a tweedle dee and dum tied up in the corner, mouths covered as they were struggling against them.

“I told you two to shut the fuck up!” He raised his voice, bringing his fist against one of their jaws as you quickly looked away.

“Hey, baby, it's ok. Don't look at that, look at me.” He softly coaxed your attention as you continued.

Once you reached the door, you could see it was night out. The stars were lit brightly above you as you looked up.

The bite of the bitter cold licked at your legs but you welcomed it. He asked you to stay by the entrance so he could pull the truck around.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, pulling his jacket closed.

He insisted on picking you up bridal style just so your feet didn't have to touch the cold, snowy ground, helping you into the passenger seat. Then buckling you in, closing your door and quickly running to the driver's seat.

Leaning back into the seat the last of your energy started to drain, letting the events finally catch up with you as you closed your eyes.

“Bunny, baby, stay awake f’me.” He grabbed your hand, shaking it gently.

“Gator, please just take me home. I just want to go home.” Tears now flowing freely, gripping his hand.

“I've got to take you to the hospital. That cut on the back of your head needs stitches. It isn't somethin' I can take care if at home.” He tries to look at you reassuringly but you can see something else behind his eyes.

“Okay.” You say softly, as he finally laces his fingers between yours, pulling it up to place a small kiss to your hand.

-

There were lots of questions at the hospital. You didn't answer unless it was absolutely necessary letting Gator do all of the talking. The staff knew better than to question Sheriff Tillman’s son.

He was by your side the entire time they poked, prodded and finally bandaged you up.

He was worried about you. You could tell by the way he was hovering, silently watching but you were watching him too.

They released you soon after.

You felt numb on the way home. Gaze set firmly out the window, as he held your hand once more. Thumb rubbing soothingly, neither of you saying a word.

He parked the truck around back, when you gave him a puzzled look he returned it with a bit of a sheepish one.

“I didn't have time to pick up everything, so we'll just go in through the back. You won't have to see it.”

You just nodded, knowing it was left in a mess. It suddenly broke your heart realizing what he had to come home to.

He helped you out of the truck, the hospital giving you some socks for your bare feet as you padded across the walkway, snow melting at the contact.

He walked ahead of you opening the door, making sure to put himself in between you and the living room. Not daring to look past him, you didn't need another reminder. The house itself was enough.

You walked the hall as you had a hundred times before but it felt heavy.

“Gator,” you said once you made it to the bathroom door. “I need to shower. I'm dirty.”

Your voice was weak, the words coming out robotic even to you. The hospital cleaned your cuts but dirt and filth still clung to the rest of you.

“Yeah, yeah, anything. You want me to start the shower?” You nodded, as he grabbed your hand leading you to sit on the toilet seat lid while he got things ready.

“Will you shower with me?” You didn't look up.

“Of course baby.”

He began to strip, finally turning his attention back to you when you hadn't moved.

“Baby?” He slowly moved in front of you, moving his thumb under your eye wiping a small tear away. “Lift your arms f’me.”

He helped you remove your shirt, then pulled you to stand, discarding the rest of your clothes into the corner of the room as steam slowly filled the room.

He guided you into the shower and followed in behind.

You finally let yourself relax under the warm spray, closing your eyes and taking a few deep breaths.

Gator came in behind you letting his gaze trail your naked form. Your body was littered with bruises and abrasions of all shapes and sizes. It made him sick.

If he'd come home instead of staying late for Roy yet again. He berated himself.

You felt his eyes on you, so you slowly turned around, faintly smiling up at him.

“There she is. There's my girl.” He hummed his approval, as he pulled you into him, kissing your temple.

Water splashed you both, droplets in between your bodies. Your eyes downcast as you watched the stained water as it washed down the drain.

You were not inclined to do it, so helped you wash yourself clean. They'd wrapped your wounds enough he easily maneuvered around them. Taking care not to linger on any bruises or cuts along the way. He could be gentle when he wants to be. He'd do anything for you.

He tenderly washed the blood and grime from your matted locks until the suds finally ran clear, his pinky grazing the stitches only once. Apologizing profusely when you'd winced.

He placed kisses across your shoulder when he'd finished as you hummed out your quiet appreciation.

Neither of you bothered dressing, sliding under the covers, he took his normal spot curled in behind you; arm wound tightly around your waist. It felt a little tighter than usual, clutching you as if you might float away at any moment.

He nuzzled into your neck, breathing you in. You were here. You were safe. He'd do anything to keep you this way.

Your eyes were heavy, as you cling to his arm but you didn't want to fall asleep. Not yet.

“Gator,” you whispered into the dark.

“Yeah, baby?” He whispered back, breath fanning your cheek.

“I need you.”

“I'm right here,” he kissed your cheek. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“No, I just need you. All of you.” You didn't know what you needed but there was this overwhelming urge to crawl under his skin and bury yourself beneath his ribcage.

You rolled over, barely making out the edges of him in the dark but you didn't need any light, as you brought your fingers up to trace his jaw, covered in the most scruff he'd ever allowed to grow.

You slowly brought your pillowy lips to his, wind bitten and raw, not caring when you slowly melted further into him it grazed the cut on your lip, stinging as they continued to move across yours.

His hand moved slowly up from your hip, large palm splaying across your back as he pulled you closer still. Your palm lays across his chest, right over his heart, feeling it hammering beneath.

You licked at his bottom lip, as he parted them for you. Mingling your tongues in a slow dance.

Your nails dig into the tender flesh of his chest when he takes your breast in his warm, calloused hand, kneading softly.

You take a shuddering breath when his thumb grazes your already pebbled nipple, causing him to pull away laying his forehead to yours.

“I, I'm sorry, I thought.”

“Shhhh… no, no, I want this. Please. I need you.”

He simply nodded, stray hairs tickling you as he lowered his head to press a kiss to your jaw, slowly easing lower, as he pushed you onto your back for you to grant him further access.

You threw your head back as he moved to seat himself between your thighs, mouth never leaving your jaw, neck, collarbone. Any exposed skin he could press his lips to.

His growing arousal was evident, as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing you further into the mattress as he let himself lower his body to yours, caging you in.

He slipped a hand between you, fingers finding your clit, drawing soft circles. A breathy moan leaves you, but you grab his wrist stopping him.

“No, no, please.”

“Baby, I don't want to hurt you.” When he looks up to see your pleading, glossy eyes in the low light he sighs.

“Goddamnit, it's like you're trying to kill me here.” He huffs out.

He was a weak man when it came to you.

He grabbed the base of his cock, as you loosened the hold your legs had around him, letting him ease himself back slightly. He ran the tip through your folds, bumping your clit once, twice, three times before lining himself up at your entrance then pushing the fat, mushroom tip in slightly.

You reached for his shoulders, gripping them tightly, as he looked up through his lashes at you halting his movements once more.

“I'm fine.” You pleaded, closing your eyes, as he began to stretch you out.

“Fuck,” he hissed, as he pushed slowly, letting you get used to him, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you whimpered.

“We can stop,” he began.

“No, no.” You wrapped your legs tighter, as your arms wound around his neck, inadvertently drawing him deeper as you both moaned out.

He skimmed his mouth lightly over your skin, sucking at that soft spot under your jaw that always drew those pretty sounds from you. He slowly pushes in to the base, his hips snug against yours. You can't help the wanton moan that escapes.

He stays like that for a moment, before easing out slowly. The drag of his cock against your inner walls was already too much and not enough, feeling every ridge and vein on his exit.

He angled his hips upward pushing back in, hitting your sweet spot with ease, your hips canting trying to meet his own.

“Yeah, that it?” He cooed, as he continued to piston his hips back and forth, easing up to study your face.

You nodded, words ceased to exist, you didn't have the strength but it seemed he knew that.

“It's ok, I've got you sweet thing.” His words washed over you, seeping into your pores. He did have you.

He continued to grind, the thatch of wiry hair at the base of his cock working your clit with every drag. Fueling those embers within your core with each thrust, small flames licking up your belly and spine.

He was never a patient man, something that was never ingrained within him. He couldn't wait to watch you fall apart on his cock, getting you there quickly over and over again.

You needed this. Needed him to show a little restraint.

Your pussy began to flutter around him, giving him that sign that you were close.

“That's it Bunny. Just let go f’me.” He grabbed your hand, continuing to rock into you at that leisurely pace, threading his fingers in-between yours to work you through it.

“That's it baby, I'm close too.”

His sweet words, tender gesture and continued brushes to your frontal wall had you coming undone. Your cunt began to constrict, as he picked up his pace slightly so he could cum with you.

You released breathy moans, softly saying his name over and over as those flames became wildfires. All consuming. Bursting from your core.

He worked you through it, before quickly following you releasing his spend, fucking it further into you with each thrust. All the while, holding each other's hand with a bruising grip.

“Fuck, I love you.” He panted out, thoroughly spent, face burying back into the crook of your neck.

A tear rolled down you cheek, as you mumbled “I love you too.”

You stayed like this just holding each other, for a few blissful moments you could pretend everything was okay.

He finally slipped from you, rolling over pulling you with him as you laid your head in his chest. The steady rhythm of his heart lulling you to sleep.

Something in the back of your mind kept saying you would never feel safe again, even in the arms of the man you loved.

-

You woke up cold. Your mind immediately floods with flashes, reminders of what had happened. You shot up from the bed, reaching over to no one.

Panic taking over as you screamed his name. Stinging your throat with the sheer volume you let escape.

He rushed the room quickly, he'd only been in the kitchen when he heard you. Dropping his coffee mug on the floor as he ran to you.

He immediately enveloped you in a crushing hug, sitting with you on the edge of the bed.

“It's ok. You're safe. I'm here.” He repeats it like a mantra while your heart rate trickles to a more steady beat.

Safe. Hearing out loud seems like a joke now.

“You weren't,” you whispered, pulling away from him to get a better look. He was already dressed for work. Of course he was going in. Duty always called. Family, Roy above all else.

“What?” You toyed with his collar instead of looking at him.

“You weren't here.”

The waiver in your voice felt like a dagger straight through his chest, your tear filled eyes finally meeting his.

“It's always going to be like this. Isn't it? You're torn. Never fully here or there.”

“What does that mean? What’re you…” his brow pinched with confusion.

“You weren't here, Gator. Not when I needed you. You can't protect me. I'm not safe.” Tears spilled from your lash line, as your chin trembled.

It hurt. But it was the truth. As long as you were associated with him and all that came along with the Tillman name you weren't safe.

You'd both fought before, this was different. You were too calm; too rational with your steady demeanor.

He just nodded, bringing himself close enough to place a kiss on your forehead, resting his lips there letting himself have the moment as his hand caressed your jaw.

“You don't have to say it, ok.” He rose, taking his warmth with him as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

He stopped before walking out into the hall.

Glimpsing his profile, his own eyes glossy as he turned his head.

“I love you.” He spoke out before hastily taking his leave giving you no time to respond. No chance to tell him you love him too.

-

He told himself it was better this way.

You wouldn't be caught in the middle if something went wrong.

He made a single phone call once he made it to the truck.

“Yeah, it's Gator. I think it's time we finally had that chat.”

[crazyunsexycool]

My little love

Chapter 24

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x enchanced!reader

Word count: 5.7k

Warning: angst!!!!! Some fluff, scared kids, crying kids, mad Charlotte, implied/mentioned sexual assault

A/N: I’m sorry… 😬😬😬

Series Masterlist

Swish.

“Nothing but net! Look at you go, little man.” Sam smiled as he dribbled the basketball. “If you keep going like this you might end up playing in the NBA. Just make sure you get me courtside seats.”

Henry giggled as he caught the ball Sam had bounced his way. He shifts his weight from foot to foot as he bounced the ball. The court was empty except for Sam and Henry who started spending some time together in the afternoons.

“Alright little man, let’s see what you got.”

Henry fakes a move to the right before turning and going left, side stepping Sam. He runs closer to the basket before launching the ball and again there’s nothing but net.

“That’s how you do it!” Sam raises his hand for a high-five. “Now how about first to 10 points wins?”

“Ok. But when I win I get to brag that I beat you.”

Sam quirks an eyebrow. “Is that how it is? Don’t make me have to kick your butt in basketball.”

“Can’t kick it if you can’t catch it.” Henry quips back before moving around quickly and making another basket.

“You’re a trash talker just like your dad.”

Henry laughs before Sam manages to make a basket himself.

****

“Alright sugar, you have heightened senses now. I think the serum also gives you more strength when it comes to your ability. So we need to figure that out.” Bucky’s hands were on your hips and he squeezed lightly before turning both of you away from the target he’d prepared. “Now, I want you to close your eyes and focus. I’ve hidden a few pieces of metal around here. Try to find them and use them to hit the target. The challenge will come in you not hitting me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to stand somewhere in the room and you have to avoid me. But you can’t look and to make sure you don’t, I'm going to blindfold you.”

“Uuhhh, kinky.” Say over your shoulder.

“Yeah well if you do a good job maybe I’ll keep it for later.” He whispers in your ear before trying the piece of fabric over your eyes. “Take a deep breath and concentrate. Take your time.”

“Ok.”

You hear him move away from you. His footsteps echo within the otherwise quiet room. You take a deep breath and concentrate. Bucky was right, with the serum your sense is heightened. It’s easier to attune your ability to detect metals better. You can pinpoint where he is based off of his metal arm. The screws holding together the glass panels that separate the room from the hallway and the small chunks of metal Bucky hid.

With another deep breath you will the pieces to hover and you pull them in your direction. The dance around you as you concentrate and shape them into pellets before sending them in the direction of the paper target. They swerve around Bucky, who’s standing directly in front of it, and hit the bullseye.

“Impressive but you missed a piece.” Bucky says after inspecting the paper.

“No I didn’t, the last piece is in your left hand.”

“Then why didn’t you take it?”

“Because I promised I wouldn’t use my ability on you without your consent.”

Bucky smiles as he holds up his hand and holds the last piece on his palm. It starts to hover before the shape starts shifting. It becomes a blob then a disc, a heart and finally a pellet. It flies from where Bucky is directly into the target before hitting the wall behind it and falling with a small thud.

“Show off.” He murmurs as he walks towards you.

Bucky takes off the blindfold and turns you. His lips find yours in a needy kiss.

“Are we still on for that date tonight?” You ask when you pull back from the kiss.

“Absolutely, I can’t wait to get you alone.”

“We’re alone now.” You murmur as you smile into another kiss.

“Hhmm. We should definitely take advantage of that.” He says as he pulls you into the small office that no one ever uses.

****

“If you’re going to be my assistant there are three very important things you need to know.” Tony stood with his arms behind his back, a serious expression on his face as he paced side to side. “In this lab we work hard, we create and we have a good time. Now,” he stops pacing and turns. “Your job as my assistant is simple. When I ask for a flathead you give me this.” He pulls out a flathead screwdriver from behind his back. “When I ask for a Phillips head you give me this one.” He pulls out a Phillips head screwdriver from his other hand. “And when I say rock on?”

“Wock on!” Lottie says from her place on his table. Both her little hands up in the air with her pointer finger and pinky up, her thumb holding down the two middle fingers.

“That’s right rock on. Now let’s get to work on this new suit, but first safety.”

He pulls on one of the drawers and pulls out Charlotte sized safety goggles and lab coat. She puts on the glasses and then Tony helps her with the lab coat.

“Flathead.”

“Fathead.” Lottie repeats as she hands over the screwdriver Tony asked for.

They work like this for a few minutes before Tony sits up straight, Lottie mirroring his actions.

“Is weady?”

“It’s ready. Let’s test it out.” Tony reaches for her and Lottie goes happily before he sets her down in the safety zone of his lab “Stay behind the safety glass.” He says and puts on noise canceling headphones.

Tony goes back to the table where the project he’s been working on was at and the new arm to his suit wraps around him. He moves around the lab and stands looking at the target across the room. Tony lifts his hand to test out his updated equipment.

“Hell yeah.” He says after the test is successful. “Rock on Lots.”

“Wock on!”

“Alright, let’s fix the other arm. Get over here, you’re the best assistant I’ve ever had.”

“Weally?” Lottie looks up at Tony, her eyes bright and full of joy.

“Absolutely. I might have to give you a job permanently, Lots.”

“Kay.”

Tony chuckles as Charlotte gets up on the table and sits down in the same spot as before.

“Fathead?”

“Fathead.” Tony confirms as he grabs the screwdriver from Lottie’s hand.

Lottie watches him work for a while, every so often handing him a tool or holding something for him. Suddenly she sits up and blinks quickly.

“Tony?”

“Yeah Lots?”

“Bad man is coming?” She says as she points to the glass doors of the lab.

Tony’s head snaps up and looks at the doors before picking her up.

“Intruder alert.” Friday announces. The lights in the lab dim and some of the suits that Tony has on display in his lab activate.

“Friday, lock down any main entry point to the compound and this lab. Alert the rest of the team and keep these suits in defense mode. Have any agents available gear up and be ready to defend.”

“Five armed teams have entered the building. Lockdown activated as of this moment.”

“Tony, want dada.” Charlotte whimpers as the suits move around and stand in front of both of them.

“I know Lots but we can’t go out there just yet. I’ll get you to your mom and dad soon ok. Just promise you’ll do as I say?”

“Kay.”

****

Just as Henry jumps to shoot the ball Friday announces the alert. He tenses as he turns to look at Sam.

“Five armed teams have entered the building. Lockdown activated as of this moment.” Friday announces.

“Is it the bad men? Are they going to take me away?”

“No matter who it is, I’m not going to let that happen ok. I need you to trust me and do as I say.”

“Ok.” Henry blinks back the tears as Sam ushers him into a hidden room made for this exact purpose.

Sam pulls out some weapons and pushes Henry into the small space before kneeling to be at eye level with him.

“I need you to stay here ok? This room is bulletproof and they can’t get to you here. The only people that can open it are you and the team. Friday won’t let anyone other than us open this door.”

“Don’t leave me in here please.”

“I can keep you safe like this ok little man. I know it’s scary but I promise no one can hurt you in here. Then I’ll take you to your parents.”

“Ok.” Henry says between sniffles and Sam gives him a quick hug before reluctantly closing the door. He turns to find a team fully armed and dressed head to toe in black heading his way. Guns trained on him.

“Put your hands up where I can see them.” One of them instructs.

“Identify yourselves. Who do you work for?” Sam says back, a gun pointed at them.

“I will when you cooperate.”

“Might as well get comfortable because I won’t follow your orders.”

****

Bucky had just shut the door to the office and pushed you up against it when you were alerted to what was happening. You both pulled away from the door and walked back out. Bucky grabbed the knife he always kept hidden in his boot and you pulled the metal that had been discarded at the other end of the room.

“Who were the kids with?” You ask as you walk out of the training room and into the hallway.

“Lottie was with Tony in his lab and Henry was with Sam in the gym.”

“We have to split up. I’ll go to Tony and you go to Sam.”

“No, we stay together.” He says in a low voice. “First to Sam. Tony has his suits and he can protect Charlotte. Sam will need the back up, he’s out in the open.”

“And you say you don’t care about him.”

He shoots you a glare over his shoulder. You both stop when you hear the otherwise quiet footsteps and you meet face to face with the intruders. There’s a face you recognize amongst the others, it makes you stop your attack before it begins.

“What the fuck is going on?” Steve had his hands on his hips and he was furious. “I want answers now.”

Wanda, Nat and Vision stood behind him ready for a fight. They had been confined to one of the shared living rooms when everything happened.

“It’s ok Steve.” You push past the group of agents that were blocking the door. “I mean it’s not ok but we’ll get answers soon enough.”

The whole compound was on high alert. Shield agents had already begun to fight back outside and some had even made it into the building to provide support to the avengers, it was a mess.

“Do you know what’s going on?”

“Not really.” Bucky didn’t have to push through, everyone stepped out of the way in pure fear. But it was the person that was behind him that got Steve’s attention.

“Sharon? What are you doing here?”

Sharon stepped into the room and gave everyone an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry for all of this but we received very disturbing reports. It was out of my hands. I was only added to this mission a few minutes before we were set to show up.”

“What reports? What are you talking about?”

“Where are Sam and Tony?” You ask as you look around and don’t see them. “Where are the kids?”

“That’s exactly why we’re here.”

Someone else says and everyone’s attention is on the shorter man with gray hair at the door.

“Agent Ross. What exactly is happening and if I don’t get an answer we are going to have a problem.” Steve says as he steps forward.

You can hear Charlotte’s piercing cry in the hallway and you breathe a sigh of relief. Tony walks in with her in his arms followed by Sam holding Henry’s hand. They both give you apologetic looks as they get closer to you.

“DADA!” Lottie wails as she reaches out for Bucky but agent Ross stands in the way.

“Move or I will move you.” Bucky says through gritted teeth.

Ross hesitates but takes a step back and Bucky grabs Lottie who holds on to him for dear life. He soothes her as best he can.

“Mama.” Henry says quietly and runs to you, his arms wrap tightly around your waist and you can feel him trembling.

“It’s ok sweet boy, you’re safe.”

“Care to explain why you think the CIA has the right to just waltz into my property and attack us, you hobbit?” Tony was fuming. Maybe it was because he didn’t like not knowing they were able to get past the gates without him being notified. Or because the kids were upset.

“We received a distressing report saying that the Avengers were experimenting on children. We had no choice but to come investigate. This was the only way to do it. Ambush you so that you couldn’t get rid of any evidence.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I’m sorry I scared them.” Everett holds up his hands. “But we will need to search the compound and speak to these children.”

“Like hell you will. What you’re going to do is get the hell off of my property before we rip your heads off.” Tony says calmly as he serves himself a drink.

“We can’t just ignore the call. It’s a serious accusation. Believe me when I say, I’m on your side.”

“Who called?” Steve asks.

“We don’t know who. The call was anonymous and from an untraceable number.” Sharon answers.

“Friday, play the call recording.”

“I’d like to report a crime for child endangerment.” The person is putting up a great act. There are sniffles and whimpers and even whispering. “I have it on good authority that children are being experimented on and tortured.”

“Ma’am could you tell me who you think is responsible and where this is taking place?”

“Yes, it’s in upstate New York. It’s the Avengers. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

The call cuts off and everyone is fuming and confused. But not you, your chest tightened and so does your hold on Henry. You blink back tears but Nat catches you.

“Y/N, What’s wrong?”

“Friday, play the recording again.”

The A.I. does as you ask and plays it again. You close your eyes now that you’re sure.

“I’m so sorry.” Everyone perks up at that. Your eyes go to Bucky.

“Sugar, why are you sorry?”

“That was my mother.”

“Ok hang on, your mother called to report possible child endangerment, why?” Everett asked, his brows high and his eyes wide with surprise. He looked around the room waiting for an answer.

“Because she’s an evil person.”

Ross brings one hand to his hip the other to his forehead, two of his fingers rubbing lightly as he thinks things through.

“Ok, why was she targeting the kids and the avengers if she has something against you?”

“Because these are my kids. Mine and Bucky’s.”

“Since when do you have kids?” Sharon questions.

“Listen, we’ll answer any question you want but can you get your men out of here. They’re scared enough as it is. We’ll calm them down and then I can answer everything you want.” Bucky says.

“We’ll still need to speak with the kids.”

Charlotte finally calmed down enough that her crying wasn’t bouncing off the walls. She still held on to Bucky though. It made both you and Bucky incredibly angry for the whole situation. Now the kids didn’t feel safe in their own home. All because of that vindictive woman that you were unfortunately related to.

“Henry baby, are you ok?” You ask softly as you move hair away from his face.

He nods but won’t look at you.

“It’s ok if you’re not ok. You don’t have to tell me but I’m here to listen if you want.”

“They’re not taking us away?” He finally looks up at you with pure fear in his eyes. It makes you want to go down to where the agents have gathered and kick their asses.

“Not at all. I’m so sorry baby. I never wanted this to happen to you.”

Henry doesn’t say anything, he just shifts in your lap and hides his face in your neck. He’s closing himself off like when he first arrived at the compound and you hate it.

“Is kay bubba.” Lottie says as she also finds a way into your lap and cuddles into his chest. “Dada an mama keep safe.”

You look up at Bucky unsure of what to do. He just sits next to you and wraps his arms around all three of you.

“I can’t believe Bucky has kids.” Sharon whispers. Her eyes go from the scene before her to Steve who was leaning against a wall next to her.

“Yeah, we were very surprised by it as well.”

“What do you mean? Isn’t agent Y/L/N their mom?”

“Yes she is.”

“So what is going on? The boy looks no older than eight and the girl looks around five. If I’m correct in their ages there is no way they were together back then.”

Steve looks at the four of you and then at Sharon. He studies every inch of her face unsure if he can trust her. He sighs because he knows he can.

“They were Hydra's experiment. They used Bucky’s DNA and some prisoner or volunteer. Hydra killed them seconds after they gave birth and the kids were started in the program to become the next generation of winter soldiers. She was found on an operating table when we raided a detention center hydra had. He was found chained in a dark room at a different hydra base weeks later.” He sighs as he thinks back at when the kids were first brought in and how different they are now. “We have everything documented. Wait until you see how they were treated, where they were kept, the things that were done to them.” Steve shakes his head. “It will make you sick to your stomach. Don't even get me started on the three that didn’t make it.”

Steve feels a pat on his legs. Both him and Sharon look down to find a tear filled Charlotte looking up at him.

“Can habe uppies?” She asks with her arms raised and a quiet voice.

“Of course you can sweetheart.”

Steve picks her up and she immediately hides her face in Steve’s shoulder. Her little hands gripped his shirt. Lottie turns her head slightly and finds Sharon looking at her.

“Hello little one. My name is Sharon and I’m friends with Steve. What’s your name?”

Lottie scowls at Sharon and turns her head in order to avoid the blond’s gaze.

“Oh sweetheart, Sharon is good, she can be your friend.” Steve says softly which prompts Lottie to pull back and look at Steve.

“Is no bitch?”

Sharon’s eyes widen in surprise and she covers her mouth so as to not laugh while Steve just scoffs.

“Charlotte what did I say about that word?” Bucky asks from across the room where he was still sitting with you and Henry.

“No say it?”

“That’s right you don’t say it. It’s a bad word.”

“Kay.”

“Can you apologize to Sharon for saying it?”

“Sowwy.”

“Apology accepted sweetie.” Sharon smiles at Lottie.

Lottie yawns and lays her head on Steve's shoulder again. The experience has worn her out. The same thing has happened with Henry who is currently asleep in your arms. He still has tear stains on his cheeks and it makes you so angry.

“Can you take him?” You whisper to Bucky who nods and maneuvers Henry into his hold.

You get up with the intention of going into the hallway but Sharon stops you from leaving the living room.

“I’m sorry but I can’t let you leave.”

“I’m only going to call my father. I need to know where that woman is, she can’t get away with doing this to us.”

“I’m under orders to keep everyone here.” She shoots you an apologetic look.

“Look, you can come with me and listen to the conversation. I don't care but please I need to make this call.”

“Ok, let’s go somewhere more private.” Sharon nods before turning to everyone in the room. “Please stay in this room, if not for you than for the kids.”

You lead Sharon into a small room down the hall and pull out your phone before dialing your dad’s number. It only rings twice.

“Hey Kitten, how’s it going?” He sounds rather happy.

“Hey dad.”

“What’s going on?” He knows something’s wrong just by the sound of your voice.

“Dad, I need to ask you something and I need to know the truth.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, kitten you know that.”

You sigh, “Dad, have you heard from mom recently?”

“No. I told you on Sunday, when I got home after Lottie’s birthday she was already gone and so were her things. What’s wrong?”

Sharon shakes her head letting you know that you can’t give him any information. However you don’t care.

“She tried to get to me by hurting the kids. If she reaches out could you let me know?”

“Are they alright?”

“Yeah they’re fine, just shaken up.”

“Ok, I’ll let you know the minute I hear anything. Is there anything else I can do? I can be there in a couple of hours.” He offers.

“No It’s ok, I’ll keep you updated. Bye dad.”

“Bye kitten.”

You hang up and tuck the phone back into your back pocket. “How have you been Sharon?”

“Good. I can’t complain, you know. But how about you? When did you and Bucky finally happen?”

“A few months ago. Just after we found Charlotte.”

“And she calls you mama?”

You can’t help the smile that appears on your face as you nod. “It just kind of happened but we’re really happy.”

“That’s good. Buck deserves it, so do you. I wish I would have met the kids under better circumstances.”

“Yeah, this is fucked up and it’s Henry’s worst fear. That hydra will show up and take him away.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Sharon shakes her head. “I really didn’t know anything. I think they just brought me along because they think I have some sort of relationship with the team.”

“You do. You know that if you needed us we’d be there.”

There’s a knock on the door and it opens before either of you can say anything.

“What’s going on here?” Agent Ross asked.

“I was calling my father to see if he had heard from my mother. They’re in the middle of a divorce and my mother blames me for it hence the call to report us for child endangerment.”

His eyes dart over to Sharon who confirms your explanation and nods but holds the door open anyway. You walk out first and are met with Tony and his lawyer.

“Mr. Harris is going to represent us. He’s going to sit with each of us during the interview process.”

“You mean the interrogation process.” You give Ross a small glare.

“Oh you’ve poked mama bear. This is going to be so much fun. I can’t even wait to see what Barnes is going to be like. I hope you had a great life Ross.” Tony chuckles as he walks away toward the living room everyone else was at.

The interview process took hours. It was you then Bruce followed by Steve and Nat. After that it was Tony, Wanda and Sam. Bucky was left to the end since they were his kids biologically. Everett Ross even though you knew he was only doing his job, every question that Bucky was asked made you want to go in there and punch him.

Did he willingly participate in having children? No.

Did he remember if he was forced to be with these women? No.

Did he willingly give his DNA sample so that these children could be created via IVF? No.

“Was your DNA sample taken against your will?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened at the last question. The answer was yes, he knew it was. But having to say it out loud made it feel more real to Bucky. Has what he been through not enough? Did he have to also admit out loud that hydra also took advantage of him in a sexual way?

“Yes.” He says quietly as he stares at the metal table in front of him.

Your heart broke as you watched him from behind the two way mirror. Bucky gets up from his chair and walks out of the interview room. You follow suit and meet him in the hallway. He won’t look you in the eye and you don’t want to get to close or touch him, especially if he’s reliving a memory.

“I’m going to go check on Henry.” He says as he walks by you.

“Buck-“

You watch as he walks away from you and this interrogation. There’s a little tornado rounding the corner that gets your attention though. Made up of pink tulle and fury. Charlotte’s eyebrows are pinched and the corners of her lips turned downward. She stalks her way down the hall like a girl on a mission. You can’t imagine what she’ll be like when she’s a teenager.

Steve is hot on Lottie’s heels and just gives you this lost sort of look. Behind him the rest of the team scurries into the viewing room. Lottie doesn’t wait for any help. She opens the door to the interrogation room and if she wasn’t so little the people inside would be more scared as the door slams against the wall. Charlotte Barnes is not someone you want to piss off apparently.

“Hello, Charlotte.” Everett greets even though he’s a little startled. “How are you doing?”

“Woss.” Charlotte says as she pulls the chair out for herself and pulls herself up. She places her pink teddy bear on the table and she kneels on the chair to have a better look at the people across from her. “Am mad. Make bubba sad an no wike it an no wike you.” She says with the signature Barnes’ scowl on her face.

“I’m sorry but who is bubba?” Everett looks over at Sharon who is smiling at the little firecracker they’re interviewing.

“I believe she is referring to her brother Henry.” Mr. Harris informs Everett.

“Habe to say sowwy.”

“I really am sorry Charlotte.”

“No.” She puts a hand up to stop him. “Say sowwy to bubba.”

“Oh, I see. Well I will apologize to Henry, ok. Can I ask you a question?”

“Mhm.”

The team, who had been watching in the other room, chuckle at Charlotte’s attitude.

“Do you like living here?”

“Lobe it.”

“What do you love about living here?” Sharon asks.

“Habe dada, an mama, an bubba an a-pine.”

“What is an a pine?”

“She means Alpine, the cat.” Mr. Harris clarifies.

“Mhm. An Steebie. Am Steebie’s best girl.”

“What about everyone else?”

“Is good, is famiwe.” Charlotte nods.

“Do you feel safe with your family?”

“Mama an Dada keep safe. Make happy an habe fun.”

Everett smiled at the child across from him.

“Habe to say sowwy to bubba.” She reminds him as she gets down from the chair. Taking her bear with her and effectively ending the interview.

Charlotte opens the door for herself and finds you standing just outside waiting for her.

“Hi sweet Angel.”

“Hi mama. Lobe you mama.”

You scoop her up and pepper her face with kisses until she’s giggling.

“I love you too.” You say as you walk down the hallway.

“I think it’s time we end the interviews, don't you think Ross? We’ve put a dent into whatever safety they were feeling here. It’s obvious those kids are taken care of and loved. Especially when you look at their medical records. Everything checks out. I don’t think we need to make Henry feel more afraid by interviewing him either.” Sharon says.

“I agree. But first I must apologize to Henry.”

“Are you afraid of a four year old?”

“No.” Everett scoffs as he grabs his things and starts heading toward the door.

You were in the shared living room with the kids as you waited for Ross to ask to speak with Henry. The former sat on the couch with Alpine in his lap and his sister by his side. Lottie had made it a point to stay as close as possible and cuddle when needed.

Ross walked in quietly. He shot you an apologetic look as he got closer to the three of you. He could see and you could feel the way Henry tensed at the sight of him.

“Henry, is it ok if I get closer?” Ross asked halfway into the room.

Henry’s fearful gaze moved from Ross to you.

“You can say no and he’ll stay right where he is or he’ll move back.”

Henry didn’t dare look at Ross but shook his head denying the older man’s request. Ross gave a quick nod and stayed where he was.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry for scaring you. It wasn’t my intention. It’s obvious that the person that called was doing it to be mean.”

“Ok.” Henry whispers before looking down at Alpine, continuing to pet her.

“I’ll be right back, I’m just going to the hallway.”

“Kay.” Lottie answers for both her and her brother as she rests her head on his shoulder.

****

“So what now?” You ask as you cross your arms over your chest.

“Now there is nothing for you to do. We have enough evidence to know that the call was done with ill intentions. I’ll be in contact with Mr. Harris if we need anything else and we will be tracking your mother.”

“Sounds good to me. It was good to see you again Ross just not under these circumstances.”

“I know but trust me when I say that I did it with the best intentions. Secretary Ross wanted to come in here with as many soldiers as he could find.” He informs you. “You know he’s always looking for a way to get rid of the Avengers or at least control you. If he were here right now I don’t doubt he would have done something horrible to try and push Barnes and get a reaction out of him.”

You nod because you remember the whole ordeal when Bucky was brought in.

“I’m leaving now but if I hear anything else I’ll let you know.”

With that Everett Ross is walking down the hallway.

****

The others checked in on you once you’d brought the kids back to the apartment. The only thing you were really worried about was where Bucky had gone. Steve left to find him after you voiced your concern. That left you alone with a child that was scared and one that was still pissed off. Henry clung to you like a koala which made things a bit difficult but you managed. If he needed to be held to feel safe then you would hold him.

After getting them something to eat, giving them showers and dressed with pajamas the three of you finally plopped down in your bed. Alpine was curled up next to Lottie who was petting her softly. You sat against the headboard playing with Henry’s hair, he sitting in your lap and his face hidden against your chest. A movie played but you were too distracted to pay attention.

The day’s events wore all of you out because the three of you fell asleep just as you were in bed. But when you instinctively reached out for Bucky on his side of the bed you were met with fur. That made you more alert and you looked to his side to find Henry, Lottie and Alpine all cuddled up together which doesn’t make sense. Henry was on top of you and you had fallen asleep sitting down. Your first thought is that Bucky walked in and moved you around but why hadn’t you noticed?

You get up and check the bathroom first but he’s not there. Then you head out toward the living room where you can see the glow of the tv in the otherwise dark apartment.

“Dad?” You call out in disbelief.

“Hey kitten.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Bucky called me and asked me to come down.” He patted the empty spot beside him and pulled you into his side once you sat down.

The tears you’d been holding back all day spring up. Eddie comforts you and reassures you that everything is alright. The kids are safe and so are you.

“I thought we were going to lose them. I thought that hydra had been the ones to break in.” You say through tears.

“I know kitten, but they’re safe now. They aren’t going anywhere.”

You allow yourself a few minutes to cry before pulling back and looking at your father.

“Have you talked to Bucky?”

“Just when he called and asked me to come down and when he met me outside but he didn’t say much.”

“It was horrible. The interview.”

“Just give him some time. He needs to sort out his emotions.”

You nod and rest your head against his shoulder again.

“How about we watch that new episode of The Mandalorian?”

You chuckle but nod your head. Soon enough Henry comes out of your room followed by Lottie. Both of them settle either on your lap or next to you. You give them more cuddles and kisses as the episode plays.

You decide to do as your father said and give Bucky some space. Hopefully he comes back soon because you’re still worried about him. But for now you focus on the one thing you can do which is make sure your kids feel safe and protected.

Ch. 25

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[aishangotome]

Alfons Sylvatica: Chapter 15

Chapter 14 Premium Story

♡———♡

Kate: ...

As she opened her eyes, darkness enveloped the room.

Alfons: Ah... Are you awake?

Alfons sat on the edge of the bed, turning his gaze towards her. In his hand, something reflected the light – a whiskey glass, perhaps.

Kate: ... Yes... Good morning.

Alfons: Hehe, it's still the middle of the night.

A wave of embarrassment washed over her at his languid air and the glint in his eyes. She looked away.

Glancing down at her body, a sliver of relief washed over her – she was barely clothed, just her blouse remaining.

Yes, relief, but only for a moment...

A man with scarred eyes was by the bedside, enjoying the same amber drink as Alfons.

Man with Scarred Eyes: Good morning, little robin... right?

(Huh... who is he?)

Man with Scarred Eyes: Well, I'll be off then. See you later, Al.

The man smiled at me, then gave Alfons a look that seemed to hold a hidden meaning before leaving the room.

A faint scent of perfume lingered after he left.

(It smells similar to the fragrance I smelled in Alfons' room...)

(But it's thicker, somehow different...)

Kate: ...Was that person just now a friend of yours?

Alfons: Yes, well... Heh, such formality, calling them "that person just now."

Alfons: You've shared a bed, haven't you?

Kate: ...Huh?

I'm so stunned I forget to even blink.

Kate: What do you... mean...?

Alfons: You know, the guy who you had sex with when you were blindfolded.

Kate: Huh...?

(No way...)

Kate: Th-that was... Alfons, I thought...

Alfons: You're so foolish. I told you I wouldn't make you feel good until you realized your mistake.

Kate: Wh-what are you saying...?

Alfons: Think carefully... The feeling of my tongue, the movement of my fingers, was it really me?

Kate: N-no... stop, that's a lie.

She shakes her head, rejecting his words.

(There's no way that's true...!)

(Because, that was... that feeling was--)

Alfons: How strong are the hands that hold your waist? What is the temperature of the heat that surges through the depths of your body? What is its shape?

Kate: I-it was definitely, Alfons...

(There's no way I could be wrong... There's no way I could mistake someone else for Alfons.)

Alfons: Ah yes, how was the scent? I made sure to use the same perfume on him.

He gives her a cold smile, as if to prevent her from reading the truth––,

Kate: ...

She finds herself pushing Alfons onto the bed.

Kate: That's cruel, how could you...!!

Kate: Why would you lie like that!? Why...

(There's no way Alfons would do something like that just to hurt someone.)

(Sure, he doesn't have a sense of ethics or morality,)

Alfons doesn't like to see people sad, scared, or hurt.

To the extent that he uses his cursed ability, which is supposed to be confidential, without any regard for the consequences.

Alfons: It's not a lie, it's the truth.

Alfons: You were being so persistent, I thought I'd make you understand quickly.

Alfons: You're so easily deceived––you don't love me at all.

Kate: ...!!

(I don't want Alfons to decide that for me.)

Kate: I... I seriously, you...!!

Alfons: Did you love me? ...How about now?

(––It was Alfons who held me. I can say that with certainty.)

The scent that I smelled from that man earlier, a scent that was "similar" to Alfons'.

It was clearly different from the scent that came from the person who held me.

Alfons is lying.

Hiding the truth behind those empty eyes.

Kate: Why are you doing this...?

Kate: Why do you reject me like this... just for saying I love you.... even doing this?

(I just wanted--)

(Just one of your truths.)

Kate: I never said I wanted to be your lover.

Kate: I just... I just wanted to love you...

Alfons: ...That's why it's a nuisance.

Alfons: Falling in love with me, staying in love with me.

His cold eyes reflected my stunned expression.

Alfons: It was a month-long fun entertainment, and I want it to end there.

Alfons: Would you please let go of my hand?

Kate: ...

--CHOICES--

I don't want to let go

Why?

If that's what you want

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

Kate: Why?

Alfons: Only children get answers when they ask "why."

She could only weakly release her grip.

Like a child being scolded.

Alfons: Now, do you understand?

Alfons: Don't ask me for the "truth" anymore.

Alfons picks up his loosened tie and wraps it around my neck.

Like a dangerous game, the smooth silk tie tightens around my skin like a snake...

Alfons: Stop searching for something that doesn't exist. If you only want fleeting pleasure and convenient entertainment,

Alfons: I'll give you as much as you want, okay?

He says soothingly, loosening his grip and pulling the tie away.

Alfons: I've arranged for a carriage to take you home.

And with that, he leaves the room without telling me where he's going.

-

Before dawn––the gate opens, and a single footstep returns to the castle.

Roger: The young lady came back looking awful, didn't she?

Roger: It's your fault, isn't it?

Roger calls out to the figure, arms crossed.

Alfons: .........

Alfons sighed, as if he had lost interest.

Alfons: It was beyond my control.

Roger: No, it wasn't. Kate may have needed an escape at first,

Roger: But she was always trying to face any situation head-on.

Roger: She shouldn't have needed your games or pleasures anymore.

Roger: Yet you continued to tease her, for your own convenience.

Roger pokes Alfons in the chest with his index finger, as if to tell him to show his true feelings hidden deep inside.

Alfons: ...You're right. I'll reflect on it.

Alfons: Are you satisfied now?

Roger: That's not what I meant...

Alfons: Even if she was a compassionate person who could deeply love someone like me, who doesn't have love,

Alfons: Even if she poured her heart, body, and time into loving me,

Alfons: Not knowing who she gave everything to...

Alfons: Isn't that too ridiculous?

Roger: You...

Roger shuts his mouth at the words spat out with irritation.

Alfons: I have no intention of adding such a trite tragedy to this reality, which is already like a mille-feuille of tragedies.

The "truth" of this man, who is indifferent to everything and has decided to be a bystander, seeped into his unpleasant tone of voice.

Roger: You might be able to change your fate.

Roger repeats the words he has thrown at those empty eyes countless times.

Alfons: "So you want me to cooperate with you?"

Alfons: Absolutely not. Good night, sweet dreams.

As usual, Alfons throws it away and turns his back on Roger.

Roger: ...Geez.

Roger: You're a stubborn one.

The two footsteps fade away in opposite directions, disappearing into the darkness.

-

(I couldn't sleep...)

I lay face down on the bed, listening to the birds chirping merrily outside the window.

I had been tossing and turning all night, thinking about why Alfons had tried to push me away with such a cruel lie. I couldn't even find solace in a gentle dream.

(My head aches from the alcohol, and my chest aches too...)

(Did he hate my affection that much?)

**flashback back to tavern room**

Kate: I just... I just wanted to love you...

Alfons: ...And that's why it's a nuisance.

**flashback over**

To fall in love, to be in love...

Kate: A nuisance...

The words, heavy as lead, weigh down on me as I bury my face in the pillow.

(...I have to get up.)

(A storyteller sleeping in the afternoon would be bad for my reputation.)

(I need to write a report about what happened in Dockland before I forget.)

--You don't have to do that. Just write something random.

(I can't do that. It's my job...)

I realize I'm talking to Alfons in my head and bury my face in the pillow again in self-loathing.

Kate: Ugh...

He won't leave my head.

("Mind control," "brainwashing"...)

(That's the nature of Alfons' curse... It's true.)

(Curse... Speaking of which...)

Kate: I still don't know about Alfons' fate...

As soon as I mutter this, there's a knock at the door.

(Who is it?)

I quickly get up, tidy myself up, and open the door.

Kate: Yes, come in.

Roger: How are you feeling, lil lady?

Kate: Roger, what are you doing here?

Roger: I saw you come back looking pale.

Roger: I brought you some medicine for your hangover.

He hands me a pill case, and I open the door wider.

Kate: Thank you. Please come in. I was just about to make some tea to wake myself up.

Roger: Well then...

The moment I close the door, Roger presses his shoulder against mine.

Kate: ...Roger!?

I look up in surprise, and Roger's face is so close I can feel his breath.

Roger: You don't learn, do you, lil lady? Even after being hurt by that wicked man.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 16

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[angelofthenight]

The Monster You Created Pt.11

(Sam Fortner x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Swearing, Kidnapping situation, Unreciprocated love, Sam being a typical man

Word Count: 3.7k

Table of Contents

“I have someone very special I’d like you to meet.” Sam said before walking over to the closed door with an energetic grin.

You leaned forward to try and see around him when he opened the door. Words that were too quiet and distant for you to hear were exchanged between the two of them. “Gene! I mean-Sam!” You heard a voice you didn’t recognize call out in between sounds of shuffling. Your heart began to pound in nervous avidity as you listened intently and moved your body around to try and get a glimpse into what was going on.

Sam’s back was the first thing to come out of the room, followed by him dragging somebody on a chair across the carpet. Your eyes went big at the sight of this new person he dragged out, the person in the chair being a blindfolded man and helplessly trying to reach out for something to grab ahold of to pull himself away. Your lips fell apart as Sam positioned his chair in the circle of your two chairs; between your right and Sam’s left. The gray haired and gray bearded man also had a chain locked around his ankle to which Sam quickly locked the end of it to the same panel as yours.

Sam walked back towards his chair, pulling off the older man’s blindfold as he passed him. The man made a shocked gasp through his mouth before adjusting his glasses that were hidden by the blindfold. The man looked around his surroundings quickly before settling on you, his small pupils glancing down at your matching chain. “Are… are you (S/n)?” He asked carefully through heavy breaths, his eyebrows curving upwards and his frown curving downwards. He looked utterly terrified.

You made a face at the name and turned your sharp gaze to Sam who seemed to suddenly grow a little nervous. “Yeah… I lied about that too.” The man snapped his head over to Sam as he spoke. “Her name’s actually (Y/n). Same reason why I lied about my own name. Also I told you I was a transport supervisor in a warehouse, but I lied about that too. I'm really a restaurant inspector with the Department of Public Health. I figured if I told you the truth, you'd write it down in your notes and the police would find it.” He ended his sentence with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood yet you and the man’s uneasiness overpowered the tension.

The man looked back over to you a little twitchingly. “An-and you are his girlfriend.” Your head slightly leaned back in offense before looking back over at Sam with an irked expression. “You told him that?” You clarified angrily. Sam winced, still facing the man that still remained unnamed to you. “I lied about that too…” The man exhaled in disbelief, his mouth hung open. “Sorry…” Sam muttered.

Sam’s voice hung in the air, echoing in your ears due to how hard your heart was pounding behind your tight chest. “Sam. Why is this man here?” You asked sternly yet your voice still sounded wound up. Sam’s lips pursed quickly, as if he was getting excited almost. He extended his hand in the direction of the man as if he was presenting him. “I would like you to meet Doctor Alan Strauss. My therapist.”

Your eyes widened, lashes grazing your eyelid as shock smacked you in the face. “Your therapist? Holy shit, Sam. Why-why would bring him here? He has nothing to do with what’s going on. Are you just trying to limit how many things you do without me?” You shakingly shook your head, trying to wrap your head around his possible reasonings for doing such a thing.

“No, it’s… it’s not about me.” Sam began but you suddenly didn’t care about what he had to say, your worried attention attaching to the poor older man. “I am so sorry about all of this, Mr. Strauss. Are you okay?” You said to him with big, apologetic eyes and leaning towards his direction.

Sam chuckled. “He’s a doctor, (Y/n). He didn’t go through ten years of school to be called ‘Mr’.” Although he meant it to be a teasing joke, it translated to nothing but condescending mockery to anyone who could hear him. You forced yourself to the best of your ability to ignore his comment, knowing how deeply it would irk you and send you barreling into more flashbacks of many other men talking to you in that way. Like you were stupid and they found it amusing.

Alan paid no mind to Sam’s joke, more focused on you as he felt safer with you than Sam, his kidnapper. “I’m just…” he struggled to find the words, many emotions clawing at his senses, “very… lost and confused.”

Your sharp glare returned to the brunet across from you. “Sam, why is he here?” Sam’s chest heaved, hinting his secret inhale. “I’ve already told Dr. Strauss about my compulsions and everything going on between us.” He looked over to Alan. “And Dr. Strauss I know you constantly tell me you’re not a couples counselor but… you’re the only one I believe in.” Alan’s jaw was stuck open, his stone eyes never leaving Sam as if he was taking his time trying to grasp onto the reality of this whole situation. Sam was much more focused on you though.

“And (Y/n)... I mostly just brought him… for you.”

“…What.” The word didn’t come off as a question, just a word to spit out as you lacked the time to think of the word that described what you really felt about that statement, or what you felt about Sam at the moment. No. You knew what to call him, what you wanted to call him. A cunt.

“You can have someone to talk to, open up to, someone professional who will give you explanations to why you do certain things and help you understand why. Someone who can help you become self-aware.” He explained, restraining his smile as best he could as his excitement was getting too energetic.

“Self-aware of what?” You question a little louder than you expected, overestimating your anger towards his audacity. Your teeth threatened to grind together as your jawline was tightening.

“You know.” Sam glanced down before reconnecting eye contact, shyness suddenly prompting awkwardness. “How much your…” he stopped himself from using the term ‘daddy issues’, fearing that would make more mad than you already were, “father problems affected you mentally.”

You stood up from your chair so fast both men flinched. “I can’t believe you!” You yelled, furious over the fact that Sam has still been hung up on that theory. “I told you, I’m fine! My dad did not fuck me up! My childhood trauma is in the past and does not affect who I am today!” In the back of your mind, you feared that these two men were not taking you seriously and are only seeing you throw a tantrum. Like how they all did. But the oven of your anger was still hot and was not cooling down enough for you to gather all the thoughts running in your mind without your awareness or permission. “What? I’m Frankenstein’s monster because daddy didn’t teach me to ride a fucking bike!?”

“No! How it affects your love life! How it affects how you choose your boyfriends!” Sam yelled back up at you, trying to reach your volume.

“My exes are NOT like my dad!” You screamed manically, not knowing why you got so defensive over this; not realizing Sam was touching a nerve you didn’t know was sensitive. Tears bordered your eyes but you couldn’t tell if it was from frustration or some other emotion.

“But they are!” Sam refuted, desperation infecting his expression. He snapped his head over to Alan, whose state seemed to only worsen, and gestured toward you with a voice of whiny begging. “Dr. Strauss, tell her!”

“Sam!” Alan abruptly snapped, surprising both you and Sam to silence. He rocked his head into his hands for a few seconds before running them down his face, looking over to Sam with quivering eyes. “I… I-I can’t help her here. Keeping her here is affecting her mentally the most right now.” A softness plucked the fire from your pupils as you looked over to Alan, feeling so warmly grateful that you finally had a sane person to defend you instead of encouraging Sam. “I cannot treat her here. And, technically, I can’t be your couples counselor if you are not a couple.” Alan said with a deep frown and fearful moving shrug.

Sam huffed through his nose, biting his cheeks in small resentment. “Fine. Not a couple, but we do have a relationship with each other that needs some mending and aiding.” Alan sighed in disbelief and frustration. “Sam, you’re not… I cannot treat you both individually all for the sake of you becoming a loving couple.”

“Why not?”

Alan’s mouth was hung open but no sentences came out. “Well.. It just…”

“Yeah. ‘S what I thought.” Sam gruffly said, a sneer teasing his mouth. A heavy silence invaded the area once again, everyone stuck in their own train of thoughts. Sam stared at Alan who looked to be in misery about what he was asking him to do.

“After I do it,” Sam began, “I'm... just… I bet most people couldn't… feel like that. It's not a normal feeling. It's more like... dead. I need to get better. I want to be normal, for her.” He glanced to you who had your eyes trained to the carpeted floor. “Isn't that what you… enjoy doing? Isn't healing people…” Sam seemed to struggle getting out his points, like it was paining him. “I brought you here so we could all work together. I know you hate it, but… if you're not going to be a part of the process, where is that gonna leave us?”

Your eyes returned up. You wanted to snap at him. Tell him to not talk to him like that. But there was a certain look in Sam’s eyes that kept you grounded and silent. That look. It wasn’t as intense as he’s shown you before, that dead-eyed look, but it still ruptured a sickness to your stomach. And the way he admitted to that feeling he experiences after taking a life, you wondered in that moment if he would sometimes feel that feeling before he commits that sin, or when he’s thinking about it too clearly.

Alan stared at a wall for a few moments, his face telling you he was realizing he had to cooperate and play his role in this dark and twisted plan of Sam’s. He took a few deep breaths, each one looking like he was about to say something before biting it back down his throat. He finally spoke out with a hoarse voice. “Successful therapy requires a safe environment.” Sam straightened his back as he realized he was going to actually cooperate. Yet Alan’s voice was on the edge of complete shaking, choosing his words very, very carefully. “The patient and the therapist have to be able to dig into…” Sam nodded along as he looked to take in every little thing he was telling him, “complicated emotional territory without anything like fear hanging over every session.”

You immediately looked over to catch Sam’s reaction, not knowing how he was going to act about that. “I don't know what to do about that.” Alan added.

You caught Sam’s quick scoff and ghost smile, not being able to read if that meant he was disappointed in that fact or if he was amused. You’re getting to know a whole new Sam, the real Sam, so you’ve been trying to get better at reading him despite how many dead ends that lead you into.

“At least I want you…” Alan continued, “to make me a promise that while we are in therapy together, that you will not commit any acts of physical violence against me or (Y/n)-” “I would never hurt (Y/n), I love her. Why would you even say that?” Sam loudly interjected, brows piercing together as if someone had told him the most insensitive, offensive joke. Alan sucked in an inhale, noting that reaction in his mental notes. “I just mean… anyone, in general, unless you talk to me first.”

Sam’s face softened. “You mean you want me to talk to you before I...?”

“Yes.” Alan said quickly, not wanting him to say anything among the lines.

“So you can talk me out of it?”

“So I can try to help you… get out of it. So together, we can try to understand where this terrible need is coming from, and to address it.”

“You have no idea what it's like.”

“I understand.”

Sam chuckled with a bitter smile, glancing over at you which sent a bullet-like zap straight through your core. You’ve been beginning to hate when he looked at you. “These fucking people around (Y/n)…”

“I work with a lot of people with very serious, almost impossible-to-resist compulsions. Making this kind of commitment is key to the process.”

“I don't think it's the same.” Sam winced.

“I'm not saying it's the same.”

Sam sighed, glancing over to you one more time before finally saying, “I'll do my best.” Alan nodded as his way of thanking him. Sam sighed once again, pinpointing his gaze back to you. “Now can you tell her that having a bad relationship with your father when you’re young does affect you.” He pleaded to Alan. You darted your eyes to the man being put on the spot. “You don’t have to answer that, Dr. Strauss.”

Alan glanced between the two of you, lingering his sights a little longer on Sam. He didn’t want to anger or upset either of you, but he feared Sam more. He decided to just state the facts he knew from years of research. “Well…” he started, thinking very carefully of what words to use, “an emotionally unavailable father can leave substantial wounds.” He looked over to your cross armed form to see your eyes were fixated on the ground. “And… to fill that void, you might constantly need attention and validation from older men, or men who have the same traits as your father, to fill that father’s role. You might seek their approval, or advice, or company to make up for the lack of physical and emotional closeness you craved as a child.”

Sam looked over at you with a cocky ‘I told you so’ face, but you weren’t looking. You already knew what he was doing without even having to look up. He was waiting for you to say something, defending yourself or denying the diagnosis, but all you said was, “I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’m going to bed.” Then you stood up without giving anyone so much as a peek and walked straight over to the bed to slide yourself in, closing your eyes before your head even hit the pillow. You just wanted to escape to dreamland to get away from this conscious nightmare.

“But you haven’t finished your dinner.” Sam mentioned, looking down at your dish that you were not even halfway through. “My appetite is spoiled.” You muttered loud enough for him to hear.

Sam quietly snickered and looked at Alan with a perked smirk on his lip. “Women.” He whispered while nudging his head over to you. You heard him though. Alan blankly stared at him, his fearful eyes and frown still intact. Sam stood up with a sigh. “Well then this will be your lunch tomorrow.” He said, completely forgetting about your punishment of less food from your attempted escape. He picked up his and Alan’s plates as well as yours. “I have to go heat back up our food, Dr. Strauss. I’ll be right back.”

You remained in bed as you listened intently to Sam’s footsteps ascending up the stairs and growing distant once he was officially upstairs. And the millisecond that he was you shot back up and scrambled to the foot of the bed, startling Alan. You talked fast and quiet. “What exactly has he told you? Did he tell you that he’s fucking insane?”

Alan was startled by your sudden mood shift, seeing the riled up strictness blow your eyes wide open. “He… he told me about his compulsions. How he tries to stop but he can’t. He said that he knows that he’s… fucked up.” You didn’t allow there to be a second of silence, knowing you didn’t have much time before Sam came back down. “And he told you that I’m his girlfriend? What else has he told you about us?”

Alan sensed your hurry and immediately started talking when you finished. “He said that you haven’t been getting along lately-” “Yeah, because he fucking kidnapped me. Kidnapped me to try and get me to love him back and get over my “daddy issues”.” You stated clearly, wanting Alan to know the gist of this whole situation.

Alan inhaled, taking in the information before telling you what he had noticed in therapy with the man upstairs. “In our sessions, when he said you two were dating, I tried to suggest that you take a break because it sounded like he was overly dependent on you. I told him it sounded like he had an unhealthy addiction to you. It was… very concerning. Most of the time he would talk more about you than himself.” His frown seemed to deepen as well as his voice turning hoarse. “I’m so sorry I should’ve focused more on that than trying to get him to open up about himself. I didn’t know this was the reality of your relationship.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay. I didn’t know he was really like this either. He was just a regular customer at the smoothie bar I work at.” You frowned as your eyes drifted off, imagining how much of your interactions were incredibly significant to him but just casual to you. You shook yourself out of your thoughts when you heard the beeping of the microwave upstairs followed by the beeping sound of microwave buttons. You snapped your eyes back to Alan with a sense of rushed panic. “Quick, what else do you know about me?”

Alan racked his brain for something else. “He told me you were still in love with your ex-” You cut him off, sensing you were running out of time. “That’s a fucking lie. That “ex” is not my ex but my boyfriend whom I lived with.” You heard some rustling upstairs and knew he was coming back.

You leaned closer to Alan with sharp eyes and spoke in a more hushed tone and faster pace. “Okay, listen to me very carefully. I’m gonna lay down the basics of what you need to know and understand right now. I’ve been rotting in this prison cell for I don’t know how fucking long. This place is a living hell and he is sick in the head. He has these batshit mood swings and gets upset like a toddler. He is stubborn and childish and he’s as controlling as a dictator. Be careful with what you say to him and if you step out of line he will punish you.” You began to talk faster, feeling the countdown envelope the room.

“He lives with his mom and she’s a total fucking coward. She does nothing to stop him and once told me to give him a chance. So off the bat, fuck her. She is not on our side and I don’t trust her. I’ll convince Sam tomorrow to let us both sleep in the same room. I used to think I was just wasting my time on planning escapes but with two of us it might be possible. It’s one thing kidnapping me but dragging you into this and fucking up your life is too far. We’re not letting that son of a bitch get what away with this.”

Before Sam even reached the first step of the stairs you threw yourself back into bed and the same position as if you’ve been sleeping this whole time. You felt the heavy weight of Sam’s presence before hearing his voice. “Alright, hot food is back on the menu.” He joked as he set his and Alan’s warm plates down.

“I’m not very hungry right now, Sam.” Alan said with a hoarse tone of voice and exhausted expression.

Sam shot Alan a disappointed glare. “Oh, come on. Not you too. Eating is very important, y’know.” He took a bite and blew on it in his mouth in between each chew. “(Y/n) tried to throw a hunger strike on her first night or two here but she knew better and gave in.” He ate two more bites before quietly adding, leaning over to Alan, “Do you think it’s gonna be the same with me?”

Alan’s brows curved in confusion, the sickness welling in his stomach fueling his fear. “With… your compulsions?” Sam shook his head. “No. If (Y/n)’s gonna know better and give in to me.” He looked up to your body covered by the blankets before turning back to Alan. Although you pretended to be asleep, you kept your ears perked to listen in on everything.

“Everything will be fine if she just accepts my feelings and stays with me.” Sam said to his therapist in a hushed tone. “I could make her so happy. Give her anything she wants, listen to all her rants and rambles. All of that just in exchange that she gives herself over to me.” Sam’s eyes turned desperate as he asked him what he thought.

Alan timidly shrugged, really not knowing what to say. “Sam, I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. The only things I know about her are what you told me. Other than that, I have no way of telling how her mind works or what she wants.” Sam sighed, returning to his food. “You’re right.”

-

Taglist: @alices-halcyon @katlover63 @valareina @kaitcreatesart @girl-next-door-writes @queen-of-elves @pearlstiare

[avvail-whumps]

‘guns for hire’ — glass shards #6

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content warnings: captivity, lots of blood and injury, fingers in mouth (not sexual), blindfolds and chains

Leo was awake when Roy returned. He’d been unable to fall asleep after eating, the glass shard tucked in his hand and a million thoughts racing through his mind. Adrenaline coursed through his veins in a constant rush, keeping him alert and paranoid with each passing second.

Time was slipping past his fingers.

It could have been seconds, maybe even minutes or an hour, sat against the wall on top of the mattress.

He wondered how long it had been since he was taken, but then remembered there was no point. He would never know, so he tried not to let it consume him, or think about the implications of it. Was Roy really going to keep him alive?

He hardly remembered to feed him.

Would he eventually grow bored of having to look after him, and tie up loose ends? Leo felt terrified as he imagined what that would be like.

“Sorry, lion. I know this isn’t easy for you, but I don’t really care.”

There would probably be a gun. He’d be trembling as the mercenary crept closer, cowering against the wall. Maybe he’d beg. He’d probably start screaming for mercy. But Roy wouldn’t care.

“Might be easier not to watch,” he might say, smiling softly. “You can turn around. I’ll make it quick.”

His heart sank to his boots. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked with a cold chill, making him instinctively rub the skin there with his free hand. He didn’t want to think about that right now. The glass shard in his hand felt hot enough as it was. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d find a way to get the chain off, or get Roy to take him out of them before he noticed the glass was missing.

His teeth pressed down on his bottom lip.

It felt like it had been hours, his eyelids drooping, before the door screeched open. He winced violently at the noise, head turning aside to make sure it really was him coming through the door. He didn’t think there was anyone else, but if they were close to other living people, it might be easier to get out.

Leo tried to steady his breathing as Roy kicked the door shut behind him, dusting off his hands as he did so. His eyes were already locked onto him, lips curved into a conniving smile.

“Morning, lion.”

Leo stiffened. Morning?

He hadn’t brought food with him, or come down to collect the empty bowl and (now shattered and missing) glass. When during the day was he feeding him? If it was morning right now, then maybe he could find other people. The thought spurred him on.

“I...” He pressed his back stiffly against the wall. “Morning.”

Roy almost snickered. “Feeling polite today, are we?”

The ex-secretary almost clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to make him suspicious, but he needed to get out of the chains before Roy went to pick up the used bowl and glass.

“I need to go to the toilet,” he whispered softly, staring up at him with begging eyes. Which, was the truth, surprisingly enough. Leo didn’t know how long he had been down here for, but he knew he would need to relieve himself sometime. Roy eyed him up for a moment, his smile increasing.

“I figured,” he hummed, stepping closer until he was next to the mattress. His hand slid into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a key and black piece of fabric. Leo watched intensely, shifting. “I was going to make you say pretty please, but you sure know how flutter those eyelashes to get what you want, hm?”

Leo had to bite his tongue when he felt the urge to say please regardless. He didn’t want to seem too desperate. Instead, his nerves just seemed to grow when Roy crouched down, tugging on the chain. It jerked him closer, and he scrambled to keep his hand hidden.

“How’s the porridge?”

He was surprised by the question. He only found a way to untangle his tongue when Roy’s eyes flickered towards him.

“Fine,” he finally breathed out, his voice shaking. “It’s good.”

The mercenary looked away. “You shouldn’t lie.”

“I’m not,” he insisted.

The key slotted into the clamp around his ankle, and Leo could hear his heartbeat growing louder and louder. It was near defeaning, and it felt like the ground was shaking beneath him. Roy was speaking, but Leo couldn’t hear anything.

The moment the clamp released its hold on his ankle, he leapt forward. The glass shard drove toward his face, yet Roy had reacted inhumanly fast, and thrown his hands up in defense. The tip of the shard dragged through the flesh of his palm, and Roy bit back a hiss as his fingers wound around Leo’s wrist, jerking it away.

His stomach sank, and his ankle throbbed in pain as he began trying to wriggle free from the grasp. He could feel blood soaking into his skin, and Roy squeezed and twisted the joint so abruptly, he was surprised the bone hadn’t shattered.

The shard fell from his fingers, landing on the mattress.

Roy had this dark glimmer in his eye, yet his lip was curled into a surprised smirk, letting out a sharp exhale.

“Fuck, lion...”

His free hand clamped around his throat, and Leo barely even had time to let out a squeak of pain before he was being dragged off the mattress and into the middle of the room. His lungs stuttered to a stop, panicked fingers scraping desperately at his hand.

His skull cracked on the concrete as Roy shoved him into the ground, pressing a knee to the middle of his chest. It pressed into his lungs and made it difficult to breathe properly.

“What did you think you were doing?”

Leo’s mouth stuttered open. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me...”

Roy tilted his head to the side, huffing. His eyes drifted to his hand, lifting it up for him to see. The blood was pooling along the surface, the flesh torn into a nasty gash and dripping blood with the assistance of gravity.

Leo flinched when a drop landed on his cheek. It slid down his skin and onto the ground, making him whimper.

The mercenary noticed, and a sly smile curled on his lips.

“You cut me pretty deep,” he hummed, tilting his hand and letting the drops land on Leo’s face. He nearly squeaked, sliding his legs fruitlessly to try and wriggle his way out of this. His chest was constricting painfully with each shallow breath.

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed, lion. Look at that.”

Leo’s soft whines were muffled when Roy closed his hand around his mouth. His eyes widened and his throat shrieked, jerking in his hold. He’d used his injured hand – Leo could feel the disgusting flesh against his lips and the foul stench of blood flooding his senses.

His eyes pinched in disgust.

“I was going to punish you for that,” Roy murmured, the smile slipping from his lips for a moment as he observed the secretary underneath him. “But I changed my mind.”

He lifted his hand away, and when Leo went to spit the amalgamation of blood that had coated his face and pooled at his lips, Roy had grasped his jaw in his uninjured hand, and jerked it back to him. Nails bit into his skin, and the secretary whined in pain.

Roy used his thumb to smear the blood across his lips, before dipping his blood coated thumb into his mouth. Leo’s face wrinkled in disgust as the blood found it’s way onto his tongue, choking on it.

“Let’s go. You can wash your face up while you’re there.”

When he was released, Leo twisted round and gagged violently, spitting the coppery globs from his mouth and trying to wipe them from his face. Roy had grabbed him, and roughly hefted him onto his feet.

Leo could hardly keep himself afloat, biting back the whimper when that fabric from before was pressed over his eyes, and tied around his head. The darkness made jitters scramble up his spine, yet the feeling Roy’s arm around his waist and gently taking his wrist to guide him made him feel comforted in a way that he couldn’t understand.

It was disgusting.

tag list – @unorganisedalienrubbish @d-cs @rabidrabidme @sordayciega @burningkittypoet @whumpawink @mannerofwhump

[whumpcereal]

the kennel, part eleven

checking back in with poor tommy! masterlist here.

content warnings for: explicit noncon touch and use of toys, suggested future noncon, humiliation, extreme dehumanization, dissociation, filmed whump, pet whump, description of past injuries, adult language

part eleven, a perfect puppy

Tommy doesn’t know when the days began to blur together. For all he knows, hardly any time has passed. Where he’s kept, it’s impossible to tell whether the sun is coming or going, because it’s impossible to tell whether there is a sun at all. Not that there isn’t any light. There is. The fluorescents that surround his cage never go out. They beat down on his glass prison, and they make sure that Tommy’s–no, Champ’s fans can see him clearly. 

The only indication Tommy ever has that time has passed is when one punishment is swapped out for the next. Well, not punishments. He’s a good boy. Doc tells him so all the time. No, Tommy is–Champ is a show dog. He’s showing off his tricks. He counts them, cataloging them in his head like tally marks on a prison wall. 

It started with Doc dislocating his right shoulder. Then, it was his left. After that, Doc rigged him up like a marionette; Tommy was pretty sure he’d pulled his inner thigh, and he was lucky he hadn’t broken his ankle.There have been a series of different poses since then, each one pulling and straining Tommy’s body in new and grotesque ways. Fourteen in all.

Tommy can handle it. His body is still strong, and so far, he doesn’t think Doc has done any permanent damage. He put Tommy’s shoulders back in joint; he let him down before he snapped his ankle. He hasn’t beaten him the way he beat Will. Tommy is fine. 

It’s the other things, the ‘gentle’ tricks, that Tommy isn’t sure he can handle. But Tommy’s red collar means that Doc has to give their viewers a certain kind of show, and Tommy feels like he’s inching closer and closer to his opening night. 

At first, it was purely visual. Leather harnesses that accentuate Tommy’s most private parts, black blindfolds, ball gags. Things Tommy would never have chosen for himself, things that he finds humiliating, but things that don’t hurt. Not really. Just his pride. But the people watching, they like it. 

At first, Doc told him he was a star, that he’d brought in enough money to earn his keep and then some. Then, Doc started to touch him. Not just to change his position or scratch beneath his chin, either.

That’s it, Champ. Hup-hup. That’s a good boy. 

Tommy cried that first time. He snorted and choked beneath his gag like he was drowning. Doc laughed, but he didn’t stop; his hands kneaded and stroked and twisted until Tommy’s body betrayed itself, spilling over Doc’s hand and onto the floor. Doc had scratched behind his ears and told him what a good boy he was, and then he’d dropped Tommy from his pose, letting him fall right in his own mess. Tommy lied there until he knew Doc was gone, and then he’d managed to crawl to his cot. Even though he’d hidden under his blanket, he knew that the people watching could hear him sob–and he knew they liked it. 

It’s what they paid for, after all.

It’s happened what Tommy thinks might be every day since. Tommy still cries, but he does it silently, letting his tears seep from closed eyes. He’s accepted that there’s nothing he can do to stop this. This is his life for the foreseeable future, and he has to be good; it’s the only way to keep him and Will safe. Doc reminds him of that every time. 

Be a good boy now, or you know the little mutt will suffer. I’m sure we could add a few more stripes to his coat. 

He hasn’t seen Will since he's been in the doghouse. He doesn’t know what Doc might have done to him. But when Tommy closes his eyes at night, he still hears Will’s guttural scream. He hears the whip crack, smells Will’s blood.

Tommy won’t let it happen again.

Tommy is a good boy. A champ. 

He doesn’t want it, but if he closes his eyes, he can give himself over to feeling something other than pain or fear for just a split second. He can pretend it isn’t Doc, that it’s someone who loves him, who would never hurt him. Someone who wants him to feel good. It helps him sometimes, when his own fear threatens to derail Doc’s plans. Tommy can never stay in the fantasy for very long, but he lives for the fleeting seconds when he can believe. 

But it always ends. He always remembers where he is and who is touching him. Doc won’t let him forget. And Tommy knows that Doc won’t let it stay so simple for long. The people who pay to watch Tommy suffer will want more. They probably already do. 

It doesn’t make it any easier when the time comes. 

It’s morning or midnight or whatever the fuck o’clock, and Tommy’s been curled on his cot for four hours or four seconds or four days. None of it makes any difference. His joints scream in pain from the last pose, but he can’t bear to stretch out; he makes himself as small as possible beneath his threadbare blanket. 

He hears the barn door open, but it’s already closed again by the time he manages to raise his head. Doc strides toward him, his blue flannel shirt tucked into fleece-lined jeans, and Tommy isn’t sure he’s ever hated anyone or anything so much. The fucker is warm and cozy and so fucking cheery–it makes Tommy want to scream until his throat is bloody. 

He doesn’t scream, of course. He knows what to do, and he does it. He scrambles off his cot and waits on his knees, mittened hands limp in front of his naked chest like a begging dog. He’s shivering, and his tongue is dry beneath yesterday’s ball gag; Doc never took it out, and Tommy hasn’t had anything to eat or drink for he doesn’t know how long. His head swims, but he manages to stay upright. 

“There’s my good boy,” Doc chuckles. He unlocks the glass door and lets himself in, locking the door again behind him. He doesn’t take any chances with his Champ. 

Tommy doesn’t look up. He stays still and lets Doc’s fingers crook and wiggle behind his ear. They brush against the strap of the gag, and Tommy whines. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he nudges into Doc’s touch. 

“Awww, Champers, do you want that nasty thing out of your mouth?” Doc coos. 

Tommy nods, because he does. He will take whatever relief he can get before today’s torture begins. He’s already learned that much. Distanty, he wonders what Will has learned. 

“Alright, then,” Doc says, squatting down in front of Tommy. He reaches behind Tommy’s head and unbuckles the gag. “You can have a little break. Get yourself a little dinner, huh?” 

Tommy stays put. He knows how this works. He can’t move without Doc’s say-so. If he does, there won’t be any food or water. And if there’s no food or water for Tommy, there’s damn well no food or water for Will. 

“That’s a good boy, Champ. You show ‘em how it’s done. Go on now. Free.” 

Free. The word hits Tommy like a blow, but he scrambles on hands and knees to his water bowl. It isn’t fresh–Tommy doesn’t remember the last time Doc changed it–but Tommy could give two shits about that. He knows the cameras are capturing his prone body, his naked ass, his fraying humanity, and he doesn’t care about that either. He laps hungrily at the water, no matter how badly the motion aggravates his aching jaw. The water splashes up and into his nose, but he doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t care. 

“My, what a thirsty boy,” Doc laughs, giving Tommy’s ass a curt slap. “That’s just fine. You drink up now. Drink all you want.” 

Tommy does. He drops his face lower, and he imagines what it might be like to drown. 

There’s a sudden clinking next to his head and stale meaty smell: his kibble. Because that’s what he eats when he’s lucky enough to be given food. He never refuses it, because he’s afraid that if he does, Doc won’t feed Will. Not that he has any way of knowing what Doc’s done to Will. But still. He’ll do what he can. He has to. They have to get out of here together. 

Doc knuckles into Tommy’s hair and shoves his face into the kibble. “Aren’t you a lucky pup?” Doc asks. “So spoiled.”

Tommy forces his lips to the little brown pellets in the bowl and takes them in. They’re dry and scratchy along his tongue, and chewing fucking hurts, but he manages to force the first mouthful down his throat. He needs it. He knows he does. He has to keep his strength up.

But, for a moment, when he feels Doc’s hand slip up and down his bare back, when he hears the murmured Good boy, it’s almost too much. Well, it is too much. There are people paying to watch him go through this. They are the same people who watch when he cries, when he can’t move for the pain, when Doc assaults him, when he relieves himself in a fucking ten gallon bucket. He’s not a person to these assholes. He’s an animal.

And he is becoming more of an animal, day by day. He keeps burying himself deeper so that he can protect the last shreds of his dignity and humanity. This isn’t happening to Tommy; it’s happening to Champ. And Champ is a good boy.

He takes another bite. 

“Eat hearty and then rinse your mouth,” Doc instructs. “Your public sent you some nice new toys, and I know you’ll want to be ready to use them right away.”

There’s a jolt in Tommy’s gut, but he doesn’t look up from the bowl. He’s under no illusion that whatever the nice new toys are, they won’t be nice for him.

He eats until the tag on his collar clinks against the bottom of the bowl and dutifully takes another glug of water. He misses the mint aftertaste of his toothpaste, the feeling of his mouth being fresh and clean. He misses so many things. Home. His family. Will. 

But there are things he didn’t realize he’d taken for granted. Grace and power. Control over his own body. Confidence in his future. Peace. He’s supposed to be taking his bows center stage, not fishing for kibble on his hands and knees. He’s supposed to be somewhere else. This is all wrong.

Doc’s fingers tuck inside Tommy’s collar and pull him backward, until Tommy is sitting on his ankles again. 

“That’s a good boy, Champ. So grateful for all that you receive, aren’t you?” 

Tommy doesn’t answer. He knows he isn’t meant to. He wishes he could reach up and rub his jaw before Doc puts the ball gag back in, but his mittened hands won’t do him much good. He keeps his eyes on the floor and waits for Doc to hook him to the rigging. It’s time for his pose. He knows how this goes. 

“Oh, little Champ. Don’t look so glum. I told you: there are special surprises for you. Seems your public wants to help you along in your training so that you can learn some new tricks. Look, boy!” 

Tommy raises his head to see what Doc has in his outstretched hands, and he regrets it immediately. He slams backward onto his ass and scrambles to press himself against the glass wall. 

Doc only chuckles, waving Tommy’s “surprises” at him. A black silicone dog tail with a thick, tapered bulb on its business end and another ball gag–only this ball has a thick silicone phallus protruding from it. Tommy can feel his throat closing up just looking at it. 

“No,” he rasps, surprised to hear his own voice. “No fucking way.” 

Doc looks over his shoulder at one of the cameras. “Skittish, isn’t he? C’mon now, Champ. These are brand new, just for you. The nice people bought them for you special.” 

Doc takes a cautious step forward, like he doesn’t mean to spook Tommy. But Tommy’s spooked. His heart hammers so loudly that he’s convinced the fuckers watching the livestream must be able to hear it too. 

“The other Romantics have to make do with what we have lying around. They may not even get much training before they’re sold off. But you?” He kneels in front of Tommy and smooths Tommy’s blonde curls from his sweaty forehead. “You get the best. We’ll make sure you’re prepared before anyone has a chance at you.” 

“Please,” Tommy hears himself whisper. He stares at the black bulb attached to the tail. It’s huge. He’s never–he doesn’t– “I can’t–”

Doc leans close. “You will, or I’ll ‘fix’ your little mutt friend and feed him what’s left over.” 

“No!” Tommy barks. His food shifts in his belly, and he doubles over. Images of Will strapped to the exam table rise unbidden, and he can hear the screams again. He raises his mitts over his ears, but the sound keeps echoing in his head. 

“Oh, Champ,” Doc says with a smile. He rips Tommy’s head upright again, and the tail in his hand slaps against Tommy’s cheek. “I will. See if I don’t. He won’t even complain. He might be worthless, but at least that one knows how to take what he’s given. Never says a word. He’d probably be grateful to have something to eat.”  

Tommy’s chest beats frantically, but he can’t make himself speak. 

“What will it be, Champ? Will you be a good boy for the nice people?” 

Champ is a good boy. He will do what he’s told. He nods as best he can with Doc’s knuckles against his scalp. 

Doc lets him go, and Tommy collapses over himself. This is only the beginning, he knows. He understands what these things are preparing him for, and the thought rips open a pit deep in his stomach. 

He’s never been with anyone before. Sure, there was plenty of messing around backstage, but Tommy didn’t have the time to experiment much. He was too singularly focused. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. He doesn’t want to admit that he was too shy to put himself out there. His experience is limited to his own hand, to his boyish fantasies of a handsome man with strong arms and a kind smile. And now–

“Up, Champ,” Doc demands. “And open that sweet little mouth.” 

Tommy does what he’s told. Doc forces the phallus into his mouth. 

“I want you to put your lips around it, Champ. Give us a show before I lock it in.” 

Tommy’s jaw already hurts so much, there’s no way. But Doc grips his chin, pressing his fingers hard into the soft parts of Tommy’s cheeks and forcing his mouth into an ‘O’ shape. He slides the silicone in and out, in and out. It’s soft and cool, but each time Doc moves in, he presses it further. 

“Look at you,” Doc murmurs. “A natural. I knew when I found you that you were made for this. I can always tell what my rescues will be good for. And you’re perfect, Champers.” 

Tears slip down Tommy’s distended cheeks, and this time, Doc presses the gag back so far that Tommy chokes. Tommy coughs and tries to expel the intrusion, but Doc lets go of his cheeks and moves behind him, buckling the gag and locking it in place. The phallus flattens his tongue and strains his jaw, but when he tries to adjust, it only slides a hair deeper, bumping up against the entrance to his throat. 

Tommy closes his eyes. This isn’t what it’s supposed to be like. This isn’t how it’s supposed to feel. 

Doc’s fingertips whisper over the leather panel that’s replaced Tommy’s mouth, and he nods in satisfaction. “Thanks to our friend from Oman for that one,” he says for the benefit of the audience. “You’ll learn how to relax around it, little Champ. Don’t be afraid to swallow it down, if you can. That’ll be good practice for you.” 

Tommy can just barely hear the chimes from the computer over the rushing in his ears. 

“There we are,” Doc soothes, running his hands over Tommy’s shoulders. “Look at Champ, taking to his new place like a duck to water. He says thank you for the nice gift.” 

Tommy sobs beneath the gag, but he knows it’s thanks enough for the fucking perverts watching. The silicone seems to swell in his mouth, and he tries again to shift it with his tongue. He only succeeds in pushing drool from his trapped lips. It pastes the leather to his chin.

“Now, hands and knees, little Champ.” 

So that Doc can put the tail in. 

Tommy can’t obey. His limbs won’t cooperate. He looks up at Doc through his tears and whines. 

He’s begging. 

Doc chuckles and wraps his warm hands around Tommy’s naked hips. He pushes upward until Tommy’s ass rises and then pulls away. 

“There you are, boy. Good boy.” 

Doc reaches between Tommy’s legs and strokes him a few times for good measure. Tommy shakes his head, and this time he doesn’t rise. He’s too fucking scared. He just wants it to stop. For Doc to leave him so that he can crawl under his blanket and pretend that he isn’t being prepared like some kind of stuck pig. He stays soft under Doc’s hands.

“Awww, well, that’s alright, Champ. We can try again later, can’t we?” 

Doc pulls away, and it’s all Tommy can do to stay upright. He’s shaking so hard that the gag knocks against his back teeth. 

Doc presses a lazy finger to Tommy’s hole, and Tommy yelps. 

“Oh, that’s certainly unexpected. No one’s ever touched you there, have they, Champ?” 

Tommy presses his forehead to the floor, and Doc chuckles. 

“Well, then, this may be a bit uncomfortable at first. But don’t you worry, Champ. We’ll leave it in for a while so that you can get used to it, and it’ll get easier every time. Won’t it, folks?”

Tommy’s face is hot with new tears. This is his first time. Cold. Synthetic. Cruel. He will never get this back. 

Distantly, he knows there will be another first time, and it will be even worse. But he can’t think about that right now. He hears a soft click behind him, and then he feels Doc’s slippery fingers at his entrance. 

One. 

Tommy’s chest burns. This isn’t what he wants. This isn’t what he’s ever wanted. 

Two. 

Tommy screams around the gag in his mouth. Champ waits. 

Three. 

Tommy is silent, and Champ is a good boy. 

Nothing. Empty space. 

And then, the bulb shoves in. Champ knows how to take it. Or, if he doesn’t, he is quiet. Good. 

Doc jerks the tail side to side, and Champ moans, vibrating the gag in his throat. He is stuffed full.

“See, it isn’t so bad, is it, boy?” 

A slap to the ass. He brims with pain. 

“Oh!” Doc says. “I almost forgot. One last present.” 

Tommy is buried, and Champ does not look up. He feels a wire band slip over his head, and then something soft brushing over his ears. Like fur. His head pops up, and the soft fabric moves with him. 

Ears. 

“Now you’re a perfect puppy,” Doc says warmly. 

He reaches behind to stroke Champ’s tail and gives it another swift jerk. The feeling vibrates through Champ’s core, and he feels himself stir between his back legs. 

Doc laughs. “I knew you’d like it, if you just gave it a chance. Now, for today’s special pose. I don’t think we need anything too elaborate–we’ll want to keep you on all fours now.” 

The slip lead moves over Champ’s head, and Doc tethers him to the floor in the center of the cage. Champ doesn’t try to move, but if he did, he would realize that he can’t reach anything–not his cot, not his bucket, not his food or water. He is trapped, and he is entirely at Doc’s mercy. 

When Doc leaves him, Champ lies on his stomach, pillowing his head on his mittened paws. He cries for a while, but eventually he manages to fall asleep. The computer keeps chiming for hours. 

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[facesblind]

@buriedabove

❝  i want everyone here to see that you’re mine.  ❞

𝗶𝘁'𝘀  𝗮  𝗱𝗮𝘆  𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁  𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗹𝘆  𝗵𝗮𝘀  𝗻𝗼  𝗲𝗻𝗱.  𝗶𝘁'𝘀  𝗮  𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗱𝘆  𝗼𝗻𝗲,  𝘁𝗼𝗼  —  𝗮  𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁  𝗼𝗳  𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻  𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺  𝘁𝗵𝗲  𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴  𝘀𝗸𝘆  𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘃𝗲  𝘁𝗵𝗲  𝘀𝗸𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗲𝗿  𝗼𝗳  𝗮𝗻  𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲  𝗯𝘂𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴.  inside,  a  bunch  of  blue  collars  &&.  workers,  some  a  seasoned  agents  just  coming  back  from  the  field,  some  just  new  silhouettes  miriam  will  have  to  distinguish  from  the  known  ones  by  picking  up  as  much  about  them  as  possible  later.

it's  also  the  day  leon  comes  back  from  his  delegation,  and  his  first  stop  isn't  his  place  —  but  the  headquarters  of  division  of  security  operations.  america's  most  treasured  soldier  enters  the  building  through  the  main  door,  darkened  spots  on  his  well - tailored  suit  (a  gift  from  miriam  ;  she  thought  of  the  ones  he  already  had  as  hideous)  a  sign  of  upcoming  downpour.

she's  waiting  there,  in  the  main  hall.  chatting  with  somebody,  casually  —  untrained  eyes  couldn't  tell  how  badly  she  wants  to  escape  the  social  situation,  how  much  she  wants  to  keep  her  piercing  gaze  on  the  bulletproof  glass  and  shatter  it  once  she  recognizes  leon's  frame  from  behind  it.

how  badly  she  wants  to  embrace  him  (that  can  wait  until  they're  at  his  place,  that  can  wait),  how  badly  she  wants  to  see  him  ;  a  direct  threat  for  his  life  still  present  and  vivid  in  her  memory  —  although  nothing  happened.  not  to  him,  at  least.  that's  all  that  matters  to  her.

until  schrödinger  knows  he's  back  safely,  she'll  feel  the  anxiety  rising  somewhere  in  her  stomach,  climbing  up  to  the  throat  through  lungs  —  her  breaths  more  shallow,  her  hands  trembling  just  a  little  bit.

leon  notices.  even  blindfolded  he  would.  always  did,  always  does.  if  he  acts  on  it  is  another  thing.

as  of  late...  one  could  say  he  always  picks  it  up.  the  mood  swings,  slight  shifts  in  presented  demeanor  —  not  hiding  her  feelings,  just  opting  for  not  sharing  her  thoughts  out  loud.  he  offers  tea,  silently  brings  it  to  her  study  ;  somehow  embraces  her  just  at  the  right  moment  when  she's  right  about  to  fall  apart,  keeping  all  her  pieces  together  (he  makes  her  used  to  the  physical  touch,  she  doesn't  flinch  anymore  —  lets  these  moments  linger  for  as  long  as  leon  wants  &&.  oftentimes  even  longer).

her  studies  aren't  going  well.  no  breakthroughs,  no  new  options,  no  new  ideas.  null.  nothing.

it's  patrick  who  keeps  miriam  company,  engaging  her  in  a  little  chatter  ("  qualified?  more  like  lucky.  the  only  reason  he's  the  golden  boy  now  is  because  he  was  in  the  wrong  place  at  the  right  time.  ").  for  miriam,  he's  keeping  just  the  right  distance  (not  for  leon,  never  for  leon).  a  part  of  kennedy's  welcome  committee  now  a  commotion  —  greetings  to  be  responded  to,  hands  to  be  shaken,  smiles  to  be  returned  and  stories  to  be  told.

&&.  a  small  silhouette  in  the  back,  silver  steel  glimmering  once  a  familiar  persona  is  perceptible.

and  the  kiss.  just  in  front  of  them  all,  the  whole  gathering  ;  the  mass  of  black  suits  and  white  shirts  finally  getting  their  confirmation  —  something  expected,  but  hoped  to  be  false.

just  roommates.

of  course.

it  takes  miriam  by  surprise  —  how  much  it's  both  a  statement  for  the  crowd  &&.  for  her.  she  melts  into  it,  then  into  the  embrace  ;  doesn't  put  on  a  fake  smile,  her  face  hidden  in  leon's  dress  shirt,  hands  clutched  to  the  fabric.  six  days  apart.  hey,  what  happened  here?

not  something  she  could  predict  ;  not  something  probable  to  happen.  it  does  nonetheless.  and  there's  the  whisper  in  her  ear.

i  want  everyone  here  to  see  that  you’re  mine.

"  yours,  "  she  confirms  quietly,  suddenly  so  small  and  vulnerable  and  lost  like  a  child.  his?

his?

before  she  can  bite  her  tongue,  before  she  can  think  of  what  she's  about  to  do,  the  words  roll  off  her  tongue  in  a  desperate  escape  ;  planning  to  break  out  of  the  jail  of  miriam's  heart  for  long  enough.  last  time  they  succeeded  there  were  flowers  and  bees  and  butterflies,  sun  and  cloudless  blue  sky  ;  greenery  and  a  sundress.  &&.  no  one  else  around.

"  love  you  too.  "

because  what  else  was  that  if  not  a  confession?

there's  a  flash  and  then  a  thunder.

the  world  disagrees.

[violettduchess]

Dear Anon-

I accidentally deleted your ask but luckily I DID take a screenshot. I haven't really thought about taking requests because I know with real life, it would take me some time to get to it but your caring for your friend and asking for something to help her feel better was really sweet. So I did it!

I hope you both like it!

Keywords: first kiss

Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian / MC

Word Count: 1236

Its hard to categorize this. I'd say it veers towards spicy angst.

The night is angry. The sky flares with white hot lightning, raging against the light of the moon, now imprisoned by black clouds. Thunder booms, rattling the earth, and the wind whips through the trees, strangling thinner branches and ripping leaves off by the stems, scattering them like drops of blood.

But you aren’t afraid. Storms have always meant an appreciation of being safe and warm indoors, of curling up with a book and candlelight and allowing the sounds and words to carry you somewhere far away, to travel out of the moment on the winds and be somewhere else.

A glance at the clock tells you the rest of the palace should be asleep. It’s close to two in the morning, an hour folded deep within night’s arms. You slide out of bed, forgoing slippers or shoes for the sake of quiet. Yes, the storm is raging but who knows if it would be enough to cover the sound of footsteps, however cautious you may be.

There is no question where you are headed. The carpet is soft underfoot, the corridors dark but you know the way. You could do it blindfolded. Shadows accompany you as you make your way to the library.

The heavy wooden door opens silently. You step in and feel the way peace sinks into you, relaxing your shoulders and the tension in your neck. You are where you belong, surrounded by the things that bring you joy. You are safe.

The book from earlier that day is right where you left it. You know Chevalier hasn’t been here or he would have put it back. Or chastised you. Likely both. You pick it up and along with the silver chamberstick, head for the cushioned velvet window seat. You curl up, leaning against the sliver of wall, only glass and lattice between you and the wild winds, the howling and snarling storm.

You reach up, pressing your hand against the cold glass. Your book lays forgotten in your lap. You haven’t even lit the chamberstick. Your eyes close, your hand pressing harder. The storm feels like it’s calling to you. Promising you something. Digging into the trenches of your heart, trying to unearth hidden secrets. Speaking to your very soul. 

So enrapt are you, that you don’t notice the library door open or the man who steps inside, closing it behind his back in one fluid movement. You don’t notice the way he pauses when he sees you or the way he then remains perfectly still, observing before making his way purposefully over, his footfall breaking your reverie.

As if in slow motion you turn your head away from the window and are met with the sight of Prince Gilbert von Obsidian standing right in front of the window seat. Gone is the heavy black cloak, the opulent cane. He is however still swathed in black, as if the shadows themselves have wrapped themselves around him, lovingly.

Startled, you jump up from the window seat, a reflex. You don’t want him towering over you like that. But standing does nothing but bring you even closer to him, close enough to see how dark his eye looks in the night-soaked library, dark as Shiraz wine. 

You’ve never been this close to him before. Your gaze has always been drawn to him, no matter whether in a ballroom or a dining hall but you’ve avoided being close to him. A few polite exchanges is all….

Exchanges, if you’re honest, that have replayed themselves over and over in your mind, in the dark, in your dreams. 

He tilts his head, skin pale as cream, hair dark as smoke. 

“What a late hour for you to be up and hopping about.” His voice is silk ribbons and velvet and a blade’s edge. You could wrap it around your wrists and throat, drape yourself in it, hurt yourself with it.

You refuse to move, squaring your shoulders. His eye drops to the bare skin of your neck, your arms. Outside the wind howls.

“The same could be said of you.” No titles, no formality. The hour, the storm, the intimacy of the dark have stripped them away, burned you down to your essence, bare to him.

He breathes in and his eye closes for a moment. When he opens it again, he looks intrigued.

“Most everyone here in Rhodolite stinks of roses. But not you. You’re….different.” His gaze runs over your face, almost palpable. You feel the way he takes in the lines of your jaw, the curve of your lips, the way your lashes frame your eyes. In front of him you feel diaphanous, every thin layer of yourself easily discernible to that eye.

A loud crack of thunder shakes the palace.

You jump and his hands come up instinctively, fingers curling around your upper arm. His touch is cool.

His lips lift in an amused smile. “Afraid of the storm, Häschen?”

You turn your head to look at the window again, at the rain lashing against it, the dark, distant shapes bending to its will. Your heart thunders in time as you turn back to face him.

“Afraid of it?” You shake your head, loose hair brushing against your cheek, his hands. “I’m not afraid of it, Gilbert. I savor it.”

That word hangs from your lips, ripples through the space between you. He draws in a short breath, as if stung. His grip on your arms tightens…and then his mouth is on yours. Hungry. As if he wants to taste what you just said, swallow it for himself. You find your fingers curling into the soft black of his clothing, unafraid of the tornado of want that his kiss unleashes inside you, smashing through all your doubt and concern and questions. You meet his hunger with your own, body pressing up against his, unable to stop yourself. Irresistible. Lightening and copper.

Only another crash of thunder, wild enough to rattle glass, is enough to shatter the unexpected haze of want. You both break contact at the same time. There is no satisfied smirk on his kiss-bruised lips. No knowing arch of brow. There is only surprise and hunger and need. Your arms ache with the desire to reach out and pull him back, to taste him again. You aren’t aware of how hard you’re breathing, your lungs struggling to find room for the oxygen it needs and the fire inside you burning it all away.

Gilbert von Obsidian lifts his hand, then lowers it, his fingers curling into a tight fist. He is the first to compose himself, ever a master of control, except for just now, with you. Inside he’s as rattled as the window panes.

It’s too dangerous. All of it. Your secret role as Belle, your duty to Rhodolite. You can’t do this. You can’t. You can’t.

This jumpstarts your sense of place and time and purpose. Your muttered apology is lost to the sound of rain as you rush past him, ignoring the brush of his hand on your waist, the call of your name. You run, through the dark, until you are back in the safety of your room.

Panting, you lean your back against the door.

Outside the storm wails, ever onward.

Inside, your heart is its own tempest, howling in frustration and fear and fervor.

What have you done?

[avtrbee]

in the beginning

a/n: wow! thank you so much for all the love you gave me with never! i never expected that kind of reaction :> here's another gojo fic I wrote a couple months back, you can consider it as a prologue of the relationship or smth but it can also be a stand-alone. the fic was longer, where I included what happened directly after the wedding but I felt like this had a better conclusive ending. i can post it as part two if you want please enjoy the fic and don't hesitate to comment with some criticisms or your general feelings abt the fic! thank you once again!

summary: the beginning of y/n and gojo

my masterlist The night was quiet, aside from the calming buzz of cicadas. The cool air blows gently between both of you, lifting your hair as if you were inside some commercial. It was full and bright from where you stand with Gojo (Satoru, you quickly correct yourself. You’d be a Gojo soon enough), bathing you in the moonlight. If you were any other person, you’d think you were in some romantic getaway with your lover. Unfortunately, that was not the case. The reality was much crueler.

It was calm before the storm.

“I…” Satoru starts. “...I’m not ready to be a father, Y/N.” His body faces the beautiful scenery of lush trees in front of you with his hands in his pockets, but his face is slightly tilted to you. His usual blindfold is off, replaced by the shades you’d given him back then, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his striking eyes.

You scoff. “You’re telling me this now when we’re getting married tomorrow?” You roll your eyes in another direction, to anywhere but Satoru. Your tone was cold and hard as you felt the bitter anger rise in you again at the reminder that you were to be expected to breed like cattle, all for a hopeful offspring that can inherit your Cursed Techniques or be somehow stronger than Satoru.

The anger quickly died down as you glanced at him in your peripheral vision. Satoru was in this too, he was to be expected to breed with you, forced to raise his future children to be a soldier in a world they didn’t choose like the both of you at this moment. You make the mental note to be considerate of his feelings as well. That’s what marriage is about anyway. Right?

His childhood was pleasant from an outsider's point of view; born with techniques that make him a god, a silver spoon in his mouth, and hails from one of the three great clans. But that suffocated him. It's why Satoru is so carefree with a happy-go-lucky vibe and a problem with authority. They have dictated everything he did since he was born. You and Satoru are fools if you don't realize that the same will be done to your children.

“I’m not ready to be a mother too,” you confess, tone softer, laced with understanding. I never wanted to be one in the first place, you think but don’t bother to say. It doesn’t matter. You’re going to have to be one soon enough. “But they’re going to expect an heir and several spares as soon as possible.”

Then it was silent again, Satoru not bothering to contradict your statement. It was a fact, and it's what triggered the series of events that led you here anyway.

Some of you wonder if Satoru has ever wondered about a family of his own with a wife he actually chose. Against your better judgment, you decide to ask him exactly that. Communication is the key to any relationship, right?

“Have you ever dreamed of a family with a wife you love?”

You expected him to look at you and giggle, some half-meant tease running out of his mouth. Instead, he turned to you fully, glasses lowered, and stared. “Have you?” he asked, throwing your question back at you.

“Family? No.” You answered. “But a spouse...once in a while.” You admit, lowering your head, staring at the ground instead. You have not admitted this to anyone. Despite knowing that the possibility of you getting married off to another clan was rather great, the idea of having a family with someone you don’t love seemed meaningless. That and your utter fear of pregnancy and childbirth. You’ve seen many friends struggle with issues that are rooted in bad parenting. You don’t want that. You don’t ever want that. A spouse, however...that was a dream you’d let yourself dream when your guards are down.

“Nevertheless, they will demand a child from us. They will have a cruel fate,” you muse, staring at the ground. “If they get our cursed techniques, they’ll become a toy. If they don’t, they’ll be shamed. I don’t want that.”

"No, they won't." He replies in a firm voice. I'll protect them, goes unsaid in the cool air. You find yourself agreeing. We'll protect them.

You feel fingers below your chin, pushing your head back up for your gaze to meet with Satoru’s. His glasses were off, and you concluded that you’d never get tired staring at his eyes. It was breathtakingly blue as if there were oceans and ice glaciers hidden underneath. He stares at you for a few moments and you let him. You feel him search for something in you before curling his lips into a smile.

“Alright! It’s settled, then!” He exclaims the usual joy back in his voice. “We'll make it work, Y/N-chan.”

The disbelief escapes from your mouth before you could even control it. “Y/N-chan?” you repeat scandalized. You were many things to Gojo Satoru and he has called you such. You’d been L/N when you first met, Y/N when you got closer, 'kouhai' when he wanted to brag about how powerful he was, 'wifey' when after the announcement of your engagement or when he’s feeling mischievous in front of anyone (“We aren’t married yet, Gojo-san.” You’d remind him every time), but he has never called you Y/N-chan. You cringe.

“Whaaat?” He whines, a pout forming on his face. “You don’t like it? How about darling? I heard British people say it to each other during my visit to Europe! Dah-ling.” Satoru tried, purposefully lowering his voice, trying his hardest to have a British accent.

You burst out with a laugh, squeezing your stomach, folding over. Your eyes were squeezed shut in bliss, lost in a brief moment of happiness so you don’t see Satoru smiling softly at your laughing form.

Once you’ve calmed down, you turn away and start walking towards the path to the Gojo residence. “Let’s go, they’re probably looking for us.”

“Pbshhh,” Gojo replied, hurrying to your walking figure. “They’d probably think we’re doing something naughty~”

“Oi!” You scolded, pulling his ear. “Someone might hear you!” You could imagine the possibilities. You’d never know when someone can be hiding in the dark. You suddenly imagined the possible situation that your own father would’ve heard him. Not only would you be embarrassed, but he would most likely give you and Satoru a proud nod. He and the other Elders were the ones who pioneered your marriage anyway.

Gojo rolled his eyes at you. “It’s not like we aren’t allowed to do it.” He said with a huff. “You’re going to be my wifey!”

“We’re not married yet, Satoru.”

Though you’d come back to the residence the way you left, with your hands behind your back and his hidden underneath his pockets, the atmosphere between you was not as cold as before.

[mhysa-leesi]

му вℓσσ∂у ναℓєηтιηє

{Gif Source} {Gif Source 2}

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers 𝒳 (femme) Reader 🩸.

Summary: "Steve Rogers is madly in love with you and he'll do anything for you to see that--no matter who gets in his way."

Word Count: 4,765 (Sorry, this is a long one!)

TW‼: Non-Con, Smut, Stalking, Yandere Themes, Murder (Description of Side-Character Death), Blood, Description of Gore, and Strong Language. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI‼

AN: This story contains adult and dark themes, please do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! I am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. Also, I used one of the prompts from (@the-modern-typewriter) to describe a character's death, ALL CREDIT GOES TO THEM. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

AN Cont.: If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help. I do not condone ANY of the actions described in this story, this is merely a work of FICTION.

The first love letter was delivered on a gloomy Friday afternoon. The clouds above the city were dark and full of frigid torrents of rainfall. Gold and scarlet autumn leaves whispered against the chilly winds as acorns scattered about; rolling and cracking underfoot as you made your everyday walk to work. You had chosen to stray from your usual route that day, deciding on a new corner coffee shop instead of your normal stop.

You remembered that day clearly, as if it had happened just yesterday. The new coffee shop was a small, hole in the wall with plastic vines of ivy and fairylights rimming the framework of the inside. You ordered rich and dark coffees, with creamy oat milk for you and your coworkers, and an apple pecan oatmeal cookie for yourself.

Your workday was seemingly the same as any other. Pam was gossiping with Susan, and Scott was hiding from Mark, your manager, in the breakroom. You remember you were seated at your cubicle when things turned, staring at the rain against the window, and tapping your pen against your notepad, when you were startled by the mail carrier. He handed you a single, pink envelope with a heart stamp on its flap and left with a mumbled “you’re welcome”. You frowned as there was no return address or other name besides yours. You had opened it anyway.

You remembered how your frown had deepened as your stomach dropped. The paper trembled in your hands as you stared at the small heart sketched at the bottom. You frantically looked around the office for any sign of a joke, hoping to see one of your coworkers giggling at your shocked reaction. But everyone had their noses deep into their screens, typing away at their work. You turned the letter over, looking for a name or a clue as to who had sent it. But it was blank.

And you remembered how you had crumpled up the letter and tossed it as you refocused and finished the rest of that workday.

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

Weeks passed before you got another mysterious love letter delivered to your desk, a small bouquet of roses and baby’s-breath with it. And again, you crumpled it up and threw it away; leaving the flowers in the breakroom. You had made a mental note that day to talk to the mailman about the delivery of these letters.

For a time they stopped and you thought you were out of the woods or thought your secret admirer had lost interest at the very least. But you were wrong. Your third envelope had been waiting for you in your mailbox when you had gotten home from work one Monday evening. You didn’t bother opening it as you sent it straight to the garbage.

You were growing paranoid and antsy as you constantly looked over your shoulder. You’d freeze every time you came across an envelope, even if it was just your monthly rent notice or bank statement. You had refused to live like this, in a constant state of anxiety and fear, so, that’s how you found yourself moving into a new apartment across town.

You were met with months of peace, you were finally readjusting to life before the letters. You had even moved in with someone you had been seeing from your new job, Chris. He was perfect, someone straight from a romance novel; tall, dark, and handsome, with a taste for adventure and romance. You were happy with him--you were in love and had long since decided that if Chris were to ask you to marry him, you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

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

Today was your anniversary with Chris, and the two of you had an entire evening planned. Dinner at your favorite restaurant, a surprise showing of your favorite movie at the corner cinema, and then home, where you’d give him his gift. A red lacy lingerie set with fuzzy handcuffs, and a silk blindfold to match.

Your heart skipped and your stomach alighted with butterflies as you touched up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. The evening had been absolutely perfect and it was about to get even better. You stepped out into the bedroom, dressed in nothing but red lace and a bathrobe. A spritz of perfume here and a mint there, and you were ready to go surprise your man.

You walked out into the living room and seductively leaned against the wall, watching as he poured two glasses of red wine. He turned and froze, swallowing hard as he abandoned the drinks on the kitchen counter. You smirked as he pulled you to him by your hips, instantly locking his lips to yours. He looked down at you through his eyelashes, his deep brown eyes darkened with lust, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to your lips once more.

Your eyes closed and moaned as he peppered kisses along the curve of your neck, tilting your head back to give him better access. His hands roamed your body hotly, squeezing and caressing your dips and curves. Chris entangled his hands in your hair as he moved you to the counter, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. He pushed your robe down your shoulders to reveal the red lace hidden underneath, and with a groan, he bent to trace the rosette lacework that covered your breasts with his tongue. You hummed and wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands running down his back to toy with the bottom hem.

Chris gently pushed you down to an angle as he kissed down your body, stopping just below your navel to wink up at you. You bit back a laugh as you wiggled your hips impatiently as you leaned back on your hands. With your fingers splayed against the wooden countertop, your touch met something smooth and waxy--like the waxy seal of an envelope. You reached behind you and grabbed a pink envelope, with a wax stamp of a heart on its flap. Your heart seemed to stop as you stared at the envelope in your hands.

You vaguely felt Chris’s lips on your inner thighs, kissing and nipping at your skin. When he heard no reaction from you, he looked up, his brows furrowed and eyes full of questions.

“What’s that?” he asked, “You wrote me a love letter, too?” he winked as he reached for it.

You jerked it away from his grasp, your heart hammering in your chest as you ripped open the flap; ripping the waxy heart in half.

P.S. You should really lock your windows, doll. You jumped off the counter and ran to the windows, each one was locked--except for one. You locked it and double-checked its strength, fighting against the lock as you tried to open it.

“Babe? (Y/N),” Chris said sternly, snapping you out of your trance.

You looked at him now. You didn’t know what to say, you couldn’t think of how to form the words. You wanted to say everything was fine and okay, but it wasn’t--it was far from it. Whoever had been writing and sending you these knew where you lived now, and that scared you. After months of trying so hard to move on from this, you felt as if you were right back at square one again.

The rest of the night was unclear to you. You moved like a zombie, your brain on autopilot as you crawled into bed to hide under the covers until the morning sun rose. Chris asked questions, of course. But you had no answers for him. You had no idea who had been writing them and had absolutely no clue how they had found you again.

Chris had suggested going to the police, but what could they do? No one had physically harassed you, and although creepy, the letters weren’t threatening. And not to mention, you had thrown away most of your evidence. You were at a loss. Chris was supportive, always there to comfort you during the night when you were restless, but that never kept you from feeling alone.

Your paranoia increased tenfold by the end of that week. You changed your daily routine every few days, hoping that’d throw your stalker off your trail, but it never did. They always seemed ten steps ahead of you, whereas you struggled to even think to keep up with them. Your breaking point was reached on Sunday evening as you met with one of your old friends from high school for breakfast-dinner--an old tradition you two had decided to revive for the night.

Things were going good, and you even dared to forget about your own issues as you cut into your syrup-soaked pancakes. Madison was telling you about her newest fling and how good he was in the sack, and you genuinely found yourself happy to listen to the vulgar details. After painting you a vivid picture of her sex life, Madison excused herself to the restroom; leaving you alone with your pancakes and empty cup of iced coffee.

You saw a head of electric blue hair and you perked up. Your waitress came with a smile and handed you a paper cup of steaming coffee and a single napkin.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” you said with a polite smile.

“A gentleman ordered this for you,” she winked before walking away.

You frowned as you looked at the writing on the napkin. Refusing to even acknowledge the cup of coffee in front of you.

Your mouth went dry as you stared at the familiar handwriting. Brown dress, he knew what you were wearing--he was here. You shot to your feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, as you looked around frantically, ignoring all of the judgemental looks and hushed whispers you were getting.

“You okay, (Y/N)?” asked Madison, her brows knitted in concern.

“Yeah,” you lied, “I just… I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ll call you later, Mads.”

You dug through your wallet and gave a twenty to your waitress on your way out, only stopping to yell over your shoulder for her to keep the change. You practically ran home from the restaurant as your anxiety started to settle in your bones, making you heavy with unease. You called Chris, but were only met with his voicemail. The elevator ride up to your floor was tortuous as you watched the floor numbers slowly light up one by one until finally, they stopped at your floor. You panted as you slammed the door shut behind you, sliding the lock and chain in place as you dropped your head to rest against the wooden frame.

You sniffled as the words from his letter were seared into your eyelids. You just wanted him to leave you alone, you didn’t know what you did to catch his eye, and worst of all, you didn’t know how to make it stop. You choked on your hiccupped breaths as tears streaked down your cheeks. When you finally calmed down you switched on the lights and finally turned around…

You stared at Chris in horror. Blood drenched the entire living room, his corpse sat limp in a chair like a broken, bloody doll. His throat and wrists had been slashed. You tried to hold your hand over the open wounds as you screamed for help, but no matter the pressure you applied, the blood still gushed and seeped through your fingers, oozing down your arm, and dripping from your elbow. The gore of it all brought waves of nausea that went beyond physical retching, the sickness you felt was indescribable. But the smell, the smell was something much worse. Metallic, iron, copper… Your ears started to ring. You couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe. You could only stare at the bloodstain on your hands and scream.

You left that following weekend, abandoning the big city to move back in with your parents and younger sister. You spent most of your days locked in your room, hiding from the world under the comfort of your blanket and drawn curtains. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. You’d look at yourself in the mirror and cry as you no longer recognized yourself as the woman you once were. You knew it was time to move on, but you couldn’t, not when you’d see Chris’s bloodied body every time you’d close your eyes.

You started small by taking baby steps toward your recovery. It started with family meals, then a cashier job at your local supermarket, shopping trips with your mother and sister. Then you eventually graduated to therapy, where you’d stare at a forest green ceiling as you reclined on the chaise longue. Therapy helped and it was admittedly one of the better moments of your monotonous days, you felt heard, seen, as you walked through your own thoughts and nightmares. Your appointments even inspired you to reach out to Chris’s parents for closure, to go with them to visit their son’s grave. It was bittersweet, leaving behind a bouquet of roses for the man you had loved so deeply instead of a kiss goodbye; but it was something you knew you’d have to come to terms with. It wasn’t your fault, that was the mantra you’d tell yourself when you’d catch glimpses of his blood on your hands.

Before you knew it a year had passed since the incident, and in that year, you had not received one letter. You had made a resolution for the first time that New Year’s Eve as you waited for the midnight ball to drop. You told yourself you’d forget, to start fresh, and become an even better version of yourself. You were a flower that was fighting against all odds to blossom.

You cut your hair, got bangs and highlights. Saved up for a brand new, off-the-lot car. And moved into a cozy apartment with your sister. Things were looking up for you and you truly believed that you had finally found your way out of the woods. But life had a habit of playing cruel tricks on those who were naive enough to believe such a thing.

It was mid-February, just a few days before Valentine’s Day, when things started to go to shit. You had just come back from the gym with your sister when you saw it. A pink envelope with no return address or any other name besides yours, with a wax seal in the shape of a heart on the back flap, sat on your pillow. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as you held it in your hands. You debated on throwing it away, on pretending you never received it. But you wanted to know what more this twisted bastard could have to say. You ripped it open and read.

You didn’t hesitate as you ripped the letter to shreds, throwing the pieces into the garbage with an angry grunt. Delusional piece of deranged shit, you thought. You raked through your brain for the millionth time since your first letter, trying to figure out who the fuck could possibly be the sender, but you came to the same conclusion you had been coming to for years--nothing. It was agonizing, not knowing who your torturer was. It was your shadow, how could you not know who was living in it? But, no matter how hard you thought, you kept drawing blank after blank.

Your sister comforted you with a glass of wine and dumplings from the takeout place up the street. She was going out tonight, but offered to stay home with you instead.

“No,” you shooed, “I’ll be fine, I’m a big girl.”

“You sure?” she frowned, “It’s no big deal, Girls Night is every Friday night, I can always go next week.”

“I’m fine. Go and have fun for the both of us,” you said as you waved her away.

She left a few minutes later, dressed in heels and a short skirt. You ate the rest of the dumplings and finished the bottle of wine before calling it a night. You undressed down to your underwear and threw on an oversized t-shirt and plopped down onto the bed with an unceremonious bounce. The wine coursing through your system made it easier than usual to fall asleep, and the next thing you knew, you were in a deep sleep, dreaming of a life with Chris--of a life without the letters. It was one of those good dreams you wished you’d never wake from.

Which was why you were so annoyed when a loud noise startled you awake. You looked at your phone and the time read “1:00 AM”, you frowned, it was too early for your sister to be back already. You padded along the hallway, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you called out for her, worried she might’ve passed out drunk on the floor or something. You stopped as you reached the front room--the very empty front room. Your heart started to pound as you stood frozen, staring at the empty room before you. A shuffling from behind caught your attention, then. And against your better instincts, you turned around slowly to see a shadowed silhouette of a man standing at the end of the hallway.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring dumbstruck at the man. With every step he took toward you, you took one back. Inching closer and closer to the front door with every backward step.

“Doll, don’t,” he warned, his voice striking you with fear like a bolt of lightning.

Without a second thought, you ran toward the door, fumbling stupidly with the locks in your panicked state of mind. The man was on you in a flash, easily dragging you away from your pathetic attempt at escape. His arms slithered around you like snakes, their hold constricting as he locked an arm firmly around your neck, silencing your screams as you struggled to breathe. You slapped and clawed at his forearm as he pulled you back to your bedroom.

“Please be a good girl for me, (Y/N). I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he said against your hair.

With his arm still wrapped around your neck, he threw you down onto the bed, quickly straddling you before you could scramble to your feet. He pinned your arms above your head with one hand and forced you to look at him with the other. His face was illuminated by the moonlight. The silver shine highlighting his familiar eyes through the holes of his helmet. You froze as he pulled off his blue cowl.

You were beyond confused, to say the least. You stared up at Captain America, your brain working overtime to try and put the puzzle pieces together. What was Captain America doing in your apartment? And why had he called you “baby”? What the fuck was going on? Were you lucid dreaming? You must’ve looked as confused as you felt because he smiled down at you, gently promising you answers to the questions that you hadn’t yet asked.

“You’re even more beautiful up-close, doll,” he said as he brushed away hairs that fell in your face from your struggle.

Your eyes widened. Doll. The nickname sent chills down your spine as the word flashed against the pink color of the envelopes, against the red of spilled blood.

“You…”

He ran a finger down your cheek and nodded, “Me.”

You paled under him, your bottom lip trembling as you shook your head in disbelief. He frowned and hushed you, caressing your cheek and wiping away the tears that fell.

“Shh… Don’t cry, baby,” he cooed, “I’ll take good care of you, you don’t need to cry.”

“W–Why?” you hiccupped through your sobs, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you, (Y/N),” your stomach dropped as he answered you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, “No. No! You’re Captain America. You’re supposed to be a hero!”

You fought against his grip, flailing and kicking wildly as you tried in vain to get away from him. You trashed against him, kicking against his thighs with all of your strength, but it was nothing to him--nothing but an annoying inconvenience.

“Stop,” he said, his jaw ticking with simmering anger.

But you refused to stop. You whined and fought against him.

“Stop,” he repeated, his anger coming to a rolling boil.

You shot up and headbutted him. He reeled back and glowered down at you, his jaw clenched and nostrils flared.

“I said stop,” he shouted as he finally stilled you with a sharp slap.

The sound was as sharp as the feel of it. You sobbed as the pain stung your skin, the right side of your face becoming numb from the harsh impact of it.

“Why are you doing this, Steve?” you asked again.

“Because I love you,” he answered again, “I know you love me, too, (Y/N).”

“No,” you exclaimed, “I don’t love you! I don’t love you! I don’t love you!” you sobbed.

“You will,” Something seemed to change within his eyes. No longer were there hints of green in his blue eyes, but something much darker… Something more sinister. You swallowed as you shrunk under his intense glare.

You exclaimed as he forced his lips against yours. Squeezing your jaw until he could slip his tongue into your mouth. You pushed against him, beating on his shoulders as he shoved his tongue further down your throat. He pulled away, breathless and flushed, a ghost of a content smile on his face. You gasped and tried to wiggle away once more, rolling onto your stomach as you did so. A yelp escapes you as you feel him grab your hips, pulling you back under him.

Steve puts his weight on you, trapping you underneath him as he begins to undress you. You try to roll onto your back, but his knee keeps you in place. You fight to keep your shirt on, knowing you wore nothing but your panties underneath it. But you were fighting blind. You kicked up, the heels of your feet hitting the backs of Steve’s strong thighs. He manhandles you easily as he rolls you onto your back, finally ridding you of your cotton shield.

Your hands went to your chest before he could. He pried your arms away, baring your breasts to him with a jerked jiggle. He licked his lips as he cupped and squeezed your breast. You flinched as if his touch had burned you, and in some sense, it had. Your eyes widened in shame as Steve blew on your nipples, the skin hardening into pointed peaks. He brings his lips to them, circling them with his tongue. Sucking, licking, pinching. You press your lips together to keep you from whimpering, and you close your eyes in hopes you can will him away. But your feeble defense attempts don’t last long.

Your eyes snap open as you feel his lips leave your breasts to trail kisses down to your navel, stopping at the band of your underwear.

“Please…” you beg. You bite your lip to keep it from trembling as fresh tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes.

Steve smiles against your skin, “I’m going to make you mine, (Y/N). ‘M gonna make you feel so good, doll.”

You stifle a sob as you feel him slide your panties off past your ankles, his fingers scorching your skin as they explore back up between your thighs. Instinctively, you try to close your legs around his hands. But he doesn’t stop. Steve digs his fingers into the soft skin of your inner thighs as he forcefully spreads you wide. Your pussy on full display to him. You stiffen under his gaze, your face burning with shame as he stares in awe at your spread folds. He runs a finger from your clit to your entrance, dipping knuckle-deep into your channel. Your thighs flex as your body tenses at the intrusion. He adds another and languidly pumps them in and out, curling and scissoring them. You fight against the blossoming heat within your belly. Your shame grows as you hear the squelch of your wetness around his pumping fingers.

Steve presses a firm thumb to your clit and you cry out before you can stop yourself. He pumps his fingers into you harder, faster, as he pulls more moans and cries from your lips. You sob as you feel that coil deep within your belly begin to unravel with every stroke and pump. You fight against your own body as you keep yourself from teetering over the edge of pleasure, refusing to let yourself submit to him. But Steve had other plans for you. Suddenly, before you could register his movements, you felt his tongue against your most intimate area. You mewled and curled your toes as he fucked you with his tongue, his thumb never stopping their firm and fast circles against your clit. You sobbed as your body convulsed with white-hot pleasure, and before you could stop yourself, you came on his tongue with a loud, dragged out moan.

You sniffled as you cried, but whether it was from the intensity of your orgasm or your shame and fear, you didn’t know. The lines were starting to blur for you.

Steve gently kissed around your folds before crawling up over you. He held your face and forced your lips to his once more before he began to undress, leaving the taste of yourself on your tongue as he pulled away with a wet smack. He unclothed himself, then. Stripping himself of his spangled-stars and red and white stripes. He looked down at you with dark, lust-filled eyes, and a breathless quirk of his lips.

You were limp as he folded you to his needs. Bringing your bent and spread knees to your chest as he took himself in his hands. His length stood tall and proud, the tip swollen and leaking down this thick shaft with anticipation. Your legs flinched as they tried to close on their own. You choked on a sob as he wrenched them apart. Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched him tap your pussy with his cock, running the tip up and down your folds as he wet himself with your soaking arousal until finally, he pressed himself into your entrance. You let out a strained whine as he slammed into you.

Steve’s eyes were shut and mouth slightly agape as he hisses at your tightness. His hips thrust in excitement as you clench around him. You whimper again as he slides out, just to slam himself back in. Your body jolts with every lust-driven thrust. He slides his hands under you and brings them to hold onto your shoulders, bringing you down to meet his every forceful thrust. The sound of skin slapping and lewd moans fill your bedroom, your sweat sheen bodies glowing under the moonlight. Steve speeds up, mercilessly hammering that hidden sweet spot that makes you scream and clench around his cock. You spasm and shake as Steve forces another orgasm from you.

“Tell me you love me,” he pants.

You shake your head, pushing on his shoulders as the realization of your situation comes crashing back into you.

His hand wraps around your throat as he pounds into you harder than before, “Say it, (Y/N).”

You scratch at his hand as your vision begins to dot and blacken, “I–I love you…”

“Louder,” he demands, “‘I love you, Steve’, say it, doll, I wanna hear you say it.” he moans.

“I love you, Steve,” you choke out.

He releases his grip on you then, and you cough and gasp for air. His rhythm becomes erratic as his hips drive into you with renewed vigor, “Again.”

“I love you, Steve,” you moan.

His body jerks as his hips stutter to a stop. Steve comes with your name on his lips, and you whined as you felt his warmth flood inside of you. He panted above you, his hips languidly thrusting as his abdomen clenched with his drawn out release. He pulled out of you and collected the spunk that leaked from your weeping cunt on his fingers. He brought them to your lips and forced you to suck them clean.

“I love you, too, doll. Forever and ever,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*тαgℓιѕт*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧: @hoosier-daddi

[multifandhoem]

server collab || ii

Server Collab from the Haikyuu HQ server with the prompt: “Guess I‘ll just have to cum inside you.“

The masterlist for the whole collab is here!

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: slight SPOILER (it‘s really really small), smut obviously, little bit of public stuff if you count it as such, slight breeding kink, wedding sex, lot‘s of fluff

Word count: 3292

“I still remember when Iwa-chan told me, how he embarrassed himself in front of a cute girl and hoped he would never see her again to not relive the existential dread he felt at that moment. And then he told me he met her again and she laughed over the mishap and they were going to get coffee next week.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“I am so sorry.” His face was red, head bowed down in embarrassment, but you could still see it at the tip of his ears.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t like you were a stalker or something.” You were giggling a bit at the state he was in. “On top of that it is kinda my fault, I should’ve closed the curtains or something.” He slowly raised himself again, face still scrunched up in discomfort. He really looked like he was in horrendous pain and it was kinda your fault. “Please don’t beat yourself up over it. I’ll treat you to coffee, to make you feel better, when are you free?”

Maybe the fact that he was a looker made you act a bit more open towards him than usual, but you genuinely felt bad for him. He was obviously beating himself up over that accident a couple of days ago.

You had realised fast that you could look from your window right into the room on the other side of the street, which was why you invested in curtains pretty early. But apparently, you had forgotten to close them this time, so when you turned around shirtless and made eye contact with a man, you were both equally surprised. He looked mortified and you couldn’t even blink when he suddenly dropped to the floor, now hidden from your wide eyes.

Your body reacted, even though he probably couldn’t see you anymore, shielding your breasts with one arm, the other hastily closing the curtains. After the initial shock wore off you couldn’t help but giggle a bit. Why did he just drop to the floor? He could’ve turned around or something.

-*-*-*-*-*-*

Next to you, Hajime buried his face in his hands, but the large grin that had adorned his face for the whole evening was still there. Tooru waited a bit until the laughter calmed down until he continued.

“When I came back from Argentina for a visit she was already his girlfriend of five months. And when I saw Iwa-chan I knew that she would probably stick around for longer. You know, Iwa-chan is a very violent person-“ “Only towards shitty people!” You knew he couldn’t have let that jab just go by, but Tooru professionally ignored him.

“but with her, he was very soft, always touching her in some way. Sometimes touching too much. Don’t think we forgot the trip to the cabin!” He scoldingly wiggled his finger towards you, accompanied by Makki’s and Mattsun’s affirming but still scandalised shouts.

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“We gotta be quick, Haji.” His lips were hot on your collarbones, fingers already dipping under your shirt, quickly pulling it over your head. “I know, they will wonder where we are.”

You had excused yourself for a second from the movie the others had put on. It was the first time this day where there weren’t two other people in the room with you, everybody being huddled in the living room of the small cabin where you resided for the weekend. With two bedrooms shared between the six of you and one big room that functioned as kitchen, living and dining room, there was never space for some alone time, which you were desperate to have after your boyfriend strutted around you shirtless the whole day. It should be illegal for someone as fine as he was to do such things.

Foreplay had to be postponed for the next time, you had little time until the others would grow suspicious. “No need, I can take you.”

You pulled his fingers out of your entrance, desperate to just feel his cock in you. He chuckled at your eagerness, pushing his sweatpants down until his cock sprung free, already hard and leaking. Apparently, you weren’t the only sexually frustrated one.

“Fuck,” you breathed out when he buried himself in you with one stroke.

“Quiet, baby.” His lips found yours stifling your small moans as he began moving his hips.

Breathless gasped and small moans soon filled the room, occasionally accompanied by the sound of skin slapping, when Hajime couldn’t stop his hips before they met yours. “I’m close,” you whimpered as he began rubbing your clit and he shot you a breathless smile and pressed a small kiss to your lips. “Bite something when you come,” he said quietly, thrusts becoming a bit more erratic.

“Disgusting!” Loud banging on the door interrupted you and Hajime let out a string of curses. “If you already know then don’t go interrupting, Shittykawa!” Not having to hide anymore his hips finally snapped into yours, using the full capacity of his strength to make you moan against his shoulder.

Unfortunately, the orgasm you experienced didn’t lessen the embarrassment when you faced the others again.

-*-*-*-*-*-*

It was your turn to hang your head in shame, trying not to meet your parents’ eyes, who were seated next to you. Or worse, Hajime’s parents.

Tooru chuckled at your misery, before continuing.

“To be honest, I wasn’t that surprised when Iwa-chan called me and told me he would send me pictures of rings and I should help him decide. He obviously forgot timezones since it was 2am for me and I first thought somebody had died, but after promising to make me best man I obviously forgave him.” The guests laughed again and Tooru took a well-rehearsed break.

“I don’t think I have seen Iwa-chan as nervous as when he was rehearsing his proposal through me via Skype. I told him it was good, even though he was a stammering mess. But the thing about those two over there is that they calm each other down. So I knew, when the moment would come, everything would go swimmingly. I saw the way they looked at each other, there was no way she would say no.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“What are you planning?” You were chuckling, when Hajime lead you through the small house on the outskirts of Tokyo you two had purchased together when it was safe that he was staying in Japan with his work. “Let me surprise you, woman, and stop asking.” You could hear the amusement in his voice and it made your heart bloom. After all these years together he still made you feel like you were going on your first date. And he probably always would.

“Small step, be careful.”

You felt the ground changing from the hardwood floor to a rougher and colder one, showing you that you were now outside on the small terrace. You didn’t have to wonder for long, what he was planning when he carefully pulled the blindfold off your face. The first thing you saw was him.

But it was enough. He was smiling at you, his eyes radiating love. You couldn’t help but snaking your arms around his neck, to press a kiss to his lips. “You look so handsome. I love you.”

Hajime in a suit was something you had the pleasure of seeing a couple of times, but it still caught you off guard how someone could look this good.

“You haven’t even looked around, idiot,” He chuckled but still laid his arms around you to tug you towards him to kiss you again. After that he still forced you to turn around, to take a look at what he conjured in the last couple of hours.

The small garden you had behind your house was completely transformed, fairy lights making the faint evening glow even more magical.

“It’s beautiful.” The words were soft, Hajime wouldn’t have heard them if he wasn’t standing this close to you. “All for you, baby. I love you. I just thought, maybe we could sit on the blanket, maybe drink a bit of wine and just talk, you know?” His voice was laced with nervousness, even if he wasn’t even sure why. He knew you would like what he did. He went through your Pinterest boards and they were loaded with fairy lights, clinking classes, kisses shared under the faint glow. “That sounds perfect. What’s the occasion? I haven’t forgotten anything, right?” He laughed out loud at your nervousness. “No, babe, you haven’t. I just wanted to do something for you.”

His smile was so pure, filled with raw emotion, you had to kiss him again, putting as much passion as possible into the kiss. “Thank you, Hajime. I love you so much. I can’t believe I got so lucky.”

Your eyes were a bit wetter than usual and you hastily blinked the tears away, smiling at your boyfriend, ready to have a magical evening.

He really had everything prepared. Next to the blanket, a small cooler with a bottle of rosé laid, together with two glasses for you. His phone played soft instrumental music in the background, as you settled yourself against his chest, occasionally sipping at your wine, reminiscing about the past years, wishing for the future ones.

“Hey, move for a second, my leg’s fallen asleep.” A small tug of his leg under you made you sit up, while he fixed his posture, both of you now sitting upright in front of each other.

“Sorry, about that. Do you want to stand up for a bit to move it?” His eyes twinkled with amusement as he tugged you back down when you already wanted to stand up.

A shaky breath escaped him. So this was it. “Y/N, baby, I love you. So much, you can’t even imagine. You’ve been with me for the past couple of years and I honestly can’t wait for the future, if you’re by my side.” He paused for a second, hand slipping into his pocket. “Hajime.” Tears were already welling up in your eyes before he even managed to pull the ring out of his pocket, that he and Tooru had chosen so diligently a couple months prior.

“Will you marry me?”

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Those two, right there, are a great couple if I’ve ever seen one. I actually can’t imagine a better partner for my Iwa-chan. Hajime. I’ve seen you grow up. I’ve been growing up alongside you and, dare I say, we’ve both become pretty great.” Tooru chuckled a bit, but everyone could hear his voice wavering, as his eyes were fixated on his best friend.

“I can’t express how happy I am, to still have you in my life, to now seeing you maturing into this great man who is inspiring others in everything he does. Seeing you enter this new part of your life, with this great woman in my life warms my heart. And you deserve nothing less. A toast to you. A toast to your future, Mr. and Mrs. Iwaizumi.” He raised his glass to you, a big smile on his face.

If he weren’t sitting right across from you, you would’ve missed the small tears rolling down his face. The guests around you all raised their glasses to towards you, everyone touched by Tooru’s speech.

But nobody came close to Hajime, who was clenching your hand in his’ tightly, tears welling up in his eyes, before he strode over to his friend, tightly embracing him.

You couldn’t hear what words were exchanged as tears fell and people smiled at the pair. Every guest at your wedding knew about Hajime and Tooru. The best friends, the best partners, who have been with each other since they were about five years old. Who only see each other every couple of months, partners technically becoming rivals.

When your husband came back to you his eyes were puffy, some tears still escaping, but the happiest smile on his face. Tooru hugged you too, wishing you good luck for your future, making a small joke about becoming an uncle again and telling you, once again, to take care of his best friend, his brother.

“I’m so happy to be your wife.” Hajime kissed you at your words but you still knew that he was equally as happy as you were. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily now,” you joked, relishing in the laughter that escaped him.

“As if I would ever want that. I’m going to put some kids in you as soon as possible. And then we have a little family. Maybe even a big family. Whatever you want.” He kissed you again and you couldn’t help but smile at the picture of him with kids in your head. More importantly, your kids. “About that.” You leaned into his side, grateful for the minutes you had at the edge of the room. “I’ve been thinking, maybe stopping my birth control? I mean we don’t have to start trying and stuff, but we’re married now and we’ve been together for a while, and we talked about it already, and-“ You were cut off with a passionate kiss, Hajime even dipping you slightly as he practically devoured you.

“Do you mean that? Do you really mean that?” You could only nod, a wide grin on your lips as you cupped his face in your hands to bring his mouth to yours again. “Fuck, I love you. I can’t wait to fuck you today.” Heat shot through your stomach at his words and his kisses did nothing to soothe it.

“Hajime.” You really didn’t intend for his name to sound like such a whimper. But when he growled against your lips you knew you were done for. “The bridal room. Where I got ready. Let’s go.”

You felt like a schoolgirl sneaking around again, when you were rushing through the halls of the venue, hand in hand with your new husband, giggling around, until you finally closed the door behind you, being pressed against the same one in an instant, a breathless Hajime resting his forehead against yours.

You were whispering ’I love you’s to each other for the probably thousandths time this day, but it wasn’t like you were growing tired of it anytime soon. “You gotta be careful about the dress, I don’t wanna have cum stains somewhere,” you reminded him as he was flicking up your skirt, already sinking to his knees.

“Guess I’ll just have to cum inside you.” You giggled in excitement at his statement, soon leading into a moan, when he buried his face between your lower lips, thong pulled to the side, his tongue expertly doing all the things he found out about you the years before.

“Fuck, Hajime.” Your fingers thread themselves in his hair, tugging him closer.

He took one of your legs in his hand, tugging it over his shoulder and digging even deeper between your legs, using the fingers of his other hand as well, to insert two of them into your dripping cunt. “Haji, I’m coming,” you whimpered, clamping onto him.

“Wait for my cock.” The years of never neglected training came in handy, when he stood up, with you in his arms, to seat you on the small table, that was probably just in the room for decorating purposes. You shrieked a bit at how fast everything was happening, but you kind of agreed with him.

The first time you should come as husband and wife should be with him deep inside you.

He dropped his suit pants to his ankles and you could feel yourself clench with excitement. “Ready, baby?”

“Yes, please, Haji.” You pulled him towards you again to connect your lips, moaning into his mouth when he rubbed his dick up and down your folds, coating himself in your arousal.

It’s weird to explain what you felt the moment he pushed himself inside you. You had sex lots of times. But in that moment you felt more complete than you ever did.

You stayed like that for a couple of seconds, connected in the most intimate way possible, before his hips snapped back and into you again, eliciting a moan of both of you.

“Honestly, fucking you in your wedding dress is hot as fuck.” He laughed breathlessly, kissing you again, all while not halting his thrusts.

“Think about me pregnant with your kids,” you purred in his ear and squeaked in delight when his next thrust was harder than before.

“Don’t get me started. You’re going to look so good pregnant. All round and cozy.” His speed grew more erratic and you knew he would come soon.

“Fuck, we gonna start soon, right?” Your fingers clenched in his shirt, pushing him closer to you, chasing your own high.

“We’re starting right now, baby.” He kissed you again, hand moving down to rub your clit again, chuckling at the little whimpers you let out.

“Haji-“ You didn’t need to say more, he already knew, what you wanted to tell him.

“Go on, baby.” You kissed again, moans mixing in your mouths, as his tongue caressed yours, the slight taste of your juices still left on them. Every time his cock hit that one part you had to suppress a small scream, only slightly moaning in your husband's mouth.

“Can’t wait for tonight. Gonna fill you- ah- up again and again. And then you can be as loud as you want. Fuck. Gonna take my time with you.”

The filth he muttered against your lips only made you clench down harder onto his cock, feeling your high approaching rapidly. It was him coming, his cum spurting into you, which finally sent you over the edge, legs wrapping around him, bringing him even closer to your body, completely engulfing him, dead set on never letting him go.

Heavy breathing filled the room, as you both came down from your high. Small kisses were being exchanged, I love you’s were mumbled. But it was still perfect.

“I’m already anticipating tonight,” you mumbled, slightly exhausted due to moaning so much, making him chuckle, while his hands calmingly rubbed up and down your sides.

When he pulled out of you, you moaned again at the feeling of his cum slowly dribbling out of you.

“This looks so good. You look so good.” Hajime’s eyes were focused on the spot between your legs, fingers twitching to push it back inside.

“Don’t let it go on the dress!” You shrieked, chuckling at the way he darted to get a paper towel, carefully wiping you down.

“You alright, baby?” He helped you down from the table after pushing your thong back in place and fixing up his suit pants.

“Yeah. I love you. You made me the happiest woman alive, today, you know that?” The smile he threw your way at your words made your heart bloom. You were so in love with this man.

“Now, brace yourself for the comments.” You intertwined your fingers again, going back down the hallways to rejoin your guests at your reception. “You think somebody noticed something?” Your hands grew sweaty at the thought. Hopefully, nobody suspected a thing. Especially not his parents. Or worse, the grandparents!

“Tooru will have noticed for sure. You know how he is. If we’re lucky he hasn’t told Makki or Mattsun.” Hajime seemed way to relaxed at the thought, only shrugging his shoulders, ditching your hand to throw his arm around your shoulder and pull you into his side.

“I love you.” He pressed a kiss to your temple and you could feel he was smiling.

“I love you, too.”

No matter what was going to happen once you got back, this was still the best day of your life.

[avvail-whumps]

‘guns for hire’ — shocked to the core #7

previous · masterlist · next

content warnings: captivity, blindfolds, restraints, punishments, shock collar, electrocution, non-con touching (not sexual), intimate whumper, mention of past cutting (of another person), blood

“I’m timing you. Wash up, and do what you have to.”

Leo flinched violently when the door closed shut behind him, brushing against his back. He staggered forward, keeping the small whimper at bay. They hadn’t been walking for long, but Leo was too frightened with the blindfold on his head to try and memorise the pattern.

He swiftly tore it off, squinting his eyes shut at the harsh lights cascading down from above him.

He took a moment to take the bathroom in.

It was quite plain, from the looks of things. Sleek white walls, a bathtub, shower hidden in the corner, and an array of cabinets, including one above the sink. He sniffled softly, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

He looked a mess. He didn’t remember looking like this the day he awoke for work, despite being so exhausted and run down. His face was covered in not only smears of flaking blood, but hot bruises and cuts in the process of healing.

He turned the tap on with shaking hands, cupping the cool water in his palms, and furiously scrubbing the blood away. He silently gagged as he caught it sliding down the sink, and desperately tried to erase the taste of copper from his tongue.

Leo almost jumped two feet when there was a bang on the door.

“Counting,” Roy warned. “Hurry up.”

He shuddered, letting his eyes bounce around him.

There was no window, or anything he could see. His stomach pooled with dread as he gripped the wall, leaning onto it for support, and hobbled over to the toilet. He had barely even finished what he needed to and flushed it when the door opened wide, and Roy stepped inside.

Leo spun, but the door was closed before he could see anything.

“Happy?” The mercenary hummed. Too frightened to do anything else, the secretary nodded his head.

Roy had pushed a blot of tissues onto his injured hand, and that’s when Leo vaguely noticed he was holding a new plastic bag under his arm. He wearily stared it, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat. He wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to go through any more pain.

His heart elevated when Roy met his eyes, causing him to jolt.

He smiled, amused.

“Remember when I said I wasn’t going to punish you?”

Leo licked his lips, his fingers rubbing uncomfortably against the cuts on his inner wrist, spelling out the man’s name. He tried to untwist his tongue, but it was impossible. The mercenary put him out of his misery quick enough.

“You’re an open book, lion,” he murmured, opening one of the cabinets, and grabbing something within. There was a horrible smirk on his face. “I know what you’re going to ask. If I tell you, it might near shock you to death, and I want to save your crying for later. Are you smart enough to put the pieces together?”

The moment Leo’s breathing dipped, he couldn’t quite catch it again.

“Please…” He croaked, but the man was already sliding the blindfold from his fingers, and moving behind him.

“You’re gonna want to save your voice, lion,” the man smiled quietly from behind him, and he felt helpless as the fabric was fixed over his eyes, and he was plunged into darkness once more.

Leo tried not to think about what it was. He didn’t want to think about a knife gliding through his skin again, or feeling the blunt, cracking pressure of brass knuckles driving into his face. He didn’t want another broken bone.

He clenched his jaw, breaths coming out in short spurts.

Roy held him and kept the pressure off his ankle as he staggered back the way they came, trying not to think, trying not to let himself cry. When Roy stopped, Leo swallowed, and he realised that his throat was like glass.

“Stairs,” the mercenary pointed out. “That’s it. Find the first step.”

Stairs.

That meant they were making their descent back down, into the horrible room, where Leo did nothing but get hurt and wait to succumb to a horrific fate. He hadn’t meant to, but he flinched backwards, feeling the grip on him pull taut.

Roy clicked his tongue. “Don’t make it worse for yourself. Be a good boy.”

Leo shuddered, dread pooling through his vertebrae and locking him into place. He was sure his knees would collapse if he took another step forward, crumbling under his quickly malnourishing weight. One little tug from the arm coiled around his waist, and Leo was being helped down the stairs.

His ankle seared, biting his lip to stop the hisses of pain from escaping his throat.

When they finally met flat ground, Leo could feel anticipation coursing through him like fire. Roy was frustratingly quiet when he walked, and it made him wince when fingers began untying the blindfold around his head. The light from above the chair seemed brighter than ever.

Or was that because he was panicking?

“Don’t make me tell you twice.”

Leo blinked. The mercenary was staring at him with a firm expression on his face, one that made him want to shrivel into the ground and never come back. He hadn’t even heard him speaking, overwhelmed by the pounding of his heart in his head.

“On the chair.”

He swallowed. He wasn’t keen on making this worse than it already would be.

Tears burned his eyes, and he took his seat. Memories resurface instantly, and it took all of his willpower to push them back. Roy had taken something out of the plastic bag, and Leo risked a glance as he grew nearer.

It was a collar.

He gripped his wrist, squeezing it painfully to try and preoccupy his reeling thoughts. The mercenary made him sink into the seat, trying to make himself so small, as he fixed the heavy contraption around his throat. It was tight enough to feel uncomfortable, but enough to breathe.

Each time he swallowed, he could feel it pressing into his skin.

When his hand lifted to instinctively curl his fingers around the intrusive object, Roy grasped his wrist, and tugged it away. He heard the familiar roll of duct tape, before his wrists were being locked together, and he felt just like he did when he first woke up here.

His chest stuttered, trying to swallow the thick lump in his throat.

“Okay, lion,” came the nonchalant voice, after securing his ankles to the legs of the chair and keeping him securely trapped. “I’m giving you a choice here. You’ve done this once before: I ask the questions, and you answer truthfully. I don’t have to hurt you unless you cooperate, alright?”

Begrudgingly, and quite fearfully, the secretary nodded his head.

“Words,” Roy snapped. He instantly paled.

“Yes,” he choked, clenching his jaw. “Yes.”

The mercenary smiled. “Good. I can’t use those tools because of what you did, so I decided this would be the best hands-free approach. Would you like to start off easy?”

He glanced at the tools hanging on the wall, and then back to Roy. He was twirling something in his free hand. Something small, and black, matching the colour of the collar.

Leo shifted uneasily, and answered quietly nonetheless.

Roy asked him a series of personal questions. Simple ones, from his name, age and even his date of birth, the answers that lay in the forefront of his mind. He stumbled to answer even those, the anticipation making him go crazy.

What was the point of this? What was he going to do?

It was mind numbing. Until he asked a question that made his heart drop.

“Why’d you do it, lion?”

He peered at him through fluttering eyelashes. Roy didn’t break his steely gaze.

“Why did you attack me?”

Leo’s mouth dried out. His lips wobbled, uselessly trying to find an excuse that seemed even slightly plausible. “I…I didn’t mean to…”

Roy smiled. It made him shudder.

“Try and keep your tongue on the roof of your mouth.”

“What?”

He barely even finished the confused tremble, when the mercenary pressed the button. All at once, it felt like fire had erupted through his veins. He felt each muscle contract, each vertebra go stiff, and his throat tightened at the source of it all.

It felt like those seconds of agony had been minutes. When it finally ceased, Leo slumped in his seat, gasping for breath, a sob catching in his throat. His eyes squeezed shut, trying to shake off the throbbing sensation that had exploded in his temples.

“Oh, god…” He gasped, tears sliding down his cheeks. “Oh, god, please…”

“Again,” the mercenary echoed, his voice making him wince. “Why’d you do it?”

Leo desperately tried to catch his breath. His muscles at his throat were aching, contracting painfully with each word he tried to force from his lips. Roy’s hard stare only made him scramble to answer.

“I-I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” He whimpered. “I was scared, I was scared, please…”

The shocks exploded through his body once more, his being spasming with an intensity he could hardly fathom. When it was gone, Leo’s sobs had become harder, and he was starting to desperately jerk at the restraints keeping him trapped in the chair.

“Please,” he begged, his voice raw. “Please, stop…”

“Answer honestly, lion.”

His voice rose a pitch, weighed down by exhaustion and strain. “I am.”

He was rewarded with another push of the button. He couldn’t contain his scream this time, his son's wracking through his bones uncontrollably, muscles searing with each precedented movement. He gasped violently for air, squirming and jerking with as much adrenaline fueled strength as he could.

Leo’s muscles twitched in pain, even when the shocks had ceased.

Roy was closer now, his voice becoming harsh.

“Did you want to kill me, lion?” He sneered, lip curled as his words became louder. “Did you?”

“Yes,” he screamed, his sobs making the conviction waiver, but tear at his throat all the more. Leo didn’t want to shout, but he’d exploded without thinking. “I did, I did want to kill you. You deserved it, I wanted, n-needed to leave, I-I wanted to get out of here. I just want to go home.”

His struggles eventually began to weaken, and so did his voice. “Please, please, I’m sorry. I just wanted to go home…”

He let his head hang, shaking uncontrollably. The pain was still pooling through his body, drawing whimpers from his lips whenever it sparked. He felt horribly dizzy, and stars had popped in his vision. Swallowing felt too painful.

He heard a chuckle, faint in his ears. Wearily lifting his gaze with diminishing strength, he could see Roy smirking at him, seemingly pleased.

“Honesty is a good colour on you,” he sighed, drawing closer. He pressed a hand to his forehead, combing his messy hair back, an action that made Leo whine and shiver. Hope flickered in his chest. Was that it? Was he going to take the collar off now?

The mercenary hummed, thinking for a moment. “Remember when I asked you why you ran away from your father?”

Leo blinked sluggishly, staring at him. “What?”

“I asked you why you split. You seemed very reluctant to say why; I did say I’d make you tell me eventually.”

He watched in white hot horror, as Roy turned up the dial on the controller, and stepped back to enjoy the show.

“I think now is a better time than ever to get the answer out of you.”

tag list – @unorganisedalienrubbish @d-cs @rabidrabidme @sordayciega @burningkittypoet @whumpawink @mannerofwhump @suspicious-whumping-egg @welcome-to-the-whumpfest

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 18

Masterpost

@sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lavmars @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly @itaina-anta @whump-it @haro-whumps @simplygrimly @alex-ember @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @mnmlover2002 @jordanstrophe @princessofonward @xmonster-under-the-bed @as-a-matter-of-whump @5boys1house @crystalrainwing @starnight-whump @chifechi @unicornscotty @penny-for-your-whump @getyourwhumphere @likeit-or-whumpit @jasm0307 @lightdrinker @hurting-fictional-people @captainseconds @glamrockgregory

CW: recovering pet whumpee, environmental whump, references to an amputated finger, paranoia/hallucinations

-

As he turned to lock the final door behind him, Rowe could see that he had been in a warehouse, evidently a rarely-used one. A single floodlight was on, illuminating nothing but a bare wall and the road leading up to it. Rowe had been correct- it was night. The open air was a thousand blessings as he breathed it in. His eyes felt clean, he could stand up properly, he wasn’t wearing that fucking collar anymore.

The happiness was short-lived, but he let himself have it. He was free. He just had to get home, now.

Rowe would have panicked, at that moment, but instead his heart toughened, because Kasia hadn’t been able to break him down. He was missing a finger, and the throbbing pain made sure he wouldn’t forget in a hurry, but he was still there, still himself. His nightmares would probably take a new form, and he wondered if he’d ever be able to sleep alone again, but he was fine. He was a Pet. He was a person. Surviving was a skill of his.

He rested a hand on the wall, making sure he was hidden in shadow, and let himself take some of the weight off his scarred leg. Burnt, smashed, sewn up and burnt again. He would be limping, by the time he got home. But get home he would, and in some way, it was thanks to his leg. He had been sat on his bed, back when he couldn’t walk, looking for something to distract him from the feelings of anger and uselessness and what if he throws me out?

So he’d looked down and practised his reading. He remembered it perfectly. Tomas G…Grz…. something… 12 h-a-r-t… Hartland Road… your Pet… s-p-l-i-n-t…. bed rest for up to one week…

Rowe had read the address, and perhaps even then he’d known he might one day need it. It didn’t solve the problem of knowing whereHartland Road was, or whether he’d make it there without being stolen or beaten up or killed, but he had to try.

Kidnapped, he thought. You’d only say stolen for a piece of property.

The warehouse was evidently on the outskirts of town. Was it the right town? Rowe thought so, as he studied the lights shining down the road. Several of the shapes were familiar to him. The colourful string bulbs that were hung up along the shopping streets, the glow from the theatre on the hill, the dark spot where the graveyard sat. From his bedroom window he had to crane to get a good look, but he could see it well from the office. He ached to be back there. In the warmth and familiarity of it. Back with- Master? The word sounded strange now. Especially since- since Rowe felt like he understood him now. Understood his intentions.

He started to walk. Kasia’s jacket rested on his shoulders, and he couldn’t bear to put his arms in. The idea alone made him feel trapped. The thing smelt distinctly of the bastard, but Rowe knew it was preferable to the cold of a dead night. He found a main road soon enough, built up above the rest of the grassy flatland, so he gingerly climbed down the hill and walked alongside. He would be hidden from passing cars well enough, but his bare feet soon began to take the brunt of the choice of rough land over tarmac. Stones, sticks, was that roadkill, oh, god, all were littered through his journey which was only sparsely lit by the occasional road light. After a particularly sharp stone, or possibly even a discarded glass bottle, Rowe knew his foot was bleeding. He ground his teeth together. It wasn’t real if he couldn’t see it. And right now, he couldn’t see his own hand in front of him.

He kept his eyes on the lights from the town before him, slowly drawing closer.

He thought he heard footsteps behind him, running closer with horrifying speed. As they drew near he could hear Kasia screaming at him.

You think you can fucking get away from me? You think you locked that collar? You really think I won’t come back?

He kept his eyes fixed on the town. “It-it-it’s n-not real,” he whispered past the lump in his throat. He was trembling with fear. “It’s not real, I locked him up, I st-stopped him, it’s not real, it’s not.”

The paranoia wouldn’t leave him, though. Every passing car, though they were few and far between, made him jump and crouch down, hands clamped over his mouth. He couldn’t shake the fear that it was Kasia after him, out searching for the rotten escaped Pet. His leg burst with pain every time, making him whimper and cry when he tried to stand back up.

The sounds of footsteps gradually stopped, and Kasia’s voice faded, but Rowe could still feel his hands clawing at him. His back tingled with the overwhelming sensation that someone was behind him, creeping up and reaching out to grab-

Against his better judgement, he turned back. Darkness there, and nothing more. “Fuck, f-fuck, keep it together,” he muttered.

Just up ahead, he could see streetlamps. Proper ones, glowing a gentle orange. He went as far as he could along the grass, then climbed up, wetting his hands in the dew. He checked for cars, and seeing none, scrambled fully onto the road.

He realised he couldn’t run anymore- his leg would give out, or he wouldn’t be able to contain a howl of pain- so he limped as quickly as he could towards the next patch of shadow, over and over.

Eventually he came upon a sign: Welcome to….

It was half shadowed, but it was a map. He pushed himself up on his tip-toes, eyes scanning the jumble of letters and lines and symbols. Eventually he spotted it. Hartland Road. He traced the direction in his head, making sure it was committed to memory, although he knew he wouldn’t forget it even if someone tried to beat it out of him. And then, he started walking.

He couldn’t tell exactly what time it was, but he would have guessed around three or four in the morning. The pub, as he passed it, was quiet, although he still kept his distance, hugging the shadows.

He soon reached the base of the hill he knew he’d have to climb. As he started to ascend, he saw the Pet hospital in the distance. Oh god, would he have to go back there to get his finger treated? He pushed the question to the back of his mind. If he did, there wasn’t anything he could do.

A few cars drove by, as he walked. He wanted to duck into one of the smaller streets that branched off, but he had only memorised one route home, and he didn’t trust himself to improvise in the dark. So instead he squared his shoulders, stopped hunching, tried his best to look like a person walking home in his heavy jacket, not afraid, not prey. It didn’t feel quite right, but it was easier than he’d expected. And it worked- no cars stopped, no one seemed to give him a second glance.

He finally reached the street, the name lit up. Hartland Road. The sign was scuffed, like kids had popped the cap off their beers along its edge. It was fixed to the wall of a garden, weeds poking out through the bricks, a flyer from the council tied at eye-level to the neck of the streetlamp. Rowe took everything in as he walked. The bicycle clipped to a fence, the parked cars, the black bins left out for collection. Before, he never would have taken notice. None of it had mattered. But now, Rowe felt as if he had a new connection to the world around him. He could interact with it. He wasn’t leashed or under the watchful eye of an owner, he wasn’t crawling or blindfolded in the boot of a car. He was in pain, yes, but he was always in pain, so constantly that it hardly registered anymore. He was free.

Rowe didn’t recognise the house itself. The only times he’d ever left it, he’d been unconscious, or practically so.

But when he turned around, he saw the same view he’d had from his bedroom window every morning and night. He was home.

He remembered Kasia’s key, but it no longer fit into the front door. The lock must have been changed. Rowe hated that the alternative was to make a loud noise, at this hour, but perhaps that was the smarter way than simply slipping inside like- like Kasia. So he hesitantly pressed down on the doorbell, hitting his fist against the wood as well. He waited. He thought about how he’d never rung a doorbell before in his life.

Silence. Rowe wasn’t exactly surprised, but his heart still tightened. Suddenly the fresh air didn’t feel freeing, it felt exposed. He rang again, knocking harder, not giving up. Surely he would know it was urgent? Surely he would come down, and Rowe would get to see his face again?

Faintly, he heard the creaking of the stairs. “I-I-It’s me!” he said, hushed. “It’s me, I…”

His words died as the door slowly opened. Half a face, an eye framed by blond curls peered out, full of apprehension. In a heartbeat it landed on Rowe and widened, and the door flew open.

“Tomas,” Rowe said, loving how it felt to say his name, loving him, loving everything. “I’m back, I, I’m back, I’m back.”

Tomas raised a hand over his mouth, and for once he was the one shaking. “Oh my god… oh my god.”

And then he was reaching both arms out for Rowe with a sob. Rowe threw the horrible jacket to the ground and fell into him, wrapping his arms around his waist and holding on tight. He couldn’t have known whose knees failed first, but suddenly they had collapsed on the floor, clinging onto each other, not leaving a shred of space between as they both cried. Soaked in the orange light that pooled through the still-open front door.