#writing in the dark bingo

[kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay]

Best Friends on paper 📮

Summary: You've been matched up with a pen pal through a website, but what is merely an outlet for you and a confidant to tell your secrets to, is something completely different for him.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader (hinted at short!Reader too)

(No use of descriptive words for Reader's appearance. If you do stumble across one, please let me know and I'll immediately find a more inclusive alternative)

Warnings: 18+, non-con (touching, fingering), kidnapping of sorts, deranged Steve Rogers, manipulation, forced relationship, obsession and obsessive baheviour

Word count: 2k

Author's note: My second entry for @the-slumberparty's BINGO challenge! The squares I filled this time are "Pen pals", "Campfire", "Beach day" and "Brainwashing"

We love us some deranged, obsessed Steve Rogers and when I read the Pen Pal square, I knew we needed Mister Old-fashioned to make an appearance! Have fun reading this one ;D

...

“You said you loved me. You did. Stop struggling,” Steve grunts into you ear, his hand firmly planted over your mouth as he drags your flailing form further away from your group of friends.

Your kicking and muffled protests don't deter him, his hulking frame dwarfing yours easily, allowing him to effortlessly man-handle you as he pleases.

“Shhh, sweetheart. It's just me, just Steve. I'm your friend, remember?” the man husks, his hot breath dampening the back of your neck.

Your shake your head as best as you can, your mind spinning with the disorientating events crashing down on your.

“You're not my friend,” you try to say, but it only comes out as stifled mumbling from behind the gigantic paw covering up half your face to keep you quiet.

This isn't Steve, it can't be. Steve is nice, sweet. He'd been matched to you on a random pen pal website you signed up on out of boredom, the two of you hitting it off quickly and building a nice bond through the letters you sent each other regularly.

It's a little old-timey, but you enjoyed writing Steve letters. He even included a picture of himself in one of them and you did the same in return.

But this brute behind you, that is not the man from the picture.

Steve is short, a little skinny, and his hair has a pretty shade of blond and his smile is infectious.

The man stealing you away from the roaring fire burning by the shore, your friends still scattered around it in small groups, is not short or skinny.

He is dragging your jerking body through the sand, your feet uselessly slipping on the little grains of sand while you watch the camp fire grow smaller, the flickering flames no longer illuminating the ground around you, its warmth too far to comfort you.

Before you know what is happening, you're hauled up a slippery dune, now finally out of sight for all your friends or any by-passers as you're shoved down the other side.

There, in between dunes and bushes, sits a picnic blanket, small lanterns standing on two corners of it that light up the space.

“It's me, Steve. I did all this for you. You always said you wanted to have a picnic by the beach and spend the night outside looking at the stars. I remember it. You said it in one of your first letters you sent to me,” the man babbles, his tone so urgent he sounds almost possessed.

His words are what concerns you though, not how he says them. Because it's the truth. You'd told your pen pal Steve about wanting to spend a night at the beach to watch the stars, had laid out the whole romantic fantasy you dreamed of on lonely nights.

You reach the blanket and the hand on your face loosens. You're spun around to face your kidnapper and when you instinctively lift your head to stare up at the man's face, your heart sinks.

“Hi, sweetheart. I knew you'd recognise me,” Steve says with a wide smile, his white teeth glinting in the low light of the lanterns around you.

You're petrified. This man does look like Steve. But he's bigger, stronger. And this big, scary man knows all your deepest secrets and desires.

You've told Steve everything, because what could be the harm in it? He's always been states away, just a picture you keep in your desk drawer and ink-soaked pieces of paper. You never thought there would be any harm in confiding in him.

Well, you were wrong.

“You- You..” stammer and stare up at him. “You look different.”

Steve grins and shrugs as if he didn't look like he could easily break you in half as opposed to the skinny boy he's sent you a picture of.

“You too. Better, so much better in person. God, you're beautiful. Come here,” he says and without warning moves his hands from your arms where he was holding you still to your face and swoops in for a forceful kiss.

You let out a startled sound and jerk your hands up to push at him, but he doesn't budge, hips lips firmly pressed to yours, tongue poking at them as he tries to gain entrance.

Your muffled protests make him stop eventually, his face pulled into a frown as he pulls his head away to peer down at you.

“What is wrong? You said you loved me, sweetheart. I came all the way to surprise you, I prepared this night. It needs to be perfect, so play along! It's your fantasy after all,” he says, an edge to his voice as he scowls down at you.

“I- I... Steve, I don't love you, I don't even know you, I-”

“Stop! You know me, we've been writing letters for months. I know what you like and what you dream of for your future. I know your favourite food and colour. I said I love you and you said it back! You wrote it in our letters, you did!” Steve shouts, his face reddening with agitation.

You take a step back, now positively terrified of the deranged man before you. How could he be the same person who's been writing you fro almost a year now?

“Sit down, come on, sit. We're going to enjoy this night, I made it perfect for you,” he says, quieter now, but still obviously displeased by your resistance.

Not daring to disobey and upset this crazy man, you let Steve push you down on the blanket. He sits down next to you and then forces you to recline into a laying position. He lies down as well and then grabs your hand, his fingers forcing your clenched ones apart to hold them.

You lie there, heart beating wildly and wide eyes staring at the night sky, the stars twinkling back at you as they watch the situation unfold.

“Isn't this nice? Good thing the sky is clear. I've been waiting for the weather to clear up and tonight is just perfect for our first night together. The first of many,” Steve swoons beside you, his deep voice floating around you.

Your hand hangs limply in his as you try to get a grip on your situation.

All you wanted was to spend a day at the beach with your friends. You had brought food and snacks for the whole day and enough wood to keep your camp fire going through the night.

But that is forgotten now, your friends too far away to help or hear you and this psycho beside you instead of someone else, someone you knew.

“You're so beautiful, baby. I looked at your picture every day, wondering how soft your skin would be under my fingertips, what you would smell like, taste like...” Steve rumbles beside you, his head turned to look at you, warm breath ghosting over your cheek.

You swallow, stiff as a board and terrified of the meaning of his words.

“Will you let me find out, sweetheart? You will, won't you? I know you want to,” he says, his hand letting go of yours as he shifts up onto his elbow to stare down at you.

When you don't answer, too scared to say no and not wanting to say yes, he lets out a huff.

“Playing hard to get? Let me convince you...”

You don't have time to react, Steve's frame moving with a speed that should be impossible for someone so big, slotting between your legs with a shove of his hips.

He widens his thighs as he kneels between yours, pushing them further apart when you jerk away and try to close them.

“No! Steve, stop. No, no, no-” You start to chant, hands slapping at every bit of him that you can reach as some sort of survival instinct kicks in.

“Stop pretending you don't want this! I know everything about you, you told me. I know you want this, I know, I know, I know,” he barks, repeating himself over and over as if he's trying to convince you.

Grabbing your flailing hands in one of his, he gets to work on ripping off your swim clothes, the thin fabric stretching and ripping underneath his violent hand until it's gone and your body is bared to his eyes.

“Pleeease, no,” you sob out, legs kicking on either side of his, hands fighting in his grip to cover yourself, but he doesn't budge.

“Shhhh, you'll like it, sweetheart. I'm good at this, I promise,” he shushes you, his words of affirmation doing nothing to quell the horror and shame of being naked and at the mercy of this lunatic.

You squeak when he reaches down and easily finds your clit, spit-wet finger getting to work and drawing tight circles around the little nub while you squirm and whine beneath him.

But there's no getting away and you have no choice but to endure his patient rubbing and circling, forced to witness your body's surrender that comes in the form of thick slick collecting at your entrance.

Shame boils hot in your gut and when Steve lets go of your hands in favour of kneading your breasts, you hide behind your sweaty palms. You can't look at him, you won't.

“There we go, your body knows what you need, baby. Look at that pretty little pussy getting nice and wet for me,” Steve mumbles appraisingly, finger abandoning your clit in favour of exploring further down.

He pushes one thick finger inside your pussy, the digit easily slipping in. It's quickly followed by another and he twists his hand to rest the heel of it on your clit.

“So tight, hmm. Made for me,” Steve mumbles to himself, eyes fixated on where he's sinking his digits into you.

He starts fingering you, fingers pushing in and out of you, his hand grinding into your clit harder and harder the faster he goes.

You can't hide the noises he pulls from you, wet squelching and helpless moans alike ringing out around you.

The familiar hot tension in your gut rises and your hands slap down on the blanket beside you, fingers fisting the fabric when Steve angles his fingers just so, rubbing that spot inside you that sends tingles of pleasure shooting down your legs and up your back.

“Come on, come for me. I know you need it, your little pussy is clenching down on my big fingers. Feels good, doesn't it?” he eggs you on, hand speeding up and finally tipping you over that edge.

“There we go, yes! Good girl,” Steve exclaims triumphantly as he works you through your orgasm, watching your trembling limbs with a deranged kind of satisfaction.

He pulls his fingers out of you with a wet sound and lifts them to his mouth. You watch through half-lidded eyes how he opens his mouth and sucks your slick from his fingers with a pleasured moan, his own eyes falling shut.

“Knew you'd taste good, baby. So good. I need more, baby. I'm sorry, I can't help it, I just need more,” he rambles, hastily shifting between your limp legs until his face is level with your sensitive pussy, slick still leaking from the twitching opening.

“Just a taste...” he grunts before sticking out his tongue and dragging it across the length of your cunt with an obscene moan.

You jerk away when he touches your clit, but his hands swiftly wrap around your thighs, keeping your core anchored to his face.

Whines and breathless gasps escape you as you writhe in his hold, your head growing foggy with the pleasure forced on you.

When your second orgasm rushes through you in a shuddering wave and Steve keeps going on, you limply resign yourself to a long night of forced pleasure. With him, there's no getting away.

Never.

After all, he knows everything about you.

...

There we go, he's got her in his clutches now-

Here's my updated Bingo card!

[deeranger]

Cosmic Entity

So, I made another drawing and a vignette fic for the SPN Eldritch Bingo 2024 - this time for the square "Cosmic entity"…. 🙃

Title: "A Cornfield Anomaly" Word count: 2,120 Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Warnings: Heavy angst, open/ambiguous ending, it's aliens, folks

Read it on my Ao3!

[just-a-silly-little-whumper]

Violation

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

For BTHB: Rape/Noncon.

Lord Denholm wants many things from Altair that Altair doesn't intend to give. Lord Denholm takes what he wants anyway.

Contains: Explicit noncon, vampire whumper/bloodbag whumpee, intimate whump, captivity, restraint, wing whump, begging, dissociation

~~~

Altair was so cold.

Shadows coiled around him, insubstantial yet still holding him in place. They seemed to sap the warmth from his very bones, leaving him shivering as he knelt on the floor of Elze’ith’s room. And he could swear he felt them moving, sliding along his skin and between the feathers of his new wings, making him more dizzy and breathless and nauseous by the moment.

But the restricting shadows mattered less than the fact that Elze’ith was gone. Lord Denholm had ripped them apart and dragged Elze’ith away, and though Altair had fought, Lord Denholm’s shadows easily pinned him down. Elze’ith’s screams still rang in Altair’s ears. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it felt like hours. It was certainly long enough for Altair to feel Elze’ith’s absence, for worry and dread to weigh heavy in his mind. Their embrace when Altair’s wings had come out had been the first moment of peace Altair had felt in such a long time. Now it was gone, and so was Elze’ith, and Altair was alone again. And given Lord Denholm’s fury when he had taken Elze’ith away, Elze’ith would be paying the price for that fleeting serenity.

And he could feel… something. The faint presence in his mind swelled with something that felt like fear, before receding to the point that he could barely feel it. He didn’t know what that meant. Just that it couldn’t be good.

The door finally opened. Lord Denholm strode in, imperious as ever. The look on his face was unreadable, but his aura had calmed ever so slightly. There was still rage and power swirling in it, but not quite as much as when he had torn Elze’ith away. He came to stare down at Altair, not saying anything for a moment. Altair strained against the shadows holding him in place, but they held fast.

“What did you do to Elze’ith?”

“I needed to separate you two. He needs time alone to think, and you, little ruin, need some individual attention.” Lord Denholm’s voice was a low purr as he regarded Altair. “After all, despite your disobedience, you have made quite the breakthrough today.”

Before Altair had an opportunity to respond, the shadows engulfing him drew back, taking him with them. He cried out as he was pulled off the floor and deposited on his back on Elze’ith’s bed, wings splayed beneath him. His arms were pulled above his head and his legs were wrenched apart, making him wince at the force. Then the mass of shadows melted away, leaving only the tendrils holding his arms and legs in place.

His heartbeat picked up in his chest. He could see where this was going. He had feared this ever since Lord Denholm had captured him. Now it seemed Lord Denholm finally intended to fulfill one of his long-standing threats, and Altair wasn’t ready. Digging deep, he reached for his magic once again. Maybe now that something had changed within him, now that he had awoken to the divine power in his blood, his magic would finally answer him. But just the same as every time before, the cuffs around his wrists kept him from summoning flames to his fingertips or causing lightning to crackle in the air.

All Altair could do was struggle futilely against the shadows holding him down and watch as Lord Denholm moved about the room. Despite feeling like smoke against his skin, the shadows were utterly unyielding, barely offering any slack as Altair pulled on them. Lord Denholm seemed to pay his efforts little mind as he pulled a few things from the wardrobe. When he approached Altair, he carried a handful of the same silk strips that had been used to tie Altair to the canopy earlier that evening, as well as a small bottle that had Altair’s blood running cold.

“Bastard,” Altair snarled. “I’m going to kill you for this.”

“Hush,” Lord Denholm said softly. He placed the bottle on the table before taking one of the silks and wrapping it around Altair’s wrist. The shadow holding it retreated as Lord Denholm did so. 

Altair furrowed his brow. Why was he restraining Altair using mundane means, when he clearly could do so magically? Was he worried about running out of magic?

Not that it mattered, when his arm was being fastened to the bedpost. Though he strained, he still couldn’t get himself free. Lord Denholm’s hands were almost gentle as he took Altair’s other wrist to repeat the process. Every brush of Lord Denholm’s frigid hands against his skin made him shiver in disgust.

“Don’t touch me!” It wouldn’t do much good. He knew that. But he couldn’t just do nothing while this was happening. Even if his protests were useless, they were all he had.

But Lord Denholm seemed to take that as an invitation. He ran a hand down Altair’s bare chest, smiling when Altair tried and failed to shrink away. “You need to understand, my little ruin. You are mine. Mine to touch, mine to use, mine to mold.” 

Altair bit his lip as Lord Denholm’s hand trailed lower, tracing the outline of the scar on Altair’s hip before moving to the waistband of his pants. He lingered for a moment, almost tauntingly, before slipping his fingers around the fabric and slowly pulling down. Every inch seemed to take an eternity, and Altair grit his teeth as goosebumps broke out across his newly-exposed flesh.

“Beautiful,” Lord Denholm purred, setting Altair’s pants aside and running a finger down his leg. Altair tried desperately to kick out at him, but the shadows’ hold remained strong. The resistance merely earned a chuckle from Lord Denholm as he took more silks, securing them first to Altair’s ankles and then to the bedposts, leaving his legs spread open. 

Altair’s breath was starting to come in shorter, harsher bursts. His mind raced, his eyes darting about the room, searching for a way out. But there was no way out. He was helpless. Lord Denholm was going to rape him, and there was nothing he could do.

“Easy, little ruin.” Lord Denholm shifted forward on the bed until he was looming over Altair, a shadow blotting out the room’s low light. Altair could see the way Lord Denholm’s pants had grown tight, and the sight made him taste bile. “Breathe. I can’t have you passing out yet.”

A part of Altair almost wanted to hyperventilate until he lost consciousness. At least then he wouldn’t have to feel what was coming. But he didn’t want to give Lord Denholm the satisfaction of seeing him so afraid. Instead, he just swallowed. “You-” 

Before Altair could say anything else, Lord Denholm placed a hand on the top of Altair’s wing. The cold touch shocked Altair to his core; part of him wanted to melt into the gentle hand, while part of him could feel the ill-intent and wanted to get away. It was far more direct and intense than anything he had ever felt, and he gasped as the combination of sensation and emotion immediately threatened to overwhelm him. Lord Denholm only smiled and deliberately trailed his hand down the length of Altair’s wing. The motion drew a whine from Altair’s throat as the strange, conflicting feelings managed to grow even stronger.

“Exquisite. I knew you would be. You just needed the right push,” Lord Denholm mused. “How many people have tried and failed to unlock your true potential, my little ruin?”

Altair, shivering on the bed, didn’t intend to respond. But the words came tumbling out anyway. “I always thought they were wrong. All my life my family told me I was special, told me I had a unique spark of divinity. But their years of training amounted to nothing. Nothing changed after I left, though people kept chasing me, acting like they knew something I didn’t. I-” 

He cut himself off with a long, shuddering inhale. Why had he said that? It wasn’t as if he wanted to talk about any of this, let alone with Lord Denholm. But it was as if he hadn’t had a choice. Lord Denholm asked, and he answered.

And in response Lord Denholm’s smile grew. He worked his fingers in between Altair’s feathers to more directly touch the sensitive skin underneath. For a moment Altair’s thoughts stalled, his breath catching in his throat. 

“There was a time where you wouldn’t have even considered answering me. Have you finally realized your place, then?”

“I don’t want to answer you!” Once again it felt as though the words were being pulled from his throat. “I don’t know how you’re making me, but-” Realization rippled through him. “It’s my wings, isn’t it. Something about them is making me talk. It’s the only thing that’s changed. I- stop touching them!” He tried to twist away, but his bonds held him fast, leaving him with nowhere to go. There was just the bed beneath him, and Lord Denholm above him, with his cold, insistent hands and his widening grin.

“I already told you. You are mine. I will touch you however I please. All the better that it makes you so much more transparent. I rather like this side of you; I cannot wait to see more of it.” The ostensive gentleness of Lord Denholm’s touch abruptly vanished as he dug his nails into Altair’s wing and scraped slowly along towards the tip. The sudden pain was far more intense than it should have been, and Altair found himself arching his back with a strangled groan, eyes clenched shut as the sensation washed over him.

Then, finally, Lord Denholm drew his hand away. The sudden loss of contact left Altair gasping. He was left with an ache that took several long moments to begin to fade. He didn’t want Lord Denholm’s hand back, but part of him did. The feeling was bewildering in how utterly unfamiliar it was. It was enough to make him want to crawl out of his own skin, even if Lord Denholm wasn’t intending on assaulting him.

He heard shifting above him. Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, he opened his eyes. Lord Denholm had taken off his pants and set them, neatly folded, to the side. Now he loomed over Altair once again, his cock erect and ready. 

Ice flooded Altair’s veins. “No,” he breathed, not even directed at Lord Denholm, just in disbelief and horror. “No, you can’t—”

“You beg so prettily, little ruin,” Lord Denholm murmured. “If only anyone would listen.”

Cold, slick fingers slipped between Altair’s legs, pressing lightly along his folds. Altair froze, his breath coming to a complete standstill, as though the lack of movement might help him hide from what was to come. Lord Denholm might have said something, but Altair couldn’t hear it over the pounding of his heart roaring in his ears. It seemed Lord Denholm wasn’t looking for a response, though, as after a moment of exploration, one finger slipped inside.

A high-pitched, terrified whimper resonated in Altair’s throat. He heard a sound that might have been Lord Denholm humming, or maybe laughing, as he slowly pushed his finger in, all the way up to the knuckle. It was too much, and his finger was so cold, and it didn’t necessarily hurt but it sure as hell didn’t feel good. Time seemed to stretch and warp as Lord Denholm moved his finger within Altair as though he were mapping out the space inside. The entire time, Altair stayed frozen, mind blank with panic.

And then Lord Denholm withdrew, just as agonizingly slowly as he had pushed his finger in. Altair let out a shuddery breath as soon as the intrusion was gone, his lungs seeming to work again as he gasped for air. The reprieve was brief, however, as Altair felt something much larger pressing against him.

Tears sprung to his eyes. If anything broke him, it would be this. 

Lord Denholm smiled down at him. “Fret not, little ruin. The first time is always the hardest.”

And then Lord Denholm sank his cock into Altair.

Altair opened his mouth in a soft, wordless cry. Lord Denholm went slowly, taking his time, as though he were giving Altair a chance to adjust, as though he wanted to enjoy it. But there was no adjusting to being violated so utterly. Now it did hurt, sparks of sharp pain shooting through him, because what little preparation Lord Denholm had given him hadn’t been nearly enough. Altair instinctively clenched, trying to keep Lord Denholm out, but that only made Lord Denholm groan in pleasure as he continued to press in, inch by tortuous inch until he fully bottomed out.

“There,” Lord Denholm purred. “You feel so good, my ruinous little angel, stretched around my cock like this. Simply perfect.”

He began to lazily roll his hips. The movements were small, but they still sent jolts of sensation through Altair’s core. It might have been gentle in any other scenario, but the mockery of intimacy only made it all the more cruel. 

“No,” Altair gasped. “No, stop, please-”

Lord Denholm brought up his hand, finger still covered in Altair’s fluid, up to stroke Altair’s wing once again. A full-body shudder of disgust rippled through Altair. “Your begging only makes you more enticing, my little ruin. By all means, please continue.”

“Please. Please, I can’t do this, just stop, you can hurt me as much as you want, just don’t do this.” The words tumbled freely from his mouth without his conscious permission. Honestly, he would have begged completely willingly if he thought it might have any chance of stopping this. But he knew all he was doing was giving Lord Denholm even more perverse satisfaction.

“Yes, that’s it, just like that,” Lord Denholm purred. He began to speed up his pace, rocking his hips into Altair more earnestly. As he did he threaded his fingers in between Altair’s feathers and tightened his grip, as if seeking purchase. And his smile, that dreadfully smug smile, never left as he stared down at Altair to take in his every reaction.

It was too much. The hand in his wing was a perpetual starburst of intense sensation and emotional turmoil, enough to leave him speechless and desperate for relief. Each movement of Lord Denholm within him was a new flare of pleasure-pain-disgust, bright and repulsive and inescapable. Combined it was utterly overwhelming, invasive in a way he never would have thought possible, like his entire being was being turned inside out just for Lord Denholm’s pleasure. He wanted to crawl out of his skin. He wanted to rip Lord Denholm apart with his bare hands and burn his remains to cinders. He wanted to keep begging and begging until it finally stopped. But he couldn’t do any of that, could barely breathe anymore as Lord Denholm just kept going.

Time smeared and blurred and bent. Altair was trapped in that ceaseless moment, as his feathers crumpled under Lord Denholm’s fingers, as Lord Denholm’s smile taunted him, as he was forced to stretch to take every thrust of Lord Denholm’s cock. At some point, he thought he might have started crying, but he honestly wasn’t sure. The wetness on his face might have just been from Lord Denholm leaning down to kiss his cheeks. All he knew was that this was the worst torture he had ever been forced to endure, this purposeful violation of Altair’s body and soul.

“You are divine like this, little ruin,” Lord Denholm said, his face suddenly next to Altair’s ear. The movement of his hips had sped up again, to the point where it was almost frantic. Altair found himself trying and failing to bite back whimpers. “So open and yielding and submissive for me. Just as you should be. Now, let me see how you come undone.”

A few more thrusts and Altair shuddered as he felt Lord Denholm climax, liquid surging to fill him in a way that had him whining in distress. Lord Denholm groaned, gently grinding down into Altair as though he were trying to wring as much pleasure from the orgasm as possible. The desperate hope that this might finally be over had barely entered Altair’s head when Lord Denholm’s fingers came down to press against Altair’s clit. The touch was the last thing he wanted, and yet it built on top of the pressure that Lord Denholm had already been forcibly building inside of Altair’s core. He whimpered in protest, but Lord Denholm was insistent in his ministrations. It didn’t take long before orgasm washed over Altair too, unwanted and revolting and yet somehow still a relief.

Suddenly there were teeth in his neck, the pain sharp and bright. Altair gasped as Lord Denholm sank in his fangs and started to drink. Being fed from was never pleasant, but somehow this was worse, with all of the conflicting sensations and emotions still roiling within him. Lord Denholm’s hand was still in his wing. His cock was still in Altair’s pussy. Altair didn’t even have the strength to try to pull away or protest or react at all as he was slowly drained of blood, on top of everything else he had just lost.

He wasn’t sure how long Lord Denholm drank. It felt longer than usual; Altair felt faint when he finally pulled away, although there were many things that might have caused that. Lord Denholm almost looked drunk when he looked down at Altair, his pupils dilated, his mouth stained red.

“Magnificent,” he said, licking his lips. A weak shiver went through Altair at the sight. “I knew that this would be just what you needed, my little ruin.”

All Altair could do was shake his head. He hated this— this was wrong— but he just didn’t have the strength to reply. He was exhausted, wrung out, physically and emotionally.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Lord Denholm said. The hand in his wing released its grip and began smoothing over his feathers in almost a soothing motion. Lord Denholm’s other hand rose to cup his cheek. “You’ll get used to it in time. This is where you belong, after all.”

Altair couldn’t hold back the sob that burst out of him. He was strong, but he didn’t think he was strong enough to handle this. Not again. He just wanted to be with Elze’ith. He just wanted to be safe, to be free.

He was starting to think he could never have that.

Finally, with a luxurious groan, Lord Denholm pulled out of Altair. Another sob wracked Altair’s body as he felt the mix of their fluids gush out of him onto the sheets beneath him. It only compounded the bone-deep feeling of disgust that had long-since settled over him. 

Lord Denholm gave one last pat to his wing before reaching for his pants, making him flinch. “I should return you to your cell,” he mused as he began to dress himself again. “You still have a lot to answer for, after all. But you have made progress, and you performed well for me. I think you’ve earned some rest here.”

Altair’s first instinct was that he didn’t want any reward that would come after something like that. A numbness had settled in next to the maelstrom of other emotions raging within him, but he still felt that loud and clear. And yet… this was his partner’s room. He turned his head weakly to the side to look at Lord Denholm as he asked, “Elze’ith…?”

Lord Denholm merely shook his head. “My light is being taken care of. Just as you are being taken care of, little ruin. If you behave well enough, I might let you see each other again. But not before.”

The flicker of hope Altair had managed to find sputtered and died. He would be sleeping in Elze’ith’s bed, but Elze’ith wouldn’t be coming. He would be all alone. All alone in the aftermath of his lowest moment.

“I hate you,” Altair muttered softly. He had to, because otherwise the despair would utterly overwhelm him.

“I know,” Lord Denholm said. His pants were back on, and he came to sit on the bed near Altair’s head. Fingers began carding through his feathers once again, and though Altair whined and pulled weakly on his bonds, there was still no escaping Lord Denholm’s touch. “I assure you, one day that’ll change.”

And that, perhaps, scared Altair more than anything.

[altschmerzes]

32k into 'history rhymes' gang-

[heavenssexiestangel]

In Darkness, Light Chapter 1

Hello everyone. This is my new fanfic. See tags, notes, etc :)

Arthur Ketch/Dean Winchester Masterlist

In Darkness, Light Masterlist (Coming soon)

Any Fandom AU Bingo Masterlist (Coming soon)

Rating: Explicit

Ship: Arthur Ketch/Dean

Word count: 2547

Written for: @anyfandomaubingo

Prompt: Immortal AU

Tags and Warnings: Vampire AU, Vampire Dean Winchester, Jewish Dean Winchester, Trans Dean Winchester, Vampie Arthur Ketch, Jewish Arthur Ketch, Poet Arthur Ketch, Arranged Marriage, original poetry, Eventual Pregnancy. Eventual new tags and characters will be added as they appear.

Summary: Dean Winchester lives in Lawrence, Kansas, with his Nest. It’s both a peaceful and harsh life, but he is not sure he’d want to change it. One day, his father tells him they must go to Lebanon, Kansas, to meet another vampire Nest - a famous and strangely big one. John tells him he’s been talking with their Alpha for months, because it’s the Nest his father came from, and he wants to be part of it even though Henry Winchester left him when he was still young. The agreement is for Dean, John’s oldest son, to marry the other Alpha’s son, Arthur Ketch. Vampires mate for life, and there would be no way for Dean to get out of it - not without jeopardizing the relationship between the two Nests and dooming theirs. Despite Dean and Arthur disliking each other since the very first time they meet, they must learn to trust and be loyal to each other, no matter how rocky their path is.

Beta by @spnexploration. Thank you!

Notes: Hello, hello everyone! I come with a new, shiny, long story :) I had started writing it for the @spnproshipbang, but I had to, unfortunately, drop out due to having way too frigging much on my plate. I hope to participate in the next round, if there is one. Since I had the 1st chapter ready and I'm working on the second, and I have notes for the next few chapters, I decided to start publishing the story as I write it (as I usually do). As you will see, for each chapter (or most) I wrote and will write a beginning poem. The poem is written from Arthur's POV, as he's a poet in this story. As you may also see from the tags, Arthur and Dean (as well as the rest of the characters) are vampires. I will take a lot of the lore from SPN, but I will also add my own lore, which you will eventually see. Both Art and Dean are also Jewish, because, why the fuck not? :) And Dean is Trans. I wanted to explore a lot of things with this story, and I put a lot of my favorite tropes and topics in it. Hopefully, you'll like it too.

Excerpt:

Dean observed as his father played with an old, modified Colt, one of the many trinkets they had kept from their human victims. That one had belonged to one of those stupid, reckless people who often entered their home, certain they could kill the monsters living in it. They hadn’t had one of those in a while. John Winchester touched the weapon with expert hands, tracing the intricate decorations, and sighed at it, as if it had personally offended him. For all I know, it has… They had been sitting at the dinner table in what had once been the living room of the human house they had picked as their Nest for at least half an hour. His father had still not uttered a single word. Dean knew better than to break the silence, even though it was driving him insane. He tore away his eyes from his father and looked around the room instead, tapping his fingers on the table. The blinds made so that no light came from the windows, and no one could see inside. Both things were crucial for them – the light of the sun could be extremely dangerous, and humans would kill them if they found out what they truly were. Why won’t he talk? He wondered, staring at the wall behind his father, stacked with other weapons. What did I do wrong? There was no other reason for John to ask him to talk alone if not Dean fucking something up, which he seemed to do often, lately. His leg bounced up and down as he thought about what it could be. I was careful with feeding, he mused. And I haven’t mentioned Sam in months. His little brother was a taboo subject, ever since he had left the Nest after a huge fight with their father because he wanted to go live with the humans. That had not gone well for Dean or Adam, their youngest brother.

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[evilwriter37]

A Good Distraction

Rated: teen

Warnings: none

Relationships: Heather/Astrid

Word Count: 971

Summary: Heather knows the exact time Dagur attacked her village. How could she not? Now, every Mani's Night, she suffers, but this time, she has Astrid to help her through it.

Written for @httydbingo and @anyfandomdarkbingo

Squares filled: Polar Night (HTTYD Bingo), Insomnia (Any Fandom Goes Dark Bingo)

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Dream and Fantasy & Handholding - Thingol x Finwë

Dear @the-red-butterfly, my friend, my partner in pairing crime...I dedicate this abomination to you!

This is further proof that I have no OCs, they're just knock-off, 2 penny depictions of people I know and love.

I give you...Old, decrepit men! Have fun!

Words: 1 065

Characters: Thingol x Finwë

Warnings: Geriatric grouches, barely veiled OCs, pudding, hint of bittersweet, innuendo to sex in the winter of life...

The middle-aged, chain-smoking nurse, lovingly called L at work, walked into the “quiet room” briskly, her eyes sweeping mercilessly across the softly bobbing ocean of hairless pates in search of the two most contrary residents of the retirement home.

After lunch, the inhabitants of the renowned facility came here to have a little chat before inevitably nodding off for their daily afternoon nap. Evidently, they could not be left alone—lest they choke on their own tongues or fall out of their ergonomic, cushioned chairs to their demise—so she knew that her favourite co-worker couldn’t be too far.

“Abril?” she called softly, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as soon as her cheery young colleague appeared with a tray full of tiny pudding cups.

“Yes?” the youthful woman chirped in her melodious, soothing voice that had earned her the privilege of handing out gelatinous treats rather than wrestling wayward doters back into their rooms.

“Where are the two pests? Are they in time-out again?” the older nurse asked gruffly.

“Oh, leave them be. They really are so sweet, aren’t they? And they’re such great friends too,” Abril protested in a hushed tone, quick as ever to defend their resident troublemakers.

“They’re more than friends,” the other retorted not without a hint of humour. “I’m pretty sure that what they do beneath the table when playing bridge goes beyond your usual run-of-the-mill cheating, if you know what I mean…”

“You’re filthy,” Abril complained, balancing her tray on her shapely hip to gesticulate expressively, thus leaving no doubt as to her mild disapproval. “They’re just old men! And they’re so lonely!”

Remembering her colleague’s initial inquiry, she frowned, her gorgeous face the very picture of doleful commiseration.

“The holidays are coming up, and Thingol had a bad dream about…”

They nodded in wordless agreement. It was a well-known fact that Thingol had fathered but a single girl-child who had promptly decided to move with her strange husband to some remote spot at the end of the world.

Nobody here had ever laid eyes on the woman, but they’d all seen pictures of Lúthien whose beauty was, as Thingol never tired of repeating, paralleled only by the pulchritude of his wife who had chosen not to follow him into his assisted living arrangements.

As far as L could remember, the old curmudgeon had always shared his room, board games, and pudding with a similarly distraught old man who seemed cursed by the very opposite problem.

Indeed, Finwë had one too many descendants. Having been married twice, he’d fathered one irascible son with his first wife as well as two sons and two daughters with his second who had, in turn, brought forth a whole slew of legitimate grandchildren and great-grandchildren, as well as a few more obscure scions claimed through strange patchwork-family situations.

The chaos these complex interpersonal relationships—ranging from outright, murderous loathing to deepfelt adoration—between the different members of that sprawling family tree bred was indubitably enough to drive any wretched bugger mad.

This was even more severe for poor Finwë because Thingol, his partner in geriatric crime, didn’t exactly get along well with his various kinspeople.

It was a surprisingly tense and fraught situation, a riveting drama playing out against the calming, beige background of an idyllic nursing home.

“Finwë took him to their room. Be a dear and take them their pudding; they love it so!” Abril said, jerking her chin at the tray encouragingly.

“Sure thing,” L sighed. “We wouldn’t want them to go raiding one of the other peaceful old souls. They’re owed pudding, and pudding they shall have!”

Abril’s eyebrows twitched, but she was too polite to ever laugh at a badly executed impression of her beloved favourites openly. “Just take them their treat—they’ve been very good today. No forks were thrown, and Ingwë was so unfazed by them that he didn’t even try to scoot across the room with his chair!”

Resigned to her fate, the cantankerous caretaker took the proffered desserts and trudged out of the room.

Neither one of the two old sourpusses could be heard from outside their chamber, and she took a deep, steadying breath.

As she was alone and nobody was around to witness the slip of her mask of dispassionate professionalism, she leaned her puckered brow against the smooth wood in a silent admission of reluctant sympathy.

Between Thingol’s loneliness and Finwë’s overabundance of ranting and raving offspring, they were a much put-upon pair who would not know a moment of peace before the last deliverance was granted to their unrestful souls.

Steeling herself, L pushed open the door slowly and, at once, had to bite back a sigh.

They sat, hand in hand, in their armchairs by the window, looking inward onto their dreams and fantasies rather than observing the squirrels frolicking across the front lawn.

One was never sure whether they were really asleep, and L slipped into the room cautiously, knowing only too well with what startling abruptness old men could shake themselves awake as if afraid of the long sleep that would not release them ever again.

At this moment, though, their faces—muted echoes of a faded beauty that certainly had been galvanising and terrifying to behold—were serene and relaxed, and their fingers were intertwined in a knot of papery skin and gnarled bone.

Against her better knowledge, L found that there was a touching, delicate sweetness in this ephemeral semblance of tranquillity they had caught like elusive butterflies in their clawed hands.

“Good old boys,” she whispered, prying open the small fridge in the corner and stowing the sweet treats away for later.

Yes, they were troublemakers, and their endless whining and complaining about children they had raised to be just as insufferable as them was exhausting, but L couldn’t deny that she understood Abril a little better now, watching them.

Thingol whimpered softly in his sleep, and—at once—Finwë’s creaking fingers tightened around his cold hand.

L fussed briefly with their blankets before leaving as inaudibly as she’d come.

“They’re all right,” she reassured Abril when her colleague walked briskly towards her, empty tray swinging inquisitively at her side. “They’re resting. Maybe, we could let them have dinner in their room tonight?”

“Ah!” the young woman cackled, her eyes bright with triumph. “They’ve at last won your heart!”

@fellowshipofthefics here's another cute one!

Have an abomination for your pleasure!

Lots of love and well-wishes!

-> Masterlist

[malecdiscordserver]

Calling all Shadowhunters creators--it's time to dust off your notebooks, sketchbooks, laptops, drawing tablets, and other creative instruments.

Sign-ups for By the Angel Bingo are now open!

What is By the Angel Bingo? By the Angel Bingo is a Shadowhunters-themed event where you request a grid of prompts in the layout of a bingo board. The goal is to fill the prompts until you get a traditional bingo (filling 3 or 5 in a row, column, or diagonally) or until you blackout your entire board! 

Do I have to be a part of the Malec Discord Server to sign up? No, being a part of the Malec Discord Server Community is not required to be a part of this event, but it is highly encouraged if you’re looking for friends to bounce ideas off of, if you need help finding a beta reader, or if you’re just looking for Shadow Fam to hang out with. 

What is the schedule?

Sign-ups open: February 1st

Sign-ups close: February 29th

Last day to request prompt changes: March 31st

Masterpost due by: September 30th

Click here to sign up: https://forms.gle/8xp6y2YW1nAVyP54A

Have more questions? Head over to @malecdiscordserver and check out the Bingo page or join the Malec Discord Server!

[kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay]

An internship with a twist 🗃️

Summary: You did it! You got the much sought after internship at the prestigous newspaper company led by no other than Natasha Romanov. You would try your best to be worthy of the position, though after meeting the CEO you get a feeling this isn't quite the job you signed up for...

Pairing: Natasha Romanov x fem!Reader

(No use of descriptive words for Reader's appearance. If you do stumble across one, please let me know and I'll immediately find a more inclusive alternative)

Warnings: 18+, non-con touching, kidnapping, nudity, violence (towards reader), name-calling, gross behaviour and remarks, abuse of power, stalking, pet-play

Word count: 3.4k

Author's note: Here we go, my first submission for @the-slumberparty's BINGO challenge! The squares I filled are "Biting", "Intern", "Writer's choice -> Pet Play", "Kept in a cage" and "Collar"!

This one was quite fun and when I saw them aligning in a diagonal line, I knew I had to do something with it. Hope you enjoy!

...

“Come on, don't drag you feet. We don't have all day,” the intimidating red-head in front of you calls over her shoulder while she struts down the hallway in dizzyingly high heels, her shoulder length waves bouncing with every step.

You do your best to keep up with her confident stride, sneakered feet scurrying across the expensive stone floor polished to perfection beneath your soles.

You had done your very best to get this internship, followed all the instructions that came with the application guidelines – even submitted pictures of yourself against your better judgement – and after almost two months of anxious waiting, you got the confirmation for the internship.

And today is your first day. You'd dressed in your best clothes, which still looked kind of ratty compared to everyone else's very established business clothing. But you wanted to try your best and impress your boss, who was none other than Natasha Romanov, CEO and founder of one of the most prestigious newspaper agencies.

If you do well, you could very well heighten your chances at landing a good job in this cut-throat industry. Because who would refuse you if you show up on their doorstep with recommendations from the one and only Natasha Romanov? No one in their right mind, that's the correct answer to that question.

You are very elated to be granted this opportunity, as much as you are absolutely terrified to mess it up.

You simply have to impress this woman with your skills and make a name of yourself if you want to be anything more than the author of gossipy articles about the latest fashion fiasco on the red carpet.

The woman stops in front of a door at the end of the long hallway situated on the top floor.

The place is strangely removed, though you figure it makes sense that the CEO has her own space to work in where others don't disturb her unless she allows it; the elevator on this floor only opens with her permission, so no one comes in here if she doesn't want it.

“Come on in. Chop chop, intern,” Ms Romanov says impatiently, waiting at the open door and gesturing you inside with the jerk of her head.

You're quick to follow her command, scurrying in past her and watching over your shoulder how she closes the door with a loud click. You turn your head straight, not wanting her to think you were staring, when a subtle whirring sound comes from behind you. Strange.

You can't dwell on the misplaced sound for long because the red-head is already waltzing past you like a storm, swiftly making her way around her wide oak-wood desk and sitting down in the high-backed leather chair waiting behind it.

Her silhouette stands out against the lights of the sky shining through the floor to ceiling windows that make up the wall behind her.

You stand nervously, still close to the door, and watch how she lounges in the chair, one pant-clad leg elegantly draped across the other.

Her green gaze is settled on you, taking in every nervous twitch as you fidget in place, wondering what she brought you up here for. It's your first day, you expected a little tour of your work place and then to be showed to you desk and given a list of tasks for the day.

Instead, you are alone with the CEO of the company on her private floor at the top of the building, where she is now unsettlingly staring at you without saying a single word.

Not longer able to bear the tense silence, you awkwardly clear your throat and start speaking.

“Sooo, uhm, Miss... What do I start with?”

You hope it's the right thing to say, trying to show your willingness to work.

The woman across from you just stares for a moment longer before snapping her fingers at you and pointing at the desk.

You scrunch your face up, fingers twisting in front of you as you try to interpret her rude gesture. Does she want you to come closer?

Daring to follow you instinct, you carefully shuffle closer to her desk, and when she doesn't object, keep going until you're standing right in front of her desk. Another moment of silence passes between the two of you before she breaks it with a curtly spoken command.

“You can start by undressing, sweetheart.”

You blink. Did you hear that right?

Your eyes scan her face, trying to read anything in her expression, but she's as unreadable as a blank page.

Maybe she said something about salad dressing. Yeah, your first task is to get her lunch and you merely zoned out while she was telling you her order, so you only heard a bit of it. Not a very good start.

“Pardon, could you repeat that?” you ask as politely as you can.

Ms Romanov's face stays a stony mask.

“I said, you can start by undressing. Don't keep me waiting, I'm not a very patient woman,” the red-head says, and this time you're sure you understood her. That sadly doesn't clear any of your confusion.

“I- I'm sorry, I don't think I understand-” you begin, skin prickling uncomfortably as you tug at the bottom of your ironed shirt.

“Are you deaf? My order was clear, now follow it or I'll be forced to help you and that is going to piss me off. You don't want to piss me off, trust me” Ms Romanov says coldly, sitting up in her chair and despite her sitting position, the sheer power radiating off her makes it seem like she is looming over you.

You just stand there, dumbfounded and growing more scared with every passing second while the red-head's heavy gaze rests on you in a foreboding way.

“Jesus Christ, I thought Hansen said you're a smart one,” your boss says and you can't help but feel hurt at the harsh words.

You are smart, goddamnit, otherwise you wouldn't have made it this far, but if your wits haven't left you completely, the woman across from you asked you to undress twice and you simply aren't going to do that.

You really thought this is a serious enterprise, the newspaper's popularity surely supported that assumption, and with a woman in charge, you didn't worry too much about harassment at the work place. But now you're standing in front none other but the CEO of this whole place and she was-

“Listen up, sweetheart. I'll say it one more time. Get those clothes off and do it fast, and I might not punish you on your first day,” the older woman interrupts your thoughts, directing your attention back to her impatient expression. She flicks her fingers at you, a gesture to tell you to hurry up.

You can't say where you take the confidence from, but something about the whole situation and the way she treats you like some animal sets you off, and you use it to make your thoughts known.

“No. I'm- I'm not gonna do that. Excuse me, Ms Romanov, but I think this might not be the right placement for me after all. I quit. Feel free to employ another intern in my stead,” you say. You're proud of how firm your words come out, despite the stutter in the beginning.

“The hard way it is,” the red-head says to herself, not even pretending to acknowledge what you just said. Instead, she gets up from her chair and prowls around the desk, instinctively making you take two steps back.

“Stay,” Ms Romanov barks and for some unknown reason you listen, staring at her positively terrified. “Gotta do everything yourself around here... fucking hell.”

Without further preamble, she gets close, too close, and grips the front of your button up shirt.

You can't do more than let out a startled sound of protest before she sinks her fingers into the fabric and rips the shirt open, buttons clattering everywhere as they give away beneath her brute force.

She starts shoving your blazer down your shoulders, the ripped shirt quickly being pushed down with it as you stand frozen for a moment, stunned by the woman's actions. It's only when your blazer and shirt fall to the floor that you jolt back into motion.

Your hands fly up to cover your chest and protect your bra from her clawing fingers while your feet clumsily move backward in an attempt to get away from the crazy red-head.

“S-Stop! What the fuck are you doing-” you protest loudly, raising your arms to fend off her attempts to tear away more of your clothing.

When she reaches out to roughly grab you by the back of your neck, you turn your head to the side and chomp down on her arm as hard as you can, your animal instinct taking over as adrenaline surges through your blood.

“Ouh! You fucking mutt-” the red-head curses with a hiss, but doesn't retract her arm. Quite the opposite.

She lifts her other hand and swiftly backhands you across the face with a loud crack.

The force of the slap snaps your head to the side. Your ears are ringing and your vision swims for a moment as tears gather in your eyes.

Ms Romanov doesn't grant you a second of reprieve and grabs your face to roughly turn it back towards her. Her nails dig into your cheeks when she gives your head a mean shake that disorientates you even more.

“Keep your teeth to yourself unless you want to be punished, you stupid little mutt,” she curses at you and then releases your face with a shove.

You blearily stare at her agitated face, tears clouding your vision as you just stand there in shock.

Your chest aches from the hurt of being treated so roughly and cruel and you can't stop the feeling from wandering up your throat and resulting in hot tears splashing down your throbbing face.

While you try to wrap your head around the situation and your body starts up a delayed response to the physical violence, Ms Romanov keeps yanking at your clothing until your bra is gone and your pants and panties have fallen to your feet.

“Step out of them,” the woman orders, but you're still too stunned to move, tears running down your face as you stare at the ground.

Now seemingly out of patience, the red-head gives you a shove that almost sends you toppling to the floor with your feet tangled in the remainder of your clothes. You quickly untangle your feet from the fabric out of sheer necessity to keep from busting your head open on the stone floor.

“Stand here!” the older woman orders with a snap of her fingers, index finger pointing at the ground in front of her.

Not wanting to risk more bodily harm being done to you, you follow her command, your hands doing their best to cover your naked body. Embarrassment and shame burn hot in your gut, your whole body trembling with the scalding feeling boiling in your stomach.

Ms Romanov reaches out and you instinctively jerk away, scared of another cruel hit. The woman isn't deterred by your reaction, one hand grabbing your chin to turn your head this way and that while her other one feels along your shoulder and then gropes your chest.

You let out a weak whimper and try to pull your head out of her grasp, but she holds you steady and continues grabbing at your body, weighing your breasts in her hand, tweaking your nipples and then moving down your side where she gives your hip a squeeze.

“Hmm,” she hums, briefly glancing at your teary face before focusing on the path of her hand again.

The appendage creeps lower, ghosting over your tummy and eliciting a twitch from you, but her firm hold on your face keeps you from getting far.

She touches the coarse curls atop your mound before dipping lower and cruelly pinching the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh.

“Apart,” she curtly orders, pinching you again until you shuffle your legs further apart, giving her access to your most intimate parts.

You tremble and whine when she delves between your legs, fingers parting the lips of your pussy and experimentally dipping them into your entrance before pulling back and delivering a harsh slap right to your exposed inner lips.

“Ouch!” you screech, your thighs snapping shut as your legs make to scramble back and carry you away from the cruel woman's touch.

Your attempt at escaping her rough hands is quickly thwarted by the red-head. She lets go of your face and sweeps out a leg, tripping you in your clumsy backwards motion and sending you to the floor with a loud thud that had your tail-bone weeping in agony.

“On your knees,” she barks and approaches you to motivate you with a kick to the side. You shakily move to your knees, hands pressed to the floor beside your thighs.

“Stay.”

You do, eyes glued to the floor as you hear her moving around by her desk. She doesn't take long, her pant-clad legs soon stepping into your field of vision.

She bends down and you briefly catch a glance of something deep red in her hands before she's bringing it around your throat. When her hands meet at the back of your neck and you hear a subtle clicking sound, you realise what the thing is she had in her hands.

A collar. A burgundy collar.

The woman presses two fingers between the collar and your skin, sweeping towards the front and giving it a little pull before retracting her hand, but not before giving the little accessory fastened in the front a little flick.

You reach out and grip the strip of leather, the inside lined with a softer material to keep any chafing at bay.

Dumbfounded at the fact that this woman had literally hit you, kicked you, stripped you of your clothing and now also collared you, you stare at up her with an open mouth.

“That's your place now, puppy,” she says sternly before nudging your chin with a finger. “Close your mouth, you look stupid.”

You snap your mouth shut and frown. All you wanted is some experience in the field, something to look good on your application after you finish university. How on earth did you end up naked and collared on a stranger's floor?

“I-” you start, trying to come up with some sort of argument, a demand to be let go, but a slap silences you before any protests can come out of your mouth.

“Did I tell you to speak? Puppies don't speak unless their owners tell them to. If they do, they'll be punished. And now move your lazy ass, I've had enough trouble with you,” the red-head says sternly before nudging you with her heel until you make to stand to follow her command.

“No walking! You crawl, stupid puppy,” Ms Romanov hisses, painfully planting her heel on your back to shove you back on all fours.

You let out a pained sound and fall back to your knees. You make haste to move forward when you see her foot lifting in your periphery, the hard floor painful on your knees as you crawl where she directs you.

She shoos you all the way around the desk and towards the corner of the room behind it where a velvety blanket obscures a big cube-shaped structure.

The woman passes you and approaches the structure, pulling the blanket away with a flourish and baring... a cage. A big cage. You can guess what it's for.

You back up and shake your head, wide eyes staring at the cage and then back at the red-head. She's wearing a cold smile on her painted lips as she steps forward and swiftly grabs you by the collar to drag you forward.

You try to fight against her grip, hands and knees pushing into the floor to slow down her process, but it's no use. She's stronger than you and soon you find yourself being shoved into the human-sized cage like a naughty dog.

The door is slammed shut behind you and you hear a lock sliding into place before you can even turn around.

“There we go. This could've been much easier, but you had to be a bitch,” Ms Romanov says condescendingly and you twist around in the small space to stare at her.

“Y- you can't do this. Let me out. Please, let me out! I won't tell anyone, I swear,” you start babbling without thinking as the weight of the situation starts to sink in.

You're trapped in a cage, naked, with no means to call for help or contact anyone and at the complete mercy of this woman, a stranger to you.

The red-head hits the side of the cage, the clanging sound reverberating in your ears and shutting you up in an instant.

You expect her to shout at or threaten you for speaking out of turn, but before the woman can say a word, the sound of a phone ringing echoes through the lofty office.

She throws you a warning look, lips pressed into a thin line, before turning away and making her way over to her desk where her phone was ringing.

“Yes? What do you want? … I don't think that's any of your business... Fine. I'm buzzing you in, Hansen. But listen to me, no funny business. Got it? Yes.”

You try to follow the conversation, but with only her side of it it's impossible to make sense of her words.

Before you can get too lost in trying to figure out her words, the red-head whirls around and approaches you again, successfully cutting off any thought you might have had.

“I have an associate coming in here in a few moments. Don't bother trying to call for help. If you think I'm bad, he's worse, much worse. So keep your mouth shut and sit pretty and I might not have to beat your ass until it's bleeding later,” she warns you.

You merely gulp and give a short nod before shrinking into the corner of the cage and pulling your knees to your chest.

As if on cue, there's a knock on the door that is followed by a brief “Come in” from Ms Romanov.

Not a moment later the door is shoved open and a man strides in, tall and dressed in a tacky yellow shirt combined with white dress pants. His face displays an unnerving grin, his top lip hidden underneath a hideously outdated moustache that is styled to precision, same as his hair.

“Romanov!” he calls loudly, his beady eyes sweeping the room and quickly settling on your hunched over form in the corner. “I see you've received your new pet.”

“Yes, I have. And she's given me more trouble than I care for, Hansen,” the red-head says, completely unimpressed by the man's theatrical entrance.

“Oh has she now? Didn't seem the troublemaker to me. The most docile out of all of them, really. Watched her for weeks and not once has she gotten sassy with anyone,” the man – Hansen – muses loudly, rubbing his chin exaggeratedly in thought.

'Watched her for weeks'?

An uneasy shiver crawls down your back at the man's words. What does he mean he's watched you for weeks? And you're the most docile out of all of them? All of who?

“Mh, she bit me like a wild mutt,” Ms Romanov says evenly. Then she gives a shrug. “Nothing a little slap couldn't correct, but it still shouldn't have happened.”

“Oh well, you can't expect them to be perfect. Besides, you love to whip them into shape and I think with a package like that you can tolerate a bit of disobedience,” the man says while he leers your way.

“Gotta admit I was tempted to take her for myself a couple of times. Great ass, nice tits and the face doesn't hurt to look at either,” he declares while leaning on the polished desk.

“I would've cut your throat, but I can't say I don't see the appeal. Now get out, you freaky bastard. Let me enjoy my new pet. Your second half of the payment will be deposited this hour,” Ms Romanov says curtly, not wasting another moment with the man as she turns back to you with a cold stare.

“We have so much to do, puppy. So many things to learn. I will enjoy teaching you.”

...

Boy, I made myself horny with this one 🥴

Not proofread btw, you can keep any mistakes you find :D

[deeranger]

Lost in the Woods

So, I made this drawing and a little imagine for the SPN Eldritch Bingo 2024 for the square "Lost in the woods".... 🙃

Word count: 1,277

Characters: Sam Winchester

Warnings: Open/ambiguous ending, implied possible mcd, creepy forest entity

The cold yellow light from the moon somewhere above is quick to bleed into almost pitch-black darkness as soon as it hits the naked canopy. The many crooked branches simply filter it out, like skinny fingers grabbing and choking out the light. Sam can barely see his own hand in front of his face, let alone where he's putting down his feet. Great. That's just great. He should've never gone on this hunt alone.

Only faint remnants of moonlight manage to weakly illuminate the ground in random spots scattered on the forest floor and on tree trunks and shrubbery. It creates an eerie sort of glow that seems to contrast the black, and Sam would probably find it fascinating if it wasn't for the fact that this place is oozing pure evil. It's like the forest is watching him, like there's something breathing right down the back of his neck. It feels... Ancient. So much so that even the oldest oak tree in this godforsaken place is no match at all for the age of whatever lives here. One thing is for sure, it is never going to let go should it get its claws into him. And a scary feeling is brewing in Sam's mind that that is exactly what's going to happen if he doesn't find his way out of here. And soon. God, he should've stayed on the trail.

A twig loudly snaps under his boot, and the young Winchester swallows down a gasp. With his pulse skyrocketing, he freezes to the spot like a statue, all senses on high alert. The forest seems to hold its breath along with him, waiting... And watching. The feeling of being observed is intense, and Sam suddenly feels like a newborn gazelle circled by a hungry pack of lions, all alone and vulnerable in the middle of the goddamn savanna. He's a friggin' sitting duck and he knows it. And whatever is out there knows it too... And it's getting closer. He can feel it. Shit.

The hunter's fingers that clutch the Taurus have turned slick with sweat now even though the forest is chilly. And suddenly, he's seriously doubting if the silver bullets in the gun's chamber will help him at all. Probably not. Same goes for the flask of holy water in his pocket. And for some reason he's pretty sure that spewing out an exorcism won't work either.... Not out here, not on this thing. No, this time he's in way over his head and every weapon he brought is pretty much as useful as a chocolate teapot.

Cursing himself internally, Sam strains to pick up on whatever is lurking in the shadows... But all he gets is darkness, silent as the grave. It's like he's being watched from all sides, like danger is somehow everywhere around him now, pitch-black and one with the shadows clinging to every surface. It's omnipresent, a looming threat ready to pounce at him from any angle. He needs to turn back, needs to get the hell out of here now if he's going to stand a chance at getting out alive. But how? It's all around him and he lost his bearings a long time ago. He isn't even sure which direction to move in and by now he's not sure if it matters either. He's surrounded.

"What are you?" he hears himself ask into the chilly forest air. It comes out shakier than he'd like, and a gray mist hangs in the air from his breath until it evaporates and disappears, fleeting like a ghost. But the forest doesn't answer. Instead it offers more silence, heavy and ominous, and the darkness seems to somehow grow blacker yet, choking out the last bit of moonlight.

"What do you want??" Sam tries, automatically backing up when the night expands and creeps closer, black and tar-like and threatening. It's everywhere. The metallic taste of adrenaline spreads in his mouth, and his heart hammers against his breast bone with such frantic speed that he's uncertain if he might be passing out. He can't see anything. The blackness has reached him now, thick and evil and almost pulsing with something too ancient to even name. It's clinging to him, like a terrifying second skin, alien and predatory and freezing.

"No—"

It feels like he's breathing icewater all of a sudden, like his lungs are freezing over, blooming ice crystals gnawing at his insides and lodging themselves in every tiny blood vessel. It's like he's literally getting smothered from the inside, chest too heavy to even heave properly despite his efforts. God, he's never felt a cold like this before. This is… This is it, isn't it? Instinctively, he knows he doesn't have long, maybe just a minute or two before it's too late. Before he's absorbed into whatever it is that's pouring into him, devouring him. Killing him.

"D-Don't—" he chokes, and panicked he tries to force his eyes to see anything but blackness, to identify what it is that is now lifting him off the ground. He expects to see the crooked branches overhead, like bony fingers of an old crone reaching for him on a backdrop of pale moonlight, but he sees nothing. Nothing except a sea of black, a void, endless and hungry and absolutely diabolical.

As he feels life draining from him, his mind frantically spins and races in one big jumbled-up mess. His life flashes before his eyes, pictures of his childhood, of countless dingy motel rooms, faces of monsters that are no more and of those that got away, of everything that matters and doesn't, of all the things he still wants to do, what he needs to do... And like a red thread in all of it is his big brother's face. Dean. He can't leave Dean. Not like this, and... And not yet. He's not ready, the world isn't ready. But most importantly.... Dean is not ready. It's way too soon, his big brother will not be able to cope with losing him like this so soon after what happened at Cold Oak, after Sam left him the first time. No, he'll spiral in no time, Sam is certain of it. Or he might make an even nastier deal of some sort in his efforts to bring him back… And Sam can't let him do that, can't let him lose himself like that again. But what can he do to prevent it, really? Hell, not even Castiel can heal the kind of hurt Dean is going to feel no matter how hard he tries. Oh… Wait. He forgot. That could be his last chance, the very last straw to grasp at. He's not sure if he can even get his vocal cords to move, but he has to try, has to focus despite the solid cold that has settled deep in every bone. But he's listened before.... Maybe he will listen again? Just once? He has to. He has to.

With the last bit of air left in his lungs, Sam prays to the night sky he knows is somewhere up above him, obscured by ragged branches and blackness. It takes all of his might, and in the chilly forest air he calls out for the angel, voice thin and cracking. He feels the darkness around him angrily pulse in response and it constricts, wraps around his body like a snake, coiling and deadly silent. There's no room to breathe anymore. There's no room at all, and Sam falls as silent as the forest around him, blind and paralyzed... And waiting. Waiting for the flutter of wings or footsteps to approach. Just waiting. Hoping.

[dnangelic]

tbhhh i've said this before but there are like a million ways to write dark's speech in eng because there's no good 1:1 for him.... all nuance is forever lost he's both casual yet still eloquent all at once and esp with my portrayal/natural writing style i Do have to put a lot of thought into his dialogue sometimes so that he doesn't resemble krad('s keigo) when he's not being sarcastic. in jp dark's forms of speech and mannerisms are overly casual no matter what which can be taken as outright vulgar in english (guy who waxes deep ass poetics but like in a casual bro to bro way-) and he does basically cuss / have the occasional 知るか or くそ equivalent. the angrier he gets the more he drags out his words and growls plus he uses a LOOOOT of english which?? eng is eng in eng man. its not cool and ~stylish~ like its supposed to be in jp but it's fine whatever the point is whenever i consider this + how many variations of dark there are across all of dnangel media and how subtly varied his portrayals are too i feel like daisuke looking back on his family history telling himself 'wow i sure haven't met a lot of darks'

[just-a-silly-little-whumper]

Damaged Wings

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

Altair finds it difficult to deal with his wings being injured. Lord Denholm has other opinions.

For BTHB: Damaged Wings

Contains: Captivity, restraint, intimate whump, begging, wing whump

~~~

An agonized scream tore itself from Altair’s throat as the blade tenderly tore into the flesh of his left wing.

He knew the sting of a blade. He had tasted it many times, had been through more than his fair share of fights, had trained to be able to take it. But this was different. The dark obsidian seemed to cut beyond his flesh, through a part of him he hadn’t even known could be hurt

Except no. This part of him had been hurt before, when the demon had sunk its claws into his mind and soul in its rage at being contained. That was why this hurt so much, why he couldn’t hold back his screams as his blood spilled over his feathers.

“You scream so beautifully, my little ruin.” Lord Denholm’s voice poured over him like cold water, harsh and chilling. “Was this all it took to get you to sing for me?”

“It hurts,” he said, voice breaking, because he couldn’t not. They had both learned that all too well by now. “More than anything else you’ve done.”

Lord Denholm’s low hum was quickly overtaken by another scream as the blade cut further into Altair’s flesh. The pain whited out Altair’s mind, leaving no room for thought beyond the searing, all-consuming agony. It seemed to last an eternity, and even when the blade pulled away enough for him to begin to think again, his thoughts were still scrambled and difficult to parse.

The room was loud, too. It took him a moment to realize the noise was him.

“-do this, just stop, please!”

“No, I don’t think I will. I much prefer to hear you begging.”

Hatred surged through him, bright and fierce and clarifying. There was no negotiating, no appeasing this monster. Any such effort was just playing into his hands.

How many times had Elze’ith begged? How long had it taken until Lord Denholm stole that ability away? How hard would Altair have to fight to ensure the same didn’t happen to him?

The blade drove straight through his wing, enough to pierce through to the other side, and Altair’s voice broke on his scream. All thought of resistance was driven from his mind. Somewhere, distantly, he could sense Lord Denholm’s satisfaction as his defiance dissolved back into incoherent sobbing. With his very soul being so lovingly and brutally carved into, it was hard to do anything else.

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Chapter Nine - "The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles."

Winter’s captors reveal their true intentions. CW (contains spoilers!); Kidnapping, torture, physical abuse, slave sale, non-con virginity auction. Prompts used (contains spoilers!); -‘Tomorrow’ – @fandom-free-bingo , Frosty Edition; - “I Don’t Understand.” and ‘Virginity Auction’ – Fandom-Free Bingo, Flight Edition; - ‘Auction’ – Bug’s First Bingo (private event, sorry folks!) - ‘Broken ribs <b>to</b> Stitching Up Wounds’ – @hurtcomfort-bingo; - ‘I Have Your Loved One’ – @badthingshappenbingo; - ‘Coughing Up Blood’ and ‘Auction of Evil’ – @eclipsingbingo; - ‘Torture on Live Broadcast’ – @fandombingo; - ‘Azerbaijan’ – Gen Prompt Bingo; - ‘It’s Just a Flesh Wound.” – @multifandom-flash Mini – Round One (1084); -  ‘Missing’ – @fnafbingo; - ‘Handcuffed’ - @anyfandomdarkbingo.

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Boards at the bottom, divider by yours truly <3

I shifted uncomfortably, squirming a little as consciousness began to sink in, the dull ache of muscles left cramped and unused spreading throughout my body as my awareness returned. I moved my hand to swipe at my face at the feeling of something brushing lightly against my cheek, but found quick, painful resistance, a thin strip around my wrist pressing sharply into the tender skin. With a minute frown, I explored the space around my hand, fingers tentative as they brushed against a taut string of interlinked loops, one end leading to the metal cuff around my wrist, the other to a smooth, cool cylinder rising from the ground behind me and up out of reach.

A pipe of some kind?

I blinked, but the darkness didn’t abate, almost entire save for the faint patches of light, almost cloudy in their appearance. As I moved again, the feeling of fabric on my face occurred once more, and comprehension dawned.

A blindfold.

My heart rate slowed infinitesimally with the understanding, with a brief permeation of the fog in my mind, and my frown deepened as I fought through the shroud, scrambling for any semblance of memory as to how I had gotten here.

We landed in Indonesia. There was a bar… A boy. We talked for a while, about the job. There was a man watching me… He said something to me, didn’t he? What was it? … What…? I can’t remember…

My eyes had closed to focus in spite of the darkness, but they snapped open again at a sudden, sickening thought, fear sending a chill through my body. Lieutenant Tyne… Greg… He won’t know what happened to me. Is that why they moved my bag? So he’d assume I’d bailed, and he wouldn’t look for me? … Would he give up on me so easily?

I shook my head as best I could, chasing the thoughts from my mind. Whether he was looking for me or not, there was no guarantee he’d find me; I’d have to make my own luck.

I tested the chain holding me carefully, but the inside of the cuff was serrated, and once it broke skin, the pain won out, forcing me to release the tension.

I’ve already lost one hand; I don’t need to-

I froze as realisation set in, casting out my senses uncertainly, jaw clenching when my attempts to flex my left hand came to nothing. Mentally mapping the movement of available muscles left me paralysed with dread, breath hitching in my chest, unable to attend to the desire to curl up and hide myself from any eyes that may be on me.

The fuckers took my arm.

My legs moved readily, albeit secured at the ankle, and I explored as best I could, feeling out the seemingly empty space around me. I was seated on the ground, I concluded – a hard and ridged ground, digging uncomfortably into the backs of my thighs.

It was until I swallowed dryly that I released the unobserved pressure in my ears, and an orchestra of sound fell over me – squeaks and tweets, soft voices murmuring – but most distinctly, and perhaps most importantly, the overwhelming din of engine and blades, accompanied by the distinct, crisp chill found in the inhalation of air on a flight.

Panic threatened to overwhelm me, my breaths coming short and painful, fingers curling automatically in preparation to fight an unknown, unknowable captor.

I felt the aircraft beginning to descend long before rubber met tarmac, several years of Spec Ops working to my advantage, and I braced myself milliseconds before a jolting landing. My observer did not seem so lucky; there was the notable clatter of a body hitting the floor, accompanied by a soft huff of air and a groan of discomfort. I couldn’t keep myself from letting out a derisive snort, but the sound was quickly chased by a yelp as the sole of a heavy boot met my ribcage, driving the breath from my lungs and tears to my eyes as something inside me snapped, leaving a sharp, stabbing sensation in its wake.

“You’ll pay for that, dog,” my captor snapped, scrambling audibly back into his seat as the plane came to a stucco stop.

I know that voice… Don’t I? I can’t remember… I struggled with the haze in my mind, frowning when it came to nothing, fingers clenching into a fist behind my back. “Fuck you,” I snapped back, straightening as best my restraints permitted, a growl building in my chest. “How about you untie me, and we’ll see what you’re really made of?”

Hope bloomed in my stomach as I heard him take slow steps closer, and I clenched my jaw to keep from smiling, forcing my expression to remain challenging and cocky. “You must think me an idiot,” he breathed suddenly in the quiet, his breath ghosting over my face unpleasantly. “I know as well as you do that if I untie you, that moment will be my last – you don’t need your metal arm to make you lethal, do you, Sergeant Barnes?”

I simply snarled back, earning a vicious laugh, and a fist slammed into my diaphragm without warning, leaving me coughing and spluttering as I fought to push air into my incapacitated lungs. “P… Prick,” I wheezed eventually, muscles clenching with fury. “Hitting a man when he barely expects it… A cowardly move.”

“Maybe,” he agreed readily, his voice shifting as he moved beside me. “But the smart one when facing a man such as yourself, Sergeant.” He hummed under his breath, a vaguely familiar tune I distinctly knew, and I grunted with relief when the straining against my bound wrist was released – only to curse again when I learned of the secondary tether, securing bound ankles to wrist with barely enough room to stand straight as he forced me to my feet.

“Why are you doing this to me? What the hell do you want with me?” I spat, rage making my arms – arm - shake with the effort of not attempting to drag my hand from its cuff, letting the skin flay in the process.

“Oh, we don’t,” a second voice laughed, nudging me forward until I stumbled, and jerking me back by the chain between my limbs to keep me upright. “It’s not you we’re after. It’s that bastard captain of yours, always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. You’re just the bait.”

“My Captain,” I echoed softly, and numbness flowed briefly through my body, muscles constricting and rooting me to the spot. “Lieutenant Tyne…” A sharp shake of my head snapped me back to focus, and I stepped toward the voice, anger breaking through my wall of shock, and heard him stumble back in panic. “You leave him alone! What do you want with him? I’ll kill you if you lay a goddamn hand on him!”

I stilled at the click of a hammer beside my head, cool metal touching lightly to my temple, and let out a low growl of frustration. “Now, now. There’s no need for such threats… I intend only to extend the same offer he once gave to me, though in not so many words. Either he retires from him vigilantism, or we kill one of his very favourite crewmates.”

The blindfold was jerked from my eyes, and I blinked in the sudden bright light, struggling to make out little more than outlines as my vision swam.

As it cleared, I managed to pick out details – a familiar jawline and hooked nose, broad hands wrapped loosely around his gun still levelled a few inches from my head.

Blinking harshly, my vision cleared, and I jerked back, stumbling over restraints at the two men before me, who simply smirked down at me as I sprawled to the ground. “You,” I hissed, eyes narrowing at the fishing boat captain grinning ghoulishly at me. The last time I’d seen this man was squaring off against mu own captain, shortly before I was shot and fell into the ocean.

His companion was even more familiar, and perhaps even more unwelcome. The sailor was as tall as I remembered, staring down and me with undisguised hatred and revulsion, and I fought to keep my expression neutral as I met his gaze. “Walker,” I noted evenly, muscles twitching with fury. “Is this how you repay your Captain?”

“That faggot is no captain of mine,” he sneered, eyes narrowing as I bared my teeth in warning. “And we have the perfect repayment in mind, don’t you worry.”

“I don’t understand,” I muttered, jerking forward as Walker grasped my chains to pull me along. “All he ever wanted to do was make the world a nicer place. How can you hate him so much for that?”

“He’s naïve,” the sailor replied simply, not looking at me as I was lead from the cargo hold of a plan bigger than I expected, dozens of crates being unloaded around us. The cacophony of shrieks and tweets finally made sense as I took in animals packed into cages, clawing, and flapping frantically at the bars. “This is the real world.”

“This is humane,” I countered hotly, shaking with rage. “You can’t do this.”

He smirked, ominous and predatory, head cocked to one side. “Who’s going to stop us? You’ll be out of here by tomorrow – wouldn’t do to have you stay in one place for long, would it?”

“Some things sell even better than parrots and shark fins,” the captain chuckled, his eyes cutting to mine, making the fear flow readily in my veins. “Virgin pussy is a rare commodity, after all.”

The room they put me in was bare, save a wire bed frame with a thin blanket offering little protection against the sharp platform or cold concrete.

I curled in a corner, shivering to myself, my arm wrapped desperately around my quivering frame. My only hope was that they’d leave me be until my sailor came for me - followed closely by the hope that he would never come for me at all. Selfishness and fear stopped me praying for the latter, but it was driven by an intense need for him to be okay. I cursed my survival instinct, this room I found myself in, my willingness to put my trust in a runaway youth – but more than anything, I cursed the men that held me here, and the cruelty of humanity.

I also cursed my own damn bad luck when the door opened and Walker stepped through once more, a cattle prod in hand.

“On your feet, dyke.”

I simply narrowed my eyes, refusing to give the slur legitimacy by responding to it, and he smirked, making the end of his prong crackle and spark. “I won’t ask twice.”

“I’d still ignore if you did,” I quipped back; my trembling removed some of the intimidation from my words, however, and he snorted, moving closer.

“I thought you weren’t going to ask again,” I snorted, continuing to meet his glare with cold defiance, and he lunged, my frozen joints too stiff and sluggish to avoid the blow. The end of the prod landed between my ribs, and I cried out, muscles convulsing and spasming as the volts burned through my body.

By the time I slumped to the floor, weak and twitching, he was laughing aloud, leaning over me with a grin. “Aw, what’s wrong? No funny retort for me now?” My mouth moved silently, and he leaned closer, hand curled theatrically around his ear. “What was that? I don’t seem to be able to hear y-”

He cut off with a grunt as I flung myself at his middle, calling on the reserves of my strength to send him sprawling to the floor, the prod spilling from his grasp and rolling across the concrete with a din. We scrabbled in unison, but I was at a disadvantage – he had twice as many arms, and my motivation wasn’t able to bridge the gap. His fingers closed around the metal rod a heartbeat before  I skimmed it, jerking the barbaric tool out of reach. Our proximity didn’t allow him to deliver another charge, to he simply swung the prod in my direction, leaving me wheezing and retching in blinding in pain as it collided with my already-broken ribs.

I could only lay and whimper, my breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as I fought for some semblance of cognisance. Walker was back on his feet, panting hard, snarling viciously as his fingers tangled in my hair to hoist me bodily from the ground, bringing his face close to mine as he sneered. “Bad choice, freak,” he purred, pausing for only a moment before jerking his head forward to collide heavily with my nose, earning a yelp as the bone shattered under the blow.

I was blinded by tears as he dragged me from the room, helpless to do anything but obediently follow the hand in my hair as I choked on the blood, stumbling and dumb.

“Finally! What took so- Fuck! What the hell did you do? This isn’t going to work if he isn’t recognisable, idiot!”

The sound of flesh colliding with flesh punctuated the snarling voice, and the hand left my hair, leaving me to sink to my knees, coughing blood onto the floor as I clawed desperately at the ground, fighting violently for each breath.

A hand cupped my chin, surprisingly gentle as my head was tipped up, the face of the Captain blurred by the water still gathered along my lash line. “Look at that face,” he tutted, shaking his head sympathetically, holding me more firmly as I tried to turn my gaze toward a pained cry. “No, no - just look here. It’s okay.” He offered me an insincere smile, eyes flicking over my shoulder, jaw stiffening as he nodded to someone unknown behind me. “See? Everything is okay. I just need to remind some of my men that failure to follow orders is not going to work here.”

I blinked hard, trying to flush the last of the tears from my vision, throat still thick and clammy with the taste of my own blood. “Why me?” I breathed, voice cracking. “Why do you think he’s going to care enough about me to track us down? To stop doing what he loves?”

The smile returned, more genuine now, a cruel turn of his lip taunting me. “Oh, he’s very partial to his crew, I hear. Especially his little pet.” A soft growl escaped me, quickly followed by a grunt as his fist found my gut, waves of nausea overwhelming me, spots darkening my vision. “See? That’s how we do it, boys. Keep the bruises below the collar – we need that pretty face intact, don’t we?” He moved to his feet, staring down at me as his gaze grew cold. “Make sure this one knows exactly what we’ll do to him if he doesn’t do as we tell him. I’ll go and deal with the petulant child with impulse control issues.”

He stepped away, leaving four men to close in on me, not looking back as the blows began to land – heavy military boots tenderising every inch of my flesh covered by fabric, obediently avoiding my face. He didn’t turn even as I cried out, and I kept my gaze on him until he slipped through the half-open door, finally curling into a protective ball under the endless volley of kicks.

By the time the Captain returned, I’d been dragged upright into a chair, barely conscious as I wheezed and fought for breath. The blood trickled steadily from the corner of my mouth, spraying the floor when I coughed, the motion causing a searing pain across my ribcage and a soft whimper to leave my bitten lips.

He assessed me for a moment, moving closer to grasp my chin, tipping my head from side to side roughly. “… Good. Not so hard to listen, is it? These foreign boys – no discipline.” He nodded approvingly to his soldiers, still stood around me in silence. Not a word had been said as they’d beaten me, even when I’d broken and begged them to stop, every inch of me aching and pulsing with pain.

Please. Please, Lieutenant Tyne…

Please don’t come for me.

They won’t let you leave with a promise. They’ll kill you. I can’t watch you die…

The Captain cleared his throat as he pointed over his shoulder, gesturing into the far corner. “See that?” I nodded silently as I followed his thumb, a camera pointed in my direction. “That was broadcasting everything – every moment of my boys here having their fun with you – straight to loverboy’s cell phone. I have it on good authority that he watched every second; he was quite upset, by all accounts.” He grinned, and I snarled again, the fire of fight flickering weakly in my chest at the thought of my Captain being tormented. “Yes, yes – very scary. You can barely sit up; you’re not exactly in a state to be making threats.” Defiance kept my back straight, fingers curling against the arm of the chair where I was tied, but the warning rumble in my chest died as blood gurgled in my throat once more, making me hack and struggle for breath until it passed. “Poor boy. Don’t worry – we’re almost done with you for today. Just one more thing you have to do.”

He moved from my line of sight, and I didn’t have the energy to turn my head. I could only sit, hunched and exhausted, until he returned, setting up a tripod in front of me, the mounted camera pointing at my face. “You are going to give a message to that Captain of yours.”

I shook my head fiercely, the motion making my stomach churn, jaw clenched. “No.”

An eyebrow raised, and he nodded over my shoulder. My groan was ragged as I slumped to the side, side aching with the force of the blow. “Would you like to reconsider?”

By the time I was eventually returned to my cell, I was limp and bloody, each breath coming with the telltale rasp of broken ribs through still-swollen lips.

Everything hurt.

The split along my cheekbone had been raggedly stitched closed and cleaned, blood wiped from my skin with an utter absence of care and consideration. When I’d been deemed acceptable – and my co-operation had been dragged from my reluctant lips one blow at a time – the camera had started rolling, and I pleaded with my invisible lover to rescue me.

“If you don’t get in touch, they’re going to kill me, Greg. Please.”                      

“I don’t know where I am; you won’t be able to find me. Don’t waste time looking.”

“I’m scared.”

The lines I’d been forced to deliver haunted me, reverberating in my aching skull without pause. I hoped he’d see the plea in my eyes – would see that I didn’t want to be doing this, that I didn’t want him to come for me.

I’d have gladly given my life for his to keep him safe – especially considering I had no confidence that they’d actually let me go, whether he showed up or not. I wasn’t even certain I’d be here if he surrendered himself for me; they’d already planned to sell me off, after all.

Tomorrow…

They were selling me to the highest bidder, where I’d be used and abused to their heart’s content, with no regard for me. For my sanity, or autonomy, or comfort. I’d be a slave to their whims and wants.

I’d rather die.

The night passed slowly, painfully, in an endless cycle of trying and failing to cradle my broken body in a comfortable position. Each time I began to drift off, an ache or sharp stab of pain would startle me awake, jerking my injured limbs and making me whimper. The thin mattress beneath me proved no match for the protruding wire frame, and after a few hours I dragged it to the floor, trading piercing discomfort for the seeping cold of the concrete. My bones ached at the creeping chill, the metal inside my shoulder radiating pain through my chest.

It was the longest night of my life, but I’d have done it a hundred times over to keep the door from opening.

But none of my prayers and begging meant a thing – time marched on, in the way it is known to do, and eventually the door opened once more. I blinked at the harsh light streaming into the space, momentarily blinding me and leaving only a vague, hulking outline.

“Up.”

I scrambled to my feet obediently, bones still aching at the memory of what happened last time I dared refuse their orders. The brightness eased, revealing a few blurry details – the sharp cut of a jaw and the swell of strong muscles, both as intimidating as each other in their own way. He stepped closer, and I flinched, fingers curling into a defensive fist automatically, earning a wry smirk. “Don’t bother. I’ve been told my aim is to keep the facial bruising to a minimum – but there’s nothing stopping me from snapping a few more of your ribs. So be good, and come quietly.” I hesitated for a moment longer, muscles tense, before relaxing in resignation, my hand loosening weakly. His face spread into a lazy smile, and he jerked his head indicatively over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

What choice do I have?

I slunk forward, falling into step behind him, my movements pained and slow. He hardly glanced at me as he turned, and certainly gave no consideration to my discomfort; when I couldn’t match his pace, his hand wrapped in the scruff of my shirt, and I yelped as he jerked me forward, scrabbling uselessly against the floor in an effort to find my feet.

I felt... Cowed, and humiliated, at how easily I’d become helpless. The pain coating every inch of me had a lot to answer for – but more than anything, I felt stripped bare and vulnerable without my arm, all the fight taken from me with the metal. It had been longer than I could remember since I’d been without it for any extended period of time, the sensation clumsy and lopsided.

Weak.

And so it was with a lowered head that I let myself be pushed into a chair, hands rough as they poked and prodded at me. My skin was scrubbed roughly, changing dirt- and blood-streaked sun-kissed tan to sensitive crimson, raw and aching. Harsh fingers on my chin pulled my head upright to wipe the skin clear, pale eyes calculating as they peered at my face, and my mouth dropped silently.

“... I- Walker?” I breathed, wincing at the split across the bridge of his nose, the skin swollen and vibrant, a long gash running from eyebrow to cheekbone. His gaze flicked to mine for a heartbeat before he returned to task, jaw set. “What the hell happened to y-”

His fist meeting my gut drove the air from my lungs with a pained grunt, free hand wrapping in my hair to jerk me back upright. “Shut the fuck up, and hold still,” he spat, eyes narrowed hatefully. “I don’t need pity from someone like you.”

My muscles tensed with annoyance, and I swallowed any further questions, staying still and silent under his rough touch. Fine. Fuck you, then. I hope you rot in the prison you made for yourself.

Nodding with approval, he moved behind me, the touch of cold metal at my throat making me panic. I jerked forward to meet hard resistance, pressure on my windpipe making me cough and splutter as a soft click finalised my slavery.

His fingers caught on the mats in my hair as he dragged through it quickly, smoothing it as best the dirt and sweat allowed. I went to stand when he stopped, presuming him to be done with me, but was met with a snarl and a vicious jerk on the collar. “Stay,” he spat, the flat of his hand meeting the back of my head sharply. I cowered under the blow, fingers curling tight around the chain joined to my ankles, wishing more than anything that I could do something – anything – other than fearfully obey.

I should be fighting. Trying to run. Trying to get away, I noted distantly – but terror and pain held me fast, more afraid of the consequences when I was inevitably caught than I was ashamed of meekly going along with what they desired of me.

The feeling of the blade against the nape of my neck made me stiffen, sweat beading under the sharp tip. I hardly dared breathe as he applied pressure slowly, the edge working slightly into my flesh before jerking down sharply, cutting lightly through the flesh as the material of shirt split under the pressure. I let out a soft yelp, and he snorted. “Shut up. It’s just a flesh wound – get a grip.”

Heat pooled beneath my cheekbones as the fabric was torn from my body, recoiling in shame at the exposure. I couldn’t help the quiet whimper that escaped my lips as the blade met my waistband, and Walker snorted, shaking his head. “Cry all you like. I don’t care; people want to see what they’re buying, after all.”

“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered, turning my gaze to him desperately, shame and revulsion overpowering the fear at last. “Please, Walker… Please don’t do this.”

His eyes met mine for a moment, and I held my breath, staring intently for any sign of reluctance or guilt. But there was only cold detachment as he considered his response, a smile playing lightly on his lips as he leaned in. “You’re right,” he murmured, tapping the tip of the knife against my hipbone thoughtfully. “I don’t have to do this…” His smirk grew wider as the blade dug in once more, and a low chuckle sounded beside my ear. “I want to.”

I snarled and jerked away as best I could, until his free hand found my throat, pinning me back against my seat as he worked the knife under my trousers, cutting through the elastic and material with ease until I sat only in my underwear, legs clamped together in shame. He rolled his eyes again as he released me, stepping back, lip curled in disgust.

“I have no interest in touching you, don’t worry – you disgust me. And besides,” he gestured vaguely over his shoulder with the knife, grinning maniacally, “Someone out there is going to pay a lot to break you in; who would I be to deny them their money’s worth?”

I bared my teeth hatefully, a snarl of pure disdain building in my chest. “I disgust you? I’m not the one selling people into slavery. Say what you will about me, but at least I’m not some scumbag trafficker.”

He stiffened, light eyes growing dark as he moved closer once more, his voice low and soft and full of venom. “See, that’s just it, isn’t it? You’re not people. We don’t deal in people. We deal in exotic animals, and freaks. And there’s certainly nothing exotic about you.” His fingers wrapped around my collar once more, jerking me to my feet, and I scrambled to keep some weight on my toes as desperation threatened to overpower me. “Just one more touch, I think….” he murmured, cocking his head thoughtfully before dropping me back into my seat to cough and gasp for breath. He stepped away, and I rubbed at my raw throat, feeling the weight of the metal against my neck – unignorable and inescapable.

My hand was swatted aside, and I froze obediently as his own found the collar once more, the other holding up a tag swinging lightly from a silver ring. “This is you now. Creatures like you don’t have names, do they? Not until their master gives them one.” He hummed tunelessly under his breath as he attached the tag to the collar, stepping back with a smirk. “On your feet, Asset Eleven.”

Leather cut into the corners of my mouth as I was led by a thick chain around my collar, laid bare for all to see - soft, weak, pliable.

Fragile.

The brush of the tag against my throat made me nauseous, the inscription feeling burned to my skin.

Asset.

 Is that all I am now?

Property, to be bought and sold?

Is my humanity worth so little?

I grunted around the gag, earning a jerk to the leash and a snarl from my captor. “Stop it. Behave yourself – it’s for your own good, trust me. Some of these men would be looking for a spirited one to break. You want the ones who are looking for someone meek,” Walker warned, shooting me a glare. “So shut the hell up, and be good.”

With a wince, I ducked my head, stomach rolling at the idea of people who would relish in breaking my spirit.

Not that there was much left to break.

The bright lights pointed at the makeshift stage made the space beyond an endless darkness, punctuated only with gleaming eyes and flashes of white paddles embossed with black numbers. I was blinded as I was jerked forward, stumbling in the spotlights, blinded and shell-shocked at where I found myself. The mumbles and mutters died out, a stunned silence settling over the gathered group. It was hard to distinguish, between the half-glances and impenetrable darkness, quite how many people were sat staring – but the reflection of light on eyes came from two dozen points, all focused unerringly on me. I pulled instinctively against my chains, filled with the need to cover myself – to ball up into an impenetrable mass, tucking softness and scar away from their prying. But I only managed to tug painfully on my shoulder, metal biting into my skin as I strained until a sharp tug on my leash make me cease.

“Asset Eleven. Previously a member of the US Army, most recently sailing under the Shark Defence Initiative. As you can see, this product is somewhat defective, and has experienced total traumatic removal of the left arm at the shoulder. However…” I looked to the Captain as he paused, but he didn’t so much as glance at me, grinning broadly as he gestured with the energy of a ringmaster. “Its strength is not to be underestimated. The Asset also comes with a detachable left arm – this should be applied with caution, following a strict training schedule, as the Asset tends to become more volatile when attached. But the true benefit of this product lies in the unique interaction between strength and pleasure.” His smile grew wider as the murmurs recommenced, and the Captain moved closer, his fingertips brushing lightly over the scars at my chest, making my skin crawl. “The creature you see before you is female – and unused.”

I fought back the tears pricking at my eyes as the mutters increased, their curiosity piqued. I strained to object, but the gag smothered my words, and the Captain jerked sharply on my leash, chuckling tersely. “As you can see, it has some behavioural issues… This one would require a firm hand.”

Wincing, I dropped my head once more as Walker’s words echoed in my mind, carefully keeping my eyes away from the men who were jeering and whooping at the very notion of breaking me down.

“We’ll start the bidding at… What say you? $100?”

I couldn’t help it – my jaw dropped in disbelief. Hand after hand raised, a number of paddles vying for the opportunity to own me. I was… Irrationally offended.

So not only am I being bought and sold like goods – I’m not even valuable goods?

That feels worse. Why does that feel worse?

I swallowed the bile building in my throat, jaw set with righteous indignation as I raised my chin, refusing to be cowed by these men who could decide my life was worth so little. How could I let these men – these monsters – decide my worth? I stared out at the gathering with hatred burning in my gaze, not permitting my eyes to lower for a heartbeat longer.

“Five hundred dollars – do we have eight?”

“A thousand to the fine gentleman on the left here; will anyone raise the price, or will our auction end here? Remember, whoever purchases this Asset will not only be getting a strong one, but also the opportunity to break in that sweet virgin puss- There we go, twelve hundred!”

“Fifteen hundred going once, going tw- sixteen hundred! Got in there at the last moment, sir – ma’am, I do apologise! Well done. Anyone else? No? Once…. Twice… Sold!”

A polite round of applause snapped me from my hateful trance, and I followed the eyes of the captain, but could see little in the darkness save a figure moving through the masses, head down. Tugging sharply on the chain around my neck, I could do nothing but glare venomously into the abyss as I shuffled away, the bonds that held me fast limiting my speed.

Walker was once again the one handling me when I was led down seemingly endless halls, the adrenaline and fight leaving me, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I warned you,” he snorted, shaking his head without glancing back. “All you managed to do was make us richer, and probably ended up being bought by someone you wouldn’t want to be.”

I snarled my distaste through the gag, finally earning a brief look, his eyes rolling. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’ll regret the attitude when you’re chained up in basement somewhere crying for that fag you call a C-”

I reacted without thinking – without consideration for my restraints – as he came to a stop, free hand resting lightly on the doorknob before us. My unaltered shoulder met the middle of his spine, sending him slamming into the wood with a grunt and a thud. When the door splintered under the blow, I winced, stepping back – I’d managed the attack only with the element of surprise, but anyone on the other side of the door was almost certainly than I could handle right now.

Even if I die for that, it will have been worth it.

When Walker hit the floor, sprawling with a groan atop the split wood, I gazed dumbfounded at the duo stood on the other side, seemingly just as shocked to see me as I was to the see them.

My legs gave way as a sob burst from my chest, terror and relief sending me sinking to the floor. My Captain moved quickly, catching me and crushing me against his body with murmured words of reassurance I couldn’t make out through the blood pounding in my ears. I could think of nothing save burying my face in his shirt, inhaling the scent of ocean and sweat and safety desperately, drinking in his unique aroma like a drowned man coming up for air.

He held me like that only for a few moments before drawing back, gaze soft on mine as his fingers gently reached for my gag. We winced in unison as he removed it – me in pain and he in sympathy, the material sticking where it had sliced into the corners of my mouth. Licking my lips, they parted to ask any of the hundred questions circulating my mind, but the intention was interrupted by a low groan from behind him.

His eyes turned dark as he looked around, the hands on my body unconsciously growing tighter, and he stood, still cradling me carefully to his chest despite my size. My fingers tangled desperately in his shirt, breath hitching as I clung until my joins began to ache. “You’re here… I can’t believe you’re here. How are you here?”

Glancing at me briefly, he brushed a soothing, tender kiss over my forehead. “Later. We need to move.”

“And this one?” Neri prompted, pushing back her hood and making the prone ex-sailor grunt with a fierce kick to the ribs. Greg’s gaze was hard once more as they lowered to his former crewmate, hatred filling the mahogany depths.

“I won’t make the same mistake twice,” he replied softly. Gently, he placed me on my feet, untangling my grip and gesturing his first mate closer to take my weight as I slumped against him. “Take him the way we came, and wait for me there. He’s seen enough.”

I growled weakly in protest, but relief had drained any dregs of adrenaline-fueled energy from my system – without Neri’s arm around my waist, I doubted I’d be upright. Despite my feeble attempts to complain, she guided me unsteadily forward, past the man now staring fearfully up at his old Captain and through a door on the other side of the small room. I expected her hand on the soft curve of my hip to make me uncomfortable – but I was too stunned, too emotionally numbed by the last two days to feel much of anything at all. There was only exhaustion as she closed the door behind us, letting me lean against the wall.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, drowning out the murmurs on the other side of the wood. I offered her a weak, tired smile, shrugging my shoulder.

“I’ve been better… But I’ll be okay.”

She nodded once, the gesture short and sharp as her eyes assessed the corridor beyond us. “Glad to hear it, sailor. I don’t like flying; I’d really rather not do that again anytime soon, okay? So if you could avoid getting kidnapped again anytime in the near future, that’d be great.”

I snorted softly, affectionately rolling my eyes. “I’ll do my best, but no promises. I’m pretty kidnappable, after all.” She laughed aloud, and we shared a grin for a moment before my expression broke once more and grew serious. “… He shouldn’t be here. It’s him they’re after; he shouldn’t have-”

“There was no way he wasn’t coming after you, so don’t even bother finishing that thought,” she interrupted absently, continuing to glance warily around. “These guys are dangerous, but they’re stupid. I got into the auction without issue, and he used the distraction to get back here. Nobody knows we’re here.”

“Casualties?” I probed softly, and the door opened, the Captain stepping forward with a silver key dangling between two fingers.

“Only one,” he replied evenly, and I swallowed as he turned to close the door deliberately behind him. “Nobody that will be missed.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured as he knelt before me, and he glanced up with a frown, hands pausing on the chains around my feet.

“What on Earth are you sorry for, Snowflake?” His head cocked sweetly, brow furrowed, and I couldn’t help but smile, fingertips moving to follow the sharp line of his jaw in adoration.

“I’m sorry you had to do that. He worked with you for a long time – you shouldn’t have had to-”

His mouth on mine interrupted me, moving firmly as he held me tightly to his chest, one hand finding my hair to keep me pressed against him. I could only sigh into the kiss, eyes squeezing shut as tears pricked my lash line. “I’d burn the world down for you, Schneeflocke. I’m in love with you.”

Shock had my lids snapping open once more as I stumbled back in surprise, my jaw slack. “You- what?”

His smile was tender as he tried not to chuckle, amusement sparkling in the burnt sienna depths of his eyes. “I love you, Winter. Of course I do... I’ve never been so afraid as when I thought I’d lost you. After I got that live stream, I thought... I thought you were dead. I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful to see your face as when I got that video – even if it made me furious in equal measure.” He reached out once more, carefully skimming the stitches on my cheekbone with a wince. “We’d already narrowed down the stream’s location to East Azerbaijan, so... I was on my way before we knew exactly where you were. I wasn’t risking you disappearing on me again, sweet boy.”

I blushed softly, tilting my face into his touch. “I love you too, Lieutenant Tyne.”

We stood that way for a few heartbeats, grinning like fools and staring into one another’s eyes, until Neri cleared her throat pointedly. “Not to interrupt what is, truly, a very sweet moment – but we really need to get out of here...”

Greg held my gaze for a moment longer, seemingly as unable to look away as I was, before clearing his throat, shifting his hand to mine. “Let’s go.”

My collar hit the ground as we stepped away, and he left it where it fell without looking back.

I followed them through an endless maze of corridors, blindly trusting Neri as she led the way, the arm around my waist the only focus of my attentions. His touch on my bare skin was all I could register, the blank walls passing without notice – but the exhaustion was beginning to seep into my bones, and I started to stumble more and more as my depleted body struggled to keep going.

“We’re almost there. Almost out,” Greg murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple gently. I nodded weakly – before slamming to a halt, almost slipping from his grasp at my sudden change of direction.

“We can’t. We- I need my arm. And there’s so many birds, and lizards – we can’t just- We have to do something,” I begged, fingers curling tight against his bicep in my desperation. “Please, Greg. We have to go back. We have to do something.” The Captain blinked in disbelief before shaking his head hard, mouth opening to object, but I scowled and interrupted. “All this started when you left me to save some baby lizards. We met because we both wanted to save the oceans. Are we really going to be able to live with ourselves if we walk away from this now?”

He watched me for a moment before glancing to Neri, who simply shrugged helplessly. “You can barely stand,” he argued, turning his pleading gaze back to me. “You can’t do this right now, Snowflake. I need to get you out of here; you’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

I leaned up to kiss his cheek gently, offering him a soft smile as I stepped free of his embrace, trying to pretend my legs weren’t shaking. “If I don’t do this, I’m not the man you fell in love with. I’m going back, Captain. I won’t judge you if you don’t judge me, but I can’t walk away from this. I won’t condemn anyone to captivity, human or animal. And there could be more people here,” I added, my voice lowering as I verbalised the ugly truth that had been weighing on me. “I can’t… I need to know.”

His eyes cleared, brow relaxing, and he nodded once, reaching out to squeeze my fingers once more. “Well, I can’t let you do this alone, can I?”

Neri snorted, shaking her head, long hair swaying about her waist. “You’re mad, both of you,” she scoffed, and glanced once more toward the exit before looking back at us with a sigh. “I’m not missing out on being part of this story. Let’s go.”

[americasass81]

Chemical Attraction

Warnings 18+ for the following:- Non-Consensual Sex, Dubious Consensual Sex, Smut {f/f), Oral {female receiving], Edging, Thigh Riding, Somnophilia, Sex Pollen.  Seriously do not read if any of this upsets you, the warnings are there for a reason.  Feedback is welcomed and any mistakes are my own.

By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Author’s Note 1:- Written for Navy & Roo's @the-slumberparty Bingo Challenge I managed (with a few days to spare) to combine the bingo choices circled below.

My first Bingo Card challenge, this is also my first attempt at Spy and Sex Pollen and for the writer’s choice I went with a touch of Enemies To Lovers.  Hope anyone who reads this enjoys it as much as I did writing it.

Synopsis:- Noticing that something isn't quite right at S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury tasks Maria Hill with finding out what secrets you may be privy to.

Pairings:- dark!Maria Hill x Female Reader.

Word Count:- 5,875

Figuring out where you lived and getting into your apartment was easy.  Way too easy she thought considering who you were and where you worked.  Still though, the woman now carefully toying with your door was no ordinary spy either which explained quite a lot really.  Next to only a handful of others, she was one of the very best operatives S.H.I.E.L.D. had at their disposal and the fact that Nick Fury himself considered her his right hand person actually spoke volumes regarding her talents.  After all that man barely trusted his own shadow.

Sliding her lock picks out of the lock, Maria now took one last quick look up and down the hall before twisting the handle gently, pushing open the door and slipping into your apartment completely unnoticed.  Closing the door behind her then, the first thing she noticed however was how little of anything appeared to be here.  To be honest the place actually looked deserted which did not bode well for why she was here and if it wasn't for the fact that she had already followed you home she wouldn't have believed anyone even lived here.

But then she had waited for you to leave before entering.  Ignoring the emptiness now, she instead acknowledged that being Pierce's personal secretary and thus a member of S.H.I.E.L.D. like her, you would of course be expected to work long hours that left little or no time to actually have a life.  But damn, this was no way for anyone to live.  Even her home away from S.H.I.E.L.D., Fury and all that this life of covert espionage entailed became her sanctuary.  Then over the years as more and more of the world descended into chaos, that home had become her refuge.  But walking around your apartment now it seemed all you had was work and it saddened her despite her reason for being here in the first place.

Though part of her couldn't really say she was surprised.  After all like Fury, Alexander Pierce was a hard ass who expected the best from those that worked for him, but somehow Fury still seemed to remember that the people who chose to dedicate their lives to this cause were still human.  That they still possessed hopes and dreams for their future.  Pierce on the other hand seemed to have completely killed yours.

Setting aside this thought however as her purpose here returned to her, Maria quickly got back on point and began searching every inch of your apartment for any little scrap of information that might prove useful to Fury and his investigation of Pierce.  Finding nothing of use anywhere however and still a bit saddened by the lack of your personality in a place that should have been overflowing with it, she meticulously set up the cameras before slipping back into the hall and out of the building again.

Knowing now that time was of the essence and that as such she would be back to find out if your prestigious position at S.H.I.E.L.D. held any valuable information, she still knew a day or two was needed to find out your routine away from the world that seemed to smother every other aspect of your life.  Checking in with Fury then, she headed off to the nearest S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house to continue trolling for any and all information she could find on you until that pompous, arrogant ass released you back into the world.  But neither of you it seemed would be prepared for that.

Watching you on the cameras for two more days as you lived your life away from S.H.I.E.L.D., Maria quickly began to realize that not only was the apartment a true reflection of how all consuming your work life was, but it also wouldn't furnish her and Fury with any further insight into the man currently on her boss's radar.

No, this it seemed would need a more in-depth and personal approach on her part.

Coming home late both nights apparently exhausted to the point where you quite literally pulled off your clothes and fell into bed, morning then found you showering quickly before heading out the door.  Hell you didn't even sit down to eat breakfast here.  Wondering now how best to find out about the missing pieces of your life, the third night since this assignment started found Maria back in your apartment with quite a few more problems on her hands than she ever had before this whole thing started.

Usually one well versed at keeping her mind where it was supposed to be, the images of you on camera, naked on your bed or covered in foam as you showered, had seriously tested that focus.  But here now standing by your bedside, was definitely the devil's work.  Reigning in her thoughts just long enough to grab your phone and install the tracking software necessary to help fill in the missing chunks of your day, she was just about to head back out and deal with the feelings your presence has awakened within her when the softest of moans reached her ears and sent a shockwave through her system unlike any she had ever felt before.  It was like a siren's call.

Cursing under her breath now as she turned back around and took in your sleeping form once more, Maria tried to remind herself why exactly she was here, but it was to prove useless.  Closing the distance between you step by step, she stopped momentarily however as you rolled over and opened your eyes before sleep caught you once again and pulled you back into its embrace.  Which to any sane person should have been her cue to leave.  But for some unknown reason she couldn't do it.

Gazing on you now as your chest gently rose and fell with each breath you took, her eyes roaming over your glorious frame simply confirmed something she had always known ... technology, no matter how advanced it became or what it could accomplish, could never replace or replicate the human form.  And yours was exquisite.

Grazing her hand gently now along your cheek and over your lips, a shuddering breath from her joined the sounds your own body made when without your knowledge, your lips parted slightly and you sucked her finger into your mouth and set her senses alight.  For oh how divine and talented your mouth was.  Continuing to suckle her digit now as her other hand took on a life of its own and ventured down to fondle your nearest breast, the sensations building in her core would have seriously jeopardized the mission if fate hadn't somehow chosen the next moment however to intervene.

Releasing her finger and rolling back onto your side, the spell you had cast over her seemed to be broken for now as Maria quickly stepped back from your bedside and came to her senses.  Acknowledging now that this was extremely dangerous territory, she took one last look around to ensure that nothing was out of place and checking her phone one more time to confirm the tracking software on yours was working correctly, Maria then turned around again and this time swiftly exited your apartment knowing it was time to take a much different approach.

One far less tempting.

Reporting back to Fury then on how her investigation was progressing before calling it a night, the restless sleep that now plagued her did nothing to raise her hopes of success.  If anything, the dreams she now found herself sinking into threatened to derail her focus so much that Maria woke the next morning actually wondering if she should pass this task off to someone else.  But how then to accomplish that while explaining that particular development to Fury.

"Hey boss, I know you wanted me to handle Pierce's secretary personally and I hate to disappoint you, but honestly, my horny little pussy got the better of me and I think there would be a greater chance of success if you appoint someone else to mine this particular source."  Yeah right she thought with a laugh.  Fury would burst a blood vessel if even one of his agents came to him with a statement like this.  But if she did it?  Hell, as courageous and all as Maria Hill was, that was not a scenario she was willing to allow to play out in real life.  No, she would get her hormones under control and find some way to get whatever information you had that might prove useful.

Thankfully however you would unknowingly help eliminate all her options in that matter and fix her little problem in one easy stroke.

Finishing up her breakfast as the cameras' feed from your apartment lit up her laptop, the phone tracking software still confirmed your location until you finally left your home and headed out into the world.  Shutting off the screen then and heading out after you, Maria was both shocked and surprised by your initial encounter.  Following every twist and turn that lead both of you straight to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters, the coffee shop in the grand lobby of the Triskelion was your first stop and as both of you waited in line to order your first beverages of the day, your behavior told her things were far more complicated than they first appeared.

Having found out everything she could about your life before S.H.I.E.L.D., one thing was glaringly different back then compared to now ... you actually had a life.  You studied hard and got a good education, volunteered one day every weekend while holding down a part time job.  You even carved out some free time to make friends and socialize with them.  Now however you barely even existed.  In fact, by the time her first encounter with you was over she was beginning to think of you as nothing more than an absolute total bitch.

Taking your coffee and bagel order from the counter when placed before you, you quickly tapped your card on the machine, turned around and walked off towards the nearest exit.  Tap.  Turn.  Walk.  Simple, cold and efficient.  There was no thank you to the employee behind the counter who had served you and taken the time to wish you a nice day.  No acknowledgement of the hello Maria herself had offered you when you turned around to face her, stepped to the side and simply walked off.

No, to you these random acts of kindness hadn't even occurred.

Was it you, she now wondered or was it this job and Pierce’s demanding standards that had initiated this change.  Either way, she knew her job would be a whole lot harder now than she first thought when collecting her own order and finding herself alone in an elevator with you a few minutes later left her feeling cold and defeated for you actually seemed to dislike her.

Trying to strike up a conversation as the elevator traveled upwards, the almost vacant stares or one word answers left her re-evaluating her whole strategy towards you now.  She was going to need some type of help it seemed and she was going to need it fast.  Already taking far longer than it should have and now discovering that you were far more hostile than she ever thought possible, Maria actually began to wonder as you left the elevator if perhaps you were even you.

An evil twin.  A clone.  A life model decoy even.  Something had to be seriously screwed up somewhere if this job had indeed wiped out all your personality and turned you into nothing more than a functioning machine that walked and looked like a human being.  Cause you sure as hell didn't sound like one.  Your attitude was distant, your face seemed fixed in a permanent scowl and remaining in the elevator now as you quickly exited without so much as acknowledging her continued presence, Maria in that split second knew exactly what she needed to do.  She just wasn't sure she should do it.  It was, after all, a highly risky move.  But it may be the only way.

Continuing to find herself in your space throughout the day with even less success than the elevator ride that morning, clocking off time came and Maria left the Triskelion knowing now there was no other way.  So getting in her car and driving off to the required S.H.I.E.L.D. R & D facility, she thanked her lucky stars that it was only Colin that was on the premises tonight.  It meant fate was finally smiling on her in some small way.

Now spending the customary few minutes catching up with him before passing along the two all access passes to the next Stark Expo that she knew would excite his son and thereby get her into and out of this facility without any questions or searches, Maria then made her way to the chemicals lab and quickly inserted the S.H.I.E.L.D. bypass usb stick into the nearest computer.  Moving around the lab then as the software wormed its way into the network and gave her full control over the facility, Maria carefully searched through every cabinet until her eyes finally rested on the compound she was looking for.  Heading back to the computer then and unlocking the necessary door, she now reached in and withdrew the canister as her eyes rested on the information plaque.

Was she really doing this?

Feeling the weight of the canister in her hand and what using it actually meant, the seconds of uncertainty ticked by until a powerful image invaded her mind and solidified her course.  This was what was needed.  What both of you needed.  That last push you required to give up Pierce's secrets and relieve the desire that watching you had created within her was literally in her grasp.

Finally resolving to head down this murky path, Maria then closed the cabinet door and traversed the few small steps to the nearest workstation before pulling up the necessary instructions on how to alter the canister's contents and bind you to her permanently.  Pricking her finger then and adding the red drop to the canister before placing it in the necessary chamber as directed, waiting as the timer ticked down towards completion drove home what she was about to do and the future that lay ahead as a result.

You were going to be hers.

Returning then to the computer once the reaction was completed, she swiftly set about altering the cabinet contents figures before erasing all evidence that she was ever there.  Pocketing the canister and usb stick then, she said her goodbyes to Colin and headed off towards your apartment to hopefully get some answers that would satisfy Fury.

Climbing up the fire escape and entering through your bedroom window this time, Maria watched your sleeping form momentarily as the reality of what she was about to do actually sunk in and what it meant for her.

Could she really do this to you?  Had you changed so thoroughly under Pierce's employ that you were now a being who deserved to be treated as nothing more than an enemy that information had to be extracted from by any means necessary?  For that matter had she herself changed into the type of person to employ such tactics?

Pondering all this as she sat down in the chair across from your sleeping form while rolling the canister in her palm, her phone vibrating with a message from Fury looking for any update pulled her out of all her self examination and reminded her of why this action was even required.  Something was seriously off at S.H.I.E.L.D.  Fury knew it.  She knew it.  Hell even you had changed completely since coming to work there.

No, rising from the chair now and confirming her phone was still on silent, her mind was at last made up.  So opening the canister as she stood now before your sleeping form, all doubt vanished as quickly as the mist that now settled over you and began to work its way into your system as the brunette returned to her chair and vowed to show you everything she had to offer when this was all over.  But first she simply had to wait for the pollen to take hold.  Which actually didn't take that long at all.

Watching you tossing and turning in your sleep, Maria knew the sex pollen had started to take effect when your hands began trying to soothe the itch irritating your body though your eyes still remained closed to the world.  Licking her lips as her eyes now focused on every movement, every tiny noise that escaped your lips, Maria knew her resolve couldn't hold any longer when a sheen of moisture began to slowly form along your skin.  She had to act.

Rising from the chair again and this time laying down by your side, your hands still roaming over your frame were now joined by hers as she tentatively reached out and skimmed her fingers along your arm.  Trailing them across your collar bones next before venturing downwards as you suddenly began coughing while Maria's lips scattered tender kisses along your arms, the moisture leaking from your core as her fingers reached their desired location told her all she really needed to know.

Your body was ready for her.

Lightly pinching and pulling on your intimate folds now as the change in your breathing indicated sleep was releasing you from its hold, Maria toyed with you for as long as she could before placing her thumb over your clit as her fingers breached your sex.  Stroking your insides now as moan after sweet sounding moan mixed with the effect of the pollen on your airways, your back arched and an almost strangled bark left your lips as the orgasm she pulled from you finally forced you from your slumber.

Waking up as your eyes widened in terror now from the brunette's hand between your thighs as the feel of her lips still lingered on your skin, you somehow leaped from the bed without her interference and reaching for your gun turned it on her to find her propped up now against the headboard as if she hadn't just been caught violating you in your sleep.  Trying to get your thoughts straight now even though all you really wanted was to feel her body pressed up against yours, you glanced around quickly to make sure no one else was here before turning your focus back completely on the unwelcome intruder invading your home and your pussy.

"Fuck Ms.Hill, I'd be well within my rights to shoot you and don't think I won't," you wheezed out as your eyes adjusted to the low lighting and recognized Fury's number one deputy while your breathing began to slow, "but how about you save both of us the paperwork and questions and give me one good reason not to."

"Well how about I do you one better and give you two," she replied with a smirk before bringing her fingers to her mouth and licking off your release.  An action that to your horror both shocked and excited you once more as you tried to hold the gun steady in your sweaty palms when your unwanted visitor finally spoke again.

"First, and I only point this out in the spirit of full disclosure, that gun isn't loaded," and had you not been so caught off guard by this whole situation and the uncontrollable desires burning within you you would have realized that no one of Maria Hill's experience would allow an enemy's gun to remain within easy range let alone remain loaded.

No this was definitely an oversight on your part.  As was your inability to notice the weight differential that would have warned you of this very fact.  But chewing yourself out for this mistake would have to wait as the brunette horrified you farther with the second reason you wouldn't shoot her even if you could ... you needed her.

Reaching into her pants pocket to retrieve the now empty canister and tossing it in your direction, your right hand successfully grabbed it as the other still held the now useless gun trained on her.  Confirming its previous contents on the label as Maria explained it was now taking hold of you, you finally had enough.  Flicking your gaze now between her nodding head and the metal object in your hand, your finger squeezed the trigger and simply confirmed the truth of her first statement when a useless click broke the silence and no bullet left the chamber.

You were totally vulnerable it seemed in more ways than you ever thought possible.

Asking now what exactly it was she wanted from you, her walking towards you and releasing the gun and canister from your hold sent a whole new wave of questions hurtling through your mind however that had nothing to do with her purpose here.  It now had more to do with your need as her touch was electrifying.  Turning away from you momentarily to place the gun and the canister back on your nightstand, you could feel the urge now building within you when Maria next took hold of your shoulders and sat both of you on the bed before speaking once more.

"Okay now starlight, tell me everything you know about Pierce and what he's up to and I can give you the release both of us know your body is aching to feel," she stated as her fingers danced and squeezed along your thigh while remaining stubbornly far away from the place you now realized cried out for her attention.

Remaining lucid long enough however to realize that all the attention the past few days had simply been a spy mission to gather intelligence on your boss, your newfound sense of betrayal proved strong enough to temporarily fight off the pollen's effects as you rose from the bed and turned your furious gaze on her.

"Alexander Pierce?  That's what all of this is about?,” you questioned as she simply kept quiet as if somehow knowing you still had more to say.  “You break into my home.  Assault me as I sleep.  Then infect me with some strange sex chemical all in the hopes that I'll betray a man far more dangerous than you.  You're out of your freaking mind," you yelled now and looking back on this exchange later you would actually wonder if the laugh that left your lips now was as a result of the pollen flooding your system or the absurd request of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent before you.

Either way it didn't really matter.  She had to know the danger she was courting here.  One of the first things you had learned upon taking up your position was that Pierce was a man not to be trifled with at the best of times and now she and possibly Nick Fury aimed to confront him when something he had been working towards for years was finally coming to fruition.  No, you may not know much about what was going on at S.H.I.E.L.D. but you knew enough to keep your head down, your mouth shut and your nose well and truly out of Pierce's business.

Hill would learn nothing from you.  Or at least that's what you thought.

Pacing back and forth in front of her now as she simply sat on the bed and watched you like a hawk, the cramps beginning to take hold in your stomach coupled with the heat in your core, had now intensified so much as to make you more determined than ever not to accept the situation you found yourself in.  At least until Maria got serious about things.

Finally coming to stand before you and stop your incessant pacing, her questions regarding Pierce's activities, those he associated with and his dealings with the council were not going to be answered by you in your current state as the pollen finally seemed to reach its full potency the second her hands returned to your shoulders.  You needed what she offered and nothing else mattered.

Leaning forward then and shutting up the litany of questions hurled in your direction as your lips crashed against the brunette's and your own hands reached out to pull her closer, Maria had the measure of you however as she moved just as quickly and tossed you back on the bed before dropping to the floor and burying her face between your legs.

Licking slowly now along your slit as your body screamed for her to take you while your hands reached down to hold her head in place, all thoughts of Pierce and his secrets were banished from your mind temporarily however as the waves within you grew stronger and stronger until they were ready to crash against the shore and offer you relief.

But that relief would never come.

Displaying a strength you never knew she possessed, Maria pulled back instead just as you were about to come and holding your hands away from your body finally let slip exactly how she planned to make you cooperate.  "Oh come on now starlight, tell me what Pierce is up to or you’ll never find relief and the pollen permeating every cell in your body will ensure your demise.  Surely he’s not worth that type of an excruciating death?"

Angry now that the great Maria Hill would stoop to such tactics but far more concerned with the high just beyond your reach, you were ready to give her what she wanted until a stronger emotion took hold of you ... doubt.  You doubted her resolve.  After all, your brain kept telling you exactly what your eyes were seeing.  This was Maria Hill.  No way she of all people would travel down a path like this.  She had morals after all.  She was one of the good guys.

No, holding on to that thought now as she simply looked down on you as you fought off the pollen's effects as best you could, this task became a whole lot easier when, with a sudden burst of strength, you kicked Maria from you and this time bolted for the bedroom door to make your escape.  An escape that wasn't meant to be however.

Finding the thing locked as a sinister laugh now brought you fully back to the situation before you, you prepared to fight again only for Maria to catch you off guard, slam your back against the door and trap your naked body with her still clothed figure.  Running her lips across your chest now as your breathing began to pick up again, her resolve became crystal clear now with the actions that followed.  She was totally committed.

Spreading your legs apart now as her upper body still held yours in place, the heat within you sparked to life once more as Maria moved a leg between your own and gently began to glide it back and forth along your dripping snatch.  Controlling the pace now as her lips continued to roam over your heated skin, the leather of her suit never felt so good until her probing questions distracted you once more.

"I told you ... I don't know anything," you panted out now before begging her to continue when Maria ceased all her actions again and the unrelenting heat now ever present in your core this time threatened to burn you up from the inside.  You needed to come.

Smirking towards you now as your lower body rose forwards from the door towards hers while her hands still held you firmly in place, Maria noticed the subtle changes that indicated your resolve was just about to break and so she went in for the kill.  "Do you even know what this particular sex pollen actually does I wonder?" she asked before reaching forwards and closing her lips around your left nipple as a moan unlike any she had ever heard before reached both of your ears.  You were almost there.

Looking up into your tear filled eyes now as you shook your head in answer to her question, Maria pulled back once more and chuckled at your protest before moving both of you to the chair she occupied earlier.  Sitting comfortably now before placing you back on the thigh that had teased you previously, she moved you along it just enough to get you worked up once more before heading back to her explanation.

"As a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent I assume you're familiar with sex pollen in general, right?" she now asked and the slow nod you managed to give her as she continued to bounce you along her thigh was all the confirmation she needed that you were still with her enough to carry on her story.  "Well you see, this pollen now circulating throughout your system is actually one that has been genetically modified and thanks to the little addition of my blood, no one but me will ever satisfy you."

Staring back at her now in abject horror as she tossed you to the floor while another wave of pain crashed through your abdomen, her laughter this time confirmed her tale as another wave of heat built up in your core and your fingers plunging into your folds over and over again did nothing to satiate your hunger.  In fact it only made you crave her more.

Starting up her questions once more as your legs now opened wider and your fist all but disappeared into your pussy, the longing you still felt as an orgasm ripped through you and yet brought no comfort to your heaving frame, told you that answering her questions was now the only real thing that would give your body what it craved.

But could you do it?

Closing your eyes now as you thought of the consequences of betraying Pierce, you also focused in on the voice in your ear telling you that if you did indeed spill what little you knew, there was perhaps no better ally to have in your corner than Maria Hill.  After all, she was Nick Fury's second-in-command and for better or worse Fury had the ear of the Avengers as well as being totally formidable in his own right.  You really couldn't lose.  Right?

So opening your eyes then as your body recognized Maria's voice saying these words while her hands had, without your knowledge, resumed moving your hips and pussy along her robust thigh, the relief you now felt as her pheromones invaded your senses once more while her body worked yours ever closer to release would have been the last push you needed to give in if she hadn't stopped her teasing once more just as the cliff edge made its presence known.  You'd finally reached your limit. 

"The Lemurian Star.  If Pierce has secrets, that's where you start," you finally cried out as your body couldn't take any more teasing.  You needed relief.  Her lips.  Her fingers.  Hell you felt so wired now that you were certain her silky locks trailing up and down your oversensitive body would have sent you hurtling into an orgasm from which you may never recover.  But you would take it.  You would take whatever she offered.

Rising from the floor instead and leaving you to lie there now as your body still screamed for her undivided attention, Maria grabbed her phone and placing a quick call to Fury with the information you had involuntarily provided then tossed it aside before turning her full attention back on you.  It was time to give you what she promised.

Picking up your still protesting body now as you begged and pleaded and promised that you didn't know anything else, her laying you back on the bed before removing her own clothes actually proved a powerful enough image to cut through your hysteria and bring you hope that your ordeal was finally about to come to an end.

Joining you then as the next twenty-four hours brought you never ending release on her thighs, fingers and tongue, hell your sex addled brain even recalled you coming powerfully as Maria's pussy rubbed itself against yours.  You finally regained some measure of yourself as the brunette at last lay back against the pillows and brought your cooling body to rest along hers.

Kissing you tenderly all over now as she produced a wet cloth and cleaned your sensitive areas, her then soothing you back to sleep with the promise of more glorious days ahead was enough of a balm to ease your anxiety when she finally got the call that signaled shit was about to hit the fan.  Reassuring you now as she dressed quickly that Pierce was no longer going to be a problem, she kissed you just as swiftly before ushering you into the shower while she moved around your room picking up the few items she deemed necessary for your continued survival.

Thankful now for the first time that you never really made this place your home, ten minutes later had both of you scrambling down the fire escape while another twenty minutes after that had her dropping you off at a safe house with the explicit instruction not to move until you heard back from her.

Watching her drive away then as an ache in your heart joined the ache building again between your legs, entering the safe house to find lingering vestiges of the woman that now formed an integral part of your being proved enough of a balm as you picked up a t-shirt from the couch, walked through the building until you found the bedroom and buried yourself in her calming scent.  Remaining cocooned there then until word reached you that S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra had actually fallen, your heart beat a little easier with the realization that Maria would once again be by your side as soon as the dust had settled.

Returning then to sleep's embrace as the memories of soaking her thighs competed with the ones of her lips suckling on your tits threatened to reignite the fire within you, the reality of waking up some time later to find Maria's head firmly attached to your pussy simply confirmed now what your future looked like.  Pierce was gone, your life was now your own once more and Maria it seemed was determined to show your body all the pleasure it never knew existed.  Pulling you from sleep now with yet another earth shattering release as Maria's tongue pistoned into your flower while her fingers pinched and pulled your sensitive nipples, you finally accepted that your role in this fiasco had totally been worth the price you ultimately paid.

[tsukasalover]

(credits to ssruis)

This song is the only thing keeping me going I do not play about mr showtime 😞 nothing ruined me (made my life better) the way this song did

(Sendn. Me songs to do this with in my ask box… sniffle…)

[evilwriter37]

The Wrong Shade

Rated: mature

Warnings: implied/referenced rape/noncon, abuse, relationship abuse, unhappy ending

Relationships: Dagur/Hiccup

Word Count: 1,661

Summary: Trapped in a relationship with Dagur, Hiccup tries to do small things to make himself happy. That usually doesn’t end well.

Written for @anyfandomdarkbingo

Square Filled: Abusive Partner

Card under the cut